Governess To The Sheikh

Rachel could see that as their father spoke all three children stood to attention.

‘I can’t wait to get started,’ Rachel said serenely, wondering if the Sheikh expected them to spend all day cooped up in a classroom. Rachel knew children needed formal lessons, but she also knew they learnt a lot more if they were given time to develop outside the classroom. She had a feeling the Sheikh might not approve of her teaching methods and wondered how she could make him see that fun was as important as French to such young minds.

Chapter Two

Malik reclined back on to the cushions and looked across the parapet and out over his kingdom. He’d invited the new governess to dine with him and was waiting for her to ascend the stairs to the rooftop so their meal could begin. He wasn’t sure what to make of Miss Talbot and he knew he shouldn’t judge her on first impressions, but he was eager they set some boundaries and rules before she began teaching his children.

She was young, younger than he had expected. He had known she would be barely out of the schoolroom herself, but when he pictured an English governess, Rachel Talbot, with her deep, soulful eyes and infectious smile, wasn’t what he imagined. Surely a governess should be old, grey-haired and stern, maybe with a wart or two for good measure. His school teachers and tutors had never laughed and he’d certainly never seen such pleasure in their faces as he’d witnessed on Miss Talbot’s.

He was pleased she saw the beauty of his country—too many visitors couldn’t see past the arid desert and the nomadic lifestyle of many of his people—but he needed to ensure she would be suitably strict with his children. They were of royal blood after all, they had to learn to be serious and solemn as the occasion called for it. He doubted Miss Talbot had ever been solemn in her entire life.

Malik rose as he heard footsteps on the stairs. He had ordered for dinner to be laid out in the traditional style on one of the smaller flat rooftops of the palace, accessible from the courtyard via an outdoor staircase. Cushions were scattered around a low table, which would be filled with Hurian dishes when they were ready.

‘Miss Talbot,’ he greeted her as she emerged on to the rooftop.

She took a moment to take in her surroundings before a heartfelt smile blossomed on her face.

‘Your Highness,’ she said, bobbing into a little curtsy.

Malik watched as her eyes swept over the silk-covered cushions, the dark wood table and out to the palace beyond. He couldn’t help but feel proud that it was his kingdom that was inspiring so much pleasure. More disconcertingly he found that as Miss Talbot was surveying her surroundings he was watching her, or more specifically her mouth. He found her lips just a little mesmerising, and he didn’t think he’d ever met anyone who smiled quite as much as his children’s new governess.

He reached out, took her hand and placed it in the crook of his arm, leading her over to the parapet. Although he had asked her here to discuss his children’s education, Malik didn’t see any harm in showing her a little more of the kingdom she would be living in for the foreseeable future. As they stood looking out over the palace and to the oasis beyond in the fading light of the evening sun, Malik heard Miss Talbot sigh contentedly beside him. The sound made something tighten inside him and he found himself quickly stepping away, trying to cover his confusion with a return to his formal behaviour.

‘Please take a seat,’ Malik said, motioning to the cushions on one side of the low table.

Miss Talbot sat, absentmindedly stroking the soft silk of the cushion beneath her, tracing a pattern over the smooth surface with her delicate fingers. Malik looked away and sat down himself.

‘I asked you here so that we could discuss the children’s education.’

Miss Talbot looked at him directly, nodded and smiled. Malik felt his train of thought slipping away. Hardly anyone held his eye now that he was Sheikh. Most of his advisors and chieftains averted their eyes out of respect when he spoke to them. Only Wahid, who had been with him since he was a young man, dared to look him in the eye and tell him what he really thought. And Wahid was certainly not as distracting as Miss Talbot.

‘Wonderful,’ the governess said. ‘They seem such lovely children. I have so many ideas to help them blossom and have fun at the same time.’

Malik found himself nodding along with her as she spoke, even though he didn’t quite agree with her words. He waited whilst a servant brought a tray of the first course and set the various bowls with hummus, dipping sauces and flatbread on the table.

‘I think it is important that we discuss the objectives and methods you plan to use before you get started with the children,’ Malik said, surprised when Miss Talbot nodded eagerly.

