Governess To The Sheikh

There was such sincerity in her gaze that for a moment Malik could do nothing but stare at her. She was beautiful, he realised, not in the way Aliyyah had been beautiful, but beautiful all the same. Aliyyah had always been perfectly presented, a nobleman’s daughter brought up to be the wife of a Sheikh, always dressed in the finest clothes and adorned with jewels. Miss Talbot sparkled without any adornment. Even with her hair ruffled from spending the day with three children and her dress covered in flour, she was radiant. It was the smile, he thought, the happiness within her shone through that smile.

‘They should really be in the classroom,’ Malik said, knowing he was spoiling the moment between them, but needing to say something to stop that damn seductive smile.

Miss Talbot’s face dropped and immediately Malik felt like a cur. He couldn’t deny she was working wonders with his children, even if her methods were a little unorthodox. Aahil and Hakim seemed to blossom under her care and it would probably only be a matter of time before Ameera did the same.

‘I plan to send Aahil to Europe when he is a little older to complete his education, I want him to be ready for that.’ Malik tried to say the words softly, but even to his ears they had an edge to them.

‘He will be,’ Miss Talbot ground out.

Malik could see she was fighting to keep her composure in front of the children. Quickly she spun on her heel and whisked the trays of biscuits into the big oven.

‘They will take about twenty minutes to cook, boys,’ she said with a smile. ‘I will keep an eye on them whilst you go and choose a book each for story time.’

Malik watched as his children dashed passed him. Hakim stopped on the way to give his governess a floury hug, his little hands leaving white handprints on her skirt. Far from being annoyed at the mess, Miss Talbot just laughed and ushered the boy out of the kitchen. Malik felt a little stab of disappointment that Hakim didn’t stop to hug him, but he supposed he’d never encouraged such behaviour.

There was a long silence in the kitchen as Miss Talbot seemed to consider her next words. Malik had the feeling he was going to see a side to her he had never before witnessed.

‘Your Highness,’ she said coolly, ‘I think we need to acknowledge our very different priorities in the education of your children.’

It was the first time Malik had seen her without a smile on her face and he realised he might have pushed her too far.

‘I would like to assure you that, although I may seem to indulge the children in fun behaviour, Aahil will be ready to study in Europe when he is older, Ameera will be suitably educated to marry well and whatever plan you have for little Hakim will be realised as well.’

There was a steeliness behind her eyes as she spoke and Malik couldn’t help but admire her courage and determination.

‘But I would like to make one thing clear...’ She paused and stepped closer, so close that Malik could smell that enticing scent of rose and lavender again. ‘If I am to remain as the children’s governess, I will do things my own way. The children will learn everything that you wish them to, but I will not trap them in a classroom to wither in the dark. I will nurture not only their minds, but their bodies and their souls, too. There will be laughter and there will be fun.’

She stopped speaking and they held each other’s eye for well over a minute. Malik knew they were at a vital point in their employer–employee relationship. He didn’t doubt—as much as Miss Talbot loved his children already and was enjoying her time here in Huria—that she would return home rather than teach in a way that went against her principles.

Suddenly Malik realised he didn’t want her to leave. Ever since she had walked into the palace, her face glowing with pleasure, she had injected a happiness into a place that had been consumed with grief and guilt for too long. He hadn’t heard his children laugh for months, but in the past two weeks every time he stepped outside there was a giggle or a shout of joy. Her methods weren’t what he had expected, not what he had wanted when he had sent for an English governess, but he couldn’t deny the children were responding to her. As long as they came out of it with an education, maybe it didn’t matter too much how they got it. Even if his father really wouldn’t have approved.

Malik took a step back. The proximity to the delicious-smelling Miss Talbot made something stir deep inside him that he didn’t want to admit to.

‘You will remain as the children’s governess,’ he said gruffly.

He wanted to say more, wanted to explain how in the past year he had felt adrift, with a chasm opening up between him and his children that he didn’t know how to bridge. Malik knew he blamed himself for Aliyyah’s death and knew the children probably did, too. He’d retreated into himself a little, giving everything to the kingdom as his own father had taught him, and not knowing how to help his sons and daughter grieve and move on.

Miss Talbot nodded once and turned back to clearing up the mess the children had made on the counter.

Malik rallied. He was Sheikh, ruler of the proud Kingdom of Huria, and he was good at it. No one had prepared him for the role of widowed parent, but he did know how to run his kingdom. He would just have to do his job and let Miss Talbot do hers.

* * *

Rachel took some deep breaths and started to count to a hundred in her head. Even though she was facing away from him, she could still feel the Sheikh’s presence in the kitchen. His power and determination seemed to radiate from him wherever he went.

She couldn’t quite believe how she had just confronted him, he was, after all, not only her employer, but also royalty, but Rachel had always felt her first responsibility was to the children in her care. When she was a child she had wished for a champion, someone who would stand up and tell her parents what she really needed, but instead she’d had governesses with weak personalities who just agreed with whatever their employers said.

Rachel reached a hundred and was surprised to find the Sheikh still standing in the same position in the kitchen. She knew others sometimes mistook her passion for rudeness or disrespect and hoped the Sheikh wasn’t about to tell her to pack her bags and leave because of insubordination. Miss Fanworth, her favourite teacher at Madame Dubois’s School for Young Ladies, had always cautioned her over her trait for speaking out, never trying to stifle Rachel’s personality, but advising her to balance her forthrightness with a way to move forward after she’d said her bit.

