‘Felicity,’ Karim called, and as together as Georgie felt, she didn’t go out and face her brother-in-law just yet.
‘You’d better go.’
‘There’s my milk…’
‘I know,’ Georgie soothed. ‘You just head out there and do what you have to do without worrying.’
‘I really am sorry…’ Felicity shivered ‘…for all the things I said.’
‘They’ve no doubt been building for a long time,’ Georgie said. ‘We’re fine now and you don’t have to worry about Azizah and neither do you have to worry about me any more.’
Except Felicity knew that she did have to worry, at least for a little while longer. She could see her husband’s clenched jaw and Ibrahim’s stern features and knew that Ibrahim had been told.
A fully dressed, blushing Georgie forced herself out of her room to say farewell to Karim and Felicity and she and Ibrahim stood in silence as they watched the helicopter leave.
‘I must get back to Azizah,’ Georgie said. ‘How long will the drive take?’
‘A helicopter is being sent.’ He did not, could not, look at her. ‘I need to get back to the people as soon as possible.’ He felt it descend then, the weight of responsibility. ‘I am to stand in as ruler. Decisions need to be made swiftly. There will be a lot of anxiety, a lot of unrest.’
‘You’ll be wonderful,’ Georgie said, and went to touch his arm, but he moved it away. ‘I’ll help in any way I can.’
‘You?’ He could not keep the mirth from his voice.
‘Yes, me.’
‘A four-week course and you’re an expert suddenly in the ways of the desert?’
She couldn’t understand the change in him. ‘I wasn’t applying for the job of your advisor!’ Georgie snapped back at him. ‘So I’m good enough to sleep with, but not good enough to stand by your side.’
‘The people would never accept it.’
‘Oh, please.’ Georgie was sick of it. ‘The people don’t mind Felicity.’ She let out a mocking laugh. ‘Oh, yes, but she was pregnant with a possible heir.’ She watched as Ibrahim briefly closed his eyes, his strong features paling a touch at how very careless they had been. ‘I’m not going to fall pregnant. Don’t panic. I’m on the Pill.’
‘Of course you are.’ And that was the bit for Ibrahim that hurt, really hurt. This was a girl who carried condoms in her make-up bag for just in case, who waited on the street outside nightclubs. This was the divorced woman who could not be his princess, and he was angry, and it showed. ‘Don’t tell me—you’re on the Pill for medical reasons.’
She could have slapped him.
Gone was the tender man who had held her. Back now was the scathing one and she didn’t understand why. As the helicopter hovered, as she turned her head and covered her eyes with a scarf, as they ran beneath the blades and climbed inside and Georgie put on her headphones, she watched the tent where they had found each other disappear in the distance, and all too soon she saw the palace come into view, but not once did he look at her, not once did he attempt conversation.
As they stepped out and walked to the palace, he still refused to communicate. Elders and advisors were waiting for him and Georgie stood in the hallway a moment as Rina spoke in rapid Arabic, unsure how to behave without Ibrahim or Felicity to guide her. Briefly he glanced in her direction and only then did he speak.
‘She asks if you want a room next to Azizah. If they should move your things?’
‘Please.’ Georgie nodded. ‘Can you tell her for me?’
‘Of course.’ He spoke to Rina and to another maid for a brief moment, and then he turned back to her.
‘All is taken care of. I have asked that they move Ms Anderson’s things.’ He hissed the word so savagely that there could be no mistake. He had been told that she had been married, and for a second she was angry at her sister for telling Karim, but she knew the fury was misdirected.
She was angry at herself.
As for Ibrahim, he still hoped his brother was mistaken, wanted her to tell him he was wrong. ‘Is it Miss or Ms?’
‘Ms.’ She croaked the word out, then tore her eyes away, but not quickly enough to miss his look of disgust.
It should have been she who told him first. At least she could have explained things better. Now, looking at his cold black eyes, Georgie wondered if she’d ever get that chance. ‘Ibrahim…’ There were people everywhere, there was nothing she could say, but she willed him to give her one moment of his time, willed him to pull her aside, for a chance to explain, but he gave her nothing. ‘Can we talk? Just for a moment.’
