Meant to Be Yours - Susan Mallery Page 0,125

a basket of lotions and hair care items, along with fluffy towels.

When she saw Pallas at Thanksgiving, she would be sure to thank her for all her thoughtful touches. Cade’s sister was nice and Bethany wanted to get to know her better. Making friends was on her life’s to-do list. She’d become too isolated at the palace. If she wanted to find where she belonged in the world, she needed to get out in it and experience things. Starting with a big American Thanksgiving.

* * *

CADE HAD SEEN videos of Rida in action but watching him in person was a whole different experience. The horse was that perfect combination of strength and agility. The same could be said of his rider. Beth and Rida were a well-matched team—anticipating, respecting each other. Seeing them together was a hell of a show.

One of the barn cats leaped up on the railing post and meowed at him. Cade scratched the side of its face. Beth slowed Rida and urged him closer.

“I named that one Harry,” she said with a grin. “I hope that’s okay.”

“Did you make sure he was a boy first?”

“I didn’t. It seemed rude. If he turns out to be a she, we’ll say it’s short for Harriet.”

“I like that you’re a problem solver,” he teased.

She laughed. “Thanks. I try.”

She swung her right leg off the saddle and jumped to the ground, then reached for the gate. Cade opened it first and they walked to the barn, Rida trailing behind.

“I met your sister yesterday,” Beth told him as they stopped in front of the tack room.

“Pallas couldn’t believe the El Baharian royal stables were sending a woman, so she had to come check you out for herself.”

“El Bahar is a great advocate of women’s rights both at home and abroad,” Beth told him. “Girls have been educated alongside boys for over fifty years. University is free to all. While we still value our traditions and culture, women aren’t second-class citizens.”

Before Cade could react, Beth groaned. “Sorry. That came out way more like a lecture than I’d intended.”

“Still, good information,” he teased. “I can probably use it on Jeopardy.”

“Is that game show still on?”

“It is. Are you a fan?”

“The theme gets in my head for days at a time,” she admitted. “Anyway, back to your sister. She seems really nice.”

“She is.”

Beth hesitated for a second. “She invited me to Thanksgiving dinner. Is that okay?”

“That depends. I have a big, loud family and my mother is weird. If you can handle it, you’re more than welcome.”

“Will I be in the way?”

“Do you plan to eat over six pounds of turkey, because unless it’s that, you’ll be fine.”

She unfastened Rida’s saddle and lifted it off him as if it weighed nothing. “I am unlikely to eat more than five pounds of turkey. I was thinking more about your personal life. Will your girlfriend mind me tagging along?”

He reached for the saddle, but she shook her head. “I’m good. I do this all the time.” She carried it into the tack room, leaving him to ponder the girlfriend question.

For a second he allowed himself to pretend she was fishing for information rather than being polite. Then he reminded himself his luck wasn’t that good. He’d had his share of women, but very few of them had been as beautiful as the curvy horsewoman walking Rida’s saddle blanket into the tack room.

“No girlfriend,” he said when she returned. “No wife, either.”

“I kind of assumed that last one,” she admitted, setting several brushes on the table by the door. “Seeing as I haven’t seen one lurking around the house.”

“Why would I marry someone who lurks? What are you saying?”

She grinned. “I take that back. You would never marry a lurker.”

As they spoke, she patted Rida’s front shoulder, then gently nudged him. The huge stallion politely shifted his weight to his other three legs, then raised his front hoof for her to inspect. Beth used a small brush to clean the outside of his hoof, then pulled a hoof pick out of her back pocket.

It was the kind of grunt work they all did every day, but he had to admit on Beth it look sexy as hell. Which made him an idiot. Or possibly something worse.

CHAPTER FOUR

“WHAT ARE YOU going to wear?” Queen Liana asked, her face showing worry on their Skype call.

“Mo-om, seriously? I’m not five. I know how to dress.”

“I know you know how to dress, Bethany. What I’m asking instead is do you have

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