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finally turned his head enough to glance behind him.
    Chey didn't lift her head to meet his eyes. “The language part is interesting. Pleased to meet you has somehow turned into I hate your shoes . I'm not sure where I keep messing up.” His body shook under her cheek with laughter. “The fitting was as you'd expect. Natalia showed up, much to my surprise. She still doesn't want to be in the wedding, but I think she's tolerating it because of Mattias. I can't be sure. He showed up for a minute, watching from the doorway. Once he was gone, the snarking started and then she left without saying goodbye. I don't care though. As long as she doesn't make a scene at the wedding.”
    “Mattias mentioned he spoke with her. He didn't go into too many details, other than Natalia is as defensive as she's ever been. She's difficult on the best days.” One hand swept back to grip Chey's hip and squeeze.
    Encouraged to, she stepped around his body to the front, lifting her chin so she could see his eyes. He was ridiculously tall. “Your cousin Esta was nice. Katrin ignored me the whole time.”
    “Katrin has always been one of Natalia's buddies. She'll do what's expected of her, even if she's not pleasant about it.” He met her eyes, held them.
    “I don't know why she has to be in the wedding. Why not just Wynn, Krislin and Esta? That's more than enough.” Chey slid her hands up the outsides of his thighs, drawing one of those rumbles from his throat that she loved. She let the touch be the precursor to the promises she'd made earlier in the bedroom.
    “Natalia's my sister. It'll look strange, I think, for Esta to be there if Nat isn't.” He slid his hands around to the small of her back, massaging under the coat.
    “Maybe.” Distracted by his mouth, Chey forgot whatever else she'd meant to say.
    “So, about that making up,” he said, a thread of anticipation in his voice.
    Right then, his cell phone beeped and blipped.
    “Ignore it,” she said, encouraging him to be distracted with her. “In fact, turn it off.”
    He laughed. “I can't turn it off. Hold on.” Dragging the phone from his pocket, he put it to his ear. “Yes?”
    Chey bit him on the chest in protest. He pinched her on the neck, not hard enough to leave a mark, but hard enough to make her swat at his hand.
    Sander's enigmatic, amused expression changed to one of bemusement. “When? All right, we'll be there shortly.”
    “Where will we be shortly?” she asked, knowing the 'we' in his statement referred to her.
    “The Crown Prince has arrived and is asking for a brief meeting. We need to get going. Raincheck on the dirty deeds floating around your brain?” He cut her an amused grin, pocketed the phone, and kissed her straight on the mouth.
    Momentarily sidetracked, she kissed him back, nibbling on his lip before retreating.
    “Of course. I always pay my debts. Do we need to change?” Chey thought Sander's suit was more than fitting to receive royalty. Glancing down at her own pant suit of dark gray, the peach shirt beneath buttoned halfway to her throat, she wondered if something more formal was in order.
    “No, we're fine. You look great in that.” Sander slid his hand down to catch her own and lead her back through the Garden, and then the castle, en route to meet the Crown Prince.

Chapter Four
    Chey got her first glimpse of the swarthy skinned Crown Prince as they entered the formal sitting room on the main floor. A neatly trimmed mustache and goatee offset a round face with ink black eyes that stared out from under a heavy brow. Attired in a fine suit of white accented by diamond cuff links and tie clasp, Bashir stood perhaps five-nine and looked to be somewhere in his middle thirties. Several men in attendance with him filled two couches and two plush chairs, speaking low in their own language. They wore white cloths over their heads bound by black bands as did the Crown Prince.
    “Your Excellency.” Sander offered up a quick greeting. The