The Playboy Sheikh's Virgin Stable-Girl (10 page)

‘You told me that western women would patronise me because of the way I look,’ she said. ‘And yet you now do the same. You speak of subtlety and tell me that I can have no understanding of it—yet why shouldn’t I? For it is just a variation on human behaviour and I am human—just the same as you.’

Kaliq frowned, and yet he accepted that she had a valid point—it was just that she was the last person on earth he would have expected to make such a point. ‘It was not intended as a criticism,’ he said, in a voice which was as close as he ever got to gentle. ‘More an observation. But you seem almost—educated—for one from such a background as yours.’

‘But I am educated, Highness. You see, I—’ And then she stopped abruptly. What in the falcon’s name was she doing talking to the sheikh about matters such as this? Her tongue had run away with her. ‘Forgive me,’ she mumbled. ‘I forget myself.’

‘No, no.’ He shook his dark head. ‘Your remarks interest me, Eleni. You give me insight into the lives of my subjects. Pray, continue.’

Eleni wriggled her shoulders a little. ‘Well, I liked school. The educational reforms initiated by your stepmother, Queen Anya, meant that girls like me were given access to books and learning for the first time. I had a teacher who encouraged me—she let me read her own books—novels,’ she elaborated shyly.

It had been like a sweet, long draft of water after a hot ride in the desert to sit at a desk and be given clean white paper and pens. An escape from the drudgery at home and the tyrannical reign of her father.

‘So why did you leave school if you liked it so much?’ he questioned softly. ‘You could have gone on to further study—it is rarer among girls, it is true, but the opportunities are there, and Jaladhar has its own university.’

Eleni stared at him. ‘Because I was poor,’ she said, her cheeks flushing pink.

‘There are scholarships, Eleni,’ he pointed out.

‘And because my father would never have allowed it. Because ultimately, men still make the decisions in Calista and women obey them, no matter how great the opportunities which lie before them.’

Kaliq was silent for a moment. She was turning out to be much cleverer than he had ever anticipated—with a native cunning which could spell trouble if he was not careful. She was here simply to help him decide on a horse and to warm his bed at night—and neither of them should forget that. So whose fault was it that they now seemed to be steering towards an inappropriate debate on the openings available for women in Calista? His!

‘Make yourself ready—for we are about to land. It can be a startling experience—but there is nothing for you to fear,’ he said coolly, and began to flick through an English newspaper, knowing that his words weren’t quite true. But what purpose would there be in telling her that take-off and landing were the two most dangerous moments during a flight?

Eleni wondered what had happened to make his attitude change so suddenly—but then the engines began to make a huge sound like the roaring of a thousand thunderstorms and she was too preoccupied to care.

And when she had shakily made her way down the aircraft steps, a big shiny black car was waiting to whisk them through narrow little roads which Kaliq called ‘lanes’ and which were lined with the thickest and greenest hedges that Eleni had ever seen. It all looked so lush and so beautiful that some of her trepidation dissolved. What had her teacher at school told her? That life was there to be experienced and enjoyed. So what was the point of worrying about what might happen? It hadn’t happened yet.

‘You like what you see?’ he queried as he heard her soft sigh.

She turned to him, her eyes were shining. ‘Oh, yes, Highness!’

‘We are going to my house in Surrey,’ he said, wondering if she knew just how potent that kind of un-feigned enthusiasm could be. No, of course not. She was a simple girl from the country—and a virgin—so what would she know of men’s desires? ‘I thought that you might find London a little overwhelming—and this is much closer to the stables we are going to visit.’

‘You…you own a house in England?’ Eleni questioned uncertainly.

‘I do.’

‘So you mean, this is where you live when you are not in Calista?’

‘Oh, I stay here when I’m in England and feel a hankering for the countryside,’ he said dismissively. ‘But I also keep a place in New York, an apartment in Milan and a villa in the South of France.’

‘So many homes!’

Her tone seemed to imply puzzlement rather than admiration and Kaliq’s mouth twisted into an odd kind of smile. At least nobody could ever accuse her of being a gold-digger! ‘Staying in hotels is beset with difficulties,’ he explained, without stopping to ask himself why he was bothering to offer his stable girl some kind of explanation for his conduct. ‘It means I have to rely on someone else’s security arrangements.’

