Читать книгу At The Rancher's Bidding - Charlotte Maclay - Страница 10

She had one chance to experience freedom and a small taste of independence. She intended to seize that opportunity for as long as she could hold on to it.

The heat of summer pressing down on her, Princess Aliah Bahram hurried across the grounds of the Desert Rose Ranch, following her brother, Sheikh Ashraf. As she ran, the gold bracelets on her arm jingled and her necklaces moved against her throat.

The sheikh was making his daily visit to the Coleman stables to check on the mare pregnant with the foal he had agreed to purchase. Completely enamored by the award-winning Arabians raised here, he had haunted the ranch since their arrival in Bridle, Texas, which was located in the hill country northwest of Austin.

But tomorrow they would return to their own country of Munir, on the Persian Gulf. Aliah—or Allie, as people had begun to call her in America—could not bear the thought of going home. Not when faced with an arranged marriage to a man she could never love, Sardar Bin Douri. Even the thought sent a shudder of revulsion down her spine.

Her chance to avoid that fate had come yesterday when Leila, her lady-in-waiting, had lost control of her horse while they were riding together. Spooked by blowing dust, the animal had run away with her. A neighboring rancher, Cord Brannigan, had rescued her.

Saved Leila’s life!

Sometime during the night, Allie had realized she could take advantage of an ancient Munir custom to gain her liberation—at least temporarily. The possibility inspired her to action now.

“Rafe! Wait for me.”

Her brother, looking very distinguished in his white robe, white gutrah and black banded ogal, slowed near the outdoor riding ring and turned toward her. “What is it, Sister?”

Breathlessly, she came to a halt. “I was wondering if you had made the appropriate arrangements for Leila.”

He looked at her blankly. “Is there something wrong with her?”

“No, not at all. I simply assumed you would be honoring our ancient tradition.”

“Which tradition is that?”

“You do recall how the Colemans’ neighbor—” she hesitated, as though she couldn’t think of his name “—Brannigan, I believe he is called, rescued my lady-in-waiting.”

“I am sure she was grateful.”

“More than grateful, as we should be, too.”

Impatiently, he glanced over his shoulder toward the stables, then back to her. “Aliah, I don’t know what you are trying to say.”

In the name of Constantine, she was going to have to spell it out to her brother! Some days he was terribly dense. Perhaps all brothers were.

“Rafe, the man saved Leila’s life. In order to properly express our gratitude for saving a servant from sure death, we must present Leila to him as a gift. From this day forward, it is right and just that she belong to him.”

“You must be joking! That custom went out with—”

“Rafe, you will soon lead our country. There is already talk among our people that you have become too westernized.” That wasn’t true, or at least she had not heard such a rumor. Nor did she intend for Leila to remain in America with Mr. Brannigan. But Allie couldn’t allow her brother to learn her real plan—to stay here herself until either Rafe or the rancher discovered the masquerade she intended. “The gifting of a servant to one who has saved the servant’s life is a tradition our people recognize and respect.”

“I am not about to leave Leila here against her will.” He walked away from Allie.

Doggedly, she followed in his footsteps. “But Leila wants to stay. I have already spoken with her.” Another lie, but a necessary one at this point.

“Why? Have you been cruel to her?”

“Of course not.” Allie huffed in frustration, having to hurry to keep up with him. “My brother, if you do not support our ancient traditions, our people will respect you less and you will not be able to lead them. Surely there is some way you can follow our customs without offending your own sense of right and wrong.”

Without slowing his pace, he slanted her a look. “Why is it I think you have some scheme up your sleeve that would not receive my approval?”

“I have no idea what you mean.”

He chuckled, a deep baritone laugh much like their father’s, but she could also see he was considering her words.

“All right, as it happens, Cade Coleman mentioned that one of Mr. Brannigan’s house servants was away for a few weeks. If Leila is agreeable, I will loan her to Brannigan for that period of time.”

Excitement filled Allie’s chest. She’d been given her ticket to freedom. “Leila will be most pleased, I assure you. If you will make the arrangements, I will inform her of the good news.”

Without waiting for her brother to change his mind, she raced back toward the main house.

The sprawling hacienda-style house sat on a hill overlooking a lake that flowed into the Colorado River. At night, Allie, Rafe and their party stayed in a small motel in the nearby town of Bridle. During the day, the Colemans had been gracious enough to allow Allie and her servant to use one of the guest rooms upstairs for rest and relaxation.

Allie hurried there now.

“I have wonderful news,” she said, bursting into the room.

Leila looked up from her needlework. “I hope that does not mean our departure for Munir will be delayed past tomorrow.”

