The Man's Outrageous Demands Page 0,1

are you and what are you doing in here?” Marabeth demanded, taking several steps away from the tall, overwhelming man who smelled wonderful, she noted irritably.

“My apologies for the intrusion, Your Highness,” he said and bowed again but his eyes were glinting with humor. “I’m here at the request of your brother, Prince Maximillian. But I’m very glad to have made your acquaintance.”

Marabeth was not used to someone being so casual around her. Most people bowed and curtsied in her presence, usually driving her nuts. But this man was entirely too casual for her. Didn’t he have any respect for her title at all? She was a royal princess but he was treating her as if she were a waitress at the bar he was patronizing.

“Shall I rouse him so you can finish?” Sam offered again.

Marabeth looked over at the man sleeping on the settee with disgust. “No. Thank you though,” she said as politely as her anger would allow and started to step around the taller man. But Sam caught her by the arm to stop her. His grip wasn’t hard. It was very light in fact. It was the heat coming through to her skin that shocked her to her core.

Gone was the teasing glint and mercurial smile. His eyes were intense as they bored into her own gaze. “Don’t sell yourself short, princess,” he said earnestly. “You’re worth more than just someone you can endure. Shouldn’t you be looking for someone you’re attracted to and could grow to love instead of simply someone your parents will approve of?”

She jerked her arm out of his hand and stepped back, wishing she didn’t already feel bereft now that his touch was no longer on her arm. “What do you know of my situation?” she demanded, furious that the man had heard her whole, pathetic almostproposal and could read her so easily.

Sam dropped his hand from her arm and nodded slightly. ”Nothing. Nothing at all, but my statement still stands. You’re worth a whole lot more.”

Marabeth was captured by the intensity of his gaze. His eyes looked down deep into her soul as if he could sense the butterflies his touch and closeness created.

“Well, thank you very much for your advice,” Marabeth whispered. “If you’ll excuse me, I really should get back to the party. My parents will be wondering where I am,” she said.

“What about your date?” Sam asked, nodding to the still sleeping man slumped over on the settee.

Marabeth looked at the man and sighed. “He’s not my date,” she said and shook her head as she rushed out of the room on shaking legs.

What a fiasco, Marabeth thought as she hurried back into the ballroom and took a glass of cold champagne. She didn’t really want the liquor. She’d prefer a glass of ice cold water. Or something that would cool off her embarrassment. But Marabeth understood that life rarely gave one what was asked of it. She watched in horror as her brother, Max, brought the tall man from the salon up to meet her father, who instantly shook his hand and nodded enthusiastically. They seemed to be talking intently, her father nodding at whatever Sam was saying.

She then watched as a beautiful blond walked up to the group of men. Marabeth knew the woman, had known her since childhood. She was Lady Cecille Phillips and had been hounding Max to marry her for years.

But tonight she didn’t flirt with Max. Marabeth’s dislike of Lady Cecille grew to amazing proportions as she turned and seductively flirted with Sam, right in front of Marabeth’s mother and father, both of whom just smiled benignly. Sam then led the lovely lady off to the dance floor and smiled down into her vapid blue eyes as they danced closely.

Marabeth wanted to scream to Sam that Cecille was just a vacuous social climber who would sell herself off to the highest bidder. She placed her now empty glass on a side table and took another while she continued to glare at the striking couple over the rim, wishing both of them to perdition.

And just when Marabeth thought the evening could not get any worse, Sam looked up over Cecille’s shoulder and caught Marabeth staring at them. He had the audacity to wink at her! Marabeth wanted to throw her glass of champagne at him but he was too far away, and it wouldn’t be very couth of her. But manners came as a distant second reason for not throwing it.

Marabeth walked