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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 cachet of having a royal in their presence. They didn’t stare at him with a mulish expression on their face, not bothering to hide their wish to see him gone. ‘Anything is possible,’ he mused. ‘But you wouldn’t want me to put one of my pilots at risk, would you, Livvy—just because having me around makes you feel uncomfortable?’
She licked her lips, as if his soft tone had temporarily disarmed her—which was precisely what he intended it to do.
‘You don’t make me feel uncomfortable.’
Their eyes met.
‘Well, then,’ he said softly. ‘There isn’t a problem, is there?’
She glared at him and Saladin felt a heady sense of triumph. Surely she must realise by now that that resistance was futile?
‘Just so you know,’ she said, glancing up at the wall clock, ‘I have things to do and I can’t stand around entertaining you all day.’
‘If this is what you term as entertainment, I’m happy to pass.’
She slanted him a furious look. ‘I have to work on the assumption that the weather is going to clear and that my guests will be arriving on schedule.’
‘So let me help you.’
Livvy put down her cup with a clatter. ‘How?’
‘Are there logs that need chopping?’
‘You chop logs?’
‘Yes, I chop logs, Livvy. Or do you think I lie around on silk
en cushions all day doing nothing?’
‘I have no idea. I hadn’t given your daily routine a moment’s thought.’
Exaggeratedly, he ran his hand slowly down over his biceps. ‘You don’t get a body like this by just lying around all day.’
‘That’s the most outrageous boast I’ve ever heard!’
He smiled. ‘So? Logs?’
‘A man from the village chops them.’ She got up from the table. ‘But you can bring some through to the drawing room from the big pile in the storehouse if you like. That would be very helpful. And if you’d like to light the fire, that would also be helpful.’
‘And then?’
‘Then I’m decorating the Christmas tree.’
