Chapter Thirty-Two: All About Sally
"Is the heat always so fearful around here? Mr. Monroe, please slow down!" The long-legged blonde in the white crop top and khaki shorts was already out of breath. The sandy soil was tricky to walk on, and the twisty island trail seemed to go on for miles. This was very different from working out at a London day spa! Queen Jane tripped over a tree root and nearly went sprawling.
"Sorry, ma'am." John Travis Monroe caught the queen before she could fall, his strong arms steadying her beneath a royal palm. "I reckon you'd better have something to drink," the tall Texan said, offering her a lime-flavored sports drink packed with electrolytes and still ice-cold. "You look as dry as a creek bed in August!"
"Mm." Jane closed her eyes while she drank, a bit tired but very aware of the heat of the Texan's strong body pressed against hers. Gradually he helped her ease into a sitting position at the base of the tall palm tree. "You say this private trail leads straight to the hidden lagoon where my stepdaughter is staying."
"That's right, ma'am. It's a private island, and at this hour there's nobody on the trail. That's why I woke you up early even though we could have used more sleep." J.T. Monroe chuckled at the memory of the night before. The Queen of England was a lady in public, but a real handful in bed. "I figure with luck we can catch your stepdaughter Mary in bed with that no-good Sally Weeks."
"That's not what I'm after." Still breathing heavily, Jane passed the bottle back to her companion. J.T. Monroe didn't seem to feel the tropical heat the way she did. They'd both enjoyed a long night of strenuous love-making followed by a brisk morning hike. Yet the wealthy Mr. Monroe was still on his feet and full of energy. Jane needed a hot shower, and after that she wanted to fall into bed.
"You said you were worried about poor Mary getting in with the wrong crowd." J.T. admired the way Jane looked out for her folks, even when she was ready to drop. The queen was no quitter. Last night they'd put each other through a thorough workout in bed!
"Sally Weeks is a servant," Queen Jane explained, letting the tall Texan sit down in the shade beside her. "I found her working at a London spa, rubbing down leathery old ladies for a few pounds a week. I could see right away that she was exactly Mary's type. Making her my stepdaughter's companion was a way to give them something they both wanted. But I want to be sure that Sally is loyal to us, the royal family I mean, and not just to Mary."
"So this is all about Sally." J.T. Monroe nodded, putting the picture together. "We've got to have her on our side so we can get Mary away from that sexy French woman and those crazy climate change people. How do we get Miss Sally Weeks to cooperate?"
Jane kissed him lightly on the cheek. "You're a very persuasive man, Mr. John Travis Monroe. I'm sure you'll think of something!"
"What I'm thinking of now has nothing to do with Sally." J.T. had to admit that Jane was a real queen. Everyone seemed to obey her. But when he put his arms around her he was the one in charge.
Later the same morning . . .
Sally Weeks emerged from the bedroom stretching and yawning, awakened from a sound sleep by a very loud knock on the door.
"Good morning, dear!" The Queen of England looked like any other suntanned tourist, standing on the doorstep in shorts and a sexy top. The big man by her side was absolutely gorgeous.
"Hey there, beautiful. Any chance we can speak with your boss?"
"The princess isn't here," Sally grumbled, knotting the frilly robe around her waist a little tighter. "She went scuba diving with Daphne Dumont first thing this morning. Something about examining the coral reefs, searching for signs of global warming."
"Daphne Dumont," the man said. "Isn't she a famous scientist?"
"She's nothing but a cheap French whore!" Sally's cheeks flushed bright red when she remembered that the Queen of England was standing right there, listening to every word. "I'm very sorry, Your Majesty. It's not my place . . . I'm not . . . I didn't mean . . ."
Jane laughed and put a reassuring hand on the girl's shoulder. "Don't apologize, Sally dear. I got your text the other day. Mary's definitely gotten in with the wrong crowd. That's why I'm here, and that's why I've brought along Mr. John Travis Monroe. He's a very good friend of the royal family. Do say hello to him, Sally."
"Ah . . . how do you do, Mr. Monroe?" Sally gulped. The queen's American friend was tall and tanned and absolutely gorgeous.
"Call me J.T., Miss Sally. The queen has told me all about how you two girls stick together. Mary's lucky to have a friend like you. Now that French scientist is up to something, and it's not good."
"But what can we do about it?" Sally stepped aside so her important visitors could enter the messy and cluttered living room. The place was a mess because Sally hadn't remembered to clean up. Lately Mary had kept her busy with more strenuous activities.
"Make some American coffee, Sally. We'll all have a cup together, and then you and J.T. Monroe can have a chat about getting this Daphne Dumont woman away from Mary."
"But what about you, Your Majesty?" Sally frowned, her heart beating a bit faster when she saw Jane heading towards the bedroom. The unmade bed was a total mess after last night. But things had changed. In the old days Mary had been hungry for their lovemaking. Now it was Sally who could never get enough.
"I need a shower," Jane called back, sounding very down-to-earth. "Come to think of it, I think I'll skip the coffee. Could you possibly change the sheets on my stepdaughter's bed? I think I'll lie down and grab some sleep while you and J.T. come up with a plan."
"Very good, Your Majesty." Sally wanted Mary all to herself. And she wanted to please the queen. And part of her wanted to know more about the rich and gorgeous American standing beside her.