A Night in the Prince's Bed

Amusement flashed in his blue eyes. ‘I know. Your name was on the theatre programme.’ He held out his hand. ‘I’m Aksel.’

‘That’s not an English name,’ Mina murmured, trying not to think about the firm grip of his fingers as she placed her hand in his. The touch of his skin on hers sent a tingling sensation up her arm and she felt strangely reluctant to withdraw her hand again.

He hesitated fractionally before replying, ‘You’re right. I am from Storvhal.’

‘That’s near Russia, isn’t it—in the Arctic Circle?’

His brows lifted. ‘I’m impressed. Storvhal is a very small country and most people haven’t a clue where it is.’

‘I’m addicted to playing general knowledge quizzes,’ Mina admitted. ‘The location of Storvhal often comes up.’

God, did that make her sound like a boring nerd who spent a lot of time on her own? People often assumed that actors led exciting and glamorous lives, but that was far from the truth, Mina thought wryly. There had been plenty of times when she’d been between acting roles and had to take cleaning jobs or stack shelves in a supermarket. Most actors, unless they made it big in the American film industry, struggled to earn a good living. But Mina was not driven by money and had been drawn to the stage because acting was in her blood.

The Harts were a renowned theatrical family, headed by Joshua Hart, who was regarded as the greatest Shakespearean actor of the past thirty years. Mina had wanted to be an actress since she was a small child and she had refused to allow her hearing loss to destroy her dream. But the dream had turned sour in LA. Making a film there had been an eye-opener and she had hated the celebrity culture, the gossip and backbiting. The events in LA had had a profound effect on her and when she had returned to England she had re-evaluated what she wanted to do with her life, and she had recently qualified as a drama therapist.

One thing she was certain of was that she never wanted her private life to be splashed across the front pages of the tabloids ever again. It still made her shudder when she remembered the humiliation of reading explicit and inaccurate details about her relationship with Dexter Price in the newspapers. The paparazzi did not seem to care about reporting the truth, and Mina had been a target of their ruthless desire for scandal. She had developed a deep mistrust of the press—and in particular of the man she had just spotted entering the pub.

She froze when she recognised him. Steve Garratt was the journalist who had exposed her affair with Dexter. Garratt had written a scurrilous article in which he had accused Mina of sleeping with the film director to further her career while Dexter’s wife had been undergoing treatment for cancer. Most of the article had been untrue. Mina had never been to bed with Dex—although she had been in love with him, and ready to take the next step in their relationship, before she had discovered that he was married. But no one had been interested in her side of the story, certainly not Steve Garratt.

What was Garratt doing here in the UK? It was unlikely to be a coincidence that he had turned up at the same time as rumours were rife that Joshua Hart’s production of Romeo and Juliet might be performed on Broadway. Garratt was after a story and Mina’s heart sank when the journalist looked over in her direction and gave her a cocky smile of recognition.

As he began to thread his way across the pub she felt a surge of panic. She could not bear the embarrassment of the journalist talking about the LA scandal in front of her friends from the theatre company. The story had been mostly forgotten after two years, and she had hoped it would remain dead and buried.

She glanced at the good-looking man who had introduced himself as Aksel. They were strangers, she reminded herself. The curious connection she felt with him must be a figment of her imagination.

‘Well, it was nice to meet you,’ she murmured. ‘Thanks for your help.’

Aksel realised he was being dismissed. It was a novel experience for a prince and in different circumstances he might have been amused, but inexplicably he felt a rush of jealousy when he noticed that Mina was staring at a man who had just entered the pub. Was the man her boyfriend? It was of no interest to him, he reminded himself. He was regretting his decision to follow Mina into the pub, and her obvious interest in the man who was now approaching them was a signal to Aksel that it was time he left.

‘You’re welcome.’ His eyes met hers, and for a split second he felt a crazy urge to grab hold of her hand and whisk her away from the crowded pub to somewhere they could be alone.

What the hell had got into him tonight? he asked himself irritably. His behaviour was completely out of character and he must end his ridiculous fascination with Mina Hart right now. ‘Enjoy the rest of your evening,’ he bade her curtly, and strode out of the pub without glancing back at her.

* * *

‘Mina Hart, what a pleasant surprise!’ Steve Garratt drawled. He smelled of stale cigarette smoke and Mina wrinkled her nose as he leaned too close to her.

