Читать книгу Governess To The Sheikh - Laura Martin - Страница 13
ОглавлениеMalik 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.
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.’
‘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.
