Free The Golden Valkyrie by Iris Johansen Page B

no,
empathize
perfectly,” he said thickly. “Oh, what the hell!” His lips swooped down, and once again she felt his teeth and tongue working with erotic expertise. “We might as well do something while we’re waiting.” His hands slipped once more beneath her wrap and began to knead and tease her swollen breasts. “I wouldn’t want you to cool down and change your mind, would I?”
    There was no danger of that, Honey thought ruefully. Her body responded like a Stradivarius in the hands of a master violinist in the wild, heated moments that followed, and she wasn’t even conscious of when the cab drew up in front of the hotel.
    Lance was, however, and he drew quickly away from her as the cab came to a halt before the brightly lit front entrance. “Thank God,” he said fervently, withdrawing a bill from his wallet and handing it to the grinning cab driver without even looking at it. Ignoring the driver’s dazed murmur of appreciation, he opened the cab door. “Come on, let’s go,” he said curtly, getting out of the taxi and pulling her after him. “Another five minutes and I wouldn’t have made it.”
    And neither would she, Honey thought with a profound feeling of relief. In those last few minutes in the cab she had begun to feel that it wouldn’t have mattered if they’d had an audience as large as one at the Astrodome. She came eagerly into the possessive curve of his arm as he propelled her swiftly through the front entrance into the sleekly luxurious foyer.
    “One moment, please, Your Highness!”
    They both looked up in surprise, and there was a sudden brilliant flash. “That’s great…just one more!”
    Honey heard Lance mutter a violent oath, and his arm tightened protectively about her waist. He increased his pace, until they were almost running toward the bank of elevators across the foyer.
    The sharp-faced photographer who had taken their picture was right on their heels. “Is Miss Winston to accompany you on your entire tour, Your Highness?” he asked with machine-gun rapidity. “Did you know each other before you arrived in Houston? What do their Majesties have to say—” He tried to follow them into the elevator, but Lance placed a hand on his chest and gave him a rough shove while punching the button for the penthouse with the other hand. The doors closed on the photographer’s frowning, frustrated face.
    “I should have told the cab driver to go around to the service entrance,” Lance said with a scowl. “I didn’t think there would be any reporters persistent enough to be haunting the lobby this late at night.” His glance was suddenly concerned as he noticed Honey’s pale, set face. “Are you all right?”
    “I’m fine,” Honey said numbly, brushing the hair from her eyes with a shaking hand. “How did he know who I was?”
    Lance shrugged. “I suppose Davies must have issued a press release. There was bound to be speculation when the news hounds snooped out the fact that you were occupying a room in our suite. It was probably the most discreet way of handling the affair.” The doors of the elevator slid soundlessly open, and Honey preceded him dazedly from the cubicle and down the hall to the elegantly carved teak door of the suite.
    Discreet. A discreet way of handling the affair. The words were so casually said. Well, why shouldn’t they be? Lance probably hadn’t noticed the double entendre that had struck her like a blow—for she
had
come within a breath of being one of Lance’s “affairs.” If that flashbulb had not rocked her to her senses, she would have crawled as eagerly into the prince’s bed as any of his other playmates.
    Lance unlocked the door and flicked on the wall switch, flooding the room with light before turning to face her. His narrowed eyes flickered warily. “Okay, let’s have it,” he said flatly. “What’s wrong?”
    “I think you know,” she said huskily, not looking at him as she closed the door and moved slowly forward into