‘I find nothing pleasant about meeting you,’ she said coldly. ‘And I doubt you’re surprised to see me. You’re here for a reason, and I can guess what it is.’

The journalist grinned to reveal nicotine-stained teeth. It was warm inside the pub and his florid face was turning pinker. ‘A little bird told me you’ll soon be making your Broadway debut.’

‘Who told you that?’ Mina asked sharply. She glanced at his shifty expression and realised that he was hoping to goad her into giving him information.

‘Come on, sweetheart. Everyone wants to know if your father will be directing Romeo and Juliet in New York. He must have told you whether it’s going to happen. All the hacks are hoping to break the story. Give me an exclusive and I’ll make sure you get good reviews if you do open on Broadway.’

‘Joshua hasn’t told me anything, but even if he had confided in me I wouldn’t tell you. You’re a weasel, Garratt. You nose around in people’s private lives looking for scandal and if none exist you make up lies—like you did to me.’ Mina broke off, breathing hard as she struggled to control her temper.

The journalist gave a cynical laugh. ‘Am I supposed to feel sorry for you? Don’t give me that bull about journalists respecting celebrities’ private lives. Actors need publicity. You don’t really believe that a film starring an unknown English actress would have been a box-office success on its own merits, do you? People went to see Girl in the Mirror because they were curious about the bimbo who screwed Dexter Price.’

Steve Garratt’s mocking words made Mina’s stomach churn. The pub felt claustrophobic and she was suddenly desperate for some fresh air. She pushed past the journalist, unable to bear being in his company for another second. ‘You disgust me,’ she told him bitterly.

Kat was chatting with the other members of the cast and Mina did not interrupt them. They would guess she had gone home, she told herself as she made her way across the crowded pub towards the door. Outside, it was dark. The October nights were drawing in and Mina’s lightweight jacket did not offer much protection against the chilly wind. Head bowed, she walked briskly along the pavement that ran alongside the river. The reflection of the street lights made golden orbs on the black water, but soon she turned off the well-lit main road down a narrow alleyway that provided the quickest route to the tube station.

Her footsteps echoed loudly in the enclosed space. It wasn’t late, but there was no one around, except for a gang of youths who were loitering at the other end of the alleyway. From the sound of their raucous voices Mina guessed they had been drinking. She thought about turning back and going the long route to the station, but she was tired and, having grown up in central London, she considered herself fairly streetwise. Keeping her head down, she continued walking, but as she drew nearer to the gang she noticed they were passing something between them and guessed it was a joint.

Her warning instincts flared. Something about the youths’ body language told her that they were waiting for her to walk to the far end of the alley. She stopped abruptly and turned round, but as she hurriedly retraced her steps the gang followed her.

‘Hey, pretty woman, why don’t you want to walk this way?’ one of them called out.

Another youth laughed. ‘There’s a film called Pretty Woman, about a slag who makes a living on the streets.’ The owner of the voice, a skinhead with a tattoo on his neck, caught up with Mina and stood in front of her so that she was forced to stop walking. ‘Is that what you do—sell your body? How much do you charge?’ As the gang crowded around Mina the skinhead laughed. ‘Do you do a discount for group sex?’

Mina swallowed, trying not to show that she was scared. ‘Look, I don’t want any trouble.’ She took a step forwards and froze when the skinhead gripped her arm. ‘Let go of me,’ she demanded, sounding more confident than she felt.

‘What if I don’t want to let go of you?’ the skinhead taunted. ‘What are you going to do about it?’ He slid his hand inside Mina’s jacket and she felt a surge of fear and revulsion when he tugged her shirt buttons open. The situation was rapidly spiralling out of control. The youths were drunk, or high—probably both—and on a cold autumn night it was unlikely that anyone was around to help her.

‘You’d better let me go. I’m meeting someone, and if I don’t show up they’ll start looking for me,’ she improvised, thinking as she spoke that her friends at the pub would assume she had gone home.

The skinhead must have sensed that she was bluffing. ‘So, where’s your friend?’

‘Here,’ said a soft, menacing voice.