‘I completely agree,’ she said. ‘I think it is very important for parents to play an active part in their children’s education.’

Not quite what Malik meant, but he pushed on anyway.

‘Aahil is Prince of Huria, and one day he will succeed me as Sheikh. He will be the ruler of this small but proud kingdom and he needs to know how to conduct himself at all times.’

He paused. Although he had more to say, he could see the governess’s lips had pursed and already he knew this meant she had an opinion she was eager to give.

‘He is also just a child,’ Miss Talbot said softly.

Malik considered his next words, wondering how to continue. Of course Aahil was still a boy, he knew that, but Malik also knew the weight of the responsibility of running a kingdom. His father had been strict with him, insisting he conduct himself with dignity and gravitas from a young age, and as a result, when his father passed away and Malik became Sheikh, he had already known what behaviour was expected of him.

‘First and foremost he is Prince of Huria.’ Malik expected the governess to drop her gaze and mumble acquiescence, it was what most people did when he talked. Instead she pursed her lips again and held his eye.

‘First and foremost Aahil is a child. One day he will be Sheikh, but right now he is a boy like any other. He might have heavy responsibilities in the future, but that is all the more reason for him to enjoy his childhood.’

‘Games will not teach him to run a country. Laughter will not show him how to deal with mutinous subjects.’ Malik shook his head in frustration. He knew how difficult it was to rule a country, even a small one like Huria. When his father had died Malik had been just twenty-two, but he’d had to step up and do his duty. The first few months had been trying, but he knew he had been well prepared, and that was what he wanted for his son.

‘You’re wrong,’ Miss Talbot said animatedly. ‘Games can teach you strategy and forward planning. They teach you to read your opponents and come up with a way to out-think them.’

Malik didn’t think anyone had come out and told him he was wrong since he’d become Sheikh. It was refreshing, but he found that since he was in fact right, it was also a little frustrating.

‘And laughter?’ he asked coolly.

Miss Talbot smiled. ‘Have you never been in a negotiation with two people who want completely different things? The tension builds and no one can agree on anything. Knowing how to diffuse that situation with laughter is a skill every future Sheikh needs to learn.’

Malik couldn’t help but smile with her. She was clever, this young governess. She might not be right, but she was certainly clever.

While he regrouped Malik motioned for Miss Talbot to begin eating. The food set before them was simple and traditional, food Malik had been served his entire life. The flatbread was baked in every oven in Huria and the accompanying dips found at every dinner table when entertaining guests. Malik loved the food of his country and he felt a glow of satisfaction as he watched his children’s governess place a piece of bread covered in hummus in her mouth and begin to chew. As she ate she closed her eyes momentarily, as if not wanting to distract her tastebuds from the new flavour they were experiencing. He watched her lips as she chewed and noticed the slight curve to the corners of her mouth as she enjoyed what she was tasting. Hastily Malik looked away. Watching Miss Talbot eat was disconcertingly sensual, especially when she popped a finger between her lips and sucked off a stray bit of the sweet dip.

Malik rallied. He was ruler of Huria, a grown man, and he would not be distracted from his true purpose by this young woman’s lips. He might have a body of flesh and blood, but his mind needed to be above such distractions as desire.

‘You may find Ameera difficult,’ he said.

In truth, difficult was an understatement. He knew it must be hard for all his children growing up without a mother, but it seemed to affect his daughter even more than he had ever imagined. Since their mother had died a year ago all of his children had changed. Aahil had become more serious, throwing himself into the role of Prince of Huria, eager to learn everything about the kingdom he would one day rule. Little Hakim had become quieter. Gone was the boy who used to run around the courtyards of the palace pretending to be an assassin or a genie. Those changes Malik could deal with and he knew were to be expected in boys who had lost their mother, but Ameera was different.

Since their mother had died Ameera had become sullen and withdrawn. She refused to utter more than words of one syllable to Malik and he didn’t think he’d seen her smile in months. She was only six years old, but when he looked at her he saw a much older girl, someone who had experienced too much sorrow already in her young life.

