His Christmas Conquest: The Sheikh's Christmas Conquest / A Christmas Vow of Seduction / Claiming His Christmas Consequence. Maisey YatesЧитать онлайн книгу.
from feeling any more vulnerable than I’m currently feeling.
Livvy never knew how she would have answered his question because suddenly the electricity came on in a flurry of light and sound. The tree lights blazed into life and three small lamps began to glow. Somewhere in another part of the house a distant radio began playing and Peppa jumped to her feet and gave a growling little purr.
‘The power’s back on,’ he said.
‘Yes,’ she answered, in a strange flat voice.
And then the landline started to ring—its piercing sound shattering the silence of their haven. Livvy stared at Saladin, aware of a sinking sensation that felt awfully like disappointment. The outside world was about to intrude and, right then, she didn’t want it to.
‘Better answer it,’ he said.
Clad in just her knickers, Livvy scooted across the room to pick up the phone and nodded her head as she listened to the voice on the other end.
‘No, no. That’s quite all right, Alison,’ she said, aware that Saladin was putting a guard in front of the fire. ‘Honestly, it really doesn’t matter. I quite understand. I would have done exactly the same in your position. Yes. Yes, I hope so. Okay. I will. Yes. Of course. And a merry Christmas to you, too. Goodbye.’
Slowly, she replaced the receiver as Saladin straightened up and suddenly a part of his anatomy was looking like no museum statue she’d ever seen, and it was all still so new to her that she didn’t know whether it was rude to stare—even though she was finding it very difficult not to stare.
‘Who was it?’ he questioned and Livvy wondered whether she’d imagined that faint note of amusement in his voice, as if he was perfectly aware of her dilemma.
She shrugged. ‘My guests. Someone called Alison Clark who was due to arrive with a load of her polo friends. They rang to say that the weather forecast is too dodgy and they’re not coming after all. They’ve decided to spend Christmas at some fancy hotel in London instead.’
‘And are you disappointed?’ he questioned smoothly.
‘I don’t know if disappointed is the word I’d use,’ she said, aware that a long and empty Christmas now loomed ahead of her. And wasn’t that one of the reasons why she always stayed open during the holiday? Because being busy meant she didn’t have to look at all the things that were missing in her own life. ‘It means I won’t get paid, of course.’
There was a pause as he glittered her a smile. ‘But that is where you are wrong, Livvy,’ he said softly. ‘Don’t you see that fate has played right into our hands? You are now free to take up my offer and return to Jazratan with me. You can forget about niggling domestic duties over the holidays and use your neglected healing powers on my horse, for which I will reward you handsomely.’
The sum he mentioned was so large that for a moment Livvy thought he was joking, and for a moment she was seriously tempted. Yet some stubborn sense of pride made her shake her head. ‘That’s far too much.’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘First time I’ve ever heard anyone complain about being paid too much.’
‘It should be a fair price,’ she persisted stubbornly. ‘Not one that sounds like winning the national lottery.’
‘What is fair is what I am prepared to pay for your services,’ he argued. ‘If your gift was more widely distributed, then obviously the price would be a lot lower. But it isn’t, and what you have is rare, Livvy—we both know that.’
She knew what he was doing. He was manipulating her and he was doing it very effectively. He was making her an offer too good to refuse and she was scared. Scared to try. Scared of failing. Scared of his reaction if she did fail. And scared of so much else besides.
‘But what if this so-called gift no longer exists?’ she said. ‘There’s no guarantee that my intervention will work. Burkaan may not respond to my treatment, we both know that.’
‘Yes, I know that,’ he said. ‘But at least I will have tried. I will have done all that is in my power to help my horse.’
She wasn’t imagining the sudden hollowness in his voice, or the accompanying bleakness in his eyes, and it was that that made up Livvy’s mind for her. Yes, Saladin Al Mektala had the kind of unimaginable riches and influence that other people could only dream of, but when it boiled down to it he was just a man who was desperate to save his beloved horse.
‘Very well.’ She bent down and picked up her bra. ‘I’ll come to Jazratan with you.’
‘Now what are you doing?’
She straightened up. ‘I’m getting dressed, of course. There’s a lot I have to sort out. I need to organise someone to feed the cat, for a start.’
‘I’m sure you do, but there is something of much greater urgency.’ His voice had grown silky. ‘And don’t look at me with those big honey-coloured eyes and pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.’
Taking the bra from her unprotesting fingers, he dropped it to the floor and wrapped his arms around her waist, securing her to the spot, so that he could kiss her. And once he had started kissing her, she was hungry for more. She rose up on tiptoe to curl her hands possessively around his neck and he gave a low laugh of triumph.
But this time he didn’t push her to the rug and slowly thrust himself inside her. Instead, he bent and slid his arm underneath her knees, lifting her up so that she was cradled effortlessly in front of his chest.
‘Where are you taking me?’ she whispered as he headed for the door.
‘To bed.’
She looked up at him. ‘Why?’
‘Are you serious? You know exactly why. Because I want sex with you again, and once on a hard floor is quite enough when there is the promise of a soft mattress.’
‘Actually, my mattress happens to be very firm.’
‘That’s good.’ He slid his hand over her bottom and gave it a squeeze. ‘I like firm.’
Her cheeks hot with embarrassment and excitement, Livvy turned her face into his chest. He was taking control and she was letting him. I want sex with you again, he’d said—in a way that could almost be described as abrupt. There were no euphemisms tripping off his tongue, were there? No tender words of affection to feed her romantic fantasies. He’s being truthful, she reminded herself. He’s telling it as it is.
Yet it was difficult to keep fantasy totally at bay when a naked sheikh was in the process of kicking open her bedroom door and depositing her on her bed.
‘Now,’ he said as he straddled her, his fingers hooking into the soft silk of her knickers.
She thought he was about to slide them down as he’d done before, but the sudden sound of delicate fabric being ripped made her eyes widen in astonishment and, yes, in excitement, too.
‘I can’t...’ Her heart began to hammer against her ribcage. ‘I can’t believe you just did that.’
‘Well, I did—and here’s the proof,’ he drawled, dangling the tattered fragments from his index finger like a trophy.
‘Those are my best knickers,’ she protested.
‘Were,’ he corrected. ‘But they were an obstruction to my desire, and I don’t do obstruction. Ever. You shouldn’t have put them back on, Livvy.’
‘That is...outrageous,’ she spluttered.
‘Perhaps it is,’ he agreed unsteadily. ‘But you like me being outrageous, don’t you, habibi? You like the sense that I am now free to do this...’ With a light and teasing movement, he began to brush his finger over her searing heat. Back and forth it went in a relentless rhythm so delicious that she almost leaped off the bed.
‘Oh,’