Laura Martin - Governess To The Sheikh

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

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

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

* * *

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter Five

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

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

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

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

Malik turned back towards the palace as he heard a stampede of feet and saw all three children bursting through the doors and out into the sunlight. Walking calmly behind them, seeming cool and in control, was the unshakeable Miss Talbot.

Malik watched her for a few seconds. The half-dozen Englishmen who had visited Huria at one time or another always seemed red in the face and sweaty. They spent half their time mopping their brows or exclaiming about the heat of the sun and the other half fanning themselves with whatever they could lay their hands on. Miss Talbot was different, she seemed to enjoy the heat, as she seemed to enjoy everything, and take pleasure from the sun. She never appeared flustered or hot and her crisp cotton dresses remained a brilliant white in colour, unstained by sweat or the sands of the desert. Malik didn’t know how she did it.

His gaze was drawn away from the governess by the sight of all three of his children stopping suddenly, mouths gaping open.

‘Father?’ Aahil said, as if he didn’t quite believe what he was seeing.

Malik wasn’t quite sure what the question was, but smiled encouragingly at his children.

‘Come on and find your horses, we’ve got a busy day planned.’

None of the children moved.

‘You’re really coming with us?’ Ameera asked.

Malik nodded.

‘Really?’ Ameera persisted. ‘Miss Talbot said you were, but we didn’t believe her.’

Malik felt a stab of sadness at his daughter’s comment, but he understood his children’s incredulity. He loved Aahil, Ameera and Hakim, but he didn’t spend much time with them. Running the kingdom took so much of his time and energy and it wasn’t as if he had ever taken them on an excursion before.

‘Really. Now, who needs a hand mounting their horse?’

Malik knew in the year since his wife had died his children had most likely craved attention, but he had been too busy working through his own issues to even realise it. His children needed him, they needed him to give them the attention their mother once had and they needed him to help them understand her death, even if he didn’t quite understand it himself. Throughout their young lives Malik knew he had kept his distance from his children and, looking at their beautiful faces assembled in front of him, he felt a pang of regret. As a boy it had been drummed into him that his place was running the kingdom and his wife would bring up any children, but now his children needed him to do both. Malik wondered whether he was capable of shouldering the responsibility for both Huria and the children and felt the weight of responsibility pressing heavily on him.