It was interminable, smiling and laughing and nodding when the others did, though Georgie had no idea what was being said. She actually found herself wishing they’d bring the food out, just to give her something to do. But then, like a summer shower on a stifling day, Ibrahim strolled in and all Georgie could wonder was how he got away with wearing Western clothes—he was in black dinner trousers and a slim-fitting white shirt and she wondered if he’d been out riding and had just pulled some clothes on, because his hair was tousled and he hadn’t bothered with shaving.
‘You are late.’ The king was less than impressed. The conversation was in English now, no doubt to avoid any embarrassment in front of the esteemed guests.
‘I had to make a phone call,’ Ibrahim said without apology.
‘It is dinner,’ the king said.
‘With family.’ Ibrahim’s smile was black as he made his point. ‘Surely we can relax and share in such a fine occasion.’ He slid into the empty seat beside Georgie.
‘Felicity is sitting there.’ Karim’s response was immediate.
‘Where is she, then?’
‘Feeding Azizah.’
‘She left you to deal with this lot?’ Ibrahim looked less than impressed and just shrugged as Karim frowned at him. ‘I’ll sit with you till she gets back.’ He switched back to Arabic then and spoke for a moment or two with the guests and then turned his attention back to Georgie.
‘You look …’ His eyes drifted down and then back to her face, and there was a hint of a tease in his smile. ‘Like you did the day I met you.’
‘Ah, yes,’ Georgie said, remembering the apricot bridesmaid’s dress. ‘I don’t think the maids are used to dressing blondes.’ She winked. ‘I’ll have to have a little word.’
He was wonderful company. She even forgot to be nervous for a little while, forgot, if it was possible to, just how attracted she was to him. She was just herself with him that night, and that was all she needed to be.
‘I thought they’d be serving now that you are here,’ Georgie commented when, despite Felicity’s prediction, it seemed that the dreaded meal was taking for ever to come out.
‘It shouldn’t be too much longer,’ Ibrahim explained, ‘Most of the socialising is done before dinner. Once it gets to coffee, the evening is over.’
‘Really?’ Georgie gave a tight smile in Karim’s direction. ‘My sister never said.’
Still, when the first course was finally served, somehow he must have sensed the small lick of hers lips wasn’t borne of anticipation as a stream of maids approached with dishes.
‘You’ll be fine.’ He watched as she politely nodded, but he could see the nervousness in her eyes. ‘You really will.’
‘I read that it’s rude not to clear your plate.’ Georgie was almost breathless at the admission, but without Felicity beside her, the prospect of dining in such plush surroundings with food she was unfamiliar with was becoming increasingly daunting.
‘It’s mezze,’ he said, ‘just the starter—dips, pastries and pickles …’ He explained the lavish spread. ‘Just take a little and if you like it, go back for more. Excuse me a moment,’ he said, and turned his attention to his father. ‘Bekra,’ came his brief response, then he turned back to Felicity. ‘My father is asking when I am going to the hospital again. I said tomorrow.’
Somehow she relaxed, so much so she barely noticed when Felicity returned and after a brief awkward moment Ibrahim moved to the other side of the table.
‘I’m so sorry.’ Felicity said in a low voice. ‘Georgie, I really am—’
‘It’s fine,’ Georgie said. ‘Honestly. Ibrahim’s been wonderful.’ She saw her sister’s lips tighten, saw Felicity’s worried blink as she glanced briefly at her brother-in-law and then back to Georgie.
‘What?’ Georgie frowned.
‘Nothing,’ Felicity said, but Georgie could tell she was rattled.
Ibrahim’s behavior was impeccable. As the endless courses were served he spoke with the guests but he still carried on talking to Georgie, guiding her through the courses whenever Felicity was drawn into the main conversation.
As they ate their dessert—mahlabia, Ibrahim informed her from across the table, a creamy pudding layered with rose water—again she felt Felicity tense. Her sister’s reaction incensed Georgie. Admittedly, thorough no fault of her own, Felicity had left her to her own devices all day, and Georgie shuddered to think how the day would have been without Ibrahim’s guidance. Now Felicity seemed annoyed that the two of them seemed to be getting on, even nudging Georgie when she laughed at something Ibrahim said.