He glanced at Miss Talbot. She smiled. She smiled more than anyone he had ever met before. Maybe she might be able to coax a smile out of his little girl.

‘All the more reason to allow her to enjoy herself.’

Malik sighed. He wanted the best for his children, of course he did. He just didn’t always know what that was. His own father had been viewed by many as a liberal. He had sent Malik to be educated in Europe, insisted it was good for his son to be exposed to different cultures and people, but he had also been strict. Malik had never once received a hug from his father, or even anything more affectionate than a warm handshake, and he’d turned out just fine.

‘Ameera will one day be expected to marry into a good family,’ he said. His daughter might only be six, but he had learnt from his own father it was never too early to look to the future.

‘One day,’ Miss Talbot said, waving a hand in the air, ‘is a very long time away.’

‘Not all that long.’

He had married Aliyyah when she was twenty. He had a horrible feeling time would speed by and suddenly his little Ameera would soon be the same age.

Malik waited until their plates had been cleared away and the main course brought up to the rooftop. He couldn’t help but watch as his children’s governess bent over the dish, inhaling the exotic scent and looking on with anticipation a servant uncovered the side dishes that accompanied it.

Most visitors to Huria from Europe were overwhelmed or outright disgusted that nearly all meals were eaten with the hands. Miss Talbot just watched him closely as he scooped up some of the spicy stew with a piece of flatbread and then did the same.

‘You will need to teach them arithmetic, geography, languages and world history. I will employ a local tutor to teach them the history of Huria.’ Malik glanced at Miss Talbot and wondered whether she would argue. She had seemed to protest against everything else he had said that evening.

‘That sounds like a wonderful plan,’ she said. ‘Of course I couldn’t hope to know all the intricacies of the history of a country like Huria.’ She paused and then continued mildly, ‘I will also be teaching the children music, a little natural science and engaging them in physical activity.’

Malik put the piece of bread he had just broken off back down on his plate and exhaled slowly. She was infuriating. He’d forgotten what it was like to have someone argue back, someone calmly pat you on the hand and then tell you they would disobey.

‘You will teach them arithmetic, geography, languages and world history,’ he repeated, struggling to keep his voice calm and level.

‘Oh, yes,’ she agreed. ‘Those subjects are very important. Especially languages.’

Malik waited. He just knew she would have something more to say.

‘But children need a rounded education. They can’t be cooped up in a classroom all day.’

He frowned. That was exactly what was supposed to happen. She was a governess, hired to teach his children. If she wasn’t going to do it in the classroom, then where was she planning on taking his children?

‘Miss Talbot,’ he said sternly—it was a voice many of his advisors cowered from, but she just sat there and smiled sunnily. ‘I have employed you to teach my children the subjects I see fit.’

‘And of course I will do that,’ she said. ‘But when we’re finished with arithmetic, languages, world history and geography we might branch out a little.’

How could you ever be finished with world history? Or languages?

She leaned forward and Malik found himself momentarily distracted by the swell of her breasts above her neckline. Hastily he looked away. Here he was preaching about how he wanted his children to behave and he couldn’t keep his eyes from roaming.

‘Why don’t you let me do it my way for a few weeks? If you really don’t like how your children are coming along, you can send me home.’

Malik opened his mouth to reply, then shut it again. She’d outmanoeuvred him. He was a skilled negotiator, always able to smooth things over with neighbouring countries or warring tribes, but he’d just been outmanoeuvred by a governess. He couldn’t argue with her logic—if he didn’t like how she did things he could always just send her home in a few weeks and employ someone more suitable.

He glanced at her again—maybe someone a little less distracting, with that grey hair, stern visage and the scattered warts he had been expecting. Maybe someone who didn’t smile quite so much.

Chapter Three

‘Enough,’ Rachel proclaimed.

Three sets of dark eyes looked at her with surprise. It was eleven in the morning and they still had another hour of lessons to go until they broke for lunch.

‘I think we need a change of scenery,’ she declared.

