Читать книгу The Governess and the Sheikh - Marguerite Kaye - Страница 10

The next morning found Jamil, most unusually for him, still in two minds. It did not help that Lady Cassandra had haunted his dreams. It did not help that the memory of her lips, her skin, her nubile body, had awakened his own slumbering desires, conjuring endless teasing fantasies that made sleep impossible. He had finally quit his divan in desperation, plunging into the refreshing water of the pool before dawn had even risen, in an effort to cool his body and order his mind. He was quite unused to such carnal thoughts getting in the way of his decision-making process. The base needs of his body had never before intruded on the logical processes of his brain. Lady Cassandra confused him by blurring the neatly ordered boundaries of his mind. She was made for pleasure. She was here for a much more pragmatic purpose.

Returning to his tent to don his travelling clothes, Jamil resorted to drawing up a mental list of the advantages and disadvantages of employing Lady Cassandra as Linah’s governess, and in doing so uncovered one of the questions that had been niggling away in the back of his mind. Lady Cassandra had said she urgently needed an opportunity to prove herself. Why? he wondered. Prove herself after what?

It was the first question he put to her when she appeared before him in the makeshift throne room. She wore her travelling outfit, the blue riding habit and veil in which she had arrived yesterday, and was at pains to keep her head correctly bowed, but Jamil was in no mood to allow her to hide behind the trappings of propriety. He bade the servants draw forwards the light curtains and instructed her to put back her veil. He did not, however, bid her sit, choosing to keep her standing before him, like a supplicant. ‘Explain to me, if you please, what you meant by needing an opportunity to prove yourself,’ he said in clipped tones.

Cassie stared at the prince in consternation. All through the long night she had rehearsed her arguments and mustered her reasons, drilling them into a tight formation, readying them to be paraded, impeccable and indisputable, before the prince. She was ready to recite lesson plans in everything from watercolour painting to deportment, map reading to account keeping, playing upon the pianoforte—though she wasn’t particularly sure that such an instrument would be available—French conversation—though she didn’t know, when it came down to it, if Linah even spoke English—botany—though she had no idea what flowers—if any—grew in the desert—and horse riding, the one subject on which Cassie knew herself to be expert. All of this she had ready at her fingertips, along with her ideas for instilling strict but fair discipline, and most of all her ardent desire to give Linah some much-needed affection.

But it seemed Prince Jamil was not interested in any of this. Instead he wanted to know about her motives, a subject Cassie herself was a little hazy on, just at the moment. ‘I suppose I meant that it would be good to be of use,’ she fumbled.

Prince Jamil’s mouth tightened. ‘Of all things, I abhor prevarication. It leads, more often than not, to deceit. If you are to be my daughter’s governess, I must be able to trust you implicitly. To deceive me as to your motives.’

‘Oh, no, I would never do that.’

‘Then I ask you again, what precipitated this burning desire to prove yourself?’

Blushing, Cassie shuffled from one foot to the other, trying desperately to find a way of satisfying the prince’s curiosity without putting herself in too unflattering a light, but a glance up at his stern countenance told her she would do far better to give him the unvarnished truth. He would not tolerate anything else, and she most assuredly did not want to risk being discovered in what he would then assume to be a lie. She clasped her hands together and began the sorry tale of her ill-fated betrothal to Augustus, though telling it rather to her riding boot than to Prince Jamil, not daring to look up for fear that his countenance would betray his disapproval.

‘I made a mistake, a terrible lack of judgement,’ she concluded. ‘Had I not been so headstrong, so indulgent of my sentimental inclinations, I and my family would have perhaps been spared the humiliation of my being so publicly jilted.’

‘But surely it is this man Augustus—if you can call such a desert scorpion a man—surely it is he who should feel shame?’ Jamil said contemptuously. ‘You are the innocent party. He, on the other hand, has behaved in a manner that shows a complete lack of honour and integrity. He deserves to be the outcast, not you.’

Cassie shook her head. ‘It is not how the world sees it, nor indeed how my—my papa sees it.’

‘In my world we would see such a thing quite differently.’

Cassie jutted her chin forwards determinedly, a gesture Jamil found strangely endearing. ‘Well, however anybody else chooses to see it,’ she said, ‘I assure you, no one could be more ashamed than I, nor more determined to change. I do not intend ever to give my heart rein again.’

‘A wise decision. The heart is not, in my opinion, a logical organ.’

‘No. Nor a reliable one. I have my faults, but I do not need to be taught something twice.’

‘He who is burned must always beware the fire, hmm?’

‘Exactly.’

