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The temperature was ten degrees cooler in the dim interior of the high-ceiling great room than it was outside, the recessed windows in the wide adobe walls preventing direct sunlight from penetrating. Heavy oak furniture and comfortable leather couches were arranged around a large fireplace that no doubt heated the room efficiently in winter. Paintings of horses and Western landscapes decorated the walls.
He dropped her bag on one of the couches. “Brianna!” he shouted.
“In here,” a woman’s voice answered.
“Come meet our new, uh, housekeeper.”
Troubled, Allie frowned. She had not thought to ask of Cord’s marital status or if he had a concubine living with him. But perhaps Brianna was simply one of his servants.
A pretty woman with a long blond ponytail appeared from down the hallway. Fresh faced and no older than Allie, she wore jeans and a cotton blouse tucked in at the waist.
“Leila, I’d like you to meet my sister, Brianna Taylor. She handles the ranch’s bookkeeping and keeps the paperwork flowing for me.”
“Hi,” the young woman said, smiling. “I didn’t really think the sheikh would, you know—”
“Sheikh Ashraf does very much as he pleases,” Allie said, wishing she didn’t have to defend her brother.
“I, uh, made a deal with Leila to put her on the payroll as a housekeeper while she’s here,” Cord interjected.
Looking puzzled, Brianna nodded. “Fine. I’ll put together the paperwork.”
He cleared his throat. “I thought maybe you’d show Leila to Maria’s room, get her settled there, at least temporarily.”
“Maria?” Allie questioned.
“Our housekeeper,” Brianna explained. “She’s visiting her daughter in El Paso to help with a new baby.”
“Oh, but you do have other servants, yes?”
“Five or six hired hands, depending on the time of year,” Cord said. “They stay in the bunkhouse out back, but I sure wouldn’t want them to hear you calling ’em servants.”
“There is no one else?”
“Nope. With just me and Brianna, we don’t need a whole lot of help around the house.”
Panic twisted in Allie’s belly. How could such a big ranch have only one servant? She would not be able to hide. Too soon they would know the truth.
Picking up her satchel, Cord tried to pass it to his sister.
Brianna stepped back a pace, her gaze dancing between her brother and Allie, a curious smile playing across her face. “Look, I was right in the middle of doing the quarterly reports. Why don’t you show Leila to her room, give her a tour of the place?”
Allie leaped at the possibility. Surely a woman would more quickly discover her masquerade than a man. She would be better off with Cord as her guide. “Yes, a tour would be nice. Thank you.” She smiled her warmest smile.
Hesitating, Cord looked as if he was about to refuse, his eyes roving over Allie in a probing way that started her heart beating faster. Then he nodded curtly. “Okay. Your room is this way.”
Without giving his sister another glance, Allie followed Cord through a spacious dining room in the opposite direction from which Brianna had earlier appeared. The more distance she kept from the other woman, the better.
In the large kitchen, there was another table, though not as big as the one in the dining room. Stainless-steel appliances looked new and efficient. At least she supposed they were efficient. Allie had little idea how any of them operated. The kitchens were not a part of the palace she visited often, not since she’d sneaked in there as a child.
Immediately adjacent to the kitchen, Cord stopped at a doorway. “Okay, here’s your room.”
She stood at the threshold while he stepped inside. A handmade quilt covered the modest-size bed, doilies edged with crocheting protected the top of a walnut chest of drawers, and a small, colorful hooked rug lay beside the bed on the wooden floor. Quaint. And smaller than her dressing room at the palace.
“You’ve got your own bathroom and TV,” Cord said.
Swallowing her dismay at the simple quarters, she said, “I am sure I will be quite comfortable.” Gaining her freedom, however briefly, had its price.
“You can get settled in and—”
“I would very much like to see the rest of the ranch, if I may.” Feeling the cloak she wore was no longer necessary, she unfastened the plain, gray garment and tossed it on the bed, revealing the simple sheath dress she wore. The gold bracelets and necklaces she normally wore she had sent home with Leila. “I have never before visited a cattle ranch.”
Cord’s eyes widened. Damned if they didn’t nearly fall out of their sockets, he thought. He stuffed his hands in his jeans pockets, trying to look anywhere except at Leila. Without her billowing cloak, she was more slender than he had imagined, but every inch a woman. The swell of her small breasts pressed against her bodice; her bare arms were as graceful as a dancer’s, with tiny wrists a man could span with his finger and thumb. Long, straight hair the color of Texas pecans streamed down her back.
Desperately, he tried to think of some reason to send her back to her home in Munir right away. Or at the very least come up with an excuse why he couldn’t give her a tour of the ranch.
He failed on both counts.
“Sure. I’ll show you around a little. Then you’ll probably want to get dinner started.”