None of the children moved. Insistently Rachel stood up and gathered one or two things from her desk. She needed fresh air and she needed to see some proper daylight. The palace was magnificent, there was no denying it; cool whitewashed rooms were never far away from bubbling fountains or beautiful mosaics, but the schoolroom had something to be desired. It was plain and boring, there was no way of getting round it. Rachel supposed the Sheikh or one of his aides had thought it best to keep the room as dull as possible so as not to distract the children from their studies. The result was a room Rachel was dying to get out of after just two hours.

‘Come, children, we will finish our lessons outside.’

She had reached the door before anyone moved, but as she stepped outside into the bright sunlight she heard the scraping of the wooden chairs against the floor.

Rachel made a beeline for a shaded area, arranged her skirts around her, and sat down. The children followed awkwardly and stood looking down at her.

‘Now to finish off the morning we are going to work on developing your imaginations.’

One of the toughest things Rachel was finding was tailoring her lessons to three children of different ages and abilities. Aahil was intelligent and probably the most confident of the three when it came to answering her questions. Little Hakim was still so very young, but Rachel could see that under his shy exterior he had a quick mind. Ameera had refused to answer any of Rachel’s questions, instead preferring to scuff her feet along the floor and sigh loudly whenever Rachel spoke.

‘Between us we are going to tell a story,’ Rachel explained. ‘I will go first, set the scene and introduce a character or two. Then we will all take it in turns to add to the story.’

It was a game Rachel had played many times with her school friends on cold, wet, winter afternoons. For a moment Rachel pictured herself back at Madame Dubois’s School for Young Ladies and felt a pang of homesickness. She wondered how Joanna was faring in Hertfordshire. Of all her friends Rachel was most concerned for quiet, kind Joanna. Found abandoned on the steps of the school when just a baby, Joanna had never had a family, never known who her parents were. Rachel’s friend wanted so much to belong somewhere and had been excited about the prospect of becoming part of the family she was being employed by, but Rachel just hoped they treated her kindly and not like a servant. Joanna had so much love and warmth to give, she deserved happiness.

Pulling herself back to the present before Aahil could protest this wasn’t educational enough or Ameera could vocalise whatever criticism was making its way from her brain to her lips, Rachel began the story.

‘Once upon a time there was an old woman who lived in a small cottage in the woods.’ She turned to Hakim and smiled gently at him. ‘Why don’t you add something next, Hakim?’

The young Prince frowned and started to chew on his thumb.

‘You can add anything you like,’ Rachel said encouragingly.

‘She had a pet,’ Hakim said after a minute or two.

‘What kind of pet?’ Rachel asked.

‘A pet dragon.’

Ameera snorted. Rachel ignored her for a second and focused on Hakim.

‘That’s very good, Hakim. Once upon a time there was an old woman who lived in a small cottage in the woods. She had a pet dragon.’

Rachel was delighted when Hakim gave her a small, shy smile. She’d have to remember he liked dragons, work it into one of their lessons soon.

‘Ameera, it’s your turn next.’

Rachel watched as the young girl’s lips moved, but no sound came out. After a few seconds she spoke, a sly smile crossing her face.

‘The old woman liked to eat children for breakfast,’ she said. ‘And her name was Miss Talbot.’

Ameera sat back triumphantly, crossed her arms across her chest and levelled a challenging stare at Rachel. Rachel held her gaze. She had heard titbits of conversation from some of the servants about Ameera’s behaviour with her previous tutors. The young girl had been rude, naughty and sometimes downright mean, but despite her previous shenanigans, Rachel knew she was still just a child. A child acting up most likely because of the loss of her mother.

Rachel hadn’t spent years at a boarding school with lots of other girls not to learn how to deal with difficult characters. Ameera might be a little terror, but she was no match for Rachel.

Without changing the tone of her voice Rachel repeated the story so far. ‘Once upon a time there was an old woman who lived in a small cottage in the woods. She had a pet dragon. The old woman liked to eat children for breakfast and her name was Miss Talbot.’

Serenely Rachel turned to Aahil and motioned for him to continue the story. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Ameera’s face fall.

Aahil was quiet for a moment whilst he observed the interaction between his sister and his governess, then he realised what Rachel was doing and started to speak.

