His Christmas Conquest: The Sheikh's Christmas Conquest / A Christmas Vow of Seduction / Claiming His Christmas Consequence. Maisey YatesЧитать онлайн книгу.
ran downstairs and checked the phone but the lines were still down. Which meant...
Meant...
The front door slammed and Saladin walked in, looking as if the wintry wilds of the snowy English countryside were his natural habitat. His golden skin was glowing after the physical exertion of shovelling snow, and Livvy flushed a deep pink as embarrassment coursed through her. Because suddenly all she could think about was her dream and how vivid it had felt. And it was a dream, wasn’t it?
‘Where did you sleep?’ she questioned—and wasn’t part of her terrified he’d answer ‘in your bed’? That he would sardonically inform her that the reason the dreams had been so vivid was because they were real...
‘Aren’t you supposed to enquire how I slept, rather than where?’ he questioned coolly, removing a pair of leather gloves and dropping them on a table. ‘Isn’t that the usual role of the hostess?’
She forced a smile. ‘Okay. Let’s start again. How did you sleep?’
‘For a time I slept the sleep of the just,’ he drawled, raking his fingers back through black hair that was damp with melting snow. ‘But that was before you woke me up.’
Livvy’s throat dried as she stared at him in growing horror. ‘I woke you up?’
‘Indeed you did.’ He flicked her a glance from between the dark forest of his lashes. ‘You were shouting something in your sleep.’
Her rosy flush was now a distant memory. She could feel all the colour leaching from her face and knew from past experience that her freckles would be standing out as if someone had spattered mud all over her skin. ‘What,’ she croaked, ‘was I shouting?’
There was a split-second pause. ‘At first I thought it was my name until I decided I was probably mistaken—given the abrupt way you drew the evening to a conclusion,’ he said, his eyes sending out some sort of coded message she couldn’t decipher. ‘But I thought I’d better get up and investigate anyway.’
Livvy’s heart pounded. ‘Right,’ she said breathlessly.
‘So I walked along the corridor to your room, and you shouted it again but this time there could be no mistake, because it was very definitely my name and you were saying it as if you were in some kind of pain. Or something.’ His eyes glittered. ‘So I turned the door handle and...’
‘And?’ she squeaked, hating the way he had deliberately paused for dramatic effect.
He glimmered her a smile. ‘And I discovered that you’d locked yourself in.’
‘So I had,’ she remembered, breathing out a shaky sigh of relief.
‘Of course—’ his eyes narrowed but she couldn’t mistake the dangerous glint sparking from their ebony depths ‘—if there had been any real danger, no door would have kept me out—locked or otherwise. In the circumstances, I can’t quite decide whether you were being prudent or paranoid. What did you think was going to happen, Livvy—that I was going to force my way into your room in the middle of the night, all on the strength of one little kiss?’
‘Of course not,’ she said stiffly, wondering if her words sounded as unconvincing to him as they did to her. What if she had left her door unlocked and he’d come running when she’d called out his name? It wasn’t beyond the realms of possibility that she would have reached out for him, was it? Grabbed at him and kissed him as hungrily as before. It wouldn’t take much of a leap of the imagination to work out what would have happened next...
She wanted to bury her face in her hands, or close her eyes and find that when she opened them he would be gone—taking with him all these confusing thoughts and this gnawing sense of frustration. But that wasn’t going to happen, and it was vital she acted as if it was no big deal. As if it had been just one little kiss—as he had said so dismissively.
‘I certainly didn’t mean to disrupt your night,’ she said.
‘I can live with it,’ he said softly. ‘Would you like some coffee? There’s a pot brewing in the kitchen.’
‘You’ve made coffee?’ she questioned.
‘Last night you told me to make myself at home. You also made it very clear that you weren’t going to wait on me, so it seems I shall have to fend for myself.’
He turned on his heel and began walking towards the kitchen, and Livvy felt obliged to follow him, wondering indignantly how he had managed to assume such a powerful sense of ownership in her home.
By daylight and without the mysterious glow of candles, the kitchen seemed a far less threatening environment than it had done last night. Livvy sat down at the table and watched as he poured coffee with the same dexterity as he’d demonstrated when removing her sweater. Oh, God—he’d taken off her sweater. And her shirt. Briefly, she shut her eyes. He would have taken off even more if she hadn’t stopped him.
So stop letting him take control. Tell him he’s got to stop shovelling snow and making coffee and to concentrate on getting himself out of here as soon as possible. She needed to remember that the response he evoked in her was purely visceral, and it would soon pass. He’d kissed her and made her feel good, and so her body wanted him to do it all over again. It was as simple as that—and it was to be avoided at all costs.
‘So did you get through to your people?’ she questioned.
Saladin slid the cup towards her. ‘I did. On a very bad line and with a low battery, but yes. Sugar?’
‘Just milk, thanks.’ She took the coffee. ‘And they’re coming to get you, I presume?’
‘Unfortunately, it’s not quite that easy,’ he said smoothly. ‘Several trees are down and some of the lanes are blocked, and all the gritting lorries are needed for the arterial roads.’
Livvy only just avoided choking on her second mouthful of coffee. ‘What does that mean?’
Saladin shrugged. He wondered if she realised he could have commandeered a whole fleet of gritting lorries with a click of his fingers—plus a helicopter prepared to swoop down and fly him away to anywhere he chose to go.
But he wasn’t planning on leaving. At least, not yet. Not until she’d agreed to accompany him to Jazratan. And he realised there was something else that was making him stay put—and that was a desire for her so intense that he couldn’t look at her without his groin aching. ‘It means I’m staying here, Livvy,’ he said.
Her eyes widened with alarm and with something else—something that was easily recognisable as desire. He could see it in the self-conscious way her body stiffened whenever he approached. He had tasted it in that amazing firelight kiss last night even if— incredibly—she had turned him down afterwards. And it pleased him that her hunger matched his, even if her reluctance to have sex with him astonished him. Did she realise that resisting him was only fuelling his determination to join with her? Why, he could have exploded with frustration and excitement when she’d banished him to his bedroom and barricaded herself into her own room last night. For passion-fuelled seconds he’d actually considered behaving as one of his ancestors would have done and broken down the door—before sanity had prevailed and he had slunk away with a sense of disbelief and a throbbing groin.
‘You’re staying here?’ she echoed as a series of conflicting emotions crossed over her freckled face.
‘It would seem so.’
‘For how long?’
‘Until it’s safe to leave.’
‘Surely someone like you could call for a helicopter,’ she objected. ‘I can’t believe that the sheikh of Jazratan, with all his power and influence, is stuck in the snow in the English countryside.’
He smiled, because this was something else he wasn’t used to. People usually did everything to entice him to stay because they loved the