His Christmas Conquest. Maisey Yates

and couture and then he married her. My father was a country gentleman and this house had been in his family for generations, but his new wife preferred luxury travel and sailing in sunny waters on a lavish yacht. She was the kind of woman who would buy an entire new wardrobe before every trip—and we weren’t the sort of family who had a lot of ready cash. Most of it was tied up in the house. Would you...?’ Again, she licked her lips. ‘Would you like a blanket, or something?’

      He would like something, but he suspected he wasn’t going to get it right then. ‘Why, is my nakedness bothering you?’

      ‘A little.’

      ‘Just a little?’ He let his gaze slide down to his groin before raising his eyes to her flaming cheeks. ‘I must be slipping. Very well, bring me a blanket if it makes you feel better.’

      He wondered if she was aware that he was being treated to a tantalising glimpse of her bare bottom as she walked over to a second sofa and grabbed another blanket, though he noticed that she averted her gaze again as she thrust it at him before resuming her position at the other end of the rug.

      ‘So what happened?’ he questioned, watching as she huddled herself in a cocoon of soft wool. ‘Or can I guess? Did she grow bored with marriage to an older man? Did she demand more and more money, until she’d bled him dry?’

      Her eyes widened. ‘How did you know?’

      ‘Because I know what women are like,’ he said. ‘And your stepmother was conforming to a pattern that isn’t exactly ground-breaking.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘And ironically, you met your own male version of the gold-digger in de Vries.’

      She nodded before staring down at the pattern on the rug as if completely absorbed by it, but when she lifted her face he noted that her expression was calm—as if she had practised very hard to look that way.

      ‘That’s right. I can’t believe that I didn’t see it for myself, my only defence being that I was very young,’ she said. ‘His stables were in trouble—everyone knew that—but nobody realised quite how bad the problem was. He knew I was an only child and he saw this house and made the assumption we were rolling in money. Which, of course, we weren’t. My father was quite an old man by then and he was ill. We had a lot of carers who were coming in and helping me look after him, and they cost an absolute fortune.’

      ‘And I suppose that was also occupying a lot of your time and energy?’ he said grimly.

      She nodded again. ‘He was very frail by then, and Rupert seemed so understanding about it all. He didn’t seem to mind when I had to cancel dinner because one of the carers hadn’t shown up. And because he was my first real boyfriend, I had nothing to compare him with. I just thought he was being kind. When he said...’ She sucked in a deep breath. ‘When he said that he wanted to wait until we were married before we had sex, I found that somehow reassuring.’

      Saladin nodded. Yes, he could see that. A horse-mad, motherless tomboy whose only role models had been an old man who should have known better and an avaricious stepmother who was out for all she could get. No wonder Livvy hadn’t known the rules about relationships, or men, or sex. Nobody had bothered to explain them to her, had they?

      ‘Don’t you realise that it reflects badly on him, not you?’ he questioned savagely. ‘That a man who dumps a woman on her wedding day because she has less money than he thought is not a real man. We have a name for that kind of man in Jazratan, but I will not sully your ears with it.’

      ‘But it wasn’t just the money. There was something else.’ She twisted some of the blanket’s tassels between her fingers. ‘It turned out that he was sleeping with one of the female grooms and had been for some time, which was why he hadn’t tried harder to get into bed with me. Not just any groom, either—but my best friend. And there was me thinking that he was displaying old-fashioned values of chivalry designed to win a woman’s heart, not realising that I was being betrayed by the two people I considered closest to me.’ She gave a short and bitter laugh. ‘What a fool I was.’

      ‘You shouldn’t beat yourself up for wanting to believe the best in people,’ he said, his voice growing hard. ‘Though I hope you’ve learned your lesson now. It’s always better to think the worst. That way you don’t get disappointed.’

      She stared at him. ‘You’ve been very...’ Her voice tailed off.

      ‘Very what?’

      ‘It doesn’t matter.’

      ‘I think it does.’

      ‘Understanding.’ She gave an embarrassed kind of shrug.

      ‘What did you think I was going to do?’ he questioned roughly. ‘Carry on as if nothing had happened—kiss away your protests and ignore your obvious reservations? Or maybe you wanted me to fulfil the fantasy of the exotic stranger who ravishes the willing but innocent woman. Who takes away the responsibility so you didn’t have to make the decision for yourself. Is that what you would have liked? It’s a common enough fantasy, especially where desert sheikhs are concerned. Would that have made it easier for you, Livvy?’

      She licked her lips. ‘I wasn’t even going to tell you.’

      ‘No, I gathered that,’ he said drily. ‘So what changed your mind?’

      She shrugged again and the blanket slipped down over her shoulders, before she hauled it back up again. ‘I thought it was dishonest not to. I thought you might be one of those men for whom virginity is a big deal.’

      Saladin was silent as he considered her words. Was it? Her eyes were wide as she looked at him and he could read the faint anxiety in their depths. He supposed it was. For a man in his position, virginity was an essential requirement of any future queen. But he was not looking for a queen. He had been there, done that. What was it they said in the West? Bought the T-shirt.

      His mouth hardened as she held his gaze with those startling amber eyes. Was she seeking reassurance? Holding out for an impossible dream? He felt the hard throb of desire at his groin and shifted his weight. This was a unique situation, but despite his undeniable lust—lust was interchangeable, because there was always another female eager enough to open her legs for him. If it were anyone else, he would get dressed, make a quick phone call and get the hell out of there—no matter how many damned snow ploughs it took.

      And that was what he should do—he knew that. Because purity was something he always associated with just one woman—and wouldn’t it dishonour Alya’s memory if he were to take the innocence of another? Every instinct he possessed—except for the sexual instinct—told him to leave now and get away while he still could.

      But Livvy Miller still had something he wanted. Something that only she could provide. And maybe he had something she wanted, because surely she didn’t want to carry on like this. Was now the time for a little adult negotiation? If he fulfilled a need in her—then wouldn’t she feel morally obliged to do the same for him?

      On her face he could read trepidation warring with desire, and a genuine sense of injustice washed over him. How crazy was it that she had never known the joy of sex? That a woman who was known for her physicality and skill on a horse should have neglected her own body for so long?

      He didn’t move—he didn’t dare—because it was vital he didn’t influence her decision, even though he knew that another kiss and she would be melting beneath him. But it had to be her decision, not his. His gaze was unwavering as he looked at her.

      ‘So,’ he questioned silkily. ‘Do you want me to take your virginity, Livvy?’

       CHAPTER SEVEN

      LIVVY DIDN’T ANSWER straight away. It seemed like something out of a dream—the powerful sheikh asking if she wanted him to take her virginity, with all the impartiality of someone enquiring whether she’d like a spoonful of sugar in her coffee.

      As