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‘Ilyas...’ she said.
He ignored her.
‘Ilyas?’
‘We’re here.’
He disembarked first and was greeted with a salute. He strode ahead fast and Maggie had to almost run to keep up with him.
The palace grounds were confusing and there wasn’t a moment to get her bearings, she just followed him onto an ornate bridge and at the other end a door was held open.
Ilyas looked around, impatient for staff to arrive, for he wanted Maggie safely out of sight.
Her desire for conversation was apparent and he dared not indulge her.
‘I need to get on,’ he told her. ‘Someone will be here to take care of you soon.’
‘You’re just going to leave me here?’
‘Do you expect to stand holding hands?’
‘I expect manners,’ Maggie said.
Damn you, impossible woman!Manners were the last thing on his mind.
He did not deal with emotion, yet it coursed through him now. He wanted to kiss that temper out of her, he wanted to take her this very moment to his bed.
But there was a country to run.
He turned to the sound of footsteps and Maggie watched as a tall woman approached. She wore her long dark hair up and looked terribly official.
And cross!
She said something in Arabic that Maggie guessed was a request to know who she was, for Ilyas answered the woman with her name.
‘Maggie Delaney,’ he responded, and then a rather lengthy conversation in Arabic ensued, or rather the woman spoke angrily for a couple of moments before Ilyas interrupted her.
‘Maggie is a guest of the palace.’
He spoke in English and must have asked her to do the same because she turned and looked down her nose at Maggie and then gave a shrug, though she did, albeit reluctantly, switch to English.
Perhaps it would have been better if she had not.
‘Well, your guest will just have to amuse herself,’ the woman said rudely, and then looked back at Ilyas. ‘You need to meet with the king. Now.’
The woman walked off and Maggie stood there.
‘Are all your staff so pleasant?’ Maggie enquired. Given she had been dragged from her bed by his henchmen, she felt her question was merited.
‘That was my mother, the queen.’
Oh, dear!
‘Your mother?’
Maggie had honestly thought it was an annoyed PA or an aggrieved assistant. She had spoken to her son with as much warmth as she had greeted Maggie.
And then Maggie looked at Ilyas and responded to the way she had been introduced by him.
