His Christmas Conquest: The Sheikh's Christmas Conquest / A Christmas Vow of Seduction / Claiming His Christmas Consequence

SALADIN HEARD THE whir of helicopter blades long before the craft entered the immediate airspace of the house. Moving his wrist carefully so as not to wake Livvy, he glanced at his watch and gave a small nod of satisfaction. Exactly on time and exactly as he had instructed.

He glanced over at the head that was lying next to him—Livvy’s bright hair spread out over the pillow. Her lips were parted as she breathed and there was a rosy flush on her freckled cheeks. He felt another stir of desire and contemplated moving his fingertip down over one silken thigh as he thought back to the previous night and most of the subsequent day that he’d spent in her bed. They had taken short breaks for food and for a shared and very erotic shower, and at one point they’d even scrambled into their clothes and gone out tramping through the snowy countryside. But for the most part they had been shut in her bedroom, making love so often that he should have been exhausted, when all he felt was a delicious kind of high.

Because Olivia Miller had proved an exciting lover—more exciting than she should have been, given her lack of experience. Her light, strong body had bent beneath his with the suppleness of a young sapling as he’d driven into her over and over again. She had embraced sex with a passion and athleticism that had taken his sometimes jaded breath away. And if at one point she had made the mistake of going all tender on him, it was a mistake she would not be repeating, for he had warned her off starting to care for him—and royal protocol would ensure that the message was slammed home to her. For this was the last time they would lie together like this...

He felt a stir of something else and acknowledged the uncomfortable stab of his conscience, knowing he had manipulated her in a particularly ruthless fashion. He had taken her virginity because it seemed wrong that a relatively young woman should be living such a celibate existence. And because he had wanted her very badly. But there had been another reason why he had made love to her...knowing that a woman rarely refused a man something if he gave her enough pleasure. And it had worked, hadn’t it? She would now be accompanying him to his homeland, as he had intended she would all along.

He felt another stab of conscience. His own doubts hadn’t stayed around for long, had they? His guilt about taking her virginity and the symbolic betrayal of his wife hadn’t lasted beyond that first, sweet thrust.

He felt the returning throb of an erection and wondered if there was time for another swift coupling prior to their flight before deciding against it. She was going to need to wash and brush up before the trip to his homeland, and he was going to have to deal with his advisors and bodyguards who would doubtless be angry about this solo trip, though they would never dare show it. And although they would invariably guess that he had been doing more than taking tea with the fiery-headed horse expert, there was no need to flaunt his affairs openly in front of such a notoriously conservative group of men. And besides, this would be the end of it. His conscience would trouble him no longer, for there would be no sexual relationship once they were in Jazratan. His mouth hardened. He never brought his lovers to his homeland for reasons that were practical and reasons that were painful.

The clatter of the helicopter blades interrupted his introspection and, gently, he shook Livvy awake. Her lashes fluttered open and he could see the momentary confusion that clouded her amber eyes as she looked around and realised she was naked in bed with him.

Much less shy than after their first encounter, she sat up, the duvet tumbling to her waist and highlighting the pert thrust of her breasts, and Saladin cursed the powerful wave of desire that shot through him.

‘What’s that noise?’

‘My helicopter.’

She blinked at him. ‘It’s here?’

‘It’s about to land.’

‘It’s dark outside,’ she said sleepily.

‘That’s because we’ve been in bed most of the day and it’s late. You’ll need to get showered, changed and packed,’ he added. ‘Because we have to leave—and as quickly as possible.’

Livvy felt disorientated as she brushed her untidy hair away from her face and wondered why Saladin was suddenly being so cool towards her. Because she’d obeyed his curt instructions to the letter, hadn’t she? She certainly hadn’t been in any way tender towards him after he’d warned her off. She’d responded to his lovemaking with nothing more controversial than a newfound passion and enjoyment. She waited for him to touch her again—or to kiss her, or something—but he was already picking up his cell phone and tapping out a number, and she told herself not to make a big deal out of it. Because hadn’t she been firm in her resolve last night that she wasn’t going to do anything stupid like falling in love with him?

Sliding out of bed, she went along the corridor to the shower, grateful that the boiler was working again and there was plenty of hot water. She remembered the shower they’d shared some time after lunch, and her cheeks burned as she tipped shampoo into the palm of her hand and relived the memory of what had happened.

Because despite his emotional detachment, it had been amazing. Every single second of it. Better than she’d ever imagined, even in her wildest dreams. Suddenly she was glad that Rupert had never consummated their relationship. Glad that it had been Saladin who had been her first lover, because instinct told her that no other man could make her feel the way the desert sheikh had done.

She tried to envisage someone other than Saladin touching her, but the thought of another man’s hands on her body made her stomach clench with distaste. She turned her face towards the hot jets of water, knowing she mustn’t read anything into what had just happened, because that would be setting herself up to be a victim. And hadn’t she sworn she would never be a victim again? It was sex, that was all. Nothing but sex— beautiful and empowering, but ultimately meaningless. So why not just enjoy it while she could?

Back in her bedroom, she stuffed her ripped panties into the bin, dressed in jeans and a sweater and then found her old jodhpurs at the back of the wardrobe and began packing a suitcase. Layering in casual clothes and T-shirts plus a couple of smarter dresses, she went over to the bookcase and picked out a couple of long-neglected books. By the time she got downstairs, the helicopter had landed on the back field and Saladin was standing beside the Christmas tree, still talking into his cell phone.