‘What?’ Georgie asked. ‘What have I done wrong now?’
‘I’ll talk to you later.’
She would be talking too.
Oh, yes, she’d say something, but later and when they were alone.
Coffee was served and, as Ibrahim had predicted, the evening ended. As farewells were said to Jamal’s family, Hassan declared he would now return to the hospital to spend the first night with his wife and new son. But it would seem the evening was not quite over, for the king accepted another coffee and small biscuits were served. Just when everyone should be able to relax a touch more, the king frowned in annoyance as Ibrahim’s phone rang loudly.
‘Excuse me.’ He stood as he answered it. ‘I have to take this call.’
It was clearly the height of rudeness, and the conversation was strained as Ibrahim took his time. The king’s face was like thunder as the minutes stretched on, and even Georgie was nervous as to what might happen when almost half an hour later an unrepentant Ibrahim returned to the room.
‘What?’ He glanced up at the silence and boldly addressed it.
‘I will speak with you later.’
‘Speak with me now,’ Ibrahim said.
‘You have kept the table waiting for the second time in one meal.’
‘I told you to carry on.’
‘We celebrate as a family.’
‘Not quite.’
It wasn’t indiscretions from Georgie they had to worry about. There was a dangerous edge to Ibrahim, a challenge in his stance as he took his place at the table and clicked his fingers. ‘I would like champagne …’ he glanced at his father ‘… to celebrate the birth of Zaraq’s future king.’
There had been champagne at her sister’s wedding, but only for visitors, and clearly it was not expected tonight, for the servant hesitated until a tense nod came from the king. ‘Will anyone join me?’ Ibrahim asked. Gorgeous black eyes swept the table and then met hers.
‘No, thank you.’ She could almost hear the sigh of relief from her sister as she declined his offer and everyone else at the table did the same.
‘Not quite a family celebration.’ Ibrahim picked up the conversation once his champagne was poured, and Georgie realised he wasn’t just ignoring his father’s anger, he was provoking it. ‘Did not one of you think to call her?’ Ibrahim’s eyes roamed to his brother and then to his father. ‘That is why I was late for dinner. I called my mother, naturally expecting her to already know the news … that this morning she became a grandmother.’
‘Ibrahim,’ Karim broke in. ‘Not here.’
‘Where, then?’ Ibrahim said. ‘This is family, is it not? Where do we discuss such things if not at dinner?’
‘Tonight is a celebration,’ the king said, though a muscle flickered in his cheek. ‘I was going to have my secretary ring—’
‘Your secretary?’ Ibrahim sneered. ‘Is that the same one who rang her when her son died? The same one who rang her when Hassan and Jamal’s firstborn died? You know how her heart broke.’
‘I had not spoken to your mother in years then.’
‘But you’re talking to her now,’ Ibrahim said. ‘You’re more than talking with her, you’re …’ He stopped and collected himself then carried on. ‘Could you not have rung today to make her heart soar?’ His disgust was evident.
‘You did not ring,’ the king said.
‘I thought
you had!’ Ibrahim would not back down. ‘I assumed her husband had, given you are talking now, and that you were in London two weeks ago on business.’
‘Silence.’
‘That call I just took was from your wife,’ Ibrahim sneered, ‘my mother, our queen. The news I gave to her before dinner has just sunk in, now she is crying, sobbing, that she cannot see the future heir till Hassan can fit in a visit. She begs me to celebrate for her, to give him a kiss from the grandmother who cannot be here. She has poured champagne back in London and is raising a glass—I told her that I would do the same.’
His eyes scanned the table. ‘Will anyone join my mother and me?’
There were no takers.
Karim shook his head, as did Felicity, and Georgie wanted to shake her.