Mina’s gaze shot to the end of the alleyway that she had entered a few minutes earlier and her heart did a somersault in her chest. The light from the street lamp behind him made his blond hair look like a halo. Surely no angel could be so devastatingly sexy, but to Mina, scared out of her wits, he was her guardian angel, her saviour.

The skinhead, surprised by the interruption, had loosed his grip on her arm, and Mina wrenched herself free.

‘Aksel,’ she said on a half-sob, and ran towards him.

CHAPTER TWO

‘IT’S ALL RIGHT, Mina, you’re safe,’ Aksel murmured. He felt the tremors that shook her slender frame. When she had raced down the alleyway he had instinctively opened his arms and she had flown into them. He stroked her auburn hair, one part of his brain marvelling at how silky it felt. At the same time he eyed the gang of youths and felt a cold knot of rage in the pit of his stomach when the skinhead who had been terrorising Mina stepped forwards.

‘Can’t you count, mate? There’s six of us and only one of you,’ the gang leader said with a show of bravado.

‘True, but I am worth more than the six of you combined,’ Aksel drawled in an icy tone that cut through the air like tempered steel. He never lost his temper. A lifetime of controlling his emotions had taught him that anger was far more effective served ice-cold and deadly. ‘I’m willing to take you all on.’ He flicked his gaze over the gang members. ‘But one at a time is fair, man to man—if you’ve got the guts of real men.’

He gently put Mina to one side and gave her a reassuring smile when her eyes widened in fear as she realised what he intended to do.

‘Aksel...you can’t fight them all,’ she whispered.

He ignored her and strolled towards the skinhead youth. ‘If you’re the leader of this pack of sewer rats I guess you’ll want to go first.’

The skinhead had to tilt his head to look Aksel in the face, and doubt flickered in his eyes when he realised that his adversary was not only tall but powerfully built. Realising that he was in serious danger of losing face, he spat out a string of crude profanities as he backed up the alleyway. The other youths followed him and Aksel watched them until they reached the far end of the alley and disappeared.

‘You have got to be nuts!’ Mina sagged against the wall. Reaction to the knowledge that Aksel had saved her from being mugged or worse was setting in and her legs felt wobbly. ‘They could have been carrying a weapon. You could have been hurt.’

She stared at him and felt weak for another reason as she studied his chiselled features and dark blond hair that had fallen forwards onto his brow. He raked it back with his hand and gave her a disarming smile that stole her breath.

‘I could have handled them.’ He frowned as Mina moved and the edges of her jacket parted to reveal her partially open shirt. ‘That punk had no right to lay a finger on you. Did he hurt you?’ Aksel felt a resurgence of the scalding anger that had gripped him when he had seen the skinhead gang leader seize hold of Mina. A lifetime of practice had made him adept at controlling his emotions, but when he had seen her scared face as the gang of youths crowded round her he had been filled with a murderous rage.

‘No, I’m fine. Oh...’ Mina coloured hotly as she glanced down and saw that her shirt was half open, exposing her lacy bra and the upper slopes of her breasts. She fumbled to refasten the buttons with trembling fingers. Nausea swept over her as her vivid imagination pictured what the gang of youths might have done to her if Aksel had not shown up.

‘Thank you for coming to my rescue—again,’ she said shakily, remembering how he had helped her order drinks at the bar earlier. The memory of how she had thrown herself into his arms when he had appeared in the alley brought another stain of colour to her cheeks. ‘By the way, I’m sorry I behaved like an idiot and hugged you.’

His lips twitched. ‘No problem. Feel free to hug me any time you like.’

‘Oh,’ Mina said again on a whispery breath that did not sound like her normal voice. But nothing about this evening was normal, and it was not surprising she felt breathless when Aksel was looking at her in a way that made her think he was remembering those few moments when he had caught her in his arms and held her so close to him that her breasts had been squashed against his chest.

Keen to move on from that embarrassing moment, she quickly changed the subject. ‘What are you doing here?’

Aksel had been asking himself the same question since he had left the Globe Theatre after the performance. His car had been waiting for him, but as his chauffeur had opened the door he’d felt a surge of rebellion against the constrictions of his life. He knew that back at his hotel his council members who had accompanied him from Storvhal would be waiting to discuss the new trade deal. But Aksel’s mind had been full of the Shakespearean tragedy that had stirred his soul, and the prospect of spending the rest of the evening discussing politics had seemed unendurable.