The Sheikh was frowning, an expression that did nothing to mar his near-perfect features, and Rachel wondered not for the first time what was going on inside his head. She could see something was holding him back from his children, even from life itself, and although being brought up knowing your first duty was to your country would certainly change your perspective on life, Rachel didn’t think it was enough to account for the distance he seemed to keep from everyone.

She supposed he could still be in mourning for his late wife, although in the two weeks Rachel had been at the palace she had heard quite a lot of gossip about their relationship. Rachel had always had a talent for making friends easily and people seemed to like opening up to her, so she had heard how the couple had remained distant despite being married for almost a decade.

Aahil, Ameera and Hakim were cared for, their father was ensuring they got a good education and were always safe, but Rachel knew something else integral was missing and she was determined to help this little family find it.

‘If you do not have to rush back, I think it might be a good idea for us to go and see Ameera together.’

She saw the Sheikh glance towards the door as if wondering if he could make a speedy escape. Rachel found herself holding her breath, wondering if this father would step up and make an extra effort with his children, even though he was struggling.

‘Of course,’ he said after a few seconds of internal debate.

‘Maybe we could discuss how best to approach the situation,’ Rachel suggested, knowing they would both have to present a united front if Ameera was to understand the lesson they were trying to teach her.

‘I won’t go blundering in,’ the Sheikh said with a half-smile.

Rachel found herself momentarily unable to speak. The Sheikh didn’t smile much—in fact, Rachel wasn’t sure if she had ever seen anything more than an amused upturning of his lips before now—but when he did smile it was devastating. He was a handsome man, Sheikh Malik bin Jalal al-Mahrouky, but when he smiled he was more than handsome. Rachel felt her skin start to tingle and her lips felt unusually dry. Maybe it was a good thing he was so serious most of the time—if he smiled at everyone then no one would ever get anything done.

She rallied, chastising herself. It was her first golden rule of being a governess: don’t fall for your employer. Such thoughts had been the downfall of so many young governesses and Rachel was determined not to be one of them. Besides, whenever she conversed with the Sheikh they always seemed to end up butting heads over their differing opinions. It was just his smile that had put her a little off balance, nothing more.

‘Wonderful,’ Rachel said sunnily, trying to hide the slight tremor in her voice.

‘Maybe you should take the lead,’ the Sheikh said. ‘I don’t want to undermine your authority. You have to be with her every day.’

Rachel nodded her agreement. It was exactly what she would have suggested, but his reasons for letting her take the lead made Rachel a little sad. She knew things were different for royalty—the Sheikh had to focus on running his kingdom—but Rachel knew all too well how upsetting it was when your parents left decisions on your upbringing to others.

From a young age Rachel could remember realising her parents were much more interested in each other than they were in her. They had had a tempestuous relationship—blazing rows one minute, elaborate shows of affection another. She could recall many nights sitting at the top of the stairs listening to them shouting and throwing things at each other. The next day it would be back to kisses and pet names, all the while hardly remembering they had a daughter quietly taking it all in. By the age of eight Rachel had known she never wanted to marry if this was what it turned you into and, by the time she arrived at Madame Dubois’s School for Young Ladies, she had decided she would much rather travel the world and make her own enjoyment than be stuck in a marriage such as her parents’. She felt she had always been destined to be a governess, but unlike many of her contemporaries, Rachel had looked forward to her chosen career with anticipation. She didn’t want to be tied down, married to someone who made her miserable, not when she could be making a difference to young lives. Rachel knew many children experienced the same benign neglect as she had, and as a governess she could give these emotionally abandoned children the affection their parents couldn’t. If she was completely honest with herself, the knowledge that she would never have children of her own made Rachel a little sad, but it was a sacrifice she had come to terms with.

Ameera’s situation wasn’t exactly like hers, but Rachel could empathise with the young girl. She was craving attention from her father, just like Rachel had from her parents, and he didn’t know how to give it to her.

‘Shall we?’ The Sheikh motioned towards the door and Rachel found herself immediately moving that way. He was a man used to being obeyed without question and that was powerful all in itself.

They crossed the courtyard in silence, walking quickly to get out of the blazing sun, then ascended the stairs to Ameera’s room. Rachel knocked on the door, but didn’t wait for an answer before turning the handle and stepping inside.

It was dark in the room compared to the courtyard and Rachel’s eyes took a moment to adjust. She glanced around the room and saw Ameera had pulled her books and her toys from the shelves in anger. For now Rachel would ignore the mess and instead she crossed to the bed where two wide, dark eyes were staring at her mutinously from out of the darkness.

Rachel sat, taking a moment to smooth her skirts and ensure she was comfortable. Ameera was a wilful little madam and they might be here for a while. She was pleased to see the Sheikh had hung back, standing by the door, silent but very much present in the room.

‘Good afternoon, Ameera,’ Rachel said.

The young girl stared back at her, lips firmly pressed together.

‘Have you been having fun in here?’ Rachel asked, looking around as if she genuinely didn’t know that Ameera had been sent to her room for bad behaviour.

Still silence. Already Rachel could see a flicker of triumph in the young girl’s eyes and she had to quash her own smile. The day Rachel was outmanoeuvred by a pupil was the day she gave up being a governess.

The Sheikh shifted his position behind them, but still remained silent.

‘I would like you to apologise, Ameera, to myself and to your father.’