Her Royal Bed (10 page)

 

They lay together in a patch of sunlight, feeling lazy and comfortable and not at all ready to leave, but…

“The horses are restless,” Jane said, drowsily.

Bobby rose up on an elbow and looked down at her, so bone-weakeningly sexy in nothing more than a few specks of grass. “I hate to say it—God knows I do—but it is getting late. We should head back.”

“We could always come again,” Jane said, then realized the double meaning in her words and laughed.

“And again and again and again.” Bobby followed, chuckling.

Her gaze moved over him in a way that had his laughter turning to awareness. “All right, now,” he began warily. “You better put some clothes on or I'll forget I have a bunch of kids waiting for me.”

She looked horrified. “You can't do that.”

“I know.” He pitched her tank top at her, along with her jeans. “Hurry it up now.”

They both dressed quickly and were back atop their horses riding for home when Bobby turned to her and asked, “Do you still want to help out with the kids? You don't have to. After all, Abel really tricked—”

“I want to stay, Bobby,” she told him in all sincerity.

He nodded, feeling as if he'd won the lottery today. The lake had never felt so cool, the sun had never been so pleasingly warm and he'd never felt so wanted by anyone in his life. Jane was a woman without inhibitions. She didn't need rose petals or Frank Sinatra. She
gave of herself, totally and freely. She took what she needed, but made certain her partner felt every ounce of her pleasure in his own.

She was rare.

And he didn't deserve to touch her.

They arrived back at the ranch in just under twenty minutes. The first thing Bobby saw was a tall blond woman in her fifties standing outside the corral fence with Abel. She was brushing down Missy, a sweet black Morgan. She looked unsure of herself with the horse, but she was laughing with Abel—as though they'd known each other for much longer than an hour or two.

Bobby hadn't met her, but he was pretty sure the woman was Jane's mother, Tara Hefner. And upon closer inspection, he saw that she had Jane's mouth and her long, lean body.

Jane was off her horse as soon as they reached the pair. “Mom, what are you doing?”

“What does it look like I'm doing?” Tara said with a laugh, looking in Jane's direction.

“But you're afraid of horses. I thought you were just going to get the kids ready with helmets and stuff.”

Abel smiled at Tara and patted Missy. “Is that so, Tar? 'Fraid of horses? Well, you sure fooled me. I thought you'd been around these lugs your whole life.”

Tara blushed and shook her head. “Oh, Abel.”

Clearly shocked, and maybe even a little bothered by the expeditious intimacy of the pair, Jane took her mother's hand and led her over to Bobby. “Mom, I'd like you to meet someone. This is Bobby Callahan.”

Like her daughter, Tara Hefner was a very beautiful,
fine-figured woman. She stuck her hand out, and said in a warm voice, “Hi, Bobby.”

Bobby softened in Tara's presence, couldn't help it. She had a Southern femaleness about her, and he understood right away why Abel was acting crazy. Heck, her daughter had that sweet openness, too.

He shook her hand. “It's good to know you, Mrs. Hefner.”

“I hope you don't mind another assistant?”

“Not at all. In fact, my daddy used to say, ‘It don't take a genius to spot a ready angel in a flock of weary sheep.'”

That made her smile, and she leaned close to him, whispering, “Your father sounds like a good man.”

“I like to think so,” Bobby said tightly, not missing the quizzical look Jane gave him.

Little more was said as the children arrived. Bobby put Jane to work immediately, assisting with the preparations and mounting. From time to time, he'd glance her way, his gut tightening with pride as he watched her, so gentle as she encouraged a young girl from her wheelchair and onto the back of Dandy, an old white mare. She was comfortable here already, comfortable with him, his life and his body. Heat surged into his blood as a flash of memory from this afternoon entered his mind.

He forced his gaze away, onto Abel and Tara, who were working as a team. While Abel led two horses around the paddock, Tara held onto the top of the stirrup, talking to the young boy in the saddle.

It was a sight for sad eyes.

This place hadn't seen the likes of Tara and Jane for a long time and everything here, kids, horses and staff alike seemed to blossom under their care.

Bobby lifted Kitty Johnson onto the back of an old quarter horse, his gut twisting painfully as he realized that the promise he'd made to his father would soon rip this wonderful, short-lived reality from his sights for good.

I
t was close to sundown when a weary Tara and a beaming Jane returned to the house of Al-Nayhal. The lush and highly polished surroundings felt just a little chilly after the warm modesty of KC Ranch. Especially when Sakir Al-Nayhal, dressed in a flowing white kaftan, met them at the front door, his face set with grim determination.

“Good evening, sister, Tara.” He nodded at each of them, his gaze so stern it caused Jane's cheerful mood to fade slightly.

It was no mystery what was about to happen. Under the priceless chandelier, another confrontation between her and her brother over Jane's choice of man was about to take place. But after the wonderful time she'd had today, she was more than armed to fight him.