No doubt Harald Petersen, his elderly chief advisor and close friend of his grandmother, would be critical of the fact that he had dismissed his driver and bodyguard.

‘I am sure I don’t need to remind you that Storvhal’s wealth and political importance in the world are growing, and there is an increased risk to your personal safety, sir,’ Harald had said when Aksel had argued against the necessity of being accompanied by a bodyguard while he was in London.

‘I think it’s unlikely that I’d be recognised anywhere other than in my own country,’ Aksel had pointed out. ‘I’ve always kept a low media profile at home and abroad.’ Unlike his father, whose dubious business dealings and playboy lifestyle had often made headlines around the world.

After he had sent his driver away, Aksel had strolled beside the river when he had spotted Mina entering a pub, and without stopping to question what he was doing he had followed her inside. His immediate thought when he had met her at the bar was that, close up, she was even more beautiful than he’d thought when he had seen her on stage. He’d looked into her deep green eyes and felt as if he were drowning.

‘When you left the pub, I assumed I would never see you again.’ Her soft voice pulled Aksel back to the alleyway.

‘I was about to get into a taxi when I saw you come out of the pub. I watched you turn down this alleyway and decided to follow you. A badly lit alley doesn’t seem a good place to walk on your own at night.’

Mina gave him a rueful glance. ‘I’m on my way home and this is the quickest way to the station.’

‘Why didn’t you stay with your friends?’ Aksel hesitated. ‘You looked over at a man who walked into the pub and I thought he must be someone you knew.’

Aksel must be referring to Steve Garratt. Supressing a shudder, Mina shook her head. ‘He was no one—just...a guy.’ She swallowed, thinking that the only reason she had left the pub and started to walk to the station alone at night was because she’d wanted to get away from the journalist she despised.

She had a flashback to the terrifying moment when the gang of youths had surrounded her, and the colour drained from her face.

‘Are you all right?’ Aksel looked at her intently. ‘You’re in shock. Do you feel faint?’

Mina was not going to admit that she felt close to tears. ‘I probably feel wobbly because I’m hungry. I’m always too nervous to eat before a performance,’ she explained ruefully. ‘That’s why I was going home to get something to eat.’

His sensual smile evoked a coiling sensation in the pit of Mina’s stomach.

‘I have an idea. Why don’t you have dinner with me? My hotel isn’t far from here, and it has an excellent restaurant. I’m sure you won’t feel like cooking a meal when you get home,’ he said persuasively.

‘I...I couldn’t impose on you any further.’ For a crazy moment she wanted to accept Aksel’s invitation. It would be madness, she told herself. He was a stranger she had met in a pub and she knew nothing about him other than that he came from a country most people had never heard of. She looked at him curiously. ‘Are you on holiday in England?’

‘A business trip—I’m flying home tomorrow.’

She crushed her ridiculous feeling of disappointment. ‘What line of business are you in?’

Was it her imagination, or did an awkward expression flit across his face before he replied? ‘I work as an advisor for my country’s government. My visit to London was with a delegation to discuss trade policies with Britain.’

Mina could not hide her surprise. With his streaked blond hair and leather jacket he looked more like a rock star than a government advisor. ‘It sounds interesting,’ she murmured.

His laughter echoed through the alleyway; a warm, mellow sound that melted Mina’s insides. ‘I would have expected an actress to be more convincing at pretending that my job sounds fascinating,’ he said softly. ‘Can I persuade you to have dinner with me if I promise I won’t bore you with details about trade policies?’

As she met his glinting, bright blue gaze Mina thought it would be impossible for Aksel to bore her. Her common sense told her to walk back out to the main street and hail a taxi to take her home. She would be mad to go to dinner with a stranger, even if he was the sexiest man she had ever laid eyes on. She had followed her heart in LA but her experience with Dexter Price had left her wary and mistrustful, not just of other men but of her own judgement.

‘I’m not dressed for dinner at a restaurant.’ She made another attempt to ignore the voice of temptation that was telling her to throw caution to the wind and go with Aksel. Besides, it was the truth. Her cotton gypsy skirt and cheesecloth shirt were very boho chic, according to Kat, but not a suitable outfit to wear to dinner.

