Desert Rogues: The Princess Bride

Autore

Susan Mallery

Letto da

15,3K

Capitoli

Autore

Susan Mallery

Letto da

15,3K

Capitoli

🏰 Historical

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

Prince Jefri of Bahania refused to believe he could be beaten by a woman. It was simply not possible. Yet here he sat in the cockpit of his F15, going over five hundred miles an hour and staring into the sun where he’d last seen the other plane soar out of sight.

“You’d better get moving, big guy.”

The amused female voice came through his headset and caused him to grind his teeth.

Where was she? He turned his head, searching for a glimmer of sunlight on metal. Something. Anything that would give him a clue as to her whereabouts. He saw nothing.

Jefri had been flying since he was a teenager and in all that time, he’d never once been anything but confident. For the first time in his life, he felt a cold sweat trickle down his back. Seconds later a high-pitched warning tone sounded in the cockpit. She’d locked on to him. Had this been a real combat situation, he would be dead.

“Bang, bang,” the woman said and then chuckled. “You lasted all of two minutes. Not bad for a rookie. Okay. Follow me down.”

Suddenly her jet swooped in from his left. The machine turned gracefully, then moved in front of his. Even at this speed, she was close enough for him to read the call sign painted on the fuselage.

Girly Girl.

Jefri groaned. This could not be happening. He was a prince, a sheik, heir to untold wealth and land. He was the youngest son of the king of Bahania. He did not get shot out of the sky by a woman!

“I know what you’re thinking,” she said. “You’re upset and humiliated. You men always are. Console yourself with the fact that no one’s beaten me in a dogfight for six or seven years. This is war, not personal. My job is to make you better. Your job is to learn. Nothing more.”

“I am aware of my responsibilities,” he said curtly.

“You’re going to hold a grudge, aren’t you? I can already tell.” She sighed. “Some guys are like that. Oh, well. It’s your ulcer.”

With that, her jet rotated as gracefully as a ballerina, then streaked across the sky. Jefri stared at the space where it had been just a heartbeat ago. How the hell had she done that?

He shook his head and keyed in the code for the recently installed military air traffic control tower. After giving his number and approximate position in the desert, he requested permission to return to the base. When it was granted, he turned his plane to the correct coordinates and headed south.

Twenty minutes later, he landed and taxied his jet toward the large, newly constructed hangars. When he’d stopped the plane and opened the hatch, he heard someone call his name.

“Two minutes,” Doyle Van Horn yelled from the tarmac. “That’s the record so far. Good for you.”

Good? Jefri gritted his teeth and climbed down the ladder. “It was a disaster.”

When he reached the ground, Doyle slapped him on the shoulder. “You can’t take it personally. Nobody beats Billie.”

“That’s what she said.” Jefri stared at the blond man. “How long has she been with your firm?”

Doyle grinned. “Technically, all her life. She’s my sister. Dad had her driving tanks by the time she was twelve. She soloed in a jet on her sixteenth birthday. You said you wanted to be trained by the best, and that’s what we provided, Your Highness.”

“Call me Jefri. I’ve told you, no formalities. It will be easier that way.”

Doyle nodded. “Just checking. I thought you might be touchy after being shot down and all. Some guys are.”

Jefri didn’t doubt it. He watched as a second aircraft came in for landing. The jet moved lightly, barely raising any dust when the wheels touched down.

“I wish to meet her,” he said firmly.

“I figured you would. They always do.”

Jefri raised his eyebrows. “Do they?”

“Yup. No one can believe it. Things only get worse when they get a look at her.”

“In what way?”

Doyle laughed and held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “You go find out for yourself. Just one warning. You might be a prince and the guy who hired us, but Billie is off-limits. To everyone. Even you.”

Jefri was not used to being given orders, but he didn’t argue with Doyle. He wasn’t interested in Billie Van Horn as anything but a resource. If she was the best, he wanted to learn from her. Then he would take her on again, and this time he would win.