“Me?”
“Yeah, that’s kind of what housekeepers do. Cook dinner. Clean house. You know.”
“But I don’t know how to cook.”
His brows tugged together as he struggled with indecision. This was not what he had expected. In fact, nothing about Leila was quite what he had expected, including her soft accent with traces of British school English. “Tell me just what is it you did for your, uh, princess.” Lord, he hadn’t stammered this much since he’d invited Marijane Morgan to the eighth grade dance and then gotten her braces locked with his when he tried to kiss her.
Allie thought fast, trying to recall what it was that Leila did so competently for her, serving her in their women’s quarters.
“I prepared my mistress’s bath daily, oiled her body, helped her to dress in the finest silk gowns that money can buy. I brushed her hair.” Feeling slightly wicked and more adventuresome than she had thought possible, she stepped forward and ran her fingers through the thick waves of Cord’s saddle-brown hair. “I could do all of that for you, if you wish.”
“No. That’s okay.” His ruddy complexion flushed even darker and he edged away from her. “Let’s, uh, take that tour and we’ll deal with the rest of your, uh, responsibilities later.”
Shifting her hair in front of her shoulder, she smiled. She had no wish to argue with his decision. The longer she could put off the reality of being a housekeeper, the happier she would be. Cord, too, if he knew how few domestic skills she possessed.
CORD WAS PROUD of the Flying Ace. Since his father’s death five years ago he’d upgraded the facilities and added to the herd through careful breeding and management. It was his home, his life. He poured all of his energy into the ranch and it never disappointed him, even in bad times.
Which was more than he could say about the women in his life.
When Cord had been twelve, his mother had deserted the family. A year ago he’d discovered that she’d gone off because of his father’s infidelity—an infidelity that had resulted in Brianna’s birth. The unexpected news that he had a half sister had surprised him, but didn’t excuse the fact that his mother had abandoned Cord.
A few years ago, he had decided he was ready to settle down, start a family of his own. He had the rings in his pocket when he flew to Houston, where Sandra Maddox, the woman he’d been dating, was working. Problem was, she’d gone off to California the day before with a married man. Cord had been played for a besotted fool.
Nope, these days it didn’t pay to trust a woman.
Or perhaps he was the problem. He wasn’t lovable—either in the eyes of his mother or the woman he’d finally chosen to marry.
He slanted Leila a glance as they walked toward the weathered wood barn and adjoining stables. He couldn’t deny that she got his juices going, but she sure wasn’t suitable for ranch life. He’d give her a week, two at the most, and she’d be long gone, very likely back to her home country. He loved Texas as much as the next man, but it wasn’t an easy place to live, not on a ranch, anyway. The summer could be hotter than Hades, the winters cold enough to freeze the teats off a heifer. In between there was plenty of hard, demanding work, wide-open spaces and a sense of accomplishment he’d never be able to find with a desk job.
“Do they raise any cattle where you come from?” he asked.
Her hair shifted like a veil as she turned toward him, the sun catching the strands and making them gleam like polished agate. “Oh, no, we raise oil. A great deal of it. And we export large quantities of steel and cement. Munir is a very wealthy country.”
“Then you like it there?” he asked hopefully. Maybe she’d get homesick and want to go back sooner rather than later.
Her slender shoulders lifted in a shrug of denial. “Women do not have as much freedom there as they do in America.”
Reaching the corral, he placed a booted foot on the lower fence rung and leaned his elbow on the top. “Guess you don’t get to ride much at home then, and that’s why your mount got away from you.”
She lifted her head in a haughty manner and her eyes sparked. “That is not true. I am an excellent—” She stumbled momentarily, obviously remembering the incident. “The horse spooked. Dirt blew in his face. I do not know why he did not respond to my command.”
He smiled at her bravado. Two days ago she’d been terrified. Now she was—arrogant.
One of the cow ponies, a dun-colored mare with a darker brown mane, trotted over to the fence and stuck her head over the top. Without hesitation, Leila rubbed the mare’s nose and scratched behind her ears.
“Her name is Betsy. You like horses?” he asked.
“Oh, yes. Although this one is not as elegant as my broth—the pure-blooded Arabians in Sheikh Ashraf’s stables. Still, she is very pretty.”
“She can run rings around any Arabian you can name when it comes to rounding up cattle. Those Arabians are all show and no go, as far as I’m concerned.”
She sniffed. “If you say so.”
Her comment amused rather than irritated him. “If you stick around long enough, I’ll give you a shot at riding one of my cutting horses.”
Her interest perked up immediately. “You would do that?”
“Sure. We’ll pick you a gentle one. Wouldn’t want to risk another runaway.”
“I promise, if your horse has been properly trained, I will keep him under control this time.”