‘So, not to put too fine a point on it, Lady Cassandra, you’re telling me that you were sent out here in disgrace?’

Cassie wove and unwove her long fingers. ‘No, not precisely. Papa wished me to retire to the countryside until the scandal had blown over. It was Celia’s suggestion that I come out here—she knows, you see, how very taken I was with Arabia when Aunt Sophia and I came to rescue—’ Jamil raised his eyebrows quizzically. ‘That is to say, came to visit Celia before she was married. And I was also most eager to … to put some distance between myself and Papa’s new wife, who seemed to relish adding fuel to the fire with regards to my predicament.’ Cassie’s breast heaved at the thought of her stepmother. ‘Bella Frobisher is a grasping, selfish cuckoo in the nest and now, of course, that she’s produced an heir—well! You can imagine how she crows.’

She broke off with an exclamation of dismay. ‘I beg your pardon, we seem to have strayed rather from the point. The thing is, your Highness, that I’m afraid my betrothal rather confirmed Papa’s opinion of me as—as a little lacking in judgement and not very dependable,’ she said, blushing deeper than ever, ‘and I would very much wish to prove him wrong.’

‘It seems to me that your father is at fault in allowing you far too much latitude. Here in Arabia, we recognise that women are the weaker sex, and do not permit them to make life-changing decisions, such as a choice of husband, for themselves.’

Cassie’s immediate reaction was to inform Prince Jamil that here in Arabia, in her opinion, women were not so much protected as subjected, but even as the words formed she realised that they undermined her cause no end. ‘My papa would heartily agree with you on that topic,’ she said instead.

‘Meaning?’

‘Meaning, if Papa had his way, he would marry all of us off to his advantage, regardless of our wishes.’

‘That is not what I meant at all. It is not my intention that Linah become a state asset, not that that is any of your business. All I want is for her to learn respect for authority, to understand that there are boundaries she must not cross.’

‘Children who are unhappy are wont to misbehave in order to gain attention,’ Cassie said carefully.

‘Yes, so you said last night. What do you mean by that?’

‘Well, Linah has been without a mother since she was a baby, hasn’t she?’

‘She has had any number of females to look after her and pander to her every whim. In fact, she has been over-indulged. I concede that’s partly my fault. I have allowed her to be spoiled in order to compensate for the loss of her mother and as a consequence have been reluctant to discipline her.’

‘It’s not spoiling or discipline she really needs. Tell me, Prince Jamil, are you close to your daughter?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Do you see her every day? Play with her? Talk to her? Show any sort of interest at all?’

Jamil stiffened perceptively. ‘Of course I take an interest, she is my daughter.’

‘How?’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘How do you show an interest?’

‘I am given a weekly report of her behaviour and her progress with her lessons—at least I was, until the last female I hired departed. Linah is brought to me at the end of each week to discuss this.’

Cassie bit her lip. It was exactly as she had suspected. Poor little Linah was desperate for affection, and her cold-hearted father did nothing but mete out criticism. ‘So, the only time you see her is to chastise her?’

Jamil stiffened. ‘I have never laid a hand in anger upon my daughter.’

‘Good heavens, I should hope not,’ Cassie said, startled by the sudden harshness in his face. His eyes glittered fiercely, and she remembered Celia’s caution again. Prince Jamil was not a man to cross. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to suggest such a thing for a minute.

‘I do not want my daughter beaten.’

‘Of course not! When I said chastise, I meant tell her off.’

‘Oh. I see. I misunderstood. Yes. If that is what you meant, then I do. When Linah behaves so badly, she can hardly expect—’

‘She behaves badly to get your attention!’ Cassie interrupted. ‘For goodness’ sake, can’t you see that? You said last night that Linah had everything a child could wish for.’

‘She does, she wants for nothing.’

‘Except for the most important thing of all.’

‘And what would that be?’

‘Love. A father’s love, your love.’

‘My feelings for my daughter are—’

‘Unspoken!’ Cassie declared roundly. She glared at the prince, all deference forgotten in the heat of the moment. ‘Well, are they not?’

Jamil got swiftly to his feet and descended the step upon which the throne stood. ‘As I was saying, Lady Cassandra,’ he said through gritted teeth, ‘what Linah needs is discipline.’

‘And as I was saying,’ Cassie riposted, ‘what she needs is affection.’

‘Respect is what she should have for me. I see no evidence of it, and showing her affection is hardly likely to induce it. As well expose an open wound and suggest she strike there.’

Cassie stared at him, appalled. How could he talk so coldly of his own daughter? Even her own father was not so—so clinical. ‘She needs love,’ she said obstinately, forcing herself to continue to look straight into the prince’s stormy eyes, ‘I can provide that. I can teach you how to do the same.’

