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Livvy stiffened as his words shot through her like tiny arrows. He had taken her well-meaning advice and twisted it, making it sound as if she’d been seeking her own happy-ever-after when all she’d been doing was trying to comfort him. He made her sound grabbing and self-serving and cheap.
‘You dare to accuse me of something so cynical?’ she demanded, hot breath clogging her throat.
‘Yes, I dare!’ he challenged. ‘What’s the matter, Livvy—have I touched a raw nerve?’
Pushing her hair away from her hot face, she noticed the tremble of her fingers. ‘Actually, I find your arrogance and your assumption breathtaking, if you must know, but at least it’s made me see things more clearly.’ She drew in a deep breath as she wriggled away from him. ‘And I’m going back to England.’
He shook his head. ‘No, not yet.’
‘It wasn’t a suggestion, Saladin—it was a statement. I’m going and there isn’t a thing you can do to stop me.’
He reached for her then, his hand moving underneath the sheet to slide around her waist, and Livvy despaired of how instantly her body reacted when he touched her. She bit her lip as he began to stroke her and wished he could carry on stroking her like that until the end of time.
‘Look, maybe I shouldn’t have said those things.’ A note of something like contrition entered his voice as he continued with his seductive caress. ‘Maybe I was lashing out because I’d told you so much. More than I’ve ever told anyone else.’
‘It doesn’t matter what you say to me now. My mind is made up and I’m going,’ she repeated, pushing away his hand. ‘Because there’s no reason for me to stay. You’re obviously suspicious of my motives, and that is your prerogative. But I don’t want to be hidden away like a dirty secret anymore. Do you understand?’
His face darkened. ‘And what about Burkaan?’
Livvy felt her heart plummet as his reaction confirmed what she already knew—that his racehorse meant more to him than anything. Of course it did. When would she ever learn that she was one of those women who fell for the kind of men who would never love her back?
‘Burkaan will be fine,’ she said. ‘He doesn’t need me anymore—we both know that. He’s got his appetite back and he’s no longer vicious with the grooms. The X-ray results are conclusive.’ She paused, suddenly realising how much she was going to miss the feisty black stallion. But not nearly as much as she was going to miss his judgemental master. ‘The vet told me this morning how pleased he is with his progress—and he’ll continue making good progress, as long as you take it slowly. So don’t rush him. A month walking, followed by a month trotting. After that, you can try cantering.’
‘Livvy—’
‘I mean, obviously there’s no guarantee he’ll ever race again,’ she rushed on, desperate to cut him off before he tried another of those appeals, which this time she might not be able to withstand. ‘But you should certainly be able to put him out to stud at some point in the future. And now I think it’s best if you leave. No. Please don’t try to touch me again, Saladin. It will only complicate things. We both know that.’
She saw the incredulity that had narrowed his dark eyes and wondered if anyone had ever ordered him from their bed before, or tried to oppose his wishes. Probably not. But she needed to do this. She needed to put distance between them and she needed to find an inner strength. Because, despite her furious denial that she was hoping for some kind of future with him, wasn’t there a part of her that was doing exactly that? A part that had grown closer to this complex and compelling man and wanted to grow closer still, if only he would let her. A part that badly wanted to love him, as she suspected he needed to be loved.
And she couldn’t afford to think that way. Because falling for a desert sheikh who was still in love with his dead wife was asking for trouble.
He sat up in bed, the sheet falling away from him. ‘You’re really asking me to leave?’ he demanded.
‘I really am.’ She forced a smile. ‘Think of it as character-building.’
Saladin felt a fury and a frustration racing through his blood as he stared into her stubborn face. Who the hell did she think she was, trying to take control like this? She would leave his employment when he was good and ready and not a moment before. Yet she enjoyed taking control, didn’t she? She had laid down her rules right from the start—not seeming to realise what kind of man she was dealing with—and had expected him meekly to accept them. Well, maybe it was time she realised that he’d had enough of her rules and her control.
Yes, he had enjoyed her time here—who wouldn’t have done? She had entranced and pleased him on so many levels and cared so beautifully for his beloved stallion. But that was all pretty much academic. Because where could this relationship go? Absolutely nowhere—no matter how much he liked her. And wouldn’t her infernal refusal to be sublimated by his power and position irritate him after a while?
‘You want to go?’ he snapped, getting out of bed and picking up his discarded robe. ‘Then, go!’
He saw the brief look of alarm in her eyes that she couldn’t quite hide.
‘Right,’ she said uncertainly.
‘I’ll arrange transport for you tomorrow. You can leave first thing.’
With a sinking feeling of dread, Livvy watched as he pulled the robe on over hi
s naked body and jammed his headdress into place and then stormed across the room. He didn’t slam the door behind him, though he looked as if he would have liked to have done.
And she was left in the empty room with the dread growing heavier inside her and all she could think was, what had she done?
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
IT WAS ICY cold back in England after the seductive warmth of the Jazratian sun. Livvy returned to a stack of unopened mail, a cat determined to ignore her and the realisation that she didn’t have a clue what she wanted to do with the rest of her life—except that deep down she knew it no longer involved making beds and cooking breakfasts.
She had left Jazratan with a heavy heart—without even a final kiss from Saladin—knowing she had only herself to blame. She had kicked him out of her bed and told him she was returning to England and he had retaliated by angrily telling her to go ahead. Had she really expected the proud sheikh to mount some sort of campaign to get her to change her mind? She kept telling herself that he’d been offering sex, not security or love. And anyone with half a brain could see it was better to get out now, while her heart was still intact.