* * *

Billie climbed out of the cockpit and tugged on the zipper of her flight suit. No matter how many times she sent the manufacturer her measurements, they always got the fit wrong. Whoever designed the stupid things seemed to forget women had parts men didn’t.

She jumped the last couple of feet to the ground and removed her helmet. As she did, she saw a tall man striding toward her. She recognized the determined pace, the stubborn set of the shoulders. Oh, yeah, this would be Prince Jefri. No doubt Bahanian royalty weren’t used to losing. Well, he’d better get used to it. She didn’t plan to treat him any differently than any other client, which meant he was going to keep on hearing that tone-lock for the rest of her time here.

Men always hated being beaten by her. They couldn’t seem to accept that a woman could be good in a dogfight. In her experience the men she trained fell into two camps. The first got angry and aggressive, often attempting to take out their frustrations in the air by bullying and intimidating her on the ground. The second kind ignored her. Outside of the classroom or an airplane, she simply didn’t exist.

A few men—a very few—saw her as an actual person and were pleasant.

But no one she’d ever trained had bothered to see her as a woman. She supposed it was asking too much to find a man who could accept that she could whip his butt in the air and still want to go dancing on Saturday night.

Prince Jefri continued to stalk closer and she wondered which camp he would fall in. Was it too much to ask that he be one of the nice guys? Did royal sheiks get trained in manners these days? Were there—

The man in question pulled off his helmet and whipped off his sunglasses as he approached. At that exact second, Billie’s brain shut down.

He was gorgeous.

No, that didn’t describe it. She needed a better word to explain how beautiful he was—but in a totally masculine way. Was it his eyes—deep brown, thickly lashed and sensual? Was it the firm set of his mouth, the perfect cheekbones, the dark hair? Was it the combination of features, the determination in his expression?

Did it matter?

He only got better as he got closer. She’d seen his pictures in magazines, but those glossy images were nothing when compared with the real thing. She did her best to catch her breath and act normal but her heart beat at a speed approaching Mach 3 and showed no signs of slowing.

“Congratulations,” the über-hunk said as he held out his hand. “You maneuver your jet like a pro.”

He sounded gracious and not the least bit put out. Was that possible?

“I am a pro.”

She took the offered hand automatically and nearly swooned at the sparks that arced between them. She could feel them, and yet the man gently squeezing her fingers didn’t seem the least bit affected. So typical, she thought with wry amusement. Something about being in the cockpit of a jet seemed to render her genderless. Ah, well. In her next life she would be a sex kitten. In this one she was destined to be permanently single.

“How did you disappear into the sun so quickly?” he asked. “I was watching. You were there and then you were gone.”

“Every jet has blind spots. The trick is to know where they are and use them to your advantage.”

“But I could have turned such that the blind spot moved.”

She shook her head as she pulled her hand free. “You were stiff up there. I knew you’d stay on course long enough for me to get lost in the sun. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

Billie turned and headed for the temporary barracks set up at the edge of the airport. If she’d thought she would lose the man of the hour by walking quickly, she was wrong. His long stride easily kept pace with hers, and he continued to pepper her with questions. She answered his queries automatically, all the while doing her best not to notice that he fit the “tall, dark and handsome” cliché perfectly. Pretty and a prince, and about a hundred times more interested in flying than in her.

“This is my stop,” she said brightly, cutting him off in mid-pound-thrust ratio question, as they reached the flap of her semipermanent home. “We’ll have plenty of time to discuss all of this during the lecture time, and in simulation.”

“When will I fly against you again?” he asked.

She tugged the zipper of her flight suit down to her hips and pulled her arms free of the heavy fabric. It might be October in the desert, but it was still warm. She plucked at the T-shirt she wore underneath.

“We’ll have plenty of air time,” she told him. “Don’t worry, I’ll be killing you over and over again.”

“I think not. About that last maneuver…”

The man didn’t even notice she had breasts, Billie thought with a combination of humor and regret. She’d often thought she could step out of her flight suit and walk around stark naked and not one of the pilots would notice. Of course her brothers would see and probably kill her.

