The young woman hovering at the edge of the room stepped forward and served them glasses of cool, refreshing lemon and mint and bowls of sugared almonds, then sat down on one of the empty cushions and proceeded to stare at Rachel. Rachel smiled and slowly the woman started to smile back. On her other side Malik was now deep in conversation with the village elder and Rachel wished she understood more of the language to know what they were talking about.
The conversation between the Sheikh and the elderly man sounded serious. They spoke quietly and intently for a few minutes whilst everyone recovered from the heat, then suddenly the Sheikh was on his feet. He turned to Rachel and offered his hand. She took it and allowed him to gently pull her up, aware that her body brushed against his as she rose and even more aware of how she’d enjoyed the contact.
Rachel was an innocent; she’d never kissed a man, never been touched by a man, and up until now that was how she’d always wanted things to stay. She’d been sheltered and shielded most of her young life, but Rachel knew desire when it came up and overpowered her, and it was desire she was feeling right now. Her pulse was rising, her skin was tingling and every single part of her wanted the Sheikh to run his hands over her bare skin and cover her lips with his own.
When she was growing up Rachel had never thought she would want to give in to such primitive urges. Her friend Isabel had always been a romantic, talking about meeting and falling in love with the man of her dreams, but Rachel had never given the matter much thought. What she did know was that she didn’t want a relationship like her parents. She had endured their tempestuous love for so many years she always thought she’d be happier without a man and all the complications that went with it. But with the Sheikh’s body so close to hers Rachel was beginning to wonder if she had much choice in the matter.
Once she was on her feet the Sheikh didn’t release her hand immediately, instead he tucked it into the crook of his arm and led her back outside.
‘The villagers want to put on a little entertainment,’ he said into her ear, his breath tickling her neck and making her shiver.
Rachel managed a nod, but didn’t trust herself to speak. Her arm was pressed up against his torso and she could feel the taut muscles through his thin shirt. She knew her reaction to him was entirely inappropriate, but she couldn’t seem to control her thoughts.
They were taken to a small, open area in the middle of the village that was surrounded by bright, colourful canopies. Rachel realised there were no trees in this dry little settlement and the fabric shades were the only way for the villagers to be outside and still keep cool. They sat and waited for a few minutes as villagers trickled in behind them, some taking seats under the canopies whilst others took their places in the middle of the square.
Rachel watched with anticipation, glad to have something to take her mind off the man beside her. The villagers were mainly dressed in long, cool robes of either black or white, and many also had some intricate piece of fabric covering their heads to keep them cool. Around the perimeter of the square some men had placed stools and were perched with instruments Rachel had never seen before, waiting for some cue before they started. These men were dressed in baggy dark trousers and silky bright tops. Some were young, only a year or two older than Aahil, others strong-looking working men and still others grey and wrinkled.
The villagers began clapping as a procession of young women glided past the musicians and into the open space, taking up positions around the square. These women all had flowing dark hair and Rachel felt her eyes widen in response to their attire. They all had long skirts on, made of thin, gauzy material that floated around their bodies. Their midriffs were bare, strips of bronzed skin between the gauzy skirts and the tight tops. Silky material encased their breasts and upper arms and the overall effect was mesmerising. Rachel looked down at her rather conservative cotton dress, buttoned up to the neck, and felt decidedly frumpy. She would love to get her hands on such beautiful materials and try on such scandalous items of clothing, only for herself to see, of course. Although maybe in such an outfit the Sheikh might let his eyes linger on her for a little longer.
Rachel chastised herself again. He was her employer and she should be focusing on his children, not how much she wanted him to look at her semi-nude with those smouldering eyes of his.
The musicians began to play, a slow tune at first, stamping their feet to give a beat for the dancers and adding the melody with their assorted instruments. After a few seconds the dancers began and Rachel was entranced. The gauzy skirts billowed out in all directions as the young women spun in circles and their bare abdomens gyrated and moved their bodies in ways Rachel hadn’t even thought possible.
