Daughter of Hassan & Heart of the Desert(52)

He was so good it made her angry, so perfect and so exactly her size, yet she could never own him—would forever have to look through the windows of her mind to glimpse this.

Only now, when there was nothing left to give, did he take a whole lot more. He moved up her body and for the first time since the desert he kissed her mouth, and his eyes were open as he entered her and so too were Georgie’s, scared even to blink. To remember this was her priority—because she never wanted to forget how his eyes adored hers so much as he moved deep within her. How pale her arm looked against his dark shoulders, and she tried to imprint in her mind the scent of him when aroused.

The hardest week was wiped from his mind. If he could just have her, then anything would be easy. He wanted to come, but he didn’t want it to be over, so he resisted his body, and it hurt not to give in to it, because his body wanted the release she could give.

‘Please,’ Georgie said, because she was almost there and she wanted him with her. ‘Please,’ she said again, and then pressed her mouth in his shoulder because she didn’t want to beg.

She felt like they were lying on quicksand and being drawn down into it, or sucked back into the vortex the desert had made them create, the world that they had when there was no one around. She would not, could not wait for him a second longer. She would not beg, but her body demanded on her behalf, for it rose beneath him and tightened around him; it beat a tune that he could never deny. And he gave in so that he could join her. Each urgent thrust took her further, not just to the edge but away from him, and both knew it. They both fanned the last flickers of orgasm from a fire that must die.

His hand moved down to her stomach and rested there and his mind lingered there and so too did Georgie’s.

Hopefully it would hurt less when she was out of his arms, but she lay and tortured herself for a little while longer and Ibrahim did the same.

‘What would happen if you don’t take your Pill?’

‘Nothing, probably.’

‘But perhaps?’

‘We won’t find out,’ Georgie said, her face burning because, yes, she had considered it. ‘Because I took my Pill this morning and I’ll take it tomorrow. I will not force you into a decision.’ She was fragile in his arms but strong in her mind, and he loved her for it.

‘If it was just for a few weeks…’ Her skin was against his and he let his mind wander, explored options that would have once been unthinkable, except her body dared him to dream. ‘Could there be annulment?’

‘It happened.’ Georgie’s voice was hollow. ‘You your self said it cannot be undone.’

‘But it was such a short time, there are no children… If it was a mistake, something you regret…’ And then she was the bravest she had ever been, the clearest in her mind she had ever been, because even if she loved him, she was still herself.

‘I don’t regret it, though.’ She watched his face darken.

‘How can you say you don’t regret it? That a marriage to some drunk, a marriage you admit was a mistake, a marriage that has cost us each other, is not something you regret?’

But she would not back down. ‘I don’t regret it because I’ve learnt from it.’ Georgie’s voice was a touch shaky as she struggled to hold onto her convictions. ‘I’ve learnt from my mistakes. And once I would have said I regret it, because it’s what you wanted to hear…I would have done anything to please you.’

‘Because of your past we have no future…’

‘Because of my past I’m a better person,’ she interrupted. ‘Because it taught me to say no, to walk away, to accept nothing but the best… So don’t try to make me say I regret it. I’m not ashamed of my past, Ibrahim. If you are…’ She rose from his bed and put on her gown. She walked when she didn’t want to, because otherwise she might lie there, might bend herself into the woman he needed her to be, instead of the woman she was. ‘That’s your issue.’

* * *

‘You’ll come back soon?’ Felicity asked as they sat in the car that was waiting to take them to the airport. Her sister had been shocked when, almost the second Felicity returned from the desert, Georgie said that she wanted to leave. But Georgie had stood her ground. She needed to get away or she’d be back in his bed that very night, would be back in his bed till his virgin was found for him, and she was worth more than that, and so was his bride.

They needed to be apart to heal.

‘Of course I’ll be back,’ Georgie said, though in her heart she didn’t know how. How could she ever be here and be without him?

‘And I’ll be home in a few weeks.’ Felicity tried to keep her voice light as the car drove away from the palace and Georgie deliberately didn’t turn round.

