The Sheikh & the Princess Bride (3 page)

“The good life,” she said as she gathered Muffin in her arms. “Okay, what if we take a quick walk outside, then figure out what we’re doing about dinner? I mean does the palace have room service? I should have asked the prince about it.”

She would have, too, if he hadn’t been so tall and princely while he’d showed her around the suite.

“The man is a hunk,” she told her little dog as she carried her out into the corridor. “Wish he were my type.”

Not that Billie had an actual type. That would require a level of involvement she’d never had.

“In my next life I’ll be a guy magnet,” she told herself. “They’ll be tripping over each other to get to me.”

But until then, it was just her and her dog.

Billie walked to the end of the corridor and took the stairs down. She had a good sense of direction and was able to find her way to the garden in under five minutes.

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.

“Try this,” his brother, Murat, said and tossed him a
delinting
roll.

“Thanks.”

Jefri
went to work on his jacket while Murat lounged on the recently
dehaired
sofa.

“She really has a dog?” his brother asked.

“It is more of a rat with fur.” Of course Billie seemed to have an affinity for rodents, he thought remembering the tragedy of her mouse.

“And she shot you out of the sky?”

Jefri
shrugged into the jacket and turned his attention on his brother. “Not literally.”

“I can see that.” Murat grinned. “I cannot wait to meet her.”

“She is…unexpected.”

“Sounds interesting.”

Jefri
said nothing as he stared at Murat. His brother rose, stretched, then chuckled.

“I am the crown prince,” Murat said, as if
Jefri
needed reminding. “I may claim who I choose.”

“You may not claim this one.”

One dark eyebrow rose. “Why not?”

Jefri
allowed himself a small smile. “She is mine.”

“Ah. Does she know?”

“Not yet, but she will. Soon.”

“Then I wish you luck, my brother.”

“I will not need it.”

Jefri
was determined. Nothing would stand in the way of his learning all of Billie’s secrets, then having her in his bed.

Like most women, Billie had loved to play dress-up when she’d been younger, so the chance to actually put on finery for real was too good to pass up. Plus one of her job perks was attending the Paris Air Show every other year. Which meant after she and her brothers
oohed
and
ahhed
over the latest in aviation technology, she went shopping.

She stood now in one of her impulse purchases—a shimmering floor-length dark purple gown. The halter-style permitted her to show off curves and still wear a bra—always exciting. Combs held her hair off her face and allowed her to tease the curls up about another inch, while long tendrils cascaded down her back.

Strappy silver sandals with four-inch heels made her feel like an Amazon goddess…well, a short one anyway.

“What do you think?” she asked, holding out two different earrings for Muffin to inspect. Her dog lay on the high four-poster bed. “These are more dangling, but these have more flash.”

Muffin barked.

“I agree. Flash over dangle,” Billie said and put on the smaller cubic
zirconia
earrings.

After a light
spritzing
of perfume, she pronounced herself as ready as she was going to be.

“I promise to bring you back something,” she said. “I’m sure we’ll have some kind of meat dish. I tucked a Baggie in my purse.” She waved her tiny evening bag at Muffin.

The trick would be getting the bit of entrée from her plate to her handbag, but she’d done it countless times before and had almost never been caught.

“Okay. You be good. I’ll see you soon.”

Billie pushed the play button on the DVD player in the bedroom armoire, then headed for the door. As she stepped into the hallway of the amazing pink palace, she had the feeling that for the first time in her life, she was almost a princess.

“Way better than Halloween dress-up,” she murmured as she started down a corridor.

As she paused by the elevator, waiting for it to take her to the second floor because there was no way she could do stairs in these shoes or the long dress, she heard a door close and the sound of footsteps. Seconds later
Jefri
walked toward her.

“Good evening,” he said, looking more than a little spiffy in a black tux. So she’d guessed right then, “a family dinner” in royal circles meant way dressier than jeans.

The soft wool fabric of
Jefri’s
tux had the faintest shimmer to it, and Billie had an instant urge to touch. That would be bad, she told herself, trying not to swoon as she took in the rest of the package.

Most men cleaned up pretty well and looked good in a tuxedo, but those who had a head start in the looks department came out looking even better.
Jefri
was no exception. He’d brushed his dark hair away from his face, which emphasized his stern yet handsome features. The white shirt collar and cuffs made his skin seem darker. Billie avoided the sun whenever possible. She burned more than tanned and didn’t want to be fighting the leather look when she was fifty.

Knowing how pale she was and how dark he was gave her a little shiver. She had a visual of them entwined in bed, looking like actors for an erotic movie.

“Hi,” she said and waggled her fingers. “You look nice.”

