CHAPTER FOUR

THERE was a new lightness to Georgie as she took out her blonde hair from its ponytail and combed it, and there was a smile on her lips as she applied lip balm. Not even the prospect of the long flight ahead could dim a world that suddenly felt just a little more right.

That her divorce had come through that morning might not seem to many something to be pleased about, and a marriage that had been a mistake might seem nothing to be grateful for, but it had taught her a lot.

Even though she had left him years ago—left a marriage of just a few weeks—the fact it was officially over brought her relief.

Now she was free.

Her only regret was that it hadn’t come through sooner. That the morals that kept her from sleeping with anyone, even with her divorce pending, had kept her from Ibrahim that night.

Georgie closed her eyes for a moment, told herself not to go there—it was a path she had chosen. Her illness, her father’s abuse, a marriage that had seemed an escape—it would be so easy to look back with regret, yet she had learnt so much from it all. She had grown into a strong woman, a confident woman who knew herself, because she had chosen to learn from, rather than rue, her mistakes. It was a hard path to follow but, for Georgie, the right one. Guilt and regret had led her to troubled places, but no more. She wanted to talk with Felicity, wanted to thank her for all her support through the difficult years. Georgie swallowed, because she was still undecided, but she wanted to tell Felicity about Mike, to clear the past and make way for a glorious future.

Ibrahim’s apology had helped too.

It had been unsettling seeing him, of course, but she took his apology as a sign that the chapter was closed and that it was time to move on.

To have no regrets.

The air ticket her sister Felicity had sent meant she bypassed the nightmare queues at Heathrow. She sat, awkward at first, in a first-class departure lounge, but as she sipped champagne and checked her emails, it was soon easy to relax. She accepted the delicacies on offer without thought. A new smile spread across her face as she realised just how far she had come. The endless abacus was finally silent—no more calories versus treadmill, no penance for pleasure, just the sweet taste of a pistachio macaroon dissolving on her tongue. She didn’t need a plane to fly to Zaraq. Her mood was so buoyant as she boarded, her high so palpable, Georgie could have flown there on happiness alone. Finally, the dark days were over—the soul-searching, the introspection, the agony of healing was behind her. She was ready to move on, even if the plane wasn’t.

Just a little nervous of flying, Georgie took a vial of melissa oil from her bag and massaged a drop into her temples. The attendant offered her another drink, but Georgie didn’t want one. ‘When are we taking off?’ Used to economy class, Georgie half expected to be speaking to thin air by the time the words were out, or at best to receive a brusque answer, but she was reminded she was travelling first class when the attendant smiled and lingered. ‘We’re sorry for the delay but we have an unexpected passenger. He shouldn’t be too much longer…’ But even in first class there was a pecking order, because the attendant’s voice trailed off and Georgie was no longer the focus of her attention. She watched as the woman’s cheeks darkened. Curious, Georgie followed the woman’s gaze and her heart seemed to stop as all efforts to move on were halted, any chance of forgetting lost.

‘Your Highness.’ The attendant curtsied as he strode past but even she couldn’t halt the flicker of confusion on her smooth brow at their passenger’s attire. He was dressed in mud-splattered white jodhpurs and black jumper, and there was a restlessness to him, a wild energy that seemed to have boarded the plane along with him. He didn’t respond to the attendant, neither did he glance in Georgie’s direction. There was such purpose to his stride it looked as if he was heading for the cockpit, prepared to fly the plane himself, but at the last minute he turned and, yes, there were levels of first class because it would appear Ibrahim had his own suite. The attendants fluttered away from their charges and gathered together to discuss the latest arrival, and just a moment or so later a steward slipped into the suite with a bottle of brandy as the others watched.

She wanted to stand, to stop the plane that was now taxiing along the runway, to get off, for she could not face being there with him.

She didn’t even notice the plane rise off the ground, or dinner being served, her mind consumed by her fellow passenger. ‘Is everything okay, Miss Anderson?’ The flight attendant removed her plates untouched and Georgie just nodded, too stunned to answer, let alone eat. The thought of being back in the palace with him, of being in such close proximity to him, had her reeling.