“You will leave on time, I promise.” Allie paced to the French doors to look outside, wondering how to phrase her plan to gain Leila’s cooperation. At the edge of the veranda a trellis laden with pink-and-white roses stood—her favorite flowers—but today they did little to calm her excitement. “Although I don’t know why you are so anxious to return.”

“I know I have behaved inappropriately, my mistress. But in the bazaar at home there is a young man….”

Leila’s admission had Allie whirling around to look at her servant. She was an attractive woman, slightly younger than her own twenty-two years. She had the same dark eyes that were so common in their country, and she and Allie were of the same height and figure. They both wore simple sheath dresses and sandals, although the fabric of Allie’s dress was finer, her sandals a better quality of leather.

“You have a boyfriend?” Allie asked, surprised by a tug of envy. She’d never been allowed in the bazaar unescorted, and certainly never had the opportunity to attract the attention of a young man.

“We have only spoken once.” Dipping her head, Leila studied her needlework. “But he does have eyes for me.”

“You are a fortunate woman, Leila.”

“I will think of myself as fortunate if I get to return to him soon.”

Allie knelt beside Leila, taking her needlework from her hands and setting it aside. “You want to go home, and you shall, but I wish to stay in America for a time.”

“I doubt your brother will permit—”

“I know. But I have a plan. Because the neighboring rancher saved your life yesterday, the shiekh is going to give you to him as a gift.”

Leila paled. “You can’t mean—”

“Hear me out. Please. You will go home as me, and I will remain here as you.”

“What?” Her servant looked at Allie as though she had lost her mind. “My mistress, someone will notice—”

“Nonsense. My brother pays me little attention. And this cowboy saw us only when we were properly covered, as women of Munir should be.” Females were expected to wear the cloak and veil in public, and it grated on Allie more than she cared to admit. Her irritation had grown even stronger the longer she remained in America. She envied the freedom women had here, and craved a small taste of that sense of independence.

“But what would happen if the sheikh discovers—”

“Are you not willing to risk whatever punishment my brother might mete out in order to see your friend from the bazaar again?”

Leila hesitated, then responded in a desperate whisper. “Yes.”

Raising her own fist in victory, Allie began to make plans how they would deceive both her brother and this cowboy, Cord Brannigan. He would be the easiest to fool, she was sure. He had seen neither Leila nor Allie clearly. If she kept her head turned away from her brother, Allie was confident he would not know she had switched places with her servant.

And then, for however long it took her brother to miss her—which might be a few days or even a few weeks—she would be free to explore the world as an ordinary woman. No longer a princess betrothed to a man she could not bear the thought of lying with as a wife.

Later, after her grand adventure, she would be able to deal better with the realities of her life, she told herself.

But for whatever time she was permitted, she would be free!

THE NEXT TIME he saw a runaway horse, he was going to turn his mount in the opposite direction and get out of Dodge in a hurry. From now on damsels in distress would have to manage on their own.

Cord Brannigan drove his pickup out the arching entrance of the Flying Ace Ranch and headed down the dirt road toward the Desert Rose. A plume of dust rose behind the truck, and the cattle grazing in the nearby pasture lazily raised their heads, probably hoping he’d drop off a bale of hay to make life easier for them. Not this time, ladies.

He’d tried to tell the visiting sheikh he didn’t expect any thanks for rescuing the young woman, and didn’t want or need an extra servant. For the past year, he’d lived alone in the ranch house with his half sister, Brianna. Even though his housekeeper was gone for a few weeks, helping with a new grandchild, Cord and Brianna could get along fine without help. And his hired hands pretty much took care of themselves.

But Sheikh Rafe didn’t know the meaning of “no, thanks.” It had become obvious that if Cord pressed the issue he was likely to cause an international incident. At the very least, he’d cause trouble between the sheikh and the Coleman family, who were trying to sell the guy a foal from one of their prize mares.

Cord didn’t want to cause a problem for his neighbors. The Colemans—particularly Alex, Cade and Mac—had been friends of his for years. The three brothers were sheikhs in their own right. But since they had been raised in Texas, Cord didn’t feel a need to kowtow to them. Causing them to lose a customer was a different matter.

So Cord was stuck with a servant he didn’t need. Unless he could talk the woman into going somewhere else.

Pulling up in front of the two-story Desert Rose ranch house, he parked the truck. The horse pastures were greener here than on his ranch, the grass richer for the pampered Arabians, the fences white-painted wood rather than barbed wire. He preferred the more rugged work of raising cattle, but the Colemans had certainly made an international name for themselves in the horse business.

He got out of the truck and nodded a greeting as Cade Coleman came out of the house. “How’s the new daddy bearing up?” Cord asked.

“Better than Rena,” he said with a smile that made his dark eyes light up. “She’s got to handle most of the nighttime duties with the twins. But neither one of us has gotten much sleep in the past three months.”