“I’m off duty until the morning,” she said politely, wishing she could give him a gentle push back to his palace or wherever it was he lived. “I know you’re anxious, what with getting your new air force up and running, but I don’t work 24/7. Call me crazy.”

With that she disappeared into the tent.

Jefri frowned. Had the female instructor turned her back on him and walked away? He followed her inside. “You don’t understand. I need this information,” he said, barely noticing the Spartan setting.

Billie glanced at him, then smiled. “You don’t give up, do you?”

“No.”

She opened the drawer of a dresser and pulled out several garments, then disappeared behind a screen.

“Okay, fly boy. I’ll give you fifteen minutes, but then you have to let me get some rest. I flew all night to get here and my regular tent isn’t set up yet. I’m stuck in regulation housing until then. No offense, but it’s hot here and I want my air-conditioning. Oh, have a seat.”

He glanced around for a chair and saw one in the corner. There was a small ball in the seat. As he reached for it, the ball moved, uncoiled, growled and snapped at him.

From behind the screen, he heard laughter.

“I see you found Muffin.”

He eyed the ball of fur with distaste. “Muffin?”

“My baby. Be nice to the tall man, sweetie,” Billie said. “He’s paying the bills. Just go ahead and scratch under her chin. Oh, and tell her she’s pretty. Muffin likes that.”

Jefri eyed the tiny dog. All he saw was multicolored strands of hair and two mistrustful eyes. Hardly anything attractive.

“Get down,” he said and pointed to the floor of the tent.

Muffin made a sound very much like a huff, turned her back on him and curled up in a ball. On the chair. He reached for her, but before he could pick her up, she growled.

“I would kill for a bath,” Billie said with a sigh, and Jefri allowed himself to be distracted. “But we don’t actually travel with a tub. Doyle says it’s too inconvenient. Oh, sure, we can move millions of pounds of jets and computer equipment with no problem, but one lousy tub is difficult. What is it with guys? Why don’t you get the whole point of a nice long soak?”

As she spoke she stepped out from behind the screen. Jefri began to answer, when his senses went on alert. For the first time since she’d climbed down from the jet he actually looked at her.

Girly girl didn’t begin to describe things.

She was a centerfold fantasy come to life—big blond hair, big blue eyes and bigger breasts. Her sundress hugged her impressive curves before falling to midthigh. High-heeled sandals gave her a little height, but she still barely cleared his shoulder.

After giving him a smile bright enough to be listed as an energy source, she crossed to the fur ball and gathered it in her arms.

“How’s my pretty girl?” she asked in a baby voice. “Did you say hello to the nice prince?”

Billie held the dog’s paw in her hand and gave it a little wave. “Muffin says hi.”

Prince Jefri of Bahania had never had anyone pretend to speak for an animal before. He glanced from the woman to the dog and back.

Billie grinned. “Okay, so you’re not a ‘talk to the animals’ kind of guy. I can accept that. Doyle swears he hates her but I see him sneaking her treats every now and then.”

She walked toward the tent flap and pushed it open. “I thought it would be cooler here, given the time of year. I guess not, though. It’s the desert and all.” Still cuddling the dog, she walked out into the sunlight. “Not to be too pushy, but your time is ticking away. Didn’t you have more questions to ask me?”

Questions? Jefri followed her out, then saw the rows of fighter jets. Yes, of course. He’d had dozens of things he wanted to know, but he couldn’t think of any of them. Not when the hem of her formfitting dress drew his gaze to her perfect thighs, and the sway of her hips made his blood boil.

He was unused to such strong physical reactions. Women had always been easy for him. He saw, he wanted, he was offered. But Billie seemed oblivious to her appeal, nor did she see him as more than an eager student.

She spun around and faced him. “What?” she asked, her blue eyes wide with amusement. “I know I haven’t intimidated you, so out with it. What do you want to know?”

He had a thousand requests for information. How soft would her skin feel under his fingers? How would she taste when he kissed her? How low would she moan as he pleasured her over and over, because his fantasies about Billie were about making her surrender with desire?

