By The Sheikh's Command. Debbi Rawlins
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you—” She cut herself off and gritted her teeth.
“What did my sister say?”
“Nothing important.” She dusted her hands together. “I need to go see about supper.”
“Wait, Brianna.”
She’d never liked her name. Taunted as a child by Jenny Thomas and other girls with nice normal names, she’d even hated it for a while. But the husky way Rafe said it erased all those hurtful years in an instant.
He gazed down at her in that intense unnerving way of his, and she had little choice but to hear him out.
“I hope you do not have a problem with us being alone in the house while your brother is away.”
“Of course not.” She was getting to be way too good a liar. Her aunt Elaine would have washed her mouth out with soap.
“If so, I can arrange to stay in Bridle.”
Confused, she studied him for a moment. Was he right about Cord only teasing her? Otherwise, Rafe wouldn’t offer to stay in town. “What about the Desert Rose?”
In response to her bluff, his right eyebrow went up. “I am making you uncomfortable?”
“Don’t be silly. It’s not that I don’t want you here—” Her tongue got tied and she stumbled over her words. “I just thought that since you want to be there for the foal’s birth…” At the telling amusement on his face, she groaned inwardly. “I really need to go see about supper.”
“Aliah did not make arrangements?”
“Why would she? They left early yesterday.” Bri groaned out loud this time. “Unless she ordered pizza.”
“Pizza?” He smiled “Ah, yes. While I was at the university, it was a favorite dish of many of the students.”
“In Munir?”
“No, Harvard.”
“You went to Harvard? Here, in the United States?”
His eyebrows rose. “Why do you find that so difficult to believe?”
“I don’t know. I—” She shrugged. “I knew that Allie had a British tutor. I guess I assumed—I don’t know.”
“It is different for women in our country.”
“I guess that’s why Allie ran away.” Her hand flew to her mouth. Allie had complained about women being nonentities, merely a man’s accessory. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—I’d better go.”
His expression tightened. “I am not ignorant of my country’s archaic attitudes or shortcomings. Now, I’ve detained you long enough. Please excuse me.”
Bri kept her mouth shut as he strolled back toward Magic Carpet’s stall. She hadn’t meant to offend him. Allie had wonderful things to say about her brother. She’d felt badly about tricking him into offering her maid to Cord when he’d rescued the woman from a runaway horse. But secretly trading places with the maid and staying behind in America was the only way Allie could get out from beneath the royal thumb.
Rafe wasn’t like their parents, Allie had confided, or the rest of the royals. He respected a woman’s right to independence and strongly advocated modernizing their country even though it was an unpopular political position.
Bri didn’t understand any of it, but she liked and respected Allie. So if Allie thought her brother was honorable it was enough for Bri. She was glad, too. Men as gorgeous and as powerful as Rafe weren’t always nice, in Bri’s limited experience. Not that she’d ever met a sheikh before.
Or anyone like Rafe. It didn’t matter that she’d hardly spoken to him. Just looking at him made her skin tingle and caused a flutter in her tummy. Watching him wasn’t like watching the ranch hands, not even the new guy Chuck, and he was pretty cute with his sandy-colored hair and twinkling blue eyes.
With his midnight hair, dark seductive eyes and tall lean frame, Rafe was in a category all by himself. Taller than all the other guys on the ranch except Cord, he towered over her. At five-nine, she couldn’t wear high heels around most men. Which suited her fine. She’d worn heels twice at her aunt Elaine’s insistence. It had been awful.
She waited until Rafe was back in Magic Carpet’s stall, his back to her, before she headed out of the barn toward the house, and to Cord’s study. He’d left some notes for her regarding the stock selection for next month’s cattle auction and now seemed like a good time to bury herself in work.
Better that she didn’t think about Rafe or that he would be sleeping only three rooms away from her for the next week. Anyway, the annual auction was important to the Flying Ace, and she wanted to do the best job possible in Cord’s absence.
He’d been so good to her, going to New Hampshire to bring her back to Bridle. Although they had the same father, Bri was the bastard child, the product of a brief affair Gerald Brannigan had had with her mother in Dallas. Bri had never known him, in fact she’d barely known her mother. Aunt Elaine, her mother’s older sister, had raised Bri.
None of that mattered to Cord. He’d made it clear the ranch would always be her home, as much hers as it was his. Ironically, he’d accepted her as a Brannigan much more quickly and completely than she had accepted his generosity. But day by day she’d begun to settle in and experience the wonder of belonging she’d craved her entire childhood.
That’s why it chafed that Cord hadn’t mentioned to her privately about extending the invitation to stay to Rafe. She wouldn’t have dreamed of not consulting Cord before inviting a guest. But then again, Rafe was now Cord’s brother-in-law. Of course he’d be welcome at any time.
Her pulse sped up and it had nothing to do with the fact that she had practically power walked up the slope to the house. The thought that Rafe might become a frequent visitor had sent her heart into overdrive. Not that she expected anything to happen between them. Even though Allie had teased her to watch out because Rafe had a taste for blondes. Or because he thought Bri had extraordinary eyes…
She entered through the kitchen and then detoured down the hall to her room and shut the door. She still wanted to tackle the auction paperwork this afternoon but something more pressing required her attention. The mirror over her dresser was smudged, so she wiped it with her sleeve and stared up close at her reflection.
All that stared back were plain ol’ garden-variety blue eyes. A hint of green was the only thing possibly interesting about them. Which was a stretch. Especially considering that her crooked nose drew attention away from anything that might be pleasant about her face.
She peered closer. Maybe some makeup would help hide the flaw. Mascara was about all she could handle daily. Aunt Elaine didn’t believe in vanity and would have taken a switch to Bri if she ever “painted her face.” But Allie and Bri’s friend, Jessica Coleman Grayson, both wore makeup. That didn’t make them tramps.
Sighing, Bri pulled her ponytail up and piled her hair high on top of her head, and then angled her face to get a look from either side. The style made her look slightly older, anything older than twenty-two was good.
Maybe she’d experiment later, after dinner.
Shoot! She’d forgotten about dinner. Rafe had distracted her. He was pretty darn good at doing that, all right. It would serve him right if Allie had ordered pizza for them…although that was doubtful. Allie wasn’t the type to worry about anything else on the eve of her honeymoon.
Not that Bri blamed her. If she were so lucky as to find a husband who was as crazy about her as Cord was about Allie, Bri wouldn’t think about much else, either. And frankly, Bri was glad Allie wasn’t the domestic type or terribly organized, either. Wouldn’t that create a need for Bri to stick around?
Even when their housekeeper returned, there were still household decisions to be made, the kind that Bri handled.
Sighing, she let