The Playboy Sheikh's Virgin Stable-Girl by Sharon Kendrick Page A

the fact that she made no attempt to hide her rather prudish disapproval. How rare it was to find an unsophisticated woman—particularly for a man who moved within such rarefied social circles and globe-trotted as often as Kaliq did. He had only recently returned from Argentina—where he had been playing hard and fast on the polo field.
    Afterwards, he had flown on to Rio where he had played even harder in the arms of a lover who was always exclusively available for him whenever he wanted her to be. And sometimes it was easier to take up with a woman you already knew than have to go through the mind-numbing motions of getting to know someone new.
    The lady in question had possessed a dynamite body which she had delighted in flaunting. He found himself remembering her spectacular breasts, shown off in all their glory by the side of a swimming pool—and the pert thrust of her buttocks barely concealed by a shiny scarlet thong.
    But although Kaliq was as appreciative of beauty and sexuality as the next man—wasn’t there something deliciously refreshing about this young woman’s genuine shock and outrage? His eyes flicked over her pink cheeks and pale green eyes. As well as something deliciously pleasing. His brows narrowed into a thoughtful look. What would she be like in his bed? he wondered idly. Would she be outraged at some of the things he would like to do to her—or would she embrace them with as much skill as she showed in the saddle?
    He patted the cushions beside him. ‘Come. Sit. You will eat.’
    ‘Eat? You mean, here?’ Eleni swallowed. ‘With you?’
    ‘But of course.’ He glimmered her a smile. ‘We must discuss my plans for the horses and there is no reason why we should not do so in comfort.’
    ‘But—’
    ‘Please do not argue with me,’ he drawled, though his tone was emphatic. ‘The first time you express a doubt I might find it tolerable—but repeat it and it will quickly become tedious. Do you understand?’
    Oh, she understood, all right. Spoilt, jaded sheikh used to getting his own way at all times! But Eleni kept her face impassive as she nodded. ‘Yes, Highness.’
    His black eyes were glittering like jet as he pointed at the cushions and, although Eleni felt as if her limbs had been turned into marble, somehow she managed to walk over and sit down beside him. For what choice did she have when the sheikh had commanded it? Tell him that she’d rather be eating with the other servants in the kitchen as she had last night? That no morsel of food would ever be able to pass her lips in his daunting presence?
    As if on cue, servant after servant began to noiselessly appear, carrying plates of exquisite food—some of which Eleni had never seen before, let alone tasted. Alongside the usual meat curry there was rare fish from the waters of the Kordela river, and jewel-bright fruits laid out on gleaming platters of pure gold. There were nuts and sweets, too—of such a variety that were usually only seen on feast days and holidays.
    But more disturbing still than the sight of such a lavish feast was the prince’s proximity. Eleni could almost feel the warmth of his body beside her and was appalled by the way it made her heart race with a strange kind of excitement. She did not know what to do, or where to look. For if she cast her eyes downwards as was correct—then might he not once again remonstrate with her? And yet she could not bear to look directly into that forbiddingly aristocratic face—for fear that she would never be able to tear her gaze away from its dark beauty.
    ‘Eleni.’
    He had even remembered her name!
    She looked directly into the ebony eyes, her heart giving that terrible little wrench again. ‘Yes, Highness.’
    ‘Come, come—you must be hungry. Stop staring into space and eat something,’ he said softly. ‘For you have had a long day in the stables.’
    She couldn’t possibly tell him that she had never felt less like eating in her life, could she? Might