He reached for her free hand and raised it slightly, then kissed her knuckles.

“You are enchanting. The glories of my country pale when compared to your beauty.”

Okay, sure. It was a line and little old-fashioned, but it worked. Billie felt her knees get a little wobbly and her heart start to pound.

The elevator doors opened.
Jefri
put his hand on her back to urge her to enter first. His thumb and forefinger landed on bare skin. Goose bumps erupted, even as warmth poured through her.

“I see you left Muffin in your room,” he said.

“I thought it was best. I always feel badly when I’m going to have fun without her, but she’s watching a movie.”

He pushed the button for the second floor. “Excuse me? Your dog is watching a movie?”

“Uh-huh. And I have to say that DVD collection in the armoire was fabulous. I had a hard time deciding, but in the end I put on Legally Blonde II because she has a real thing for Bruiser. That’s the dog in the movie.”

Jefri’s
gaze never left her face, yet she felt him mentally drifting. He blinked.

“I do not understand,” he told her. “You are the same woman who can fly a fighter jet better than anyone I know.”

The doors opened and they stepped out.

“Yup. That’s me.”

“Yet you put on a movie for your dog?”

“I don’t really see how the two concepts relate.”

“Nor do I. This way.”

He escorted her down a long corridor. Soft lighting spilled from the dozens of rooms they passed. Talk about a lot of space. Taking a lap around each floor would pretty much take care of anyone’s aerobic needs for the day.

“I heard your brother could not join us tonight,”
Jefri
said.

“The rest of the equipment arrived and he wanted to oversee that. If you ask me, he was in a snit about having to get dressed up for dinner. His loss. I’m sure the food will be amazing.”

“I hope you find that everything pleases you.”

His low voice scraped along her bare skin like a length of nubby fabric. Billie felt strange, sort of trembling and overheated and spacey. She had to get a grip. In the heels she wore, one wrong step could be fatal.

They turned left at a large pillar and entered what she supposed for them was a small, casual dining room. For her it was like being asked to eat in the roped-off parts of the British Museum.

A long table stood in the center of the room. From the number of chairs pushed up against the walls, she supposed it could be expanded to seat at least thirty, maybe more. Two antique hutches stood flanking a large tapestry depicting a young woman in an open kind of boat. Based on her dress, Billie would guess the scene was from the mid-sixteen hundreds.

Three chandeliers provided light over the table, but instead of using bulbs they twinkled with candlelight. Several sconces lined the walls, also providing illumination. A long buffet held a bucket of champagne on ice and unopened bottles of red and white wine, along with an assortment of liquors. Two men with trays of canapés hovered by the doorway, and there wasn’t a cat in sight.

“This works,” Billie said as she and
Jefri
strolled the length of the room.

“I’m glad you like it. Champagne?”

“Sure. I’m not flying until late tomorrow morning.”

Jefri
popped the bottle with an ease that made her feel like an extra in an old Audrey Hepburn movie, then accepted the delicate crystal glass.

“To new adventures,” he said, touching his glass to hers. “And those we share them with.”

She figured this wasn’t the time for her usual “Bottoms up” so she smiled before taking a sip. The liquid bubbles tickled the whole way down her throat. Oh, yeah. This was the good life for sure.

A tall man Billie hadn’t met entered the dining room. Based on his good looks and regal bearing she was going to take a wild guess and say he was another royal prince.

Bingo, she thought, when
Jefri
introduced him as “My oldest brother, Crown Prince Murat.”

She had her purse in one hand and her champagne in the other. For one horrible second, Billie thought maybe she was expected to curtsey. Why hadn’t she asked
Jefri
on the walk over? Before she could figure out what to do, Murat leaned forward and lightly kissed her cheek.

“Welcome, Ms. Van Horn. My brother complained of your great skill in the sky but he said nothing of your exceptional beauty.”

She would have thought that older handsome prince set to inherit the kingdom would have had some effect on her when he’d kissed her. She’d braced herself for at least a toe curl, but there hadn’t been even a flicker. Interesting. So her reaction was specifically to
Jefri
and not just to the whole good-looking-guy-in-the-palace thing. She would have to take that information out later and figure out what it meant.

“Most men don’t enjoy being shot down by a woman,” she said with a smile. “It’s an ego thing. I don’t take it personally.”

“Billie is convinced I will not ever best her. I am going to have to prove her wrong.”

Murat glanced between the two of them. “She does not look concerned, my brother.

Perhaps you will have to content yourself with besting her in other ways.”

The king entered the room, along with an obviously pregnant woman and what Billie took to be yet another of the handsome prince crop.

