The Sheikh's Forbidden Jewel

Part 14-Chapter 13

"She went where?"

Hassan recoiled before his master's wrath, and Idriss checked himself. The old man knew nothing about his family's history, or the part the Beauforts had played in it. He'd meant no harm when he'd directed Georgina to Fatima's house. And how could he condemn him? He wasn't the one who had brought Georgina to Messaira.

"No matter," he said. "How long ago was that?"

He barely listened to the answer before he strode to the palace gate. He wondered whether to take the Jeep, dismissed the thought. At this time of day, the streets would fill with Messairans leaving work and tourists returning from day trips. He'd go faster on foot.

Crowds parted before him, he didn't hear, or reply to, the shouted greetings. With luck, he might catch her still at his mother's...

Then he saw her.

"Georgina!"

His shout whipped through the late-afternoon hubbub, caught her right in the middle of the street. She froze a mid-second, then carried on walking, away from him, as though she hadn't heard him. She had nerve, he'd give her that. No one ignored Idriss Al-Makudi. He broke into a run and caught up with her in minutes. She spun round, faced him.

"What were you doing at my mother's house?" he demanded.

She gazed at him with storm-coloured eyes, devoid of guilt and fear, more beautiful than ever under her wide-brimmed hat.

"We were talking."

Not what he wanted to hear. He fought the impulse to grab those shapely shoulders and shake the truth out of her.

"About what?"

She crossed her arms, in a gesture that somehow managed to look both defiant and defensive.

"I went there to apologise for my family's behaviour."

Not the answer he'd expected. His indignation deflated a little. She carried on:

"I'm very sorry Percy treated you both so badly."

The flicker of compassion in her eyes reignited his ire. He didn't want her pity.

"You shouldn't have gone to see her, Georgina. You shouldn't have reawakened those memories."

With every one of his clipped words, her chin rose a fraction higher.

"I'll decide what I should or shouldn't do, Idriss. Your mother is a grown woman, able to make her own decisions. She could have refused to answer the door. She could have thrown me out. Instead, she chose to listen to me. If only you did the same. She's a lot stronger than you think."

Blood buzzed in his ears, blurring her words.

"You have no idea what your family put her through."

She didn't reply, and he became suddenly aware of the small crowd that was gathering around them. Messairans loved nothing better than a piece of street theatre, and now their Sheikh and this mysterious Western beauty were giving them a show to remember. He seized her arm, flinching at the all-too-familiar jolt of electricity. How long would she have this hold on him? Would he carry on wanting her long after she'd gone?

He killed the thought and dragged his captive through the streets, away from the curious onlookers.

"Where are we going?" she asked, out of breath.

He didn't slow down.

"The palace."

"Good." Her face was turning pink, but she did her best to match his long strides. "I need to get my stuff before I fly back."