‘Georgie?’ he offered, and she was beyond tempted to say yes this time, not for the drink but for the point he was making. But she refused to partake in a battle that was not hers, to play a game when she was not privy to the rules. She could hear the pain behind his statements, feel the injustice on his mother’s behalf, but she was here with her sister, here to support her, not make trouble for her. Still, there was regret in her heart when again she declined.
‘No, thank you.’ She licked suddenly dry lips and dropped her gaze, but not before she saw a flash of disappointment in his eyes.
The king was not about to bend to his son.
‘Tomorrow.’ He rose from the table and immediately Karim stood and so too did Felicity. At her sister’s nudge, Georgie followed. Only Ibrahim sat, not for long but there was reluctance, insolence even as rather too slowly he also stood. It did not go unnoticed. ‘You will be in my study at eight a.m. Tomorrow, Ibrahim, you will listen to what I have to say.’
The door closed behind him but the tension did not leave the room.
‘Why tonight, Ibrahim?’ Karim challenged. ‘Why did you have to spoil it?’
‘Spoil it?’ Ibrahim did not understand his brother, his brother who would have been the king’s choice as heir, a brother who had not even cried when his mother had left them. ‘You mean voice it.’
‘I mean, you make trouble whenever you return. There was no reason for this display.’
‘No reason?’ Ibrahim looked at his brother and then at Felicity. ‘Imagine, years from now, Felicity, if it was Azizah who had delivered a child while you were on the other side of the world and Karim did not think even to call you.’ He picked up the bottle and left them alone and Georgie fought the urge to follow him.
‘He has a point.’ Felicity turned to her husband. ‘A very good one, in fact. You should have called her.’ When Karim didn’t answer, Felicity pushed on. ‘We need to arrange a trip home.’
‘We’ve been,’ Karim said. ‘We took Azizah home to meet your family and my mother when she was born.’
‘Well, arrange another one,’ Felicity said. ‘I want Azizah to know all her family.’
‘I’ll sort it.’ Karim stood. ‘I’ll go and speak to my father now. See how he is.’
But any magnanimous feelings Felicity had towards her brother-in-law were fleeting. ‘Bloody Ibrahim,’ Felicity shrilled when they were safe in her suite. ‘He does this every time he’s home.’
‘As you said, he had a good point.’
‘Well, of course you’d jump in on his side.’ Felicity was pacing. ‘Will you just stay away from him?’
‘Why should I?’ Georgie challenged. ‘When he’s the only person whose been there for me all day. Am I not supposed to speak to him?’
‘Of course you can speak to people—it’s the little private conversations, the laughing at each other’s jokes …’ Felicity was having difficulty keeping her voice even and then she said it, just came right out and said what had been obvious to everyone. ‘You two were flirting all night.’
‘No!’ Adamantly Georgie shook her head. ‘We were talking. We were just talking …’ Except that wasn’t true. It had been his black eyes she had sought, his smile, his voice that had summoned her senses, and she couldn’t blame her sister for noticing. ‘I wasn’t deliberately flirting.’
‘You were the same at the wedding,’ Felicity said. ‘I know he’s attractive and I know women don’t stand a chance when he turns on the charm, but not here, Georgie, not in Zaraq, not with my husband’s family. You can do what you like in London.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Felicity always did this—made out she was some wild child, some perpetual problem to be dealt with.
‘Just …’ Felicity ran a hand thorough her hair. ‘Let’s just leave it, please, Georgie.’
‘Leave what?’ Georgie said.
‘Nothing.’ Felicity shook her head. ‘I don’t want to argue.’ She gave a weak smile. ‘I’m overreacting. It’s been a long day and not just with Jamal. Karim’s worried about the Bedouins, he’s speaking with his father to try and sort out what to do. I’ve felt guilty all day for leaving you and it was good of Ibrahim to take you under his wing. I’m just tired, overreacting.’
‘Go to bed,’ Georgie said. ‘You’ll be up for Azizah in a couple of hours.’ She saw Felicity’s face pale just at the thought of it. ‘Why don’t you let Rina get up to her tonight?’
‘Not you too!’ Felicity was close to tears. ‘I don’t want Rina.’
