Laura Martin - Governess To The Sheikh

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.