“The bed,” I repeated.
Keira did as she was told, vitriol clearly bubbling beneath the surface.
I watched. The maid’s outfit of a matronly black dress, white apron and black stockings had been designed more for practicality rather than visual appeal, but Keira’s curves still made it sexier than anything, and as she bent across the bed she inadvertently displayed more and more leg. They were great legs, I considered from my vantage point, my arousal showing no sign of diminishing.
“You’ll never get it done from there,” I pointed out.
The beds at Richmond were of course king-sized, and then some. They were enormous, which was odd as they were also antiques, and weren’t people supposed to be smaller in the past? Whatever the reason, they were huge beds and even I would’ve struggled to reach the middle if I were standing at one side. “You’ll need to get up on the bed,” I added.
Keira shot back a look of pure disdain but I saw that, if only for a split second, her eyes darted down to my still-proud erection. She crawled up onto the bed and my eyes widened in appreciation as her dress became more skewed. She set to work, straightening and tidying, unavoidably bending over and twisting this way and that, and I stared in voyeuristic pleasure with a half-smile quirking my lips up. Her skirt was now disarranged such that I could almost see straight up it, and it was a quite a sight. She had an ass that more than surpassed that of Kathy the stewardess from the other week, and I resisted the urge to walk right over and lightly spank it before pinning her to the bed and tearing off her stockings with my teeth.
I was willing to admit that staring at her like this was a morally grey area. On the one hand, she shouldn’t have woken me from a hangover with a vacuum cleaner, and on the other, I simply couldn’t look away. She was more than desirable; more than stunning….she was fucking beautiful.
With the bed now properly made, Keira turned, and for the first time, she seemed to notice my appreciative gaze. She blushed a deep crimson, embarrassment and anger mingled, and she scrambled off the bed and hurried for the door.
“Don’t go yet,” I called, enjoying the fact that I was making her blush so much. It was fucking adorable. “There’s still something that needs a good polishing.”
Keira stopped, almost unwillingly, turning in unspoken question. “What is it that needs polishing?” she asked.
“My royal scepter,” I said, still grinning as I gestured to my boxers.
Keira’s blush deepened further, and she hissed angrily at me. “You really are a bastard!”
She rushed for the door.
“Keira! I was kidding! I was just…” the door slammed and cut me off. “Kidding,” I finished lamely.
As my optimistic morning glory shrank, I wondered if maybe I’d pushed her too far. I’d thought she deserved to be taken down a peg, but I suddenly felt very guilty, which wasn’t an emotion I was even remotely accustomed to. Why did this girl make me feel so…I couldn’t even put a word to it, honestly. What the hell was so different about her? And just how long would I let her drive me wild before I couldn’t resist her for a second longer?
Something told me it wouldn’t be long now…
Chapter 5
Keira
Cheeks still burning hotly, I hurried away from Andrew’s room, vacuum cleaner in tow. What the hell had I been thinking taking this job? How could I have thought that working in the same place as that man-whorish sleaze would be anything other than a horrible trial? Well, no more. I would go to Rogers now and resign, or at the very least I’d request to be moved to another residence. I’d kept my temper and resisted the urge to knee my boss in the groin, as Rogers had suggested, but I couldn’t tolerate such behavior anymore. I didn’t care that he was a member of the royal family; that didn’t give him the right to be an ass.
“You call this clean?” The sharp voice of Prince Michael echoed down the corridor, and I peered cautiously around the next corner. The younger prince was taking a pair of maids to task over the standard of their work. “I could have done better myself!”
You should try it sometime, I thought to myself. I wasn’t exactly getting a good impression of the British royal family, or at least not its younger generation. At the moment I wasn’t sure who I disliked more, the snob or the sleaze, but neither of them had made a good first impression on me at all.
Prince Michael continued his tirade from around the corner. “I think I shall have to have a word to all the new staff! You’ll all be lucky if you even have jobs by tomorrow!”
In another mood, I might have gone around the corner and told the prince exactly what I thought of him, or I might just as equally have suffered his unpleasantness in silence and got on with my job, reminding myself that it was well paid and I had a trip around the continent to finance. But after my earlier encounter with Prince Andrew…though it galled me to admit it, his behavior had really got to me. It had upset me, and I was feeling fragile, so I didn’t want to face another obnoxious prince if I could possibly avoid it.