The Sheikh's Sinful Seduction(19)
That still confounded him. Her reluctant “of course I want to” had been ringing in his head since she’d said it, soothing his ego. It now offered bittersweet consolation as he faced that he really couldn’t seduce her. It would be the height of dishonor.
Why couldn’t she be the sophisticate that most of her countrywomen were?
“Tell me about yourself, Fern,” he commanded, still not fully believing what she’d revealed. “Have you never been curious?”
She flashed him a startled, slightly harassed look, then glanced at the children working out a rotation system for the camera. Tariq’s guard had wandered farther up the path and beyond their hearing.
“I’m highly curious,” she argued with small flags of pink on her cheekbones. “For instance, I wonder why Tariq’s guard came with us but none to watch the girls. What conclusion should I draw from that?”
“My son’s guard is our best snake handler,” he replied with amusement, more than aware his culture was still quite sexist by Western standards, but in this case his reasons were purely practical. “I thought it wise to have him scout the area before letting the children poke around. Now stop evading my question. You know what I’m really asking. How old are you? If you were from this part of the world I wouldn’t be surprised, but how does an English girl remain untouched until she’s twenty-two?”
“Three,” she countered with a little grimace and a defensive fold of her arms. She pushed her straw hat more firmly onto her head, no doubt trying to hide beneath its wide brim. “I had other priorities,” she said. “And it’s not something I want to throw away out of mere curiosity.”
She sounded prudish and uptight, not like a typical product of the Western world. Male or female, most people her age were hooking up out of boredom if nothing else. He’d been a kid in a candy store at that age, having developed some skill by his early twenties and feeling the pressure to marry soon. He’d taken advantage of every opportunity while he’d had his freedom.
Good thing he had, since his married years had been dry.
“That wasn’t meant to sound like a challenge,” she added, sending him a look he supposed was intended as a rebuff, but as he held her gaze, her expression softened to yesterday’s absorption.
She didn’t realize it, but that mixed signal of defensiveness and yearning challenged him to show her what she was missing. Just touching her bare arm had filled him with excitement. Something more could be truly volatile and he was darkly tempted to discover the extent of it.
“There are other ways to find pleasure without going all the way,” he pointed out, mind already several hundred meters down that road with her. “I’m having trouble believing you’re so inexperienced you’ve never been kissed.”
“I didn’t say that,” she retorted. “Just that I haven’t—” Pain flashed across her expression and she fixed her attention on the children. “I’m no supermodel. Men don’t find me interesting.”
Her bruised confidence got to him. It made him soft and weak when he needed to be strong and resistant, but he understood the feeling of being spurned better than most. Her lack of self-assurance wasn’t something he could ignore and allow to grow like a cancer.
“Don’t underestimate yourself. Men are lazy and will pick the lowest-hanging fruit. It doesn’t mean the apples higher up aren’t appealing.”
“Says the man who turned up his nose at the only fruit in the bowl this morning,” she retorted, then went red. “Ignore that. You’re right. Let’s forget all of this. It makes me feel ridiculous.”