‘Oh, I see,’ said Eleni slowly, remembering that time at her father’s when he had made her taste his pomegranate juice first, in case it was poisoned. When he was talking to her like this it was almost foolishly easy to forget that he was a prince—and to some, perhaps, a target. ‘But I do not notice any bodyguards, Highness.’

‘There is a car ahead of us and one behind—but they are discreet because that is how I like it. And sometimes I prefer not to have any at all…when their presence would inhibit me,’ he added, with a glitter in his black eyes which Eleni did not understand. ‘But my estate here is so well guarded that I have a certain kind of freedom when I am here. Now look over there,’ he instructed softly. ‘For we have arrived.’

Nothing could have prepared Eleni for that first sight of the sheikh’s English home. His palace in Calista was splendid—so lavish and rich and sumptuous—but this was different and so totally outside her experience that for a moment it completely overwhelmed her.

‘Oh!’ she exclaimed, her fingers fluttering to her lips as she stared in disbelief.

‘What do you think of it?’

The house rose up from a lawn of impossible greenness—a stately building of bricks as warm and as red as a desert sunset. There were stone steps leading up to a huge door flanked by carved pillars. And everywhere she looked, she could see flowers dancing—they had frilly trumpets and were coloured saffron.

‘It’s…it is beautiful, Highness. Truly beautiful.’

Ridiculously, her comment pleased him—for he sensed it came from the heart rather than because it would be what he was expecting to hear. And for a man who spent his life having his moods gauged and his wishes judged it was as refreshing as the summer rain. ‘Why, thank you,’ he said gravely.

‘And look at the flowers—I have never seen quite so many in one place!’

‘Daffodils,’ he said unsteadily, thinking that the colour of her eyes was as green as the fresh young growth of spring. ‘They are called daffodils. There’s a very famous poem written about them by a man named Wordsworth.’

‘I should like to read it,’ Eleni said wistfully.

‘You shall.’ And suddenly, he couldn’t stop himself. The moist gleam of her mouth was too provocative and her innocent sense of wonder was like an unexpectedly powerful aphrodisiac—and Kaliq leaned over, pulling her into his arms. He looked down at her. ‘You shall do many things when you are with me, Eleni—do you understand that?’

Staring up into his face, she saw a look of intent written in the glitter of his eyes and Eleni knew what was about to happen. But it was not fear she felt in her heart but a great sense of longing. There was a split second when she tried to tell herself this was wrong—but the sight of his hard, dark features dominating her vision wiped away the nagging voice of doubt on Eleni’s lips.

Because she was impatient for his kiss—greedy to taste it once more. It was as if the sheikh had woken in her a dormant hunger she hadn’t known existed until he had liberated it with the first touch of his lips back in Calista.

‘Oh,’ she breathed as his lips began to explore hers with a thoroughness which took her breath away.

Kaliq kissed her and, to his astonishment, she kissed him back as sweetly as the most experienced lover. Kissed him until there was no breath left in his lungs and he levered himself away from her to gaze down into the wide-eyed wonder of her face. ‘It’s good, isn’t it, lizard?’ he questioned unevenly. ‘To kiss like this?’

Eleni swallowed. ‘Oh, yes, Highness.’

Quickly, he claimed her mouth once more—enjoying her little whimper of pleasure as he took control. She was like an unbroken horse, he realised. All fire and spirit—with an innate need to be conquered. And how quickly she learned, he thought with admiration—as her hands reached up to softly knead at his shoulders and he imagined those fingers pressing into his naked flesh.

He felt the moist softness of her lips—the shy and darting uncertainty of her tongue as it mimicked the movement of his and flicked inside his mouth. Hesitantly, at first—and then with a growing confidence until it became a lazy curl against the roof of his mouth which made him groan.

He pushed her back against the soft leather seat and he could see that the amazing pistachio-green of her eyes had almost completely been obscured by the dark brilliance of desire. Her firm, young breasts were pushing against the silk of the tunic she was wearing—their pert tips as hard as Calistan diamonds—and how he longed to bare them. To feast his eyes on her naked flesh. To take them into his mouth and suckle them.

He pushed back the hair from her flushed face, sensing that sexual desire had her firmly in its grip. Knowing that he could slide the silk from her body and explore her secret places which no man had ever touched. Why, no doubt he could loosen the cord of his silk trousers and impale her here, on the back seat of the car—until she cried out with her pleasure.