She had done everything possible to ensure that he wouldn’t be there—oh, so casually asking her sister about his movements—and even in the nightclub he had given no clue.

But, then, neither had she.

Maybe there had been an emergency. His father had recently been sick after all. Why else would he be boarding a plane dressed like that? Or maybe this was how the rich lived, Georgie pondered. Who flew long haul in riding boots? Maybe he was so laid-back about travelling that he didn’t even give it a thought. He could step off a horse and onto a plane… But later, when she got up to go to the toilet, a steward was coming out of his suite carrying a laden tray and shaking her head. Georgie got a glimpse of Ibrahim before the doors to his suite were closed—he lay sprawled out on the bed. He hadn’t bothered with the gold pyjamas Georgie had on. He was unshaven, boots off, sprawled out on a bed and fast asleep.

She got only the briefest look as the door was quickly closed, but it was an image that stayed with her through the flight.

Anguished.

Even in sleep his face wasn’t relaxed. His full mouth was tense. Even at rest he somehow looked troubled—but more worrying than that was just how much Georgie wanted to know what was on his mind

She’d been looking forward to the luxurious bed the airline offered in first class, had been looking forward to stretching out and sleeping, but knowing he was so close she found she couldn’t.

‘Can I get you anything?’ the attendant asked count less times through the flight, and each time Georgie bit her lip on her true answer.

Him, she wanted to respond. Can you take me to him? But instead she shook her head and tried to work out what she’d say when she saw him.

The flight was broken by a stop in Abu Dhabi and Georgie took the chance to stretch her legs. She braced herself to face him, but Ibrahim must have decided to stay on the plane so she amused herself watching the gorgeous attendants boarding with designer bags, one even carrying a large pink teddy. This time, when the plane took off, finally Georgie fell asleep, except there was no respite. Her dreams were flooded with thoughts of him.

‘Miss Anderson, would you like some breakfast before we prepare for landing?’ The attendant woke her. Georgie nodded, and felt just a slight wobble of guilt: she had always kept her name, though used Ms in London. Felicity had booked her ticket and, given she had no idea about the brief marriage, had naturally put Miss.

Georgie stared out of the window at the glorious blue waters and as the plane banked gently to the right she caught the first glimpses of Zaraq—the endless golden desert giving way to sandy-colored villages and domed buildings. The plane swept along the shoreline, the cabin lights dimming. The palace that would be her home for the next couple of weeks wasn’t what grabbed her attention. Instead it was the mirrored skyscrapers of the capital Zaraqua that made her breath tight in her chest. There were pools and bridges seemingly suspended in mid-air and Georgie marvelled at their design rather than think of him. She tried not to guess his reaction when she exited the plane and they finally came face to face.

He didn’t get off.

For a little while she wondered if somehow she’d imagined him, for not once during the flight had she seen him.

‘Georgie!’ Felicity looked great. Georgie had wondered how she’d be dressed, but as a married woman her sister did not need to wear a veil and looked stunning in a white linen trouser suit, her hair longer than Georgie had ever see it. Felicity oozed happiness and good health, but it was little Azizah who enthralled Georgie from the moment she landed—her niece, just a few months old and with the fascinating mix of her mother’s blonde hair and her father’s black eyes. Azizah had been just a couple of weeks old when Karim and Felicity had brought her to the UK for a brief visit, but she was her own little person now and, for Georgie, the love was instant.

‘She’s stunning.’ Georgie said as she held her in the VIP lounge. ‘I can’t wait to get to know her. Where’s Karim?’

‘He’s here. We had a call from the airline a couple of hours ago—it would seem his brother was on the same flight as you. He’s gone to meet him.’

‘I thought I saw him,’ Georgie said carefully, ‘though he didn’t see me. Is everything okay?’

‘Of course it is.’ Felicity said. ‘Why do you ask?’