‘One day a brave prince was riding through the forest and he stopped outside the old woman’s cottage.’

Rachel turned to Hakim.

‘And he saw the pet dragon.’

She smiled encouragingly, then motioned for Ameera to carry on.

‘He killed Miss Talbot with his sharp pointy sword. The end,’ Ameera said firmly.

Rachel clapped her hands together.

‘What a wonderful story. We had an evil villain, a brave prince, a happy ending, and of course a dragon—everything a good story needs.’

‘Did you hear what I said?’ Ameera asked, no longer able to contain herself.

‘Yes, Ameera, I did.’

The young girl looked as if she were about to say something else when a shadow fell over them. Rachel looked behind her to see the Sheikh standing over them. She shivered slightly, telling herself it was because he was blocking out the sunlight and not because his dark eyes held hers for just a moment longer than was necessary.

‘How are your lessons going, children?’ he asked.

‘We’ve been making up a story,’ Hakim said, his face shining with pleasure.

Rachel saw the Sheikh’s surprised look as his youngest son spoke without prompting and felt a stab of pride. Just a few more days and most of Hakim’s shyness would be a thing of the past.

‘It had a dragon in it.’

The Sheikh frowned. In the two weeks since Rachel had arrived at the palace she had barely seen him. Apart from the rather surreal meal on the rooftop he had been busy with state business. Sometimes she would glimpse him talking quietly with some advisor or discussing something animatedly with Wahid, but he had not approached her since their dinner together.

Not that she expected him to want to talk to her, of course, but seeing as she spent most of her day with his children, she was pretty sure he hadn’t spoken to them either.

Rachel didn’t profess to be an expert on how royalty normally interacted with their children, but she had experienced first-hand the heartbreak indifference from a parent to a child could bring. Her parents had always been kind towards her, they’d never beaten her, or even told her off. She had been well clothed, decently fed and well educated. All in all she’d had more than many children could expect. What she hadn’t received was their attention. They’d always been more interested in each other than in her. Sometimes they hadn’t even noticed when she had entered the room. As a child she’d craved their attention, their approval, and when they didn’t do anything more than glance at the picture she’d painted or smile distantly when a governess paraded her in front of them on a Sunday, it had hurt more than if they’d slapped her face.

She wouldn’t let the same happen to these children. She could tell the Sheikh loved them, she could see it in his eyes, but he just didn’t know how to act around them. No doubt he had been brought up to focus fully on running his kingdom and didn’t know how to engage properly with the three young children who loved him so much.

‘A dragon,’ the Sheikh said.

Hakim nodded. ‘A pet dragon.’

‘I’m not sure...’ the Sheikh started to say.

‘Doesn’t Hakim have a wonderful imagination?’ Rachel said lightly.

The Sheikh stopped speaking and nodded, smiling down at his son.

‘Really wonderful.’

Rachel watched as father ruffled his son’s hair and Hakim smiled shyly.

‘Miss Talbot was in it,’ Ameera said, stepping forward between Rachel and the Sheikh. ‘She was the villain. I made sure she was stabbed with a really sharp sword.’

Rachel knew she was just doing it for attention so she smiled serenely and inspected her nails. She hoped the Sheikh would similarly ignore his daughter’s provocation and Ameera would soon realise nothing was to be gained from this sort of behaviour.

‘Ameera,’ he said sharply, ‘apologise at once.’

Ameera crossed her arms mutinously.

‘No.’

‘Apologise to Miss Talbot.’

‘No.’

Rachel closed her eyes briefly and steeled herself for the disaster this was about to become.

‘Ameera, you will apologise.’

‘I won’t.’

‘I am your father. You will do as I say. Apologise to Miss Talbot immediately.’

Ameera stared at him silently, fury flashing in her eyes.

‘Apologise.’

‘Never.’

‘Go to your room. You won’t be allowed out until you apologise.’

‘Good. Then I won’t have to see her annoying face ever again.’

Ameera stalked off towards her room, not sparing a glance for her father or Rachel, making sure the door slammed loudly behind her once she was inside.