‘You look fine to me,’ Aksel assured her in his seductive, gravelly voice. ‘There’s just one thing. You’ve done your buttons up in the wrong order.’

He moved closer, and Mina caught her breath as he lifted his hands and fastened her shirt buttons properly. He smelled of sandalwood cologne, mingled with a clean, fresh fragrance of soap and another barely discernible scent that was intensely male and caused Mina’s stomach muscles to tighten.

As if he sensed her indecision, Aksel gave her another of his sexy smiles that set Mina’s pulse racing. ‘I understand the hotel restaurant serves a rich chocolate mousse that is utterly decadent. What do you say to us both sampling it this evening?’

His gravelly voice was electrifying, or maybe it was the expression in his eyes as he’d put a subtle emphasis on the word decadent. They both knew he hadn’t been thinking about chocolate dessert as he’d said it, and Mina was unable to control the tiny tremor that ran through her.

He frowned. ‘You’re cold. Here...’ Before she could protest he slipped off his leather jacket and draped it around her shoulders. The silk lining was warm from his body and Mina felt a wild, wanton heat steal through her veins. He caught hold of her hand and led her back to the entrance of the alleyway, but then he stopped and glanced down at her, his expression enigmatic.

‘I have a taxi waiting. I’ll ask the driver to take us to my hotel, or take you home. It’s your choice.’

It was crunch time, Mina realised. She sensed that if she chose to go home Aksel would not argue. It would be sensible to refuse his offer of dinner, but a spark of rebellion flared inside her. Since she had returned from LA she had built a shell around herself and stayed firmly inside her comfort zone, afraid to try new experiences. But what harm could there be in agreeing to have dinner with Aksel, who had rescued her from the youths and behaved like a perfect gentleman? Was she going to run a mile from every handsome man she met and allow what had happened with Dexter Price to affect her for the rest of her life?

She hoped he could not tell that butterflies were dancing in her stomach. ‘All right, you win. You’ve seduced me with talk of chocolate mousse, and I’d like to come back to your hotel.’

The moment the words left her lips she realised how suggestive they sounded and colour rushed into her cheeks. ‘To have dinner, I meant,’ she added quickly. Oh, God, why had she said seduced? She didn’t want him to guess that she wished he would kiss her, she thought numbly as her eyes locked with his.

He gave a husky laugh and lowered his head towards her so that his warm breath whispered across her lips. ‘I know you meant dinner,’ he assured her. His smile was wolfish as he said softly, ‘Seduction will come later.’

And then Aksel did what he had wanted to do since he had first set eyes on Juliet three nights ago, what he had ached to do since he had drowned in Mina’s deep green gaze when he had met her in the pub. He cupped her face in his hands and brushed his mouth over hers, once, twice, until she parted her lips beneath his.

Mina dissolved instantly when Aksel slanted his mouth over hers. She had fantasised about him kissing her since she had first noticed him in the audience three nights ago, and now fantasy and reality merged in a firestorm of passion. Her heart pounded as he pulled her hard against him. His body was all powerful muscle and sinew but the heat of his skin through his shirt made her melt into him as he deepened the kiss and it became achingly sensual.

‘Oh,’ she whispered helplessly as he probed his tongue between her lips. Her little gasp gave Aksel the access he desired, and he slid his hand beneath Mina’s hair to cup her nape while he crushed her mouth beneath his. The sweet eagerness of her response drew a ragged groan from him. He could have kissed her for ever, but one part of his brain reminded him that he was a prince and he was breaking every rule of protocol by kissing a woman he barely knew in a public alleyway.

Reluctantly he lifted his mouth from hers. ‘Will you come with me, Mina?’

Mina stared into Aksel’s eyes that glittered as brightly as the stars she could see winking in the black strip of sky above the alleyway. Her common sense warned her to refuse, but on a deeper instinctive level she knew she would be safe with him. She nodded mutely and followed him out of the alley to the main road where a taxi was waiting.

She couldn’t stop looking at him, drinking in the chiselled masculine beauty of his face and his sensual mouth that had wreaked havoc on hers. And he could not stop looking at her. They were both blind to everything around them, and as they climbed into the taxi neither of them noticed the man who had just emerged from the pub and watched them from the shadows before he got into his car and followed the taxi at a discreet distance.