‘No real reason. I just wondered if he’d dashed back for an emergency. He looked…’ Her voice trailed off and she chose not to tell her sister after all. Felicity would see for herself soon and could make up her own mind.

‘Karim might have to dash off once we get home,’ Felicity explained as Georgie fussed over her niece. ‘There’s a bit of health scare with the Bedouins. You know how much work he does for them.’

Georgie nodded. ‘Is he still doing the mobile clinics?’

‘Shh,’ Felicity warned, because no one, not even the king, knew the full extent of Karim’s involvement with the local people. We’ll talk about it later. I just want you to understand if he has to suddenly leave—I don’t want you to think he’s not thrilled that you’re here.’ She smiled suddenly. ‘Here they are now!’

As Karim and Ibrahim entered the lounge, Georgie was glad she hadn’t aired her concerns to her sister. She’d have looked like a liar because Ibrahim looked far from troubled and unkempt now—clean-shaven, dressed in linen trousers and jacket, sleek sunglasses on, he looked every bit a first-class passenger as he walked towards with his brother, carrying the large pink teddy Georgie had seen the attendants bring on the plane. He must have sent them shopping, Georgie realised, watching as his jaw tightened at the sight of her—not that Felicity noticed the tension.

‘Thank you, Ibrahim.’ Felicity took the huge teddy. ‘Did you have to book another seat for her?’

‘Georgie!’ Karim kissed the cheek of his sister-in-law. ‘You may remember Ibrahim from the wedding.’

‘Of course.’ Georgie gave a smile but he didn’t immediately return it. All she could see was her reflection in his glasses. She couldn’t read his eyes.

‘I wasn’t aware you were visiting.’ Only then did he manage to force a smile. ‘It is nice of you all to come and greet me,’ Ibrahim said, ‘but it was completely unnecessary. I didn’t want a fuss, it’s just a brief visit.’

‘We’re not here to fuss over you!’ Felicity grinned. ‘We’re actually here to greet Georgie—she was on your flight.’

And Georgie was positive, completely positive that his dark skin paled, that behind those thick sunglasses, even if she couldn’t see it, there was alarm in those dark eyes.

‘Really?’ Ibrahim responded. ‘And you didn’t say hello?’ His question was polite and so too was her response, even if was a lie.

‘I didn’t actually see you.’ She gave a vague wave of her hand as she lied. ‘I just heard the steward saying that you were on board. I’m sorry if I was rude.’

‘No need to apologise.’ There was, Georgie was sure, a breath of relief in his voice. He even smiled again in her direction. ‘Just make sure next time you say hello.’

The driver came up and had a brief word with Karim.

‘What are we waiting for?’ Felicity asked.

‘Georgie’s luggage has been loaded, but Ibrahim’s is taking a while to come off.’

‘LShy,’ Ibrahim said and Felicity, who must have picked up some of the language, frowned.

‘You’ve got no luggage?’

‘Just carry-on.’ He held up a smart bag that Georgie was positive he hadn’t been holding on boarding.

The car ride was short, the conversation seemingly pleasant, but it was mainly Georgie and Felicity speaking.

Back at the palace Ibrahim had an extremely cursory chat with his family, then excused himself with an outright lie.

‘I couldn’t sleep on the plane.’

When he left them, Georgie could relax a little and after Felicity had fed the baby, she was delighted to have a proper cuddle. ‘She’s stunning.’ Georgie enthused again.

‘Her lungs are!’ Karim said. ‘Half the palace was woken at four a.m. this morning.’

‘I had the French windows open to let in some air.’ Felicity grinned and Georgie could only marvel at the changes in her sister. She had always been so tense and uptight, but there was a lightness to her now. Her face glowed as she smiled up at her husband. ‘Anyway, soon it won’t just be Azizah disrupting the palace.’

‘When is Jasmine’s baby due?’ Georgie asked.

‘Jamal,’ Felicity gently corrected her, because her sister found it impossible to keep up with all the names. ‘She’s got five weeks to go and I just can’t wait.’