It was exotic and sensual and so completely different to anything Rachel had ever seen before. Her friend Isabel had often put on performances at school, organising the girls and encouraging them to showcase their talents. She had an incredible singing voice and Rachel knew Isabel dreamed of being on the stage. As a result whenever a musician came to perform at the small theatre in Salisbury, Isabel was always there, often accompanied by her three friends if they could persuade one of the teachers at the school to chaperone them. Once they had even sneaked out to go to the annual Salisbury fair and had been awed by the singers and dancers that performed in tented auditoriums. Despite all this Rachel had seen nothing that could compare to the spectacle in front of her. Isabel would love to be here seated beside her, watching how the young girls moved, how they captured their audience’s attention. Rachel wondered how her friend was coping with life as a governess. Isabel was a free spirit and Rachel hoped the routine and rules wouldn’t break her friend.
As the dance ended the Sheikh leaned over to her, breaking the spell of the dancers.
‘What did you think?’ he asked.
‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything more wonderful in my life,’ Rachel said.
The Sheikh levelled her with a long stare that made Rachel feel hot all over, and then briskly turned away.
Chapter Six
Malik forced himself to look away. He had been watching his children’s governess during the dance, it was hard not to. He’d never known anyone take such joy in the world as Miss Talbot. She was mesmerised by the whirling dancers and the pounding music, and she didn’t care if everyone knew it. All his life Malik had been surrounded by people who tried to keep their emotions and feelings to themselves, who would baulk at the idea of their expressions giving away exactly what they were thinking. It was refreshing to be with someone who allowed herself to enjoy new experiences.
As he stared out across the square Malik wondered what Miss Talbot would look like in one of the gauzy dancer’s outfits. Her crisp, white cotton dresses were fitted to her figure, but hardly any skin peeked out of the material. He knew he shouldn’t be thinking of the young woman like this, she was his employee, but there was something rather alluring about her. He’d been drawn to her the very first time he’d seen her, looking around the entrance chamber in the palace with wonder, but today there was something more. Malik wasn’t going to deny she was attractive, but it wasn’t her thick dark hair or warm brown eyes that incited his desire, it was her demeanour, her smile, her joie de vivre. She was the complete opposite to his late wife. Aliyyah had gone through life as a victim, always low in mood and not bothering to do anything about it. Malik knew if there was something Miss Talbot didn’t like she would change it.
He sighed quietly. It was all very well imagining Miss Talbot in one of the revealing outfits, but that was as far as it could go. She was good with his children, better than anyone else had ever been, and they had to be his first priority. He couldn’t jeopardise their education by seducing their governess and scaring her off, no matter how much he might want to.
Even if he didn’t have his children to think about Malik knew a liaison between him and Miss Talbot was a bad idea. Deeper feelings betw
een a man and a woman complicated things. He’d seen how love had made Aliyyah miserable and how a love lost could be the most devastating thing of all. Although Malik had never experienced that kind of love he was also certain he never wanted to. His duty was to Huria and to his children.
Malik turned to his other side where Ameera was sitting quietly beside him. As soon as the dancers had finished both his sons had been on their feet and engaged in some game or other, but Ameera still sat in the same position, staring wistfully at the women in the square.
Malik took in her slightly sad demeanour and large, doleful eyes and wondered when he had first started recognising his children for the little people they were. Each had their own fears and dreams, fears and dreams Malik realised he knew too little about. All his life he had been counselled to put Huria first, even before the needs of his own children, but his children were the future of Huria. Malik knew there was also a fear of rejection deep inside him. His wife had rejected him for so many years, he was afraid if he started to try and become more involved with his children now, they might reject him, too.
‘What’s wrong, my little Princess?’ he asked his daughter.
Ameera just shook her head and continued to stare at the women in front of her.
Malik followed her gaze, saw her arms crossed over her body defensively and instinctively he knew what was troubling his little girl.
‘You’re beautiful, you know,’ he said quietly.
Ameera finally turned to look at him, her eyes heavy with questions and a little bit of hope.
‘Your mother was thought to be the most beautiful woman in the entire kingdom,’ Malik said, taking Ameera’s hand in his own, ‘and I think you are growing up to be even more beautiful than her.’
Ameera still didn’t speak and it was as if Malik could almost hear the thoughts running through her mind.
‘I know it might feel as though you are never going to grow up, that you look at those young women and just want to be like them, but one day you will outshine every single one of them. Do you know how I know that?’ Malik asked.
Ameera shook her head.
‘Because you do already.’
