Governess To The Sheikh

‘No.’

‘Very well.’ Rachel stood and turned to leave. She counted the steps in her head and only got to four before Ameera’s voice burst through the silence.

‘That’s it?’ she asked. ‘You’re not going to force me to apologise?’

Rachel shook her head. ‘I’m not going to force you to apologise, Ameera.’ She continued walking to the door, stopping only when she was level with the Sheikh.

‘It’s a shame,’ she said, ‘but we tried.’

Rachel hoped the Sheikh would catch on and not spoil her little ruse.

‘We tried,’ he repeated, solemnly nodding his head.

Rachel had her hand on the door handle when she heard Ameera standing up.

‘Why is it a shame?’ she asked in a much-less-defiant voice than before.

‘Well, we’ve baked biscuits,’ Rachel said, ‘and your father was telling me how you love sweet things, so we thought we’d come in and give you the chance to apologise and come and join us once the biscuits are out of the oven.’

‘I can’t be bribed,’ the little Princess said in a voice that said she could quite easily be bribed.

‘And then there was the little excursion next week...’ Rachel let her sentence trail off. ‘Hakim will be ever so disappointed, but I can’t take your brothers and leave you here unsupervised.’

‘Excursion?’ Ameera asked.

Rachel nodded. ‘Hakim was so looking forward to it.’

She knew it was important to give Ameera a way to save face. The little girl had declared she would never apologise and now Rachel was asking her to go back on that. She needed a way to justify it to herself.

Ameera fiddled with a strand of hair for a moment, twisting it round her finger. Just as she’d planned, Rachel could smell the first wafts of the scent of biscuits baking.

‘I’m sorry,’ Ameera mumbled.

‘If you are going to apologise, Ameera, you need to do it properly, otherwise there’s no point in doing it at all.’

The little Princess looked up at her and took a deep breath.

‘I’m sorry, Miss Talbot, for being rude.’

Rachel smiled warmly. ‘Thank you for apologising, Ameera, it was very big of you.’

For a moment they stood looking at each other. Then Ameera launched herself across the room, and gave Rachel a quick hug. Rachel stroked the young girl’s hair and felt herself relax. Soon she would be able to start breaking down the walls these children had built to defend themselves from the pain of their mother’s death. Soon she would be able to start to help them heal. She glanced briefly at the Sheikh, who had remained silent throughout. He was watching the interaction between her and his daughter almost wistfully and Rachel wondered if he was the one who needed the most help to heal.

‘Why don’t you choose a book for story time, then go and find your brothers? We will test out the biscuits in ten minutes, I’ll bring them to the table in the courtyard.’

Rachel stepped outside, followed closely by the Sheikh. To her surprise he caught her by the upper arm and gently spun her to face him.

‘You were magnificent,’ he murmured, looking directly into her eyes.

Rachel mumbled something incomprehensible under her breath, not able to string a coherent sentence together with his rich brown eyes locked on hers.

He was still touching her upper arm and Rachel could feel the heat of his skin against hers through the thin cotton of her dress. She felt herself sway towards him ever so slightly and found herself wondering for the first time in her life what it would be like to kiss a man.

Rachel’s eyes flicked to his lips and she knew instantly what it would be like to kiss the Sheikh: sensuous and divine.

With a great effort she rallied. These thoughts were totally inappropriate. Not only was the Sheikh her employer, but she had sworn to herself long ago she would never let herself fall for a man and it would be all too easy to fall for the Sheikh. Sometimes his cool manner and distant demeanour irritated her, but she could already recognise the caring heart that beat under his icy façade.

Rachel stepped back, knowing she needed a little distance. Deep down she knew her attraction to this man was laughable really—he was royalty and she was the neglected daughter of a baron. Their gulf between their social statuses was so large it gaped before them, yet Rachel didn’t feel uneasy when the Sheikh was around. At least as long as he didn’t touch her and make her heart pound in her chest.

She had made her decision to always remain single and free years ago and she would not lose her head over this man who probably noticed her no more than he did his servants. Rachel had seen how love and relationships were more destructive than anything else. Her parents had always been somewhere in the cycle of vicious row or passionate reconciliation and Rachel knew she didn’t want that in her life. She would be quite content to see the world, focus on the children in her care and never fall in love in her life. She would just have to work on maintaining a safe distance from the Sheikh and his seductive eyes, whilst of course getting him more involved in his children’s lives.

‘I would like to take the children on a little excursion out of the palace next week,’ Rachel said, getting back to business.

‘That sounds a wonderful idea. I’m keen for all of them to appreciate this country as a whole and not just the luxurious life they lead behind these walls. I will arrange for an escort to accompany you.’