“I can imagine.” The front door opened, and Cord looked up to see the sheikh in his flowing white garb, followed by a woman fully cloaked and veiled, with only her dark, almond-shaped eyes visible. “Are you sure there isn’t some way I can refuse Sheikh Rafe’s gift?” he asked Cord under his breath.

Cade lifted his shoulders in an easy shrug of indifference. “It’s a custom, I guess. You’ll think of some way to handle it.”

Cord wasn’t so sure.

“Good afternoon.” Rafe extended his hand, griping Cord’s firmly. “Allow me to present Leila, my sister’s lady-in-waiting. She is honored to be chosen to serve for a short time the man who saved her life.”

“Look, Rafe, this really isn’t necessary. I only did what any man would do.” He hadn’t been particularly heroic. Had just been at the right place at the right time, or rather the wrong place, as it turned out.

The sheikh waved off his objection and instead beckoned the woman to step forward. She carried a small satchel with her. All her worldly possessions, Cord imagined.

Cord tipped the brim of his Stetson. “Miss.” Actually, he didn’t have a clue if she was a miss or a missus, there being no way to judge her age under all those yards of cotton fabric. With her head bowed, he couldn’t even see her eyes, although he remembered them as dark orbs circled with kohl, looking very frightened when he’d reined in her horse.

When he took the satchel from her, he did catch a glimpse of her hands. Long, delicate fingers and soft, unblemished skin the shade of cream right from a mother cow…Not exactly the hands of someone used to hard work, although there were no rings or any sign of extravagant wealth.

“If she does not please you,” Rafe said, “return her to me, and I shall make amends.”

Studying the shiekh’s solemn expression, Cord wondered if there was the hint of a threat there—that Leila would suffer if she didn’t live up to expectations. “I’m sure she’ll be fine.” Hell, this wasn’t like buying a broodmare with a guaranteed money-back deal that she’d produce for him.

“The sheikh and his sister are returning to Munir early tomorrow,” Cade said.

“I have business to attend to and Aliah—Allie, as my sister is called here—must prepare for her wedding to Sardar Bin Douri, a man of wealth and influence in my country. The event is much anticipated by our people. There will be great rejoicing when the two families are joined.”

“Well then, have yourself a good trip, Rafe. Come back and visit anytime,” Cord said.

“No doubt I shall. The Coleman stables at the Desert Rose offer many enticements.”

Cord chuckled. From what he’d heard, the sheikh’s stables were something to brag about, too.

He said his goodbyes and carried the bag to his truck, tossing it in the back. Silently, Leila walked a steady three paces behind him, which raised the hackles on his neck. This whole deal was crazy!

She waited for him to open the door. He took her elbow, helping her up, and felt the fragility of her bones through her dress. Munir didn’t raise their women very sturdy, he mused. Not like Texas women, who could ride a horse and rope cows all day, then party all night and make love until dawn.

And be unfaithful in the process, playing a man for a fool, as he had learned the hard way.

As they reached the road leaving the Desert Rose, and still Leila hadn’t spoken word one, Cord pulled the truck to the side and stopped.

“Look, Leila, you’re probably not any happier about this arrangement than I am.”

“I am not unhappy.” With fingers that trembled slightly, she lowered her veil. Beautiful was an understatement. Her kohl-ringed eyes stood out above dramatically sculpted cheekbones. Her unpainted lips were a natural rose and they glistened when she licked them before smiling at him. “I am most happy to be your servant as long as I shall please you.”

Cord swallowed hard as the rest of his body took particular note of the young woman’s features. Nope, this kind of gift wasn’t one a man could accept.

“Do you have any family or friends in the States? I could take you to the Austin airport. It’s not that far away. I’ll get you a ticket on any airline you want, to any place you’d like to go.” Including all the way back to Munir, if that’s what she wanted.

Her dark eyes flickered. “No, I have no family here. No friends. This is my first visit to your country.”

“Then you could get a job somewhere. Start a new life. Or just plain take a vacation till it’s time to go home.”

“No, I do not think that would be possible.” Allie clasped her hands together, knowing she did not have the skills—or the courage—to run that far from her responsibilities. She had no money. No green card that would allow her to work, assuming she was capable of being anything other than a princess. How would she survive on her own? “I wish to go to your ranch and work in your household.” A rich man would have many servants, and in a large household she could conceal both her identity and her lack of training as a servant.

He leaned his head back and sighed. Despite his apparent distress, his appearance was quite appealing, if more rugged than the few men she had known in her own country. The angle of his jaw was a little sharper and stronger, and a slight bump on his nose suggested it had once been broken. There was a tiny scar below his right eyebrow.

But his eyes fascinated Allie the most—not dark brown like those of her countrymen, but a lighter shade, filled with the greens and golds of this verdant countryside. She would like to make a study of them. Each time she looked into his eyes, they changed color with the sun or shade and became all the more intriguing.

