away?’
Ibrahim just laughed. ‘They are designed for these conditions.’ And then he went into engineer mode, talking about vents and rigging, but Georgie had other things on her mind.
‘Will Felicity and Karim be all right?’ She thought of them out there and her heart started racing.
‘They will be fine,’ he assured her. ‘Karim will know exactly what to do. They will be waiting it out like us. They just won’t be able to fly back.’
‘Felicity will be frantic.’ Georgie closed her eyes. ‘I should have stayed at the palace and looked after Azizah.’
‘In case her mother got caught in a storm?’ Ibrahim shook his head. ‘You can’t think like that.’ The wind screeched a warning and Ibrahim knew when he was beaten. ‘We will stay till it passes, but I think we are here for the night.’ They headed back out to the lounge area and he stood as she roamed, watched her expression as she looked at the wall hangings and her nosy little fingers picked up priceless heirlooms and weighed them. He would never have planned this. Would never have bought her here if he’d know they would be alone.
Her cheeks were pink from the sun and her arms just a little bit sunburnt. Her clothes were grubby and her hair wild from the sand and the wind. And how he wanted her. Though he would not blatantly defy the desert, he would follow the rules while he was here, but his way.
Ibrahim did not have to chase, all he had was the thrill of the catch. He had never had to want or wait or been said no to—except once.
And here she was.
With him tonight, and now he didn’t want to wait till London.
Tonight he would sample the thrill of the chase; tonight he would make certain that she would not refuse him again. He would romance her, feed her, turn on every ounce of his undeniable charm—he would ripen her with his mind and let her simmer overnight. Theywould rise early, Ibrahim decided, she could see the sunrise and then he would take her to a hotel and bed her, take her ripe and ready and plump and delicious. And he wouldn’t even need to reach out. She would fall into his hands without plucking.
In fact, he decided with a smile, she would beg.
‘What?’ Georgie asked, seeing a smile pass over his face.
‘I was just thinking. You will have your authentic desert experience. Bedra will have left food, the table is set, we can feast tonight, and tomorrow, and when the storm is past you can rise early and see the sunrise.’ He saw a flicker of a frown on her face, but he moved to relax her. ‘We must have separate rooms. Come, I’ll show you the guest quarters.’
They walked through the lounge, the air thick and warm, and she glimpsed a large curtained area with a bed so high and deep you would almost need stairs and a springboard to dive into it. The room was heavy with scent—musky, exotic oils that aroused, to ensure future generations, and the bed throbbed with colour, drapes and cushions. He let her eyes linger for more than a moment, made sure she had seen it, and then gently he took her elbow.
‘That is mine. Your room is over here.’
It was thirty-four steps away, she knew because she counted the distance between their rooms. Ibrahim knew she would be counting them again in her head later, for though hers was absolutely beautiful, for royal guest,not a princess, and just that tiny bat of her eyelashes told him she knew.
‘It’s lovely,’ Georgie said, because it was.
It was!
Apart from the palace, it was absolutely the nicest room she had ever been a guest in, and she told herself that again as she enthused and thanked him, but her mind was somehow in his room, with heavy silk spreads and a bed you could drown in. ‘Here.’ Ibrahim was supremely polite. ‘Make use of the guest quarters as you please.’ He pulled back a drape and the space pulsed with colour and rich fabrics.
‘I can’t just wear someone’s things.’
‘These are for guests who arrive unprepared.’ He slowly looked
Ibrahim just laughed. ‘They are designed for these conditions.’ And then he went into engineer mode, talking about vents and rigging, but Georgie had other things on her mind.
‘Will Felicity and Karim be all right?’ She thought of them out there and her heart started racing.
‘They will be fine,’ he assured her. ‘Karim will know exactly what to do. They will be waiting it out like us. They just won’t be able to fly back.’
‘Felicity will be frantic.’ Georgie closed her eyes. ‘I should have stayed at the palace and looked after Azizah.’
‘In case her mother got caught in a storm?’ Ibrahim shook his head. ‘You can’t think like that.’ The wind screeched a warning and Ibrahim knew when he was beaten. ‘We will stay till it passes, but I think we are here for the night.’ They headed back out to the lounge area and he stood as she roamed, watched her expression as she looked at the wall hangings and her nosy little fingers picked up priceless heirlooms and weighed them. He would never have planned this. Would never have bought her here if he’d know they would be alone.
Her cheeks were pink from the sun and her arms just a little bit sunburnt. Her clothes were grubby and her hair wild from the sand and the wind. And how he wanted her. Though he would not blatantly defy the desert, he would follow the rules while he was here, but his way.
Ibrahim did not have to chase, all he had was the thrill of the catch. He had never had to want or wait or been said no to—except once.
And here she was.
With him tonight, and now he didn’t want to wait till London.
Tonight he would sample the thrill of the chase; tonight he would make certain that she would not refuse him again. He would romance her, feed her, turn on every ounce of his undeniable charm—he would ripen her with his mind and let her simmer overnight. Theywould rise early, Ibrahim decided, she could see the sunrise and then he would take her to a hotel and bed her, take her ripe and ready and plump and delicious. And he wouldn’t even need to reach out. She would fall into his hands without plucking.
In fact, he decided with a smile, she would beg.
‘What?’ Georgie asked, seeing a smile pass over his face.
‘I was just thinking. You will have your authentic desert experience. Bedra will have left food, the table is set, we can feast tonight, and tomorrow, and when the storm is past you can rise early and see the sunrise.’ He saw a flicker of a frown on her face, but he moved to relax her. ‘We must have separate rooms. Come, I’ll show you the guest quarters.’
They walked through the lounge, the air thick and warm, and she glimpsed a large curtained area with a bed so high and deep you would almost need stairs and a springboard to dive into it. The room was heavy with scent—musky, exotic oils that aroused, to ensure future generations, and the bed throbbed with colour, drapes and cushions. He let her eyes linger for more than a moment, made sure she had seen it, and then gently he took her elbow.
‘That is mine. Your room is over here.’
It was thirty-four steps away, she knew because she counted the distance between their rooms. Ibrahim knew she would be counting them again in her head later, for though hers was absolutely beautiful, for royal guest,not a princess, and just that tiny bat of her eyelashes told him she knew.
‘It’s lovely,’ Georgie said, because it was.
It was!
Apart from the palace, it was absolutely the nicest room she had ever been a guest in, and she told herself that again as she enthused and thanked him, but her mind was somehow in his room, with heavy silk spreads and a bed you could drown in. ‘Here.’ Ibrahim was supremely polite. ‘Make use of the guest quarters as you please.’ He pulled back a drape and the space pulsed with colour and rich fabrics.
‘I can’t just wear someone’s things.’
‘These are for guests who arrive unprepared.’ He slowly looked
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