Rachel took a deep breath before she continued. She knew her next suggestion wasn’t going to help her maintain a safe distance from the Sheikh, but she also knew getting him involved with his children was more important than avoiding him because she felt a little tingle under her skin whenever he looked at her.

‘I think it would be so good for the children if you came with us.’

Rachel thought he would refuse outright, cite some important mediation or duty he had to attend to. To her surprise he seemed to deliberate her suggestion.

‘I’ll meet you out the front of the palace at nine o’clock Tuesday morning.’

They both seemed equally shocked by his agreement, but the Sheikh recovered first, giving a short bow and striding off, leaving Rachel to wonder what she had got herself into.

* * *

It was late before Rachel got any time to herself to sit down at the little writing desk in her room and lay out her paper and pen. She was an avid letter writer, and since arriving in Huria she had hardly had time to pen anything but short notes. But tonight she had decided to make time to write to her friends back in England, telling them about Huria, and maybe manage to get some of her thoughts straight at the same time.

It was times like these that she missed her parents. They had both died just over two years ago after contracting malaria on their travels. Despite not having a close relationship with them whilst she was growing up, Rachel had always wondered if things would have changed once she was an adult, once she was leading an interesting life of her own. She’d often imagined sending them postcards and letters whilst she was exploring the world, and when they were reunited for her parents to actually be interested in what she had been doing. Now she’d never know.

She started writing, addressing the top of the letters to Joanna, Isabel and Grace, her closest friends from the years she’d spent at Madame Dubois’s School for Young Ladies. The three girls were like family to her and Rachel had found that leaving them all behind had been the hardest part of leaving England. The only consolation was that they all had been moving on to take up positions as governesses at different locations.

In her letters she described the beautiful desert and the verdant oasis and the luxurious palace. She told her friends of the three children in her care and how they were now beginning to blossom and allow her into their world. She even began to write about the Sheikh, carefully thinking about the words before she put them to paper. Rachel had never kept secrets from her friends, but she found herself unwilling to say much on the subject of the Sheikh. Just thinking about him made her face feel hot, and hurriedly she moved on to other matters.

As she signed her name at the bottom of the letters Rachel felt a sudden sadness at being so far away from her three friends. They had always been there for each other throughout their time at school and now Rachel wished she could sit with the three girls on one of their beds and just talk about nothing and everything. She wanted to laugh at Isabel’s light-hearted exaggerations, pretend to be shocked at Grace’s latest act of rebellion and listen to Joanna’s quiet, soothing voice as she helped all three of her friends through their latest predicaments.

Rachel wondered how they were getting on in their new homes, whether they had been welcomed as they had all hoped and whether their employers were as infuriating and attractive as the cool, distant Sheikh. She worried about Grace’s situation the most. Whereas she, Joanna and Isabel had all set off to make lives for themselves as governesses, Grace had set off in search of her young daughter, the baby born in secret and who Grace had regretted giving up every moment since. Rachel squeezed her eyes shut and wished Grace luck in her search, knowing her old friend would not be happy until she’d found her daughter.

Chapter Five (#ulink_c54a140f-ca05-5273-9d5f-b8ec0a5b70d9)

Malik wondered what he had got himself into for the hundredth time that morning. He had so many things he needed to do, decisions that needed making, disputes that needed settling, but instead he had agreed to spend the entire day with Miss Talbot and his children. The strangest thing was he was quite looking forward to it. Normally he avoided too much contact with his children. He had been raised by tutors and servants, seeing his father just once or twice a week, and he had turned out fine. He could remember the old man lecturing him on how children needed a firm hand and someone to look up to. He had cautioned Malik over becoming too involved in the day-to-day raising of the children, telling his son his first duty was to Huria and to set an example to the entire population. The fact that he sometimes caught himself wishing it was he his children ran to when they scraped their knees or he they wanted to read them a story at night was mere sentimentality and Malik knew he couldn’t let that interfere with running his kingdom. His duty was to the people of Huria and he had never once shirked his duty, but today he was going to allow himself to show his children the kingdom he was so proud of.

Malik strode out into the blazing sunlight and surveyed the scene. Miss Talbot and the children had not yet arrived, but the horses were ready and waiting, as was Wahid.

‘Nice day for an excursion,’ Wahid said with a grin.

Malik had known Wahid since he had been a boy. The swarthy man was a few years older than him, and when the old Sheikh had sent Malik to Europe to study, it had been Wahid who had accompanied him. Now Wahid was more than a bodyguard. As well as being head of security for the palace, he was the closest thing Malik had to a confidant. It was a lonely business being Sheikh, with no one to share decisions with and no one really to talk to, and Wahid seemed to recognise that.