“Good evening, Sakir,” Tara said quickly, obviously sensing the tension in the air. “Is Rita with us?”

“No, she is with the baby. Daya is having trouble sleeping.”

“Ah,” Tara said sagely, turning toward Jane. “I remember many a night walking the hallway with you in my arms.”

“Just didn't want to sleep,” Jane explained to Sakir. “I was always a problem child.”

“That's not true,” Tara defended passionately.

Jane laughed. “But I grew out of it.”

“I am not so sure,” Sakir said softly, then when he had captured Jane's attention, continued, “You worked at KC Ranch this afternoon, did you not?”

“Yes.”

A heavy sigh was followed by a glance in Tara's direction. “Please talk some sense into your daughter, Tara.”

Tara smiled patiently. “It's not that simple, Sakir.”

“It must be.”

“Just wait until your Daya grows up. You'll see that once they are adults, you have little influence over their decisions.”

Sakir lifted his chin and stated proudly, “It will not be so with my daughter.”

Tara's smile widened. “Well, I think I'm going to head upstairs. It's been a long day.”

“Wait,” Jane said, reaching for her mother's hand. “I'll take you up.”

“That is not necessary.” Sakir clapped his hands three times and Marian appeared in the doorway. “Please take Ms. Hefner to her room.”

Marian inclined her head, then went to Tara's side, rested her hand on the older woman's arm. “Ms. Hefner?”

“Goodnight,” Tara said to the both of them with a touch of hesitancy in her voice. “Be kind to each other.”

Knowing it was important to reassure her mother that everything was going to be all right, Jane used a phrase from her childhood. “Sleep tight, Mom.”

Tara granted her a nod and a loving smile before following the housekeeper up the stairs.

When she was gone, Sakir motioned for Jane to follow him into the living room, where a healthy blaze crackled and snapped in the fireplace. Jane sat beside him on a long, gray chenille sofa and waited for him to say whatever it was that he needed to say.

It didn't take long.

“You are falling for him, yes?”

Eyebrows knit together, Jane laughed. “Where did you hear that expression?”

“My wife has said this. About you and…Callahan.”

“Has she?”

“She thinks you are in love.” He leaned back, crossed his arms over his chest. “I cannot allow this, Jane. I only accepted your dates with Bobby Callahan because I thought that would be all of it. Just a few casual outings. After all, the man has never taken any woman seriously since I have known him.”

Alert now, Jane straightened in her seat. “How would you know that?”

With a dismissive flip of the hand, Sakir uttered, “I have ways of finding out information.”

The heat from the fire seemed to intensify as Jane ab
sorbed this news. If all Bobby Callahan had been able to manage until now was a date or two, then she was in luck. Aside from the dates they'd shared, Bobby had actually sought her out—at the mall with Rita—and had shared his personal history with her. Those were not the acts of a casual affair.

“Jane?”

She looked into her brother's dark eyes with their wary expression, and grinned like a teenager. “So, he had no serious girlfriends in the past, huh?”

Realizing that the information he'd given her as a warning had only managed to spur her on, Sakir shot her a penetrating stare. “You do not take this matter seriously.”

“Oh, believe me, Sakir, I take this very seriously.”

Clearly he didn't believe her, because a moment later he was shaking his head and muttering foolish threats. “I am afraid I will have to forbid you from seeing him again.”

Unable to stop herself, Jane burst out laughing. “Oh, c'mon, Sakir.”

“I am in earnest.”

“You're talking like it's the nineteenth century and you're my guardian.”

“As your brother I have the right to make decisions, even demands.”

Suddenly Jane's laughter died, and so did her smile. She looked at him. Really looked. He wasn't kidding. And this wasn't a quirky brother-sister squabble over what was best for Jane. This was Sheikh Al-Nayhal making an edict.

Her gaze fixed to his, Jane spoke gravely to her brother. “Understand something, please. You have no rights over me. I love you, Sakir, but I'm an adult.”

As if he hadn't heard her, Sakir continued, “While you are under my roof—”

“Please don't go there.”

“Jane.”

“I'm serious, Sakir. That's a dangerous road to take.”

“So is the one you are traveling on,” he snapped. “Our father would not allow this—”

“I have no father,” she interrupted, her tone dotted with a sourness she never knew she possessed. But the truth of the matter was she would never consider the wishes of a parent who had not been in her life—or a brother who hardly knew her, yet believed he knew what was best for her.

“You may not have known the great sultan,” Sakir said tightly. “But he would not have allowed such a thing to continue, and I'm afraid I cannot allow it, either.”

They stared at each other, stubborn green eyes to dictatorial ones. Finally, Jane stood and nodded. “I'll leave first thing in the morning.”

A dark-red stain moved over Sakir's face. “I will not allow that, either.”