His gaze flicked to the tinted window of the limousine—but already he could see activity beginning. The staff had been alerted and told that their sheikh was here. And now he found himself looking at Eleni as if through new eyes—seeing her as an outsider might see her.

His closest aides were from Calista, yes—but some of the resident staff here were English. How would it look if he emerged from the car bearing the wild-haired stable girl with seduction having just taken place on the back seat of the car?

He frowned. Eleni had natural skills and talents with a horse which most of them would only ever dream of—but how could she possibly assert any kind of authority here if she was seen as his submissive lover? The kind of woman who would simply let a man take her in a semi-public place?

Angry with his own thoughts and where they were taking him, Kaliq moved away from her—trying to quell the fierce throb of desire which pulsed at his groin.

What the hell was the matter with him?

‘Tidy your hair!’ he snapped. ‘And make yourself presentable to meet my staff.’

Eleni quickly sat up and smoothed her hands over her tousled braids, horribly aware of the position she had put herself in by allowing herself to be so easily seduced. Her heart was still thumping and her cheeks felt as if they were on fire—why, if the sheikh had not stopped what he was doing there was no saying what might now be happening.

You know exactly what would be happening, Eleni—taunted the mocking voice of her conscience.

Her colour increased as the sheikh tapped at the dark glass interconnecting panel between driver and passenger—and this must have set off some smooth mechanism, for almost immediately a shadow loomed up outside the car window, and the door was opened by a member of staff.

It was a woman—quite obviously a Calistan national judging by her dark eyes and golden-olive skin. But she was dressed in a way that Eleni had never seen before. She wore a slim-fitting skirt which came to just below her knees—and a pair of soft leather boots which looked almost like riding boots! Tucked into the waistband of the skirt was a beautiful soft white blouse and the woman wore her dark hair loose—it hung down to her shoulders in a manner which suggested that she might regularly cut it. Why, she was dressed like a westerner! Eleni blinked as the woman gave a smooth curtsey to the sheikh.

‘This is Zahra,’ drawled Kaliq. ‘She helps run my office for me in England. She will arrange everything you need. Put Eleni in the white room, Zahra,’ he added, and swept past them—his mouth hard with displeasure. ‘I am going to my office.’

Eleni watched him go, suddenly fearful. Her heart was still beating hard from that passionate encounter and, shamefully, her body was aching—but watching the sheikh walk away, leaving her alone with this rather glamorous stranger, made Eleni feel suddenly alone, and adrift.

‘How was your flight?’ asked Zahra—her voice breaking into Eleni’s troubled thoughts.

Eleni hesitated. Did royal protocol mean that she should say it was wonderful? That the prince’s flight was both luxurious and comfortable—because that much was true. But too many experiences had been packed into such a short space of time for her to be able to maintain any kind of façade. And why pretend to be something she wasn’t? ‘I was terrified,’ she admitted. ‘It was the first time I had ever been on a plane!’

Zahra bit back a smile. ‘Ah, yes, I remember the feeling well. The first time I flew from Calista, I felt as if it were happening to someone else. But you are here safely now—so shall I show you to your suite and you can freshen up and change?’

Eleni nodded, her spirits lifted by the thought of having another bath. It was funny how quickly she had become used to the luxury of running water. ‘Yes, please.’

Inside, the entrance hall was so big that it contained a huge fireplace, piled with logs and ready to be lit. And the wooden staircase was just as impressive—carved with leaves and flowers as it swept upwards. Eleni stood for a moment just looking at it.

‘By the raven’s wing,’ she murmured. ‘This is indeed a beautiful place.’

‘Indeed it is.’ Zahra glanced at her as she indicated for Eleni to follow her upstairs. ‘The Sheikh Kaliq Al’Farisi tells me that you are a great horsewoman.’

Eleni smiled. ‘The sheikh is indeed very gracious.’

‘And his office tells me that you will require English clothes.’

Eleni glanced at Zahra’s neat dark skirt and the soft white blouse. The other Calistan woman looked perfectly…decent, did she not? Yet Eleni hesitated as she remembered the way that Kaliq’s jodhpurs had hugged every inch of his hips and bottom, and she shook her head. How could she possibly go out dressed in such a way?