‘How dare you! How dare you presume that you can teach me anything?’ Jamil replied angrily. ‘I am a royal prince, a direct descendent of generations of wise and powerful potentates, a leader of thousands. And you, a mere woman, dare to tell me how to treat my own daughter.’

‘The poor girl is obviously starved of love. For goodness’ sake, you’re all she has. How would you have felt if your mother had died when you were a baby? Wouldn’t you have made every effort to make sure you didn’t lose your father’s love, too? I know when my own mother …’

The rest of what she was about to say died on Cassie’s lips as she took in the prince’s stark white countenance. With horror, she realised just how presumptuous her hasty words must have sounded. She had no idea, after all, about the prince’s own experience. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she whispered, ‘I didn’t think—did your mother die young?’

‘No, but she may as well have.’ He had been five when he had been forcibly removed to the east wing. She might as well have been dead for all the contact he was allowed with her. Jamil’s knuckles whitened. Realising by the way the English woman was looking at him, that his anguish was plain to see, he made a huge effort, forced the past back into its box and turned the key. ‘You are impertinent, and you raise issues that are entirely irrelevant. We are talking about Linah, not me.’

Too relieved at being spared any more serious rebuke to even consider pursuing the interesting question of Prince Jamil’s as-good-as-dead mother, Cassie could only nod her agreement. It was time, most definitely time, to take another tack. Time enough, when she had Linah’s confidence, to return to the subject. ‘Please. I didn’t mean to offend you. Let me talk to you instead of what I mean to teach Linah.’ Giving him no chance to interrupt, haltingly at first, then with growing confidence and enthusiasm, Cassie put forward the plans she had made for her charge. As she talked, gesticulated and talked more, Jamil watched her closely, listening even more closely, trying to focus only on what she said about Linah, not to be distracted by the way enthusiasm lent a glow to her beautiful countenance, the way her body rippled under her ridiculously inappropriate travelling dress when she made her point with extravagant hand gestures. He tried to see her as a governess. To imagine her as Linah’s governess. To picture her there, in the schoolroom of the palace, and not, definitely not, as he had seen her last night, strewn invitingly over a divan, reflected lusciously in a mirror.

Her forthright attack on him rankled, and it was ridiculous nonsense, of course, but Jamil was a ruthlessly fair man. Loath though he was to admit it, Lady Cassandra talked at least some sense. And there was the point, the worrying point, she had made about Linah being unhappy. Did all this add up to enough for him to take a chance on her? If he did not, what were the alternatives? None, and Prince Ramiz would be offended into the bargain.

‘And as to geography,’ Cassie was saying, ‘I have sent to England for a dissected map just exactly like the one the royal princes had. It is in French, too, which will help Linah with the language. Which puts me in mind—I assumed she spoke English, but of course that is rather arrogant of me and—’

‘She is badly behaved, not stupid,’ Jamil said haughtily. ‘As she is a daughter of the House of al-Nazarri I would expect nothing less. She already speaks good English and a little French. I would wish her to have also Italian, the rudiments of Latin and Greek, and perhaps some German.’

‘Oh. Right. Capital. I’m afraid I don’t have any German, though,’ Cassie admitted, looking somewhat downcast. ‘But in my humble opinion that’s no great loss. I’ve met the Prussian ambassador and frankly he was as tedious and long-winded as the language. Oh, I hope you don’t have any German friends, I meant no offence.’

Jamil smiled inwardly. Despite this female’s appalling lack of deference and her seeming obliviousness to all the rules of protocol, he found her amusing. On the whole—yes, on the whole, the positives of taking her on outweighed the negatives. Though of a surety both Halim and his Council would be ready to pounce on any gaffes.

‘You understand,’ he said, ‘that your appointment would be most unusual. My country is a very traditional one—in fact, you may as well know that the majority of my Council and trusted aides will oppose your role.’

Cassie’s face fell. ‘You mean I will have to win their approval?’

Jamil pursed his lips. ‘They may voice their opinions, but they may not dictate to me. I mean merely that it will be better not to offend them.’

Her brow furrowed. ‘How might I offend them?’

‘As I have already informed you, Lady Cassandra, you look as if you belong not in the schoolroom, but the boudoir.’

‘Harem, actually, is what you said. I can’t help how I look, your Highness. And I assure you, that I will not—last night—it was …’

‘Nothing of that sort will pass between us again,’ Jamil said firmly, speaking as much to himself as to Lady Cassandra. ‘As Linah’s governess you must be beyond reproach—is that understood?’ As Linah’s governess, she must now be strictly out of bounds. Why did he feel instinctively that this would prove so difficult? It should have been a warning, but Jamil, whose own self-discipline was so ingrained as to have become instinctive, did not heed it.