She said nothing, couldn't say anything with the lump of misery in her throat. Her new family was causing her tremendous pain, forcing her to look at difficult choices.

But the choice to walk away from Sakir, in that moment, was the easiest one she knew she'd ever make.

 

“We're a couple of sorry saps.”

“How do you figure that?” Bobby asked. He and Abel sat on the porch steps, stars flickering in the sky above,
beers in hand, just as they'd done almost every night since the older man had come to work at KC Ranch.

Gloom curled through Abel's voice. “Another night with no women.”

“Speak for yourself. I was out last night,” Bobby reminded him.

“And where's that pretty little filly tonight?”

“Back at Al-Nayhal's.”

Hearing the irritation in Bobby's voice, Abel rolled his lips under his teeth. “You know, that Tara's a nice-looking woman.”

“You think so, do you?”

“I do. Nicest-looking woman I've seen since…” Abel's voice drifted off and he looked slightly pained at the near mention of his ex-wife, and understandably so. He'd loved her something awful.

“Maybe you should do something about it,” Bobby suggested, thinking that the man deserved some home and hearth after what he'd been through.

“Maybe.”

“What's the problem?” Bobby asked, his tone threaded with a challenge. “You scared to go under the knife again?”

Abel tipped his beer bottle back and took a swig. “Too old to get my guts ripped out.”

“Yeah, I can see that.”

Catching the grin on Bobby's face, Abel chuckled. “But then again, I don't want to end up like you, either.”

Shifting on the creaky wooden step, Bobby shot Abel a glare of reproach. “What the hell does that mean?”

“One woman to the next. You hardly get to know 'em before you say adios.”

Bobby gave a defensive shrug. “Haven't found the right girl, that's all. Not that it's any of your business.”

As usual, Abel ignored the last comment. “Jane looks pretty right to me.”

To Bobby, too.

Damn her.

Visions of tangled legs, wet fingers and a strange familiarity that went far past the physical, shot into his brain.

Damn her.

There was nothing wrong with good old-fashioned sex. Nothing wrong with a day of fun out on the lake. Nothing, except the ties that bind you, force you closer, worm their way inside your brain and stop you from thinking about anything else.

That's what was happening with Jane. He couldn't think about anything or anyone else. He wanted more—more of her hands on him, more of the laughter in her eyes, more of that heart that practically sang with compassion and truth.

On a trashy curse, he shoved his empty beer can into Abel's hand and mumbled, “I'll see you later.”

As he stalked down the path to the driveway, Abel called after him, “Where you going?”

“Need to clear my head,” Bobby shot back over his shoulder.

“If it were only that easy,” Bobby heard the man say with a dry chuckle as he headed for his truck.

 

The weight of him pressing down on her body nearly had her breathless.

Wet, wonderful kisses blanketed Jane's mouth as she
wrapped her legs around his waist and thrust her hips up. Bobby entered her slowly, inch by glorious inch, and she reveled in the sweet invasion.

Then, in a red flash, they were fully clothed and Bobby was ripped from her by Sakir. In one disjointed movement, Sakir plowed his fist into Bobby's gut. A low groan erupted from Bobby's throat, and he went at Sakir like a defensive lineman. Jane watched helplessly as the two men fought without fear and without tiring for what seemed like an eternity.

Suddenly
she
was Bobby, and she was the one fighting her brother with all the strength of a man. She felt his bone-crushing blows to her jaw and ribs. She felt the sadness, horror and adrenaline that kept her from running, kept her fighting even when her body cried in pain, even as tears washed her cheeks….

“Hey, hey there, darlin'.”

Jane's eyes flew open; she was instantly relieved of her nightmare. She was in her room, the scents of fresh bed linen and night air curling through her senses.

But there was something else.

Someone else.

Her heart smacked against her ribs and she sat up, stared into the blue gaze of the very man she had been dreaming about. “Ohmigod, Bobby.”

“Shhh…” he said, placing a finger to her lips, looking around at the door and the window.

Jane glanced at the clock. Eleven forty-five. Then back at him. “How did you get into my room?”

“Through the window.”

Not sure she'd heard him correctly, she tilted her
head to see past him to the open window. “I'm on the second floor, and there's a guard and dogs.”

“That's right.” His gaze, so dark and intense, slipped to her mouth. He reached out, traced the edge of her jaw with his fingertip. “That's how badly I needed to see you?”

Reality dawned. He was really here, in her room, on her bed. “Is something wrong or—”

His finger moved up, flicked gently over her lower lip. “Nothing's wrong, darlin'. I just needed to give you something.”

“What is it?”

“This.” With gentle hands, he eased her back to the mattress once again. His eyes filled with wicked intent, he hovered above her, his thigh nestled between her legs.

“And this,” he uttered, his mouth greedily descending on hers.