But she couldn’t stay brave at the airport when she hugged her sister.

‘You’ll get over him,’ Felicity said when Georgie crumpled. ‘You will.’

‘I know I will,’ Georgie said, but her heart wasn’t sure.

The captain told them to look to the right after take-off for a spectacular view of the sun setting over the desert, but Georgie refused to turn her head because she didn’t want to see a sunset without Ibrahim.

‘Is everything okay, Miss Anderson?’ the steward asked.

‘Ms,’ Felicity corrected him, because it was who she was, whether Ibrahim could accept it or not.





CHAPTER FIFTEEN




HE WAS in London.

Since their last night together, as surely as Georgie checked her horoscope in the morning, so too she typed ‘Zaraq’ into her search engine.

Clicked ‘News’.

And just as she had so often, she scrolled through the latest offerings.

The illness that had crippled the country was all but over.

Hassan and Jamal had brought their baby home.

The king was pleased with his youngest son, so pleased that after a brief return home the king had again headed for the UK to resume business. Her eyes scanned faster than her fingers could click and though Ibrahim was often mentioned, today was not one of those days.

For four days now there had been no mention of him, but he was in London Georgie was sure, because Felicity had been vague when Georgie had tried to find out, and though there was no way she could properly explain it, her body told her so.

It was the hardest thing to continue working.

As much as her medically minded sister raised an eyebrow, as much as it didn’t make logical sense, Georgie’s work was more than touch, more than scent. To be effective it required a piece of herself, and as Georgie greeted her clients throughout the week, there weren’t many pieces left to give.

Between each one she checked her phone, her messages, her emails.

She fed the craving that would not abate then forced herself to go on.

‘I had booked a scalp massage, but tonight I have to go out.’ Sophia Porter was a new client and Georgie checked carefully through the questionnaire she had filled in. ‘Perhaps I should rebook, though I was hoping I could purchase something…’ The woman closed her blue eyes and pressed her middle finger to her forehead. ‘I suffer with migraines. I’ve tried so many medicines, so many different treatments.’

‘Why don’t you let me give you a hand massage?’ Georgie offered, because it was her favourite initial contact. It was so non-invasive. It was often all her young clients would allow, but as the woman wavered, perhaps thinking Georgie was being pushy, she offered, ‘Complimentary, and you can see if it helps before you buy anything.’

Sophia rested back in the chair, and Georgie prepared her oils. She had no ready-made blends, preferring to assess the client first and make her choices instinctively.

Lavender was a favourite for migraines, but sensing Sophia’s anxiety she added clary sage and then a drop of marjoram, then Georgie moistened her hands with the fragrant brew and took her patient’s hands.

Like a kitten who had never been let out, the woman’s hands were soft, quite beautiful in fact, long fingered and exquisitely manicured, but despite Georgie’s best efforts her client would not relax, asking Georgie questions. Sometimes talking relaxed people, so Georgie told Sophia she’d just got back from holiday.

‘Anywhere nice?’

‘My elder sister lives in Zaraq. It’s an island—’

‘I have heard of it.’ Sophia smiled.

Georgie opened another vial and took out the dropper. Some melissa might help to help relax her client, and with scent being a key to memory, in that moment she was back in the desert. Her hands stopped working as well as they had, because they were shaking a little as she recalled him. As she paused to regroup, Sophia closed her eyes and inhaled.

‘Ah, Bal-samin…’ Sophia relaxed back in the chair. ‘Tell me about Zaraq. Is it very beautiful?’

‘Very,’ Georgie admitted, and she felt the woman’s hand relax as she talked and so she talked some more, told her about the endless sands and the miracle of finding a shell in the middle of a desert. She pulled gently on each finger in turn till the tension seeped out; she told her of the sky that went on for ever and the sun that beat down, feeling like a skullcap on your head, of the mad winds and strange rules, and when it hurt to recall it, when she could not speak of it and not weep, she looked up and saw her client asleep.