“Why do you do this?” he asked. “Why do you fly?”

“Because I love it. I’ve always loved it.” She grinned. “And I’m damned good at it.”

“Yes, you are.”

Two airplane mechanics walked by. Both of them eyed Billie. They bent their heads together and exchanged words he couldn’t hear. But he could imagine.

Jefri looked at the large tents, the open camp and then back at Billie. This would not do.

“You cannot stay here,” he told her.

Her smile faded. “Excuse me? You’re throwing me out of your country?”

“No. Of course not. I’m saying you can’t stay in this camp. It’s not safe.”

Her good humor returned. “I appreciate the concern, but I’ve been living in camps just like this since I was eleven. They’re a little rough on the outside, but still plenty fun. It’s sweet of you to worry, but you don’t have to. I usually have three brothers and a father hanging around. This time there’s only Doyle, but he’s plenty burly and he’ll make sure I’m well protected.” She rubbed her cheek against the dog’s shoulder. “Too protected. Isn’t that right, little Muffin girl?”

He ignored her conversation with the dog. “You and your brother will be my guests in the palace.”

She blinked at him. “Did you say palace?”

“Yes. There are several dozen guest rooms. You would be very comfortable there.”

“Do these rooms have bathtubs?” Temptation thickened her voice.

“Large enough to swim in.”

She made a low noise in her throat. The sound made his blood surge.

“Gee, a real bed, walls, a roof and a sand-free life,” she said. “Color me there. Doyle objects, I’ll have to deck him.”

* * *

“This is a complete waste of time if you ask me,” Doyle muttered as the long, black limo drove between large wrought-iron gates. “We’ve never stayed with a client before.”

Billie gazed out at the extensive and well-manicured lawns. “We’ve never had a royal client before. It’s a palace, okay? This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. No one’s forcing you to suffer through the indignities of pure luxury. Go back to our tent city by the airport if it makes you happy.”

Her brother glared at her. “You know Dad would kill me if I wasn’t around to keep an eye on you.”

“I’m twenty-seven, Doyle,” she said. “At some point you’re going to have to acknowledge that I’m all grown-up.”

“Ain’t gonna happen.”

She shook her head at the familiar sentiment. It was hard enough being the baby of the family, but being the only girl made things worse.

Still, she’d gotten used to their high-handed treatment years ago and for the most part was able to ignore it. When she didn’t care one way or another, she usually gave in. But not this time. Not when there was a bathtub on the line.

The car rounded a corner and Billie felt her eyes widen. “I can’t believe it,” she breathed as she took in the multistory pink palace sprawling in front of her.

The main building was huge—the size of a museum or a parliament building. Balconies circled every floor. There were turrets and arched windows and guards on the ground and lush gardens for as far as the eye could see.

“Not bad,” Doyle said.

Billie cuffed him. “You’re impressed. It’s amazing. Too bad Dad and the guys can’t be here to see it.”

Her father was in South America attending a multinational conference and her two oldest brothers had special assignments in Iraq. Which left Doyle and her in charge of the Bahanian job. Easy work, Billie thought. She could train an air force pilot in her sleep. Flying was something she loved and one of the few things she did well.

The limo pulled to a stop and a uniformed guard stepped forward to open the rear door. Doyle stepped out first. Billie grabbed Muffin and slid across the slick leather seat. As she stepped out into the sunlight, her eyes took a second to adjust. During that second or two, her gaze landed on Prince Jefri and she would have sworn she saw him bathed in shimmering gold.

Neat trick, she thought as her mind whirled from the beauty of the palace and her body swooned from the beauty of the man.

“Ms. Van Horn.” The prince nodded.

“Billie,” she said with a smile. “As I’m going to be shooting you out of the sky on a regular basis, there’s no point in being formal.”

She thought the prince might have winced at her words. No doubt he thought he would get good enough to win against her. They all thought that, and they were all wrong. Which meant he would get more and more crabby as the training went along. Oh, well. It had happened before and she had survived.

