Governess To The Sheikh

The Sheikh ran a hand through his hair and for a moment he looked beaten, but Rachel couldn’t bring herself to feel sorry for him. He’d brought the whole episode on himself.

‘Could we have a word, Your Highness?’ Rachel asked excessively politely.

‘I need to be getting back.’

‘This can’t wait. Boys, why don’t you go and get cleaned up for lunch.’

As Aahil and Hakim scurried away Rachel saw the Sheikh turn as if he was about to leave, too. She caught him by the arm and proceeded to pull him into a little alcove that was sunk into the courtyard wall.

He was so surprised to be touched in this way that for a moment he followed her without any protest. Rachel saw the instant he rallied, but did not care if he was angry at being manhandled. She was angry at how he’d handled the situation.

‘That was poorly done,’ she hissed.

The Sheikh recoiled from her slightly and she wondered for a second when the last time he had been criticised to his face was.

‘Ameera needs discipline.’

‘She needs to see acting out will not get a reaction from us.’

‘She needs to learn she cannot be so rude.’

‘She’s testing the boundaries, seeing what she can get away with.’

‘And you would let her get away with that sort of behaviour?’

They were both talking in muted voices, but the anger was apparent in both sides. The Sheikh drew himself up to his full height and Rachel suddenly wished she hadn’t brought him into such a small, enclosed space. His body was only inches from hers, his face so close she could reach out and touch his cheek without stretching.

Rachel felt a tingle of anticipation run through her body. She was angry with him, there was no denying it, but there was something else lurking inside her, too. She saw the passion flashing in his eyes as he spoke about his children, passion that matched her own, and she felt drawn to him. Even though they were arguing she wanted to reach out and pull him closer, to feel his body up against hers.

She rallied, trying to push all inappropriate thoughts from her mind and focus on the real issue.

‘Ameera is craving attention,’ Rachel said, forcing herself to speak calmly. ‘She needs to realise that acting out will not get her attention, but behaving well will.’

The Sheikh looked as though he was going to say something more, but as he digested Rachel’s words he fell silent.

‘So you were just going to ignore her rude comments?’

Rachel nodded. ‘And praise her when she did something well.’

‘And eventually she will stop being rude.’

The Sheikh sank back against the wall. For a moment he looked just like a man, just like an ordinary father struggling with a difficult child.

Rachel watched as different emotions flitted over his face: sadness, helplessness and finally acceptance. She had another overwhelming urge to reach out to him, this time to comfort him, but just as she was raising her hand she stopped. He might look like an ordinary man right now, but she had to remember he was royalty. He was the ruler of a kingdom and so far above her in social status she probably shouldn’t even think about speaking to him directly.

As she let her hand fall back to her side the Sheikh surprised her by catching her fingers in his own. For a moment Rachel thought there was a slight longing in his expression, but after a second it was gone and the façade he presented to the world was back. Quickly he released her hand and stepped out of the alcove.

‘I’m sorry for interfering,’ he said. ‘In the future I’ll leave such decisions on discipline up to you.’

Rachel felt him slipping further away and knew if she were not careful he might feel like it were best if he disengage from his children completely. Thinking quickly she spoke.

‘This afternoon I was planning on taking over the kitchen for a few hours with the children. I know they would love for you to join us for a little while if you have the chance.’

Rachel saw him hesitate and then to her surprise he nodded without any further persuasion.

‘I’ll see if I can manage to join you for a short while in between the land disputes this afternoon.’

As he walked away Rachel sagged back against the wall. She had invited him to join them for the sake of his children, but she could not deny the flutter of excitement she’d felt when he’d agreed.

Chapter Four

Malik held up a hand for silence and immediately the raised voices fell quiet. He was developing a headache and he felt like they’d been cooped up in the mediation room all afternoon. As Sheikh it was his job to rule on all land disputes and intertribal quarrels in Huria. The kingdom was not huge, but the people were largely nomadic and had differing views of possession and ownership, which made disputes such as these very difficult.

The head of the Banjeree people opened his mouth to speak again, but Malik silenced him with a stern look. He’d heard enough. It was the age-old argument that the land belonged to nature and therefore the tribe should be allowed to wander anywhere to pitch their sturdy tents and take what they needed from the roaming livestock.

‘Talid,’ Malik said, addressing the head of the Banjeree people, ‘you are right that this land of ours is a gift from nature. We need to nurture it and give back exactly what we take, otherwise we will be left with nothing.’

He turned to the other supplicant, a successful farmer who didn’t like having his goats eaten by the Banjeree people, quite understandably.

‘I also agree with your opinion, Yusuf,’ Malik said in a conciliatory tone. ‘You work hard to build a successful business and feel it is unfair when your land is used and your livestock taken.’

‘They are not his livestock,’ Talid said.

Malik frowned at him and the nomad fell silent.

‘This is what will happen. Yusuf, you will allow the Banjeree to pitch their tents on your land, but only in places you are not currently using to grow crops or rear livestock. Talid, you will not allow your people to take anything from Yusuf’s land. There is plenty of countryside and wildlife that belongs only to the population of Huria as a whole, there is no need to destroy this man’s hard-built business.’

Both men looked as if they were about to argue, but Malik dismissed them before anything further could be said. It had been a long afternoon.