He cut the connection immediately, but his eyes didn’t seem particularly warm as he turned to look at her, and he made no attempt to touch her as she walked over to him. There was no lingering kiss acknowledging their shared intimacy. No arm placed casually around her shoulder. Anyone observing them would have assumed that they were simply boss and employee, not two people who, a short time ago, had been writhing around in ecstasy together upstairs.

Boss and employee.

Which was exactly what they were.

‘Your hair is still wet,’ he observed. ‘You’ll get cold.’

Trying to ignore his critical stare, Livvy forced a smile. ‘I have a woolly hat I can wear.’

‘As you wish.’ He glanced around. ‘Do you need to lock up the house?’

‘No, I thought I’d leave the doors open to see if any seasonal burglar fancies taking their chances,’ she replied sarcastically. ‘Of course I need to lock the house up!’

She wanted him to stop talking to her as if he were a robot and to kiss her again. To convince her that what had happened last night hadn’t been some crazy kind of dream that was fading by the second.

But he didn’t. He seemed suddenly distant. As if he had retreated behind an invisible barrier she couldn’t access. Instead of being her cajoling and vital lover, he had effortlessly morphed into his real role of lofty and exalted sheikh.

Like a scene from an adventure movie, she found herself following him across the dark and snowy grass towards the helicopter, beside which stood a couple of burly men who bowed deeply before the sheikh before speaking in a fast and foreign tongue. Briefly, she wondered how Saladin was explaining the presence of a pale-faced woman in a woolly hat who was accompanying him.

With the helicopter lights flickering they flew over the night-time countryside to an airstrip, where a private jet was waiting. Aware of the veiled glances of his advisors, Livvy boarded the sleek plane, whose sides were adorned with the royal crest, startled to discover that she and the sheikh would be sitting separately during the flight.

She wondered if he saw her look of surprise just before one of the stewards ushered her through a door at the rear, to a much smaller section of the plane—though, admittedly, one that contained its own bed. Pulling out her books and music from her holdall, she looked around. Actually, there was a TV screen—and a neat little bathroom offering a tempting display of soaps and perfume. But even so...

Moments later, Saladin came to find her—all quietly brooding power as he stood in the doorway with his cool black eyes surveying her.

‘You are satisfied with your seat, I hope?’ he questioned.

She was trying hard not to show she was hurt—but suddenly it wasn’t easy to bite back the feelings that were bubbling up inside her. ‘I wasn’t expecting us to be sitting apart. Not after...’ She clamped her lips shut, aware of having said too much. Did expressing vulnerability count as tenderness? she wondered.

He glanced over his shoulder before lowering his voice. ‘Not after having had sex with you—is that what you mean?’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ she mumbled.

‘It does,’ he said, suddenly breaking into an angry torrent of Jazratian, which was directed at the hapless steward who had appeared at the doorway behind him, but who now beat a hasty retreat. ‘It matters because I’m afraid this is how things are going to be from now on.’

She stared at him, not quite understanding what he meant until his stony expression told her more clearly than any words could have done. ‘You mean—?’

‘What happened in England must stay in England, for we cannot be intimate in Jazratan,’ he said. ‘The laws of my country are very strict on such matters—and it would offend my people deeply if it was discovered that I was having sex with an unmarried woman. Particularly an unmarried foreigner.’ He shrugged, as if to take some of the heat from his words. ‘For I am the sheikh and you are my employee, Livvy, and from now on we will not be stepping outside the boundaries of those roles.’

It was several moments before Livvy could trust herself to speak, and if the giant plane hadn’t already been taxiing down the runway, she honestly thought she might have run up to the steward and demanded they let her out.

But she couldn’t. She had agreed to take the job and she was going to have to behave like a professional. And anyway—mightn’t this strategy be the best strategy for keeping her emotions protected? If she and Saladin were to be segregated, it would be very difficult to foster any kind of attachment to him. So even though his words hurt, somehow she found the strength to force a careless smile onto her lips.

‘Well, that’s a relief,’ she said.

His black eyes narrowed. ‘A relief?’

‘Sure. I’ve got a lot of reading I want to get through before we land. I told you it was a long time since I’d worked with horses.’ With a wave of her hand, she gestured towards the books she’d just unpacked. ‘So I’d better have a browse through these. Reacquaint myself with the species, even if it’s only theoretical—until I get to meet Burkaan. So please don’t let me keep you,’ she added. ‘I’ll be perfectly happy here on my own.’

His face was a picture—as if he’d just realised that in effect she was dismissing him—yet he could hardly object to her demand for privacy after what he’d just said.

But once he’d gone, and she was left with the opened but unread pages of Healing Horses Naturally, Livvy found herself staring out of the window at the black sky as England receded, unable to deny the sudden pain that clenched like a vice around her heart.

He’d made her sound...

Like a cliché.

An unmarried foreign woman he was forbidden to have sex with.

She closed her eyes. He had come to the house determined to employ her, and for a while she had resisted him. Had he looked at her and wondered whether seduction was a price he was prepared to pay in order to guarantee her services? She bit her lip.