Despite her previous lapse, Cord pretty much believed Leila. Attitude had a lot to do with a rider’s ability to handle a horse. Leila was so self-assured that most of his remuda wouldn’t try any shenanigans while she had a hold of the reins. Which made him wonder what had gone wrong earlier in the week.
“Come on. There’s more to see.” He gestured toward the adjacent barn.
She gave the horse a final rub between the ears, crooning, “I will come again, pretty Betsy, and bring you a carrot next time. Would you like that?” The cow pony nodded her approval.
Cord walked Leila into the barn, standing back to watch her reaction. He could all but see her delicate little nostrils quiver at the earthy scents of hay and manure, leather, neat’s-foot oil and liniment.
She turned, a bemused expression on her face. “I was rarely allowed in the stables at the palace. This smells so…alive.”
“Yeah.” So was she. Caught in a column of sunlight beaming in through the hayloft window, she looked radiant. Glowing with vitality and filled with sensual promise. It was enough to make a man rethink his long stint of celibacy. Which, in this case, was not a good idea. An honorable man did not mess with a woman who was so obviously innocent. At least in this part of Texas, that wasn’t done.
A mewling sound came from the back of a nearby stall.
Leila peered in that direction. “Oh, look, a kitten.” She slipped into the stall, picking up a young brown-and-black ball of fluff with white paws that looked to be only a few weeks old. “She is so tiny. Where is her mother?”
Cord shrugged with indifference. “Hard to tell. We usually have a couple of barn cats around to take care of the rodents.”
“But she should not leave her baby all alone.” She rubbed her cheek across the kitten’s head. “This little one is lonely and frightened. Hungry, too, I think. Perhaps the mother is injured.”
Her concern for a feral cat raised to fend for itself amused Cord. “I’m sure her mom will come back. Why don’t you leave the kitten there, and we’ll check later.”
With obvious reluctance, Leila made a nest of hay in the corner of the stall, murmured reassuring words to the kitten, then tucked her into the nest as though she were putting a baby to bed for the night.
“I will come back later to be sure you are all right, little one. I promise.”
He gestured for her to leave the kitten. There were more outbuildings to be seen.
One of his hired hands, Joe Piedmont, picked that moment to come strolling into the barn, his long legs so bowed he could probably walk right over a five-hundred-gallon propane tank without touching the sides.
“Hey, boss,” he drawled.
Cord dragged his attention away from Leila. “Joe, this is Leila. She’s going to be our housekeeper for a while.”
The cowboy’s jaw dropped, then he scrambled to yank his battered hat from his head. “Howdy, miss. Glad to meetcha.”
She honored him with a dazzling smile. “It is my pleasure, Mr. Joe.”
The cowboy’s face flamed a bright red, and his Adam’s apple bobbed in his scrawny neck.
Cord grimaced. “There somethin’ you want from me, Joe?”
“Huh? Oh, yeah.” Meeting Leila had obviously caused him to lose his train of thought. In a few more minutes, he’d probably forget his own name. “We was wondering when you wanted us to start weaning the calves.”
“Tomorrow would be as good a time as any, assuming the weather holds.”
“Gotcha, boss.” Struggling to get his hat on straight, he backed toward the wide-open barn door. “Sure was nice to meetcha, miss. The fellas will be real happy to have you around.”
“Thank you, Mr. Joe,” she said sweetly.
“Joe’ll do, miss.”
She nodded just as Joe backed into the side of the door, practically knocking himself out. He spun around and hurried outside, moving faster than Cord had seen him go since one of the breeding bulls got stung on the rump by a bee.
Cord stifled a laugh. Getting any work done around the ranch was going to be tough until his hands got used to Leila being there. Which might take quite awhile.
His assessment of the situation was confirmed when Red Galliger happened to amble by while Cord was showing the calving barn to Leila. Ty Thomas and Pablo Ramirez came around to get an eyeful as they passed by the bunkhouse. At the chicken coop, Lester Smith joined the crowd. By the end of the week, Cord figured he’d have cowpokes from every ranch within a fifty-mile radius hanging around.
He wasn’t quite sure why that bothered him so much.
Even the old rooster who guarded the henhouse let out an ear-piercing crow of welcome and flapped his wings to show off.
Leila’s eyes sparkled with all the attention. “So you raise chickens as well as cows?”
“All the eggs and drumsticks you could ask for,” Cord said. “Speaking of which, maybe we ought to let you get started on supper and let my men get back to work.” He gave his cowhands a pointed look, which eventually got them moving back to whatever chores Leila’s arrival had interrupted.
“As you wish.” Leila tossed her head in much the same way the lead mare of a wild herd would, letting the world know that no stallion, however powerful and ambitious, could get her to do a thing she didn’t want to.
