The Sheikh's Forbidden Jewel

Part 11-Chapter 10

"Madame, Madame! Tu veux voir les bijoux?"

Georgina smiled down at the small boy. She never bought jewellery for herself, but who could resist a smile like that?

"Why not?" she said.

Idriss removed his sunglasses as they stepped into the dark, glittering shop, revealing a pair of amused eyes.

"You told me your French was so rusty it had practically fallen into dust. Amazing how the sight of gold can jog the memory."

Georgina laughed, delighted at his playful mood. Her mouth still tingled from the kisses they'd exchanged only a few hours ago, and every secret place in her body throbbed with satisfaction.

Every day for the past week, Idriss had woken up with a wolfish grin on his lips and a hunger that was only for her. And he'd set about giving her the best holiday she'd ever had. Every morning she worked on the organisation of the party, not that there was much left to organise, but she wanted to meet the terms of her contract, and justify the vast fee Idriss would pay her. In the late afternoon, after a long, and active, lunch break, they explored the palaces, souks and gardens of the ancient city. By night, he devoted himself to satiating her every need, and his. She floated through the days in a sensual daze, a dream that she never wanted to wake up from.

She touched a row of sparkling bracelets; they tinkled against each other like a set of fairy bells.

"It's like Aladdin's cave in here!"

"My uncle, he has the most beautiful jewels in Africa!" declared the little boy, switching to perfect English and gesturing at the treasures stacked around him.

"I was like that at his age," murmured Idriss. "Hustling for my father..."

Georgina swallowed. Another bittersweet memory. She wanted to ask him about his family, his early life here in Messaira. They must have endured poverty, else he would not have had to work at such a young age. But as she was opening her mouth, a grey-haired man came out of a door at the back of the shop, and bowed so low his head looked as though it would hit the floor.

"Sheikh Al-Makudi! You are doing me a great honour, sir. I hope this little scamp wasn't bothering you?"

Idriss surprised Georgina by ruffling the child's curly hair. She'd never seen him interact with children before. In that second she had a vision of the kind of father Idriss would make, and her throat tightened.

"Not at all. He's a good businessman," said Idriss, and the boy looked up at him, with the adoring gaze of a fan who has just met his favourite superhero. Then the scamp winked.

"I'm sure Madame would like one of those."

Georgina gulped as she registered the splendid necklaces he was pointing at. They looked like solid gold. Some looked like platinum. She'd never spend a large sum on such frivolities. She owned a few pieces of jewellery, mostly inherited, and they served a purpose: either as an investment, or to complement a sharp suit, part of the uniform of designer clothes she wore to run her business.

"I don't think..." she said, but Idriss, as often, moved faster than her.

"I do."

He picked up the centrepiece of the display, a splendid confection of silver and gold discs held together with chains, and held it against her throat. The light from the lantern above her head danced on the intricate design, as Idriss fastened the clasp at her neck. The shining discs settled on her throat, cool and heavy against her skin.

"Please tell me this is plated gold," she said.

The merchant threw up his hands in mock horror.