“Okay, Leila, I’ll make you a deal. I’ll hire you as my housekeeper for now and pay you a decent wage. You can save your money until you can go out on your own. Or if you get fed up with ranch life, I’ll put you on a plane back home and explain to Rafe. If he gives you a hard time he’ll have to answer to me.”

Her eyes widened with pleasure. “How much will you pay me?”

He blinked at her question, then named a price that astounded her.

“I accept your offer, Mr. Brannigan.”

Shaking his head, he said, “Cord will do. We’re not exactly formal in these parts.”

“That is fine by me, as you Americans say. I have had enough formality to last me a lifetime.”

As he shifted the truck into gear, pulling back onto the road, Allie smiled to herself. To think she’d have a paying job and the freedom of an American woman. What amazing good fortune—for however long she was allowed to enjoy it.

BACK AT THE DESERT ROSE, Cade had watched Cord’s truck drive away, and followed the path of the dust cloud as it swept down the road behind it. Something was odd, he mused.

While he’d visited Balahar, his beloved wife’s homeland in the Middle East, he’d had a chance to observe the behavior of a good many servants. The kingdom employed hundreds of cooks and maids, valets and assorted other workers who were almost invisible, they were so subservient.

The woman who had left with Cord was…different.

Though she’d kept her face averted, her head hadn’t been bowed as deeply as most servants he’d seen. Her back had been a little too straight, her stride a little too confident. It had made him think that Leila wasn’t a servant at all but rather—

But no, that wasn’t possible.

No pampered princess of Munir or any other member of Middle Eastern royalty would run off to be a housekeeper at a cattle ranch. The thought of Princess Allie scrubbing floors was laughable.

He frowned a little, realizing his own wife, a princess of Balahar, had taken to domestic chores with far more enthusiasm than he’d had any right to expect. And she wore motherhood like a golden crown.

Behind him, Rafe cleared his throat. “I thought I would visit the paddocks to see how Khalahari is faring this afternoon. Would you care to join me?”

“Sure.” Tucking his fingertips in the pockets of his jeans, Cade walked beside Rafe. The sheikh was as fanatic about his Arabians as Cade was. Rafe couldn’t wait for Khalahari, the prize mare of the Desert Rose, to foal. If Cade would let him, Rafe would probably take the mare back to Munir with him.

Cade could understand that. He’d been obsessed with the ranch and his Arabians until he’d had a family of his own. Marriage had been the first step. But when Rena gave birth to the twins—Zach and Natalie—Cade discovered nothing in the world could compare to being a husband and father.

WHEN IT SEEMED as though they had been driving for a long while along a dirt track, Allie grew anxious. She had thought Cord a neighbor of the Colemans’ Desert Rose Ranch. So far she had seen nothing but grass wilted by the summer heat, elms and oaks spaced by nature to provide splashes of shade, and cows lazily chewing their cuds.

“How much farther to your cattle ranch?” she asked.

“We’ve been on Flying Ace land for about five minutes now, but the house is a ways yet.”

“Your ranch is that big?”

“Big enough. A couple of thousand acres.”

“But that is larger than the Desert Rose.”

“Yep. Cows need more land than horses. You gotta keep moving them around, changing pastures so they don’t overeat the grass.”

He must be a wealthy man, indeed, Allie thought. “This name, Flying Ace—where did it come from?”

He shot her a grin that creased his cheek and made him look far younger and even more attractive than only a moment ago.

“Rumor has it my grandfather won the ranch in a poker game.”

“An ace flew from the deck into his hand, yes?”

“More likely it flew out of his sleeve into his hand.”

She stared at him blankly, then choked on a laugh when she realized what he meant. “Your grandfather cheated?”

“Now, he never ’fessed up to such a thing. But word has it no cowboy for a hundred miles around ever sat down at a poker table with him again.”

She did laugh then, delighted with the prospect of living on Cord Brannigan’s ranch for some amount of time. At the palace her brother was so dour, so serious, she rarely saw him laugh. Only in the women’s quarters could she relax and be herself. Even then she had to use caution not to make an error in protocol. Or be too friendly with her ladies-in-waiting. Heaven forbid she should make a scene at the local bazaar or spend too much money on fripperies like scarves and shoes. Word would get back to her brother.

He was so confoundedly bossy! At least with her that was true.

She could only sympathize with a woman who found herself married to Rafe, subject to his arrogance and unbending ways.

Though the air was warm blowing in the open truck windows, she shivered with distaste at the thought of marriage and her betrothed. She vowed to view each moment of freedom at the Flying Ace as a taste of ambrosia. She would fill herself with memories to last a lifetime.

Only then would she be able to face the future she dreaded.