‘Is that the aunt-to-be talking,’ Georgie asked, ‘or the midwife?’

‘Both,’ Felicity admitted. And as easily as that the conversation flowed.

Even if her sister was a princess now, even if she lived in a palace far away, she was still Felicity, still her big sister, still the person Georgie loved most in the world. Karim did have to dash off, but the girls hardly noticed, there was too much to catch up on. Long after they had eaten and late, late into the night, when everyone else was in bed, still the sisters sat talking in a sumptuous, surprisingly informal lounge at the front of the palace, the windows open and fragrant air drifting in. Felicity had the baby monitor by her side, and somehow Georgie found the words to tell her sister about a marriage that had happened more than three years ago, a marriage she had soon realised was a mistake.

‘You’re disappointed.’ Georgie could tell.

‘No.’ Felicity shook her head. ‘I don’t know. I under stand you felt you had to get away from home. I’m just sad you couldn’t tell me.’

‘I didn’t feel I could tell anyone at the time.’ Georgie admitted. ‘I haven’t told any of my friends. I just thought Mike… He seemed so solid, so mature…’ She looked over at her sister. ‘But it turned out he was a bully, like Dad—except he wore a suit and instead of beer it was expensive whisky. It only took a few weeks for me to come to my senses. I’m lucky…’

‘Lucky?’

‘A lot of women stay. I got out of it quickly. It just took a couple of years to face up to the paperwork and legalities and then another year of waiting. My divorce came through just as I was leaving for here. I’m finally free.’

‘You’ve been free for ages,’ Felicity said, but Georgie didn’t try to explain her feelings to her sister. How some principle had held her back, how until her divorce was through she hadn’t felt free to start dating, and in many ways it had been the healthiest thing for her—that time had taught her that she didn’t need a man to escape to, or run to. Everything she needed, she possessed already.

‘You won’t tell Mum.’

‘God, no!’ Felicity’s response was immediate. ‘And don’t talk about it here, they just wouldn’t understand at all.’

‘Promise me that you won’t tell anyone.’ The intimate conversation was interrupted. Headlights flooded the lounge with light. The sound of a car unfamiliar to Georgie in the large grounds was followed by chatter and laughter and then the slam of a car door. There was the running of feet on the stone stairs and Felicity’s lips tightened.

‘He’s so inconsiderate. It was the same last time he was here.’ And when a wail came up over the intercom she pulled open the lounge door to address Ibrahim, who was talking loudly to a sleepy maid.

‘You’ve woken Azizah.’

‘Not necessarily.’ So effortlessly he slipped from Arabic to English. ‘I may be mistaken, but I’m sure I read somewhere that babies tend to wake in the night.’

Sarcasm suited him, it so suited him that Georgie let out a small giggle, but Ibrahim did not look at her. Instead he spoke to Felicity. ‘I’m sorry if I woke her…I forgot there is now a baby in the palace.’

‘There’ll be two soon!’ Felicity said. ‘So you’d better start remembering.’

‘No need. I’m flying back to London in a couple of days, before the palace turns into a crèche.’ As Felicity headed off to tend to her baby, he acknowledged Georgie, his voice distinctly cool when he did. ‘I was not expecting to see you here.’ Ibrahim said. ‘You never mentioned you were coming.’

‘Neither did you,’ Georgie pointed out.

‘Your flight?’ Ibrahim checked. ‘How was it?’ And something told her he was concerned that she had seen him, that she knew the sleek, poised man who had arrived in Zaraq had not been the man that left London, but Georgie chose not to tell.

‘Wonderful.’ Georgie said, but didn’t elaborate, and Ibrahim said nothing to fill the stretch of silence, just walked across the lounge and sat on the sofa opposite as a maid brought in his drink. She didn’t know what to say to him and he certainly wasn’t giving her any help. Georgie was relieved when her sister called from the stairs. ‘Georgie! Can you give me a hand with Azizah?’