‘I can get up if you want,’ Georgie said. ‘You look exhausted.’
‘You don’t have to.’
‘I want to,’ Georgie said, and before Felicity could jump in, she did. ‘I know she’s to have your milk, but there’s a whole freezer full. I’ll take the intercom and you get some sleep and we’ll have a nice day tomorrow.’ She watched as Felicity nibbled on her lip. Clearly there were more duties she had to perform. ‘Or the next day. It’s not your fault the future king was born the day after I arrived.’
‘You do understand?’
‘I do,’ Georgie lied, because she couldn’t really believe everything her sister had married into. There were unspoken rules everywhere and no matter how she tried she seemed to put a foot wrong.
As she walked back to her bedroom she saw him standing on the balcony, looking out to the desert he loathed. He didn’t turn round but she knew he had heard her because she saw his shoulders stiffen. She stood for a moment, wondering if he’d acknowledge her, wondering what she’d do if he did, but Ibrahim just poured another drink and deliberately ignored her.
‘I can manage, thanks.’ Felicity smiled at the maid in her bedroom, who was there to help her undress, and she blew out a breath when finally she was alone.
She should have said yes to him tonight.
There were a thousand ways she could justify not doing so. As she pulled out her hair, she thought of a few—she was here for her sister after all, it would have been disrespectful to the king … Georgie slipped off her shoes, undid the buttons on her dress and then took off the horrible rouge and kohl, slathered on some face cream and rubbed more melissa on her temples, telling herself she’d done the right thing, but her heart wasn’t in it.
After brushing her teeth, she rinsed her mouth then poured the water down the sink. She looked into the mirror and could justify no more.
Taking the glass, she picked up the intercom and walked out through her suite and into the hallway to where he stood on the balcony. He didn’t turn to greet her and she hadn’t expected him to.
‘I’m sorry.’ But Ibrahim shook his head. ‘I’m trying to apologise.’
‘Well, you don’t have to.’ Finally he turned and filled her glass. ‘I should not have put you in that situation.’ The most difficult, complicated man she had ever met looked into her eyes and she wished that she could read what was in his. ‘You are not beholden to me.’ Always he surprised her. ‘But, Georgie …’ he glanced down at the intercom ‘… neither are you to your sister.’
‘I’m just looking after my niece for the night.’
‘I’m not just talking about that—there is tension between the two of you.’
‘We l
ove each other.’
‘I know you do,’ Ibrahim said. ‘But there is …’ He could not quite identify it. ‘You hold back and so does she.’
‘You’re wrong.’
‘Maybe,’ Ibrahim admitted. ‘But sometimes a row can be good. Sometimes the air needs to be cleared. You feel you are beholden?’ he asked. ‘That you owe something to her?’ And his voice for the first time ever was tender, and there was both guilt and relief as she nodded, being more honest with another person than she had been in her life. Georgie rarely cried, and only really for physical pain but she hadn’t fallen over in a long time. But just as he had at the nightclub, Ibrahim brought her near tears with just a few words.
‘That’s not good, Georgie.’ He knew her from the inside; he pulled out her demons and told her to banish them. For a moment she wanted to run.
‘She’s helped me so much, though.’
‘Have you thanked her?’
‘Of course.’
‘Did you mean it?’
She nodded.
‘Then you’re done,’ Ibrahim said, except it surely wasn’t that simple. ‘Lose the guilt, Georgie …’ he smiled ‘… and come to bed with me instead.
‘That last bit was a joke,’ he added, then it wasn’t his smile but the swallow beneath that told her something else—that he was remembering. For the first time in months he moved closer into her space and there was an almost imperceptible tightening to his nostrils, but to Georgie it was magnified tenfold, for she knew he was drawing in her scent as he lowered his head.
‘Bal-smin.’ He inhaled the fragrant air that swirled between them and she wondered if he would kiss her, could hardly hold onto her breath as she tried to keep speaking normally.
‘We call it melissa …’ And then there was no hope of speaking because his breath was on her cheek.
Heart of the Desert Page 6