‘I understand perfectly, your Highness,’ Cassie said, trying hard not to feel indignant. The prince had every reason to doubt her ability to conduct herself properly after all, given what she had just told him and how she had behaved last night. There was no point in telling him it was out of character; she must let her future conduct demonstrate that.

‘You will most effectively contradict any criticism by obtaining results,’ Jamil said brusquely, unwittingly echoing Cassie’s own thoughts.

‘Can I assume then that you will visit Linah regularly to check her progress?’ Cassie asked sweetly.

‘I am an extremely busy man. Affairs of state keep me occupied.’

Cassie took a deep breath. ‘Forgive me, your Highness, but Linah will fare much better if I can reward her behaviour with the promise of a visit from you,’ she said in a rush.

‘She can be equally rewarded by the knowledge that her good behaviour pleases rather than angers me,’ Jamil replied implacably.

‘With respect, it’s not quite the same.’

‘Your persistence in this matter is becoming tedious, Lady Cassandra. If you are so sure my daughter is in need of affection, then supply it yourself. Consider it part of your duties of employment.’

Cassie’s eyes widened. ‘Does this mean you’ll give me a chance, then? Am I indeed to be Linah’s governess?’

‘For one month only, subject to satisfactory progress being achieved. Then we will see.’

All else was forgotten in the relief at having achieved her objective. She was not to be sent back. Cassie let out a huge sigh. ‘Thank you. Oh, thank you so much, I won’t let you down, I promise.’

‘I will hold you to that. I do not take kindly to those who do. We start for Daar in fifteen minutes.’

Jamil pulled back the curtains and strode out into the morning sunshine, calling for Halim. Cassie stood, gazing at the space he had occupied, her mind in a daze. She’d done it, she’d persuaded him. A smile spread over her face, and she gave a little skip of excitement. She was going to Daar. She was going to be Linah’s governess. She was going to show Papa that she could do something worthwhile. She was going to show the little princess what love was, and she was going to teach the little girl’s cold-hearted, autocratic, infuriating father how to love her back. Whether he wanted to or not.

This gave Cassie pause. She did not doubt that somewhere, buried very deep, was Jamil’s love for his daughter, but uncovering it would take tact as well as patience. For some reason, he was very resistant to the idea. Yet cold as he was—as he liked to appear, perhaps?—he could not really be so. He cared enough about Linah to want to bring her up properly. And Cassie had her own reasons for knowing he wasn’t incapable of emotion. Last night.

Stop! She wouldn’t think about last night. Her own behaviour had shocked her. She just couldn’t understand it. But Jamil—well, he was a man, after all. One to whom desire came easily. Cassie’s skin prickled. He had seen her in a state of undress and he had wanted to.

It was her fault! He was hot-blooded. It must be the desert air, or the heat of the sun, or perhaps there was just something in the prince’s culture that encouraged such behaviour. Celia had hinted at something she called sensuality, though she wouldn’t explain, and to tell the truth, Cassie had been too embarrassed to ask. Whatever it was, it had to be said, there was something terribly romantic about desert princes. And Jamil was the epitome of a desert prince. A passionate sheikh with a strong sense of honour—look at the contemptuous way he had talked of Augustus! It made her feel just a bit better, to have him take her part. Sort of. Just a little.

But that didn’t mean he would always be so understanding. She would do well indeed to forget all about last night, and all about Jamil as anything other than her exacting employer. She was done with romance. Done with giving her heart any say at all in matters. She was done, quite done, with men, whether traitorous poets or desert princes, romantic or otherwise.

Cassie made the journey to the city of Daar mounted on a snowy white camel, a rare breed, though its exclusivity did not, unfortunately, make it any more of a comfortable ride than its more dowdy brethren. The high-backed saddle was more splendid than the one on which she had arrived at Jamil’s camp, but it was still basically a sparsely-padded wooden seat. As Jamil made a clicking noise at the back of his throat, and the beast knelt down to allow her to mount, Cassie’s muscles protested by cramping. However, she climbed on to what passed for a saddle, pleased to discover that she did so with some semblance of grace, even more pleased to see the very brief look of approval that flitted across Jamil’s face. He made the clicking noise again, and the camel got back to its feet. Cassie arranged her skirts and pulled the long veil, which she had attached to her little military hat, over her face. ‘I’ll take the reins, thank you,’ she said, holding out her gloved hand.