‘I’ll say goodnight, then.’ He didn’t return the farewell, but she watched his jaw tighten when clearly she hadn’t jumped quickly enough and Felicity called to her again. As she walked past, Ibrahim caught her wrist. ‘That’s what maids are for.’ She looked down at his long fingers wrapped around her pale wrist and she wished he would drop the contact, wished he would not look up at her because her face was on fire. ‘Tell her you are taking refreshments with me.’

‘I’m happy to help my sister with Azizah.’

‘At one in the morning?’ Ibrahim said. ‘Does she have you on call all night?’ He watched her face burn, felt the hammer of her radial pulse beneath his fingers in response to his touch, and in that moment he could almost have forgiven her for rejecting him. He considered pulling her down onto his lap. ‘Join me.’ It wasn’t a request, Georgie knew that—it was a challenge.

‘I’m here to spend time with my sister and niece.’ He dropped her wrist and without another word she left the room and walked through the maze of the palace to join Felicity in the nursery where she had settled down to feed.

‘What kept you?’ Felicity asked as Georgie closed the door.

‘I was just talking to Ibrahim.’ Georgie kept her voice light.

‘Why?’ And there was challenge too in Felicity’s question, just a teeny call to arms, and Georgie refused to go there, choosing to tease instead.

‘Why wouldn’t I? It was either chat to a beautiful man or watch my sister breastfeed.’

To her credit, Felicity smiled.

‘He asked about my flight. I just said goodnight.’

‘Stay away from him,’ Felicity warned. ‘He’s trouble. I’ve seen how he treats women—he’d eat you alive and then spit out the pips.’

‘We were just saying goodnight!’ Georgie laughed, but Felicity would not relent.

‘He’s so arrogant. Strolls back unannounced and expects everyone to jump to his whims, swans around the palace without a care in the world.’ Georgie opened her mouth to interrupt because Ibrahim had looked far from carefree on the plane, but she decided against it, intuitively knowing Ibrahim wouldn’t want that information shared. ‘He’s completely spoilt!’ Felicity moaned on. ‘Way too used to getting his own way, though not for much longer.’

‘What do you mean?’ Georgie asked, but Felicity shook her head.

‘I’ve said too much.’

‘It’s me!’ Georgie pointed out. ‘And given what I told you earlier…’

‘Okay,’ Felicity relented, but, paranoid as ever, she had Georgie check and double-check that the intercom was turned off, then still spoke in a whisper. ‘The king’s had enough. Karim told me he’s going to be talking to Ibrahim tomorrow. He wants him back in Zaraq, he’s tired of his youngest son’s ways. Ibrahim was supposed to go to London to study engineering and then come back, but he’s finished his master’s now and there’s still no sign of him returning. Ibrahim’s working mainly from there and saying that he wants to continue with his studies, but the king wants him here.’

‘So, is he closing the open cheque book?’ Georgie struggled to keep her voice light.

‘He tried that a couple of years ago apparently.’ Felicity sighed. ‘And Ibrahim promptly went into business with one of Zaraq’s leading architects. A lot of that dazzling skyline is thanks to my brother-in-law’s brilliant brain. Ibrahim doesn’t actually need royal financial support.’

‘So how can he stop him?’ Georgie asked. ‘If Ibrahim doesn’t want to be here, how can his father force him?’

‘His father’s king,’ Felicity pointed out. ‘And Ibrahim, at the end of the day, is a royal prince and privilege comes with responsibility.’

‘You’re starting to sound like them!’ Georgie attempted a joke, but Felicity shook her head.

‘Look at all the work Karim does for the people. He’s out there now in the middle of the desert, working with sick people, while Ibrahim’s working his way along the bar at the casino like a tourist. Well, Ibrahim’s a prince and the king’s tired of waiting for him to act like one.’ Even though she was whispering, she still dropped her voice. ‘He’s going to be choosing a bride for him, whether he wants it or not. Soon Ibrahim’s going to be coming home for good.’