When the two men had left Malik stretched out on his adorned chair and glanced out of the window. He could hear giggles of pleasure coming from the kitchen where Miss Talbot had taken his children for an afternoon out of the classroom. He remembered her invitation and for a second he was tempted to go and join them, but something made him hesitate.

She was a little minx, his children’s new governess. She was clever and quick with her words and far too attractive to make Malik feel comfortable. When she had pulled him into the alcove earlier to discuss Ameera and how they would deal with her she had been spitting fire. He liked how protective of his children she had become in two weeks and, although he had been annoyed, too, he had been able to admire the self-confident way she had dealt with him. Many people could not even look him in the eye when they spoke, but Miss Talbot always fixed him with a look that told him he would listen or there would be hell to pay.

She’d been right about Ameera, too—he had blundered in and made things worse, given her bad behaviour attention when it just needed to be ignored. Malik wasn’t used to admitting he was wrong, he hardly ever had to do it, but he could see Miss Talbot’s methods would work with Ameera, at least better than any of the previous tutors’ had.

He almost stood, almost strode from the room and went to join his children in the kitchen for whatever lesson their governess had in store, but something made him hesitate. Of course he didn’t approve of her taking them out of the classroom all the time, but he did have to admit Hakim was becoming a little more confident and Aahil a little less serious under her care. The problem wasn’t with the location of the lesson, or the content, but with Miss Talbot herself.

When they’d stood in the alcove, so close he could have reached out and pulled her towards him, he’d wanted to do exactly that. He’d wanted to wrap his arms around her, pull her close and see what those lips that were always smiling tasted like. It had been a momentary urge, but momentary was long enough for Malik to know it was unwise on so many levels.

Malik hadn’t felt desire like that for years. All the time he had been married to Aliyyah he had, of course, visited her bedroom, but for them both it had been a matter of duty, the need to produce children and heirs. There had been no desire involved. Before Aliyyah, whilst Malik had been studying in Europe, there had been a couple of women he’d been intimate with, but he struggled to remember such fire and passion even with them. And since Aliyyah’s death Malik knew he had been a little numb, not from grief—his wife had been so distant throughout their entire marriage her death was like losing a stranger—but from guilt. He could have saved her; if he’d just been more perceptive he could have saved her. Standing in that alcove with Miss Talbot, Malik had felt as though he’d woken up from a year-long slumber.

Telling himself it had just been a one-off, an anomaly, Malik stood. He would not be kept from doing what he wanted by a trifling emotion like desire. He would admire Miss Talbot’s talents as a governess and her knack for making his children come alive again, but he would not desire her. It was all a matter of self-control.

Quickly Malik walked across the courtyard and stepped into the kitchen. It was chaos. For a moment he thought about quietly backing out and leaving them to it, but then Hakim spotted him and Malik was rewarded with a shy smile. He steeled himself and stepped into the disorder.

‘Your Majesty,’ Miss Talbot said as she spotted him, ‘I’m so glad you could join us.’

Both of his sons spared him a quick glance and then plunged back into the mess on the counter.

‘What are you doing?’

‘We’re making biscuits,’ Aahil said, kneading caramel-coloured dough on the surface.

Malik just stared for a second. He’d become so used to his eldest son acting like a man he’d nearly forgotten he was still a child. Standing in front of him, covered in flour with a stray bit of dough on his chin, Aahil looked like the boy he was.

‘Biscuits?’

‘Today I’m teaching the children to make English biscuits, and next week, if Cook kindly lets us take over his kitchen again, we will make something Hurian.’

Malik leant against one of the counters as he watched Miss Talbot instruct his two sons on how to roll out the dough and then cut the biscuits into the shapes they wanted.

‘When I was at school in England I often used to beg our cook to let me take over a small corner of the kitchen so I could make a cake or a tray of biscuits,’ Miss Talbot chatted easily to the children as they worked. It was a surprisingly comforting domestic scene, his two sons covered in flour and busy rolling out dough whilst Miss Talbot oversaw them.

‘Where is Ameera?’ Malik asked.

‘In her room. You told her she could not come out until she apologised and, as of yet, she hasn’t apologised.’

Malik felt a sudden warmth towards the young woman in front of him. Earlier that morning he had undermined her and tried to discipline his daughter himself. Now he realised he had gone about it all the wrong way, but Miss Talbot had not acted against him and allowed Ameera to get away with not apologising. She had let his method go ahead, even if she did not agree with it in principle.

Whilst the two boys were busy cutting out different shapes the governess moved over to where he was standing. In the kitchen full of the smells of baking Malik thought he could still detect Miss Talbot’s own scent, a mixture of rose and lavender, a very feminine and English smell.

‘Once the biscuits are in the oven and the smell of baking is wafting out into the courtyard I thought I might go and see Ameera,’ she said softly. ‘Let her know she only needs to apologise and she can come and sample the biscuits with us.’

Malik nodded his approval. He wished he knew how to deal with his children the way Miss Talbot did. It seemed to come naturally to her, like running the kingdom did to him. He thought back to his father and how he would have responded in this situation, but realised the old man hadn’t ever really seen him outside of their once-weekly meetings where Malik would show what he had learnt that week.

Miss Talbot was standing next to him, leaning against one of the counters. She was close, but she didn’t seem to be affected by their proximity the way he was. After a few seconds of watching the two boys concentrate on the shapes they were cutting, she turned back to him and raised her eyes to meet his own.

‘Thank you for coming this afternoon, it means the world to Aahil and Hakim.’

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.