Read Online Heart of the Desert by Carol Marinelli - Free Book Online Page B

predicted, the evening ended. As farewells were said to Jamal’s family, Hassan declared he would now return to the hospital to spend the first night with his wife and new son. But it would seem the evening was not quite over, for the king accepted another coffee and small biscuits were served. Just when everyone should be able to relax a touch more, the king frowned in annoyance as Ibrahim’s phone rang loudly.
    ‘Excuse me.’ He stood as he answered it. ‘I have to take this call.’
    It was clearly the height of rudeness, and the conversation was strained as Ibrahim took his time. The king’s face was like thunder as the minutes stretched on, and even Georgie was nervous as to what might happen when almost half an hour later an unrepentant Ibrahim returned to the room.
    ‘What?’ He glanced up at the silence and boldly addressed it.
    ‘I will speak with you later.’
    ‘Speak with me now,’ Ibrahim said.
    ‘You have kept the table waiting for the second time in one meal.’
    ‘I told you to carry on.’
    ‘We celebrate
as
a family.’
    ‘Not quite.’
    It wasn’t indiscretions from Georgie they had to worry about. There was a dangerous edge to Ibrahim, a challenge in his stance as he took his place at the table and clicked his fingers. ‘I would like champagne …’ he glanced at his father ‘… to celebrate the birth of Zaraq’s future king.’
    There had been champagne at her sister’s wedding, but only for visitors, and clearly it was not expected tonight, for the servant hesitated until a tense nod came from the king. ‘Will anyone join me?’ Ibrahim asked. Gorgeous black eyes swept the table and then met hers.
    ‘No, thank you.’ She could almost hear the sigh of relief from her sister as she declined his offer and everyone else at the table did the same.
    ‘Not
quite
a family celebration.’ Ibrahim picked up the conversation once his champagne was poured, and Georgie realised he wasn’t just ignoring his father’s anger, he was provoking it. ‘Did not one of you think to call her?’ Ibrahim’s eyes roamed to his brother and then to his father. ‘That is why I was late for dinner. I called my mother, naturally expecting her to already know the news … that this morning she became a grandmother.’
    ‘Ibrahim,’ Karim broke in. ‘Not here.’
    ‘Where, then?’ Ibrahim said. ‘This is family, is it not? Where do we discuss such things if not at dinner?’
    ‘Tonight is a celebration,’ the king said, though a muscle flickered in his cheek. ‘I was going to have my secretary ring—’
    ‘Your secretary?’ Ibrahim sneered. ‘Is that the same one who rang her when her son died? The same one who rang her when Hassan and Jamal’s firstborn died? You know how her heart broke.’
    ‘I had not spoken to your mother in years then.’
    ‘But you’re talking to her now,’ Ibrahim said. ‘You’re more than talking with her, you’re …’ He stopped and collected himself then carried on. ‘Could you not have rung today to make her heart soar?’ His disgust was evident.
    ‘You did not ring,’ the king said.
    ‘I thought you had!’ Ibrahim would not back down. ‘I assumed her husband had, given you are talking now, and that you were in London two weeks ago on
business
.’
    ‘Silence.’
    ‘That call I just took was from your wife,’ Ibrahim sneered, ‘my mother, our queen. The news I gave to her before dinner has just sunk in, now she is crying, sobbing, that she cannot see the future heir till Hassan can fit in a visit. She begs me to celebrate for her, to give him a kiss from the grandmother who cannot be here. She has poured champagne back in London and is raising a glass—I told her that I would do the same.’
    His eyes scanned the table. ‘Will anyone join my mother and me?’
    There were no takers.
    Karim shook his head, as did Felicity, and Georgie wanted to shake her.
    ‘Georgie?’ he offered, and she was beyond tempted to say yes this time, not for the