Сьюзен Мэллери - The Sheik & the Princess Bride

The lush cultivated space seemed larger at ground level. The various gardens spilled into each other, more formal English garden hedges giving way to serene pools surrounded by tropical disarray. She set Muffin down, careful to keep an eye on her so she wasn’t cornered and attacked by marauding cats.

“Not bad,” Billie murmured as Muffin began to sniff. “Easy to understand why it’s good to be the prince.”

Her sandals clicked loudly on the stone path. She wove her way between plants and bushes and trees, stopping to smell a flower or finger a leaf. She didn’t know all that much about growing things. Her expertise required an engine and enough thrust and speed to break the sound barrier. Still, if one had to stay earthbound, this was the place.

She rounded a corner and saw a man sitting on a bench. He looked up as she approached, then stood.

“Good afternoon,” he said with a smile. “Who might you be?”

The man was tall and handsome, albeit older. Gray spread from his temples and there were lines by his dark, deep-set eyes. His well-tailored suit reminded her of a bank president or senator, not that she’d ever met either.

“Billie Van Horn,” she said, holding out her hand.

“Ah, the military expert. I recognize the name.” He shook hands with her, then motioned to the bench. “You are a member of the family?”

“The only girl. A giant pain, let me tell you.” She settled on one end of the stone bench while he took the other. “The good news is I’m a great pilot and if my brothers ever make me too crazy I challenge them to a dogfight.” She grinned. “A fighter jet is a great equalizer.”

“I can imagine.”

Muffin trotted up and sniffed at the nice man’s shoes.

“My dog,” Billie said. “Muffin. I’d heard there were cats, but I didn’t expect so many. I’m trying to keep Muffin from being the chef’s special.”

“I doubt you have to worry. She looks capable of taking care of herself.”

“Not when she’s outnumbered. There was already a fight in my room.”

The older man raised his eyebrows. “You are staying at the palace?”

“Yes. Prince Jefri invited me and my brother Doyle.” She leaned close. “I confess I was seduced by the thought of a bathtub. Roughing it comes with the job, so how could I resist a few weeks in a palace? The place is amazing.”

“I’m glad you think so.”

A cat strolled up. Billie eyed it with distaste but her companion simply stroked its back.

“You fly jets?” he asked. “That is your job?”

“I do most of the in-air training. I also work with the pilots on the simulators. It’s fun.”

“You are good at this?”

She grinned. “The best. This morning I blew Prince Jefri out of the sky in less than two minutes. Not literally, of course.”

“How comforting. I am not yet ready to lose my youngest son.”

As the words sank in, Billie opened her mouth, then closed it. “S-son?” she repeated, hoping she’d misunderstood. “You’re his father?”

“Yes.”

She looked into the dark eyes and realized the resemblance had been staring her in the face.

“But that would make you…”

“The king.”

“Oh, God.”

She half rose, thought about The King and I and wondered if she was allowed to hold her head higher than his. Was that a real law or just humor for a musical?

“I can’t…” She swallowed. “I didn’t…” Giving in to the need to curl up and die, she covered her face with her hands and moaned. “How many laws have I broken?”

“No more than three or four.”

She spread her fingers and peeked at the king. He didn’t look angry. If the smile was anything to go by, he was amused.

She dropped her hands to her lap and straightened. “You could have told me.”

“I did.”

“I mean before. When I said, ‘Hi, I’m Billie.’ You could have said, ‘Hey, I’m the king.”’

“This was more interesting. You would not have spoken so freely with me if you had known who I am.”

“No kidding. So do I bow or something?”

“You do neither. I am King Hassan of Bahania.” He nodded regally. “Welcome to my country.”

“Thank you. It’s great.” She sighed. “I guess I’d better apologize for not liking cats.”

“Caring for them is not required, although you aren’t allowed to injure any.”

“I’m okay with that, but Muffin may be another matter.” She glanced down at her dog and wrinkled her nose. “She’s only seven pounds, so I don’t think she could do much more than cause a lot of noise.”

The king followed her gaze, then smiled. “That is true. I will have to hope my cats are up to the challenge. If there—”

A loud howl interrupted his sentence. Billie sprang to her feet and headed toward the noise just as a black-and-white cat flew in front of her. She sidestepped to avoid stepping on the horrible creature and slid off the stone path. Her momentum didn’t help her regain her balance and she felt herself falling.

Suddenly strong arms grabbed her from behind. Someone hauled her up, rescuing her from what could have been some serious pain. Billie caught her breath as she felt rock-hard muscles, incredible body heat and the thundering beat of her own heart.

Please God let her not have been rescued by the king. He was handsome and all that, but old enough that having a visceral reaction to him bordered on icky.

She turned her head and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Jefri gazing at her from only a few inches away.

“Your dog seems to be in trouble again,” he said as he righted her. “She has a knack for finding it.”

Billie straightened and brushed off her dress. “I would say with all these cats stalking her, she has little choice except to protect herself.”

Remembering the presence of the king a half sentence too late, she swallowed. “Not that the cats aren’t lovely,” she added in a small voice.

Jefri raised his eyebrows, but didn’t speak. The king looked amused. He bent over and scooped up a now calm and silent Muffin.

“So you are a troublemaker,” he said, staring into her dog’s little face. “Perhaps you need to learn your place in the world.”

Billie hoped that place didn’t involve a cage. “She travels with me everywhere. She’s sort of spoiled.”

“So I see.” He set the dog down on the ground and patted her head. “I would like you and your brother to join me for dinner tonight.” He straightened. “If you can bear to leave the little one in your room.”

Dinner with the king? How many times did that happen to a girl like her?

“Absolutely.” She mentally flashed on her wardrobe. “Formal? Informal?”

“It will just be family,” he said.

Which didn’t answer her question but made her wonder if the ever-hunky Prince Jefri would be there.

“Good. Would you like to inform your brother?”

Billie thought of Doyle’s reaction to dinner with royalty. He wouldn’t be amused.

“I’ll let you tell him,” she said, knowing even her brother wouldn’t dare lose his temper with a king. “He’ll be thrilled.”

Jefri’s mouth twitched, which made her wonder if he knew what she was thinking.

Not possible, she told herself. Men like him didn’t care about brains or thoughts. They wanted…She paused as she realized she didn’t know what men like him wanted from women. But as she was neither a supermodel nor the heir to a champagne fortune, she was unlikely to find out anytime soon.

“Seven-thirty then,” the king said.

“I’ll be there.” She bent over and scooped up Muffin, then headed back to her room. If she was going to dine with royalty she needed much bigger hair.

Jefri finished knotting his tie and turned to reach for his jacket. As he picked it up, he checked the fabric for cat hairs.