Jefri
leaned close. “Perhaps my brother is right and I should seek other kinds of victories.”

The combination of his words and his warm breath on her neck made her quiver.

“Come, you must meet our newest treasure,” the king said, leading the couple toward them. “Billie, my son
Reyhan
and his beautiful wife Emma.”

Billie had the whole purse/champagne thing under control this time. She’d tucked her bag under her arm so she was able to hold out her right hand to both of them.

“Welcome,”
Reyhan
said pleasantly.

“Are you really a fighter pilot?” Emma asked.

“She is brilliant in the sky,”
Jefri
said, answering for her.

“Amazing.” Emma smiled. “I thought you would be more…masculine. But you’re lovely enough to be a pop star or an actress.”

Billie beamed. “Aren’t you sweet. I’m just a girl who likes to dress up. I tried being one of the boys for a long time and it never worked.”

“One cannot imagine why,”
Jefri
murmured in her ear.

Murat returned with a scotch for his brother and a glass of what looked like sparkling water for Emma.

“What do you think of Billie?” he asked. “Is she not most intriguing?”

Jefri
stepped between her and Murat. “She is my guest.”

Billie felt a slight thrill. Was
Jefri
being possessive? Did he actually see her as something other than a means to fly better?

Another couple arrived—one of the princes accompanied by a petite, curvy blonde who squealed when she saw Billie.

“You’re American. Yeah. We can hang out and talk while you’re here. I’m Cleo.

Hi. Do you realize that out of all four of the women who are in this family, I’m the only one who lives in the palace?” She poked Emma’s arm. “You’re constantly gone, as are Zara and Sabrina. It’s really annoying.”

Cleo’s escort, Prince
Sadik
, sighed. “You have confused our guest and possibly frightened her.”

“Are you frightened?” Cleo asked.

Billie laughed. “No, just confused. What women? Who are Zara and Sabrina?”

“Perhaps we should adjourn to the table where we can all straighten this out,”

the king said. “Billie, you may sit next to me.”

So she found herself next to the king of
Bahania
, surrounded by honest to goodness princes and princesses. Billie had the fleeting thought that she wished her mother was still alive to take part in all this.

“All right, let me see if I have this right,” she said over the soup course.

“Sabrina and Zara are princesses by birth.”

The king nodded.

“But Zara didn’t know she was your daughter until about a year ago. And Cleo and Emma are Americans married to your sons.”

“That is correct.”

“Very complicated,” she said as she discreetly moved the sliver of prosciutto she’d slipped off her appetizer plate into the Baggie.

“You will learn who belongs with whom,” the king said kindly. “Simply remember my sons favor American women.”

“Interesting point.”

She couldn’t help glancing across the table to where
Jefri
sat. Did he favor American women as well? He seemed to be watching her, and while she wanted to believe it meant something, she’d been burned enough times to hold back. Ever since turning sixteen and having her first crush, she’d found herself interested in men who wanted nothing to do with her. It was like a curse.

“I have met one of your brothers,” the king said. “How many are there?”

“Three. I’m the only girl and the youngest.”

“Sabrina could relate to that,” Cleo said. “Her brothers made her life miserable. What about yours?”

“My mother always said they were a handful. She did her best to keep them in line.”

“What does she think of your occupation?”
Jefri
asked.

“She died when I was eleven. I’m not sure she would have been thrilled with my hanging out with my brothers all the time, but she would have wanted me to be happy.”

“Did your father remarry?” the king asked.

Billie shook her head. “We traveled a lot with the company. My mother had kept me home with her, but after she was gone, I went around the world, as well. It made for a very eclectic education.” And nowhere to call home. But Billie had always known she would have to choose between her love of the sky and putting down roots.

Emma leaned toward her. “I would have thought someone raised by her father would have been more of a tomboy.”

Billie laughed. “I tried being one for a while, but then I realized I made a lousy son, so I gave it up and surrendered to my inner girl.”

“Hence the call sign?”
Jefri
asked.

She nodded.

He raised his glass. “To always surrendering to your inner girl.”

If asked, Billie would have expected to explain that the royal family was stuffy and well, boring. But that wasn’t true at all. After grilling her about her life—in the most pleasant way possible—they’d laughed and talked and teased just like any other family she’d met. Okay, the flatware had been gold, but the rest of the meal had been surprisingly normal.

Whether it was the combination of too much champagne, the strange quarters or an evening spent getting lost in
Jefri’s
dark gaze, Billie found herself unable to sleep. Giving up, she left Muffin snoring softly and pulled on her robe, then walked into the living room where she opened the French door leading to the balcony and stepped out into the quiet of the night.