something you should know.’
‘The only thing I need to know is whether you like...this...’
She closed her eyes. Like it? She imagined that even a marble statue would have squirmed beneath his questing finger, but that wasn’t the point. The words came out in a bald rush—but what other way was there to say them? ‘I’m a virgin.’
His fingers—which had been working rhythmically against her heated flesh—now stilled. He raised his head to look at her, his eyes full of disbelief—but there was something else in their depths, too. Something she didn’t recognise. Something dark and tortured. Something that scared her.
‘Is this some sort of joke?’ he demanded in a strangled kind of voice.
Wondering what had made him look so bleak, Livvy shook her head. ‘It’s no joke,’ she said. ‘Why would I joke about something like that? It’s the truth. I might not be very proud of it—but it’s the truth.’
He rolled away from her and she noticed that his erection had diminished. ‘How can this be?’ he bit out. ‘You are nearly thirty years old. You were engaged to be married. I know what Western women are like. They lose their innocence early and they take many lovers!’
His crass generalisations dispelled some of her insecurity and made Livvy start to claw back some dignity—something that wasn’t particularly easy when she wasn’t wearing any clothes. Did she dare walk over to the sofa where the soft woollen throw she kept for cold winter nights was folded? Too right she did—because staying here completely naked was making her feel even more vulnerable than she already did. On shaky legs she rose to stand, aware of his heated gaze following her as she walked over to get the blanket and brought it back to the fireside. But as she wrapped it around herself and sat at the other end of the rug, she became aware that his erection was back. And how. Hastily averting her eyes, she turned to throw a log into the neglected fire.
‘I hate to ruin your prejudices, but not all women conform to the stereotypes you’ve just described,’ she said. ‘The law of averages suggests that there will be some older virgins as well as young ones.’
Saladin’s mouth thinned with displeasure, thinking that there couldn’t have been a more inappropriate moment for her to try to dazzle him with statistics, and he was amazed she should even dare try. He felt the heavy throb of his heart. He had wanted sex. Simple, uncomplicated sex with a willing woman. He didn’t want someone with issues or baggage. He didn’t want someone who, with her purity, had stirred up memories he had locked away a long time ago. For he had only ever slept with one virgin before, and that virgin had been his beautiful wife. Pain and guilt clenched at his heart as he stared at her.
‘I don’t understand,’ he said coldly.
‘You don’t have to. I’m...’ And suddenly he saw the uncertainty that flickered across her pale and freckled face. ‘I’m sorry if I led you on.’
An unwanted but persistent point of principle made him shake his head. ‘We led each other on,’ he said heavily. ‘But it is true that you have left it a little late to drop this particular bombshell.’
Awkwardly, she shrugged. ‘Do you want to get dressed?’
Saladin shook his head. What he wanted was to be back where he’d been less than five minutes ago, not stuck in the middle of some damned conversation! ‘I don’t believe it,’ he breathed. ‘I thought it was the custom in the West to have sex before marriage—and you were on the very brink of marriage. So what happened?’
‘It’s difficult to put into words.’
‘You don’t seem to have had much problem with words so far.’
She shifted uncomfortably beneath his gaze. ‘I think I was born in the wrong age,’ she said slowly. ‘I was a tomboy who loved messing around in the countryside. I climbed trees and used to make dens with the boys from the village. I never had posters of pop stars on my walls like all the other girls in my class. I was more interested in horses—horses were my life. In fact, everything was just like one of those old-fashioned children’s stories, until my mum died.’
‘That must have been hard,’ he said.
She shrugged again and suddenly he thought she looked much younger than nearly thirty.
‘Lots of children lose their mothers,’ she said. ‘But not so many have a father who was left feeling very vulnerable. A rich widower who became perfect marriage fodder for the kind of woman commonly known as a gold-digger.’
‘I have some experience of that breed myself,’ he observed wryly. ‘So what happened?’
She shrugged. ‘He fell for a busty blonde with a penchant for diamonds 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
