Сьюзен Мэллери - The Sheik & the Princess Bride

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.

A moon hung low in the sky and sent fingers of light across the lapping sea. There were scents in the air, smells she didn’t recognize but knew would forever remind her of Bahania. The air was still, faintly cool, but still pleasant.

“The good life,” she said with a smile. “I doubt anything is ever going to top this.”

She leaned on the balcony and stared down at the dark gardens. Slim shadows darted in and out of bushes. Cats, she thought grimly. No doubt out to kill. Why on earth would anyone think creatures like that were pet-worthy?

“What has you so concerned?” Jefri said as he came out of the darkness and moved next to her at the railing. “You are frowning.”

His unexpected appearance startled her, although not enough to make her duck back inside. She had a brief thought that she was in her nightgown, but then reminded herself that she’d been a lot more uncovered in her evening gown.

“There,” she said pointing toward the garden. “Cats.”

He chuckled. “I will protect you from any who attempt to attack you.” He glanced around. “Where is Muffin?”

“Sleeping. She needs her beauty sleep.”

“Tell me she does not have one of those black sleep masks.”

Billie laughed. “She doesn’t.”

“Good.”

He leaned against the railing, his shoulder close to her own.

“Did you enjoy your evening with us?” he asked.

“Very much so.” She glanced at him, taking in the dark slacks and the formal white shirt he’d unbuttoned. The tie was gone, as was the jacket, and he’d rolled his sleeves up to his elbows.

“I’ve never dined with royalty before,” she said. “I thought I’d be more nervous but everyone made me feel very comfortable.”

“I was concerned you thought there were too many questions.”

“Not at all. I thought everyone was interested and genuine rather than grilling me.”

“We are like other families?”

“Except for the prince thing.”

“So you were impressed.”

She smiled. “Not exactly.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Why not?”

“Come on. How impressed could I be by wealth and a title when we both know I could blow you out of the sky in thirty-eight seconds?”

“Good point. However, I could impress you in other ways.”

Oh, yeah, that was a serious possibility.

“I’m just the hired help,” she said instead, and did her best to act casually. “In a few months, I’ll be gone and you’ll rule your own skies.”

“Do you like that aspect of your job? Going from place to place?”

“Sometimes.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “I enjoy seeing the world, but sometimes I wouldn’t mind having a permanent base of operations. The problem with that is I’ve yet to find a way to combine home and hearth with what I love to do.”

“The flying.”

“Exactly.”

“How did you learn to fly?” he asked.

“My dad had always taken me up with him. I was handling single engine planes by the time I was ten. My mom tried to hold me back, which worked until she died. Then there was no one telling my dad no. I worked my way up to jets pretty quickly.” She turned her head and smiled at him. “Having a mini air force in the family helped. What about you?”

“I have always loved flying. My father indulged me with lessons when I was twelve. I’m sure he thought it was something I would outgrow.”

“But you didn’t.”

“You’re right. The more I flew, the more I loved it. I wanted to join an air force, but we did not have one here in Bahania and no other country would allow me to train. They did not want the responsibility of a king’s son.”

“Huh. I never thought there would be discrimination against royalty.”

“You would be surprised.”

“Maybe, but don’t expect any sympathy.”

“I am not.” He turned so he faced her. “Your life has not been traditional.”

“I know. I’m glad for what I’ve experienced, but it hasn’t come free. I’m going to be thirty in a few years. I’d like to get married and start on the whole baby thing, but I don’t actually meet the kind of guys who would be interested in me.”

He frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s the whole blow up in the sky thing. Most men don’t like it and compensate one of two ways. They get way too aggressive with me on the ground, or they ignore me. No one is ever just a guy.”

Although Jefri was making a good showing, she thought. If only he wasn’t a real prince.

“You are not making any sense,” he told her.

“Sense or not, what’s what is. The men I work with don’t see me as an available female.”

“Perhaps they are not willing to take on your brothers.”

Billie stared at him. “Excuse me?”

“Your brothers. Doyle warned me away from you this afternoon. After our flight.”

She heard the words, but she couldn’t believe them. “He what?”

“The message was extremely clear.”

“I…He…” She pressed her lips together and reached for a rational, coherent thought. “That lying, cheating, scummy pinhead,” she muttered.

Was it possible? Were her brothers the reason no one ever asked her out?

She thought about how possessive they were of her. Of the things they said and how they worried about her.

“This is so like them,” she said, feeling her temper rise. She couldn’t believe it. She’d been date-free for years. How many guys had wanted to take her out only to be headed off by one of her brothers?

“I’m going to make them pay.”

“I would request that you not make them suffer too much.”

“Why?”

“Because they have kept other men away from you.”

“Oh, right and that’s a good thing, how?”

“You are still available to me.”

Billie barely had time to process the sentence, which was probably for the best because the most eloquent thing she would have come up with was “Huh?” As Jefri spoke, he drew her into his arms and pressed his mouth to hers, so whatever else she was going to say faded into a soft, soul-stealing kiss.

He claimed her with a combination of passion and tenderness. Firm lips moved against her own, discovering, heating, delighting. Her temper faded as if it had never been, while liquid desire took its place.

She sighed and melted against him, letting her body lean against his and her arms rest on his strong shoulders. He smelled of cognac and night and mystery. He drew her closer still until they touched as intimately as their mouths. One of his hands tangled in her long hair while the other roamed over her back.

Instinctively she tilted her head, to make the kissing easier. He responded by brushing his tongue against her lower lip. Anticipation raced through her and she parted for him. But instead of deepening the kiss, he moved away. He kissed her cheek, then along her jaw. When he reached the sensitive skin below her ear, he licked that spot and made her shiver. He took her earlobe in his mouth and gently grated his teeth.

Fire raced through her. Her breasts swelled as her nipples puckered into tight sensitive points of need. She felt overdressed and jumpy, as if her skin was suddenly too tight. Heat settled between her legs. She wanted to rub against him, she wanted to touch and be touched, she wanted to beg.

He returned his mouth to hers. Again she parted for him, but he kept the kiss chaste, barely touching, moving back and forth. Need filled her, unfamiliar yet welcome. The wanting grew.