her high-heeled sandals, made him worry for the state of her slender ankles.
“Were you attacked?” he asked as she sidled around the twelve-pound feline.
“What?” She glanced at him, her blue eyes wide with worry. “Not me, but a close friend.” She pressed her lips together. “Muffin is only seven pounds. They could slice her to ribbons and serve her for breakfast.”
Jefri thought of how much time his father’s cats spent sleeping. “I doubt they are that ambitious.”
Billie’s sniff told him she wasn’t impressed by his logic.
As much as he wanted her in the palace, he hadn’t intended his invitation to distress her.
“Would you prefer to stay at the barracks?”
She shook her head. “We’ll manage.”
“The room is just up there.”
He motioned to a door, then stepped ahead of her to open it. Billie stepped inside and her breath caught in an audible gasp. Jefri followed her gaze, taking in the large living area, the floor-to-ceiling windows offering a view of the Arabian Sea and the wide double doors that led to the sleeping quarters.
“Will you be comfortable here?” he asked politely.
“Yes. And should I feel the need to take in boarders to supplement my income, there will be plenty of room.” She grinned. “This I could get used to.”
“You may consider the palace your home while you’re in Bahania.”
“You might want to be careful with an invitation like that. What if I never want to leave?”
Then she would be available to him whenever he wanted. Jefri turned the thought over in his mind and found it gave him pleasure. Too bad his father had done away with the harem. She would have been a wonderful addition.
“Please let any of the staff know if you have any needs,” he said instead of telling her what he was really thinking.
“Sure thing. I can’t imagine needing anything else, though. This room is amazing.”
She bent over and set her dog on the floor. The fur ball trotted to the sofa and began sniffing at the furniture.
“Do you always travel with your pet?” Jefri asked.
“Yup. Muffin and I are a package deal. I’ve even taken her up flying with me.”
He couldn’t imagine why. “Does she enjoy it?”
“Hard to tell,” Billie admitted. “She doesn’t throw up, so that’s something.”
Wanting to talk about something other than the creature touring the room, he crossed to the French doors and pointed toward the sea.
“The balcony circles the entire palace. From the south end you can look toward Lucia-Serrat.”
“I’ve heard of the island. It’s supposed to be very beautiful.”
“Much of this area is.”
She shook her head. “I had a mental picture of sand as far as the eye could see. But the city sprawls over a much bigger area than I would have thought. Of course when it ends, there are miles of sand.”
“You noticed that while you were flying today?”
She nodded. “Not much else to do up there. The first few days of dogfighting are pretty boring what with…”
Her voice trailed off. He saw her swallow, then she glanced at him from under long lashes.
“So that was bad, right?” she asked, sounding more resigned than contrite. “I’ve just insulted a prince. Is there a punishment? Do I get sent to the dungeon?”
“Why the sudden concern?” he asked. “Back at the airport you told me I would never beat you.”
“Oh, you won’t,” she told him. “But I should probably be more subtle about it all.”
“Because of the palace?”
“It does sort of put our lives in perspective. I’m a small-town girl and you’re…not.”
“Indeed. I would not even qualify as a big-city girl.”
Her beautiful mouth twisted. “You know what I mean. Maybe you could get me a brochure or some notes. Something along the lines of twenty ways not to insult royalty.”
“There is a person in charge of etiquette. Perhaps I should have him drop by.”
Billie wrinkled her nose. “You’re making fun of me.”
“Only a little.”
“Wow. You have a sense of humor. What’s next on the surprise parade? Do you do your own laundry?”
“Never.”
“A guy thing. My brothers don’t do theirs either. But then that’s fairly typical of—”
A sharp yowl cut through the conversation. He turned toward the sound but Billie was already moving across the marble flooring. Several sharp barks were followed by a yip.
“Muffin!” she cried as she plunged into a fray of fur, paws, teeth and tails.
While Jefri had no desire to rescue her pet, he felt obligated to offer assistance. He eyed Billie’s bare legs and hands, then moved behind her, wrapped an arm around her waist and lifted her out of the way.
She squealed, adding to the din. He had a brief impression of curves, heat and potential before he set her down behind him.
“I’ll take care of this,” he said as he reached into the swirl of cats and plucked out a small growling, yelping ball of fur.
For his trouble he received several scratches, a bite from the dog and enough hair on his suit to change the color from black to gray.
“I believe this is yours.” He handed the small, shaking dog to her.
She pulled the creature close and brushed her hands over its body. “Muffin! Are you hurt? Did those horrible, mean killers hurt you?”
After reassuring herself that Muffin had indeed survived, she turned her attention to him.
“I don’t know what to say,” she breathed, her blue eyes wide and anguished. “They could have killed her.”
He examined his hand. Muffin’s bite hadn’t broken the skin, but several of the cats had left their mark.
“I think she would have survived the encounter.”
He crossed to the main door and opened it, then shooed the cats out of the suite.
“There may still be one or two left in here,” he said. “Just give them
