Free The Makeover Mission by Mary Buckham Page A

man had
caused in her life, she fought twin needs. One to hurl something at him,
preferably something heavy, the other to run from the room, screaming at him to
find another way to fix his country's problem.
    It wasn't helping matters that he was looking at her not as a
person, one unwillingly abducted from her home to travel half way across the
world to become a pawn in a dangerous political game, but as a tool. Nothing
more, nothing less.
    Goose bumps crawled up her skin as his gaze raked over her,
impersonal enough, but leaving her feeling as if she was less than human.
Nothing like the way the major had made her feel with his look. Nothing.
    "You have little to say?" His voice mocked, in spite of
its soft tone, lyrical with the accent of his country.
    "Nothing appropriate for mixed company."
    "That is good." He laughed, a sound rolling around the
room like an empty can. "I like a woman who looks like ice while she spits
fire."
    Well, he'd gotten the wrong woman. There was no fire in her and
never had been. What he'd gotten instead was a small-town librarian who could
blow this crazy plan at any minute, who just wanted to live long enough to
sleep in her own bed once again and wear her own clothes.
    As if the weight of the last days slammed against her all at once,
she knew couldn't stay in the room with either of these men for one more
moment. They each demanded something from her, something she did not want to
give.
    "Excuse me." She rose to her feet, ignoring both the
king's surprised look and the major's wary one. "I'm sure you'll
understand when I say it's been a long day."
    The king tried to interrupt, but she wouldn't let him. "I'd
like to go to my room. Now."
    "I thought we would have a glass of cognac in the library. I
have come a ways to visit with you tonight," he pouted, but she did not
glance his way. She knew it was the major who would make the final decision.
She held his gray-eyed glance until he rose to his feet, crumpling his napkin
into a snowy mound on the table.
    "Your Highness," he began, though he, too, did not look
at the man. "I think your fiancée is right. I shall escort her to her
room, then return to join you in the library."
    "See that you do," came the king's snapped answer. One
that told her she'd made no brownie points with her supposed intended. Not that
she cared.
    In silence she walked from the room, aware of McConneghy's silent
presence shadowing her, up the stairway and down the long hallways. Only when
they reached her room did he speak.
    "Wait here."
    "But, I'm—"
    "Do as I say. Wait here."
    Did she have any choice? She assumed not as she watched him step
in front of her, slide into the room, turn on the light and inspect every
corner before he gave her an all-clear nod.
    The man missed nothing. Which was probably a good thing, she
realized, because all she noticed was the thin scrap of sheer pale peach lace
that must have been meant as a nightgown draped across the turned-down covers
of the bed. Never, in all her life, had she dreamed of owning such a garment.
Nightgowns like that belonged to seductresses, to women who reveled in their
power over men, to bank accounts that didn't need to be constantly balanced.
    The major's gaze followed hers before he came to stand beside her.
Obviously in his world such garments were not out of place because his look
wasn't heated now, but worried. He gazed down at her, standing so close she could
watch the pulse beating in the hollow of his throat. He raised one hand,
tentatively, a move that looked out of place for him, then let it slip back to
his side.
    "Sleep will help." He sounded as if they weren't the
words he'd originally intended, but was at a loss for others.
    She could find no energy for an answer.
    He was almost at the door before he spoke again. "This is an
important thing that you're doing."
    "If you say so."
    Silence descended, a tense, awkward pause thick with tension.
Until he broke it. "You'll feel better in the morning."
    She