The prince spoke to a uniformed young woman who nodded, then gestured toward Doyle. Her brother gave Billie a quick wink as he followed the maid into the castle. Billie stepped up for her escort and tried not to drool at the thought of the riches within.

“This way,” Prince Jefri said.

She blinked at him. “Excuse me?”

“I will show you to your room.”

Did royalty do that? She figured about the only thing a prince did for himself was breathe. Hadn’t she read somewhere that some royals even had a special servant to put toothpaste on the toothbrush?

“You don’t have to do that yourself,” she said, thinking of her bath and how long she was going to soak. At least an hour. She had a good book she wanted to finish and a…

“Is this your first visit to my country?” he asked.

“Um, yes.” She shifted Muffin to her other arm and trailed along beside the prince. “I wasn’t part of the sales presentation when our firm bid for the training job.”

They entered into a foyer the size of a small arena. The gold inlaid ceilings soared a good fifty feet above them. Mosaics of ancient battles lined the curved walls. Not exactly like the flocked wallpaper in that hotel in Bosnia.

He noticed her interest and paused in front of a mural of several fierce men on horses. “My people have always been fighters. A thousand years ago, we defended our land against the infidels.”

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. “That would be us, right?”

“Only if you are European.”

“I’m a bit of everything.” She looked at the elaborate chandelier and the stained glass windows. “Beautiful place.”

“Thank you. The Pink Palace is a treasure for the people of Bahania.”

“How many of them get to stay here on a regular basis?”

The prince surprised her by smiling. “We hold it in trust.”

“I’m sure they’re grateful.”

He started down the main hallway. Billie followed, noting they could have easily driven a tank and not come close to bumping into any walls.

“I did some research before I got here,” she said, her high-heeled sandals clicking loudly on the tiled floor. “Your country is not strictly Muslim.”

“No. Our people celebrate many faiths, and respect all.”

That was what all her reading had told her. Bahania and their neighbor El Bahar offered religious freedom to all. The monarchies had ruled for over a thousand years with no hint of uprising. Ultimate power that didn’t corrupt? Was it possible?

“So why the air force?” she asked.

“To protect our oil fields. With so much unrest around us, we need to be able to secure our resources.”

“The oil won’t last forever.”

“True, which is why even now we are diversifying our exports. Bahania will not be left behind in the world market.”

Pretty and smart, she thought with a little smile. Now if only he could see her as a desirable woman, her life would be complete. Her research had informed her that Prince Jefri was single, but she’d seen pictures of the women in his life. There wasn’t a fighter pilot in the bunch.

They passed room after room. Some were decorated with elegant Western-style furniture while others had low sofas and cushions, more suited to a nomadic tent. There were paintings and frescos and statues and…

Muffin squirmed in her arms.

“What is it, sweetie?” she asked.

The dog yipped and squirmed some more. Seconds later a large white cat strolled out of a meeting room big enough to hold the entire Congress.

Billie yelped and clutched her dog more tightly to her chest. “What is that?” she asked as she took a step back.

The prince stared at her. “A cat,” he said with the obvious patience of one speaking to a mentally challenged person.

Annoyance overcame hormones and she glared at him. “I know it’s a cat. What’s it doing here?”

“My father has an affection for cats.”

She eyed the fluffy white demon. “I read that but I thought more in the lines of a painting on velvet or some carvings. Are you telling me there are actual cats in the palace?”

“Dozens. Is that a problem?”

She saw the corner of the prince’s mouth twitch, as if he was amused by her reaction.

“I’m not a cat person.”

“They will not hurt you.”

She wasn’t all that sure. If there were dozens, they could gang up on her and take her down. “What about Muffin?”

“I’m sure your…dog will be safe.”

She didn’t like how he said “dog” and she didn’t like the cats.

“Do you have an allergy?” he asked.

“Not exactly.”

“Then what, exactly?”

“I had a bad experience when I was young.”

“With a small lion?”