‘Talk?’ Ibrahim sneered. ‘I have nothing to talk about with you—there is nothing to discuss.
‘And never can there be.’
CHAPTER TWELVE
IT WAS the longest day.
All Georgie wanted to do was throw herself on the bed, curl up into a ball, hide and grieve and cry and mourn, but there was Azizah to think of.
Azizah, who hated the bottle that wasn’t her mum, who wasn’t used to the bonier arms of her aunt and cried through the afternoon and long, long into the evening.
Georgie had been pacing the floor with her and had finally sat in the family lounge, where Felicity often did, and Azizah had at last given in, taking the bottle she hated and almost, almost falling asleep, until Ibrahim returned from a visit to the army barracks. It wasn’t just her heart that leapt at the sound of him. Hassan, the prince first in line, did too. He came pounding down the corridor to greet his brother.
‘You should have consulted me!’ Hassan was furious. Georgie could hear them arguing as she sat in the lounge. When Ibrahim had returned she had wanted to flee, but the baby had just been settling and she’d sat as the argument had spilled into the living room. ‘You should have spoken with me before closing the airports.’
‘You were with your wife and son,’ Ibrahim pointed out. ‘You are needed there. I am more than capable of dealing with this.’
‘You have closed the airports, cancelled surgery.’
‘Excuse me,’ Georgie said, and perhaps it was poor form to interrupt two princes when the country was in crisis, but the palace was big enough for them to take their argument elsewhere and a restless Azizah was just closing her eyes. ‘She’s almost asleep.’
‘Then take her to the nursery,’ Ibrahim snapped, and it was face him or flee. As Hassan took the phone from a worried maid, Georgie chose to face him, turned her blue eyes on him and refused not to meet his gaze.
‘Hard day at the office, darling?’ she said in a voice that was sweet but laced with acid. ‘Should I make the children disappear?’
‘Just you,’ Ibrahim hissed, because it was hell seeing her and not being able to have her, hell having dared to almost love her and then to find out what she had done. ‘I wish you would disappear.’
‘It is our father.’ Hassan handed him the phone. ‘It is you he wishes to speak to.’
And now would have been an ideal time to leave, to slip away, as Ibrahim wished she would, except Georgie wanted to hear, wanted to be there, even if he’d rather she wasn’t.
She could hear the king’s angry voice even from across the lounge, and though Hassan was pacing, Ibrahim was calm, his voice firm when he responded to his father.
‘I took advice,’ was his curt response, but when that clearly didn’t appease his father, he elaborated. ‘I took advice from experts. You have known about this for days apparently and did little.’ She could see a pulse leaping in his neck. It was the only indication of his inner turmoil as he stood up to the king. ‘The priority is the people,’ he interrupted, ‘not your flight schedule and certainly not Hassan’s ego. His mind is on his newborn son, where it should be, where it can be, because there is another prince more than capable of stepping in. I have spoken with our soldiers, and the army is to open a field hospital to the west. Flights will remain grounded till we are happy this virus is contained. If you move for an exemption from the flight ban, if you feel I am not capable, then of course you must return,’ Ibrahim said, and then his voice rose slightly in warning. ‘And if you do, I will hand the reins back to you.’ For a second his eyes flicked to Georgie. ‘And I will leave Zaraq on your incoming plane.’
‘You—’ he spoke to Hassan when the call had concluded ‘—either take over completely or leave it to me. I am not ringing the hospital and waiting while they pull you from the nursery to make my decisions.’ He eyed his brother. ‘What is it to be?’
‘The people need—’
‘The people need strong leadership,’ Ibrahim said. ‘Which I am more than capable of providing. If you think otherwise, I suggest you ring Jamal and tell her a helicopter is taking you out to the west tomorrow, as is my schedule, to see first hand how this illness has affected our people.’ He did not relent, he did not appease, he was direct and he was brutal. ‘And perhaps you should check with the pediatrician. We have all been immunized, of course, and if that proves ineffective there are anti-virals, but I would check if they want you in contact with a premature newborn.’