Malik saw the hope and the doubt all mixed together in his daughter’s eyes. He hadn’t known she was so worried about her looks, so insecure. At the age of six he didn’t think children thought like that, but seeing Ameera stare at the dancers he realised that probably no one had ever told her she was beautiful. He certainly hadn’t—whilst Aliyyah had been alive he’d left raising their children to her, and Malik had to admit his late wife probably hadn’t been in a fit state to compliment their little daughter. It made him feel sad to realise all the things his children had missed out on.
Malik knew he wasn’t going to fix her self-doubt in one conversation, but he made a mental note to drop in the odd compliment every now and then to see if it would bolster her self-esteem.
Ameera shyly reached out and took his hand and Malik felt the love for her swell inside his heart. He wondered whether maybe he had been missing out on something important, focusing so much on running Huria and not on his children. He knew he would never be able to give more than his very best to the kingdom he loved so much, but he also knew his children deserved more of his time.
‘I hope you enjoyed the entertainment, Your Majesty,’ the village elder said as Malik stood to greet him.
‘It was spectacular.’
‘I wonder if I could raise a sensitive issue with you.’
Malik nodded, allowing the elder to steer him away from his family, pleased to see Miss Talbot had led Ameera over to where her brothers were playing.
‘We have been troubled by bandits recently, Your Majesty. They will creep up on villagers who are travelling alone or in small groups, often along the traders’ route as they leave the village.’
Malik frowned. Huria had its share of crime like any other country, but bandits could become a big problem. They were often fast and fearless, spreading terror through the villages they targeted, and they were difficult to catch.
‘They have beaten several men and they seem to be getting bolder, edging closer to the village. I am worried about an all-out attack.’
‘How many are there?’
‘Five men, large and muscular. They are carrying swords and are on horseback.’
‘Have you heard of any other villages that are affected?’
The elder shook his head. ‘So far I’ve had no word from the local villages that they’ve had any attacks.’
Malik knew they needed to catch these bandits before they became a big problem. He beckoned Wahid over and explained the situation.
‘I can arrange for ten men to come and guard the village if you can provide lodgings and food,’ Malik said. ‘We will need to keep their presence as quiet as possible, just in case anyone local is involved with the bandits.’
The elder grasped Malik’s hand in thanks.
‘Once we return to the palace we will organise the men. They should be with you by nightfall,’ Wahid said.
Malik glanced over at his children playing happily with Miss Talbot and felt a stab of panic. He wasn’t afraid of confrontation and was an accomplished swordsman, but normally on the occasions he’d had to use his sword he’d not been accompanied by three children and a woman. If he’d known about the bandits they would have brought a larger guard. As it was he and Wahid would be able to protect themselves if they were attacked, but he wasn’t sure if they would be able to protect the whole group. Wahid followed Malik’s gaze, his eyes settling on the children.
‘Maybe we should head back to the palace,’ Wahid suggested.
Malik nodded his agreement. They would be upset their trip was to be cut short, but he’d much prefer disappointed children to them falling into the bandits’ hands.
* * *
With much ceremony and many hand grasps and wishes of good fortune they eventually mounted the horses half an hour later. Malik once again had Hakim in front of him on his horse. This time the little boy had bounded up eagerly to be pulled up in front of his father.
‘We need to return to the palace, I’m afraid,’ Malik said as they set off out of the village.
Three disappointed faces looked up at him.
He wondered over the best approach to take and eventually decided on telling the truth. His three children were intelligent and would understand why they had to leave if he told them about the bandits.
‘There have been some bandits on this road, and I want to get you safely back home,’ he said, glancing at all of his children in turn. Aahil remained serious, his eyes darting from side to side as if checking for hidden dangers. Ameera looked a little excited and Hakim buried himself in closer to Malik. Miss Talbot remained remarkably calm. Malik knew when faced with the idea of bandits many women would swoon or twitter incessantly, but his children’s governess just sat a little straighter in the saddle and pulled her horse closer to Ameera’s as if she were ready to shield the young girl from whatever a bandit could throw at her.
Everyone seemed tense and Malik could feel the icy tingle of anticipation himself. His blood was pounding around his body and his senses on high alert.
* * *
They travelled for nearly an hour in silence. The tension was beginning to wane and one by one Malik could see his children begin to relax. In front of him Hakim was growing heavy and his body was beginning to slump. Even Malik was starting to relax. They were riding faster than the journey to the village, and at this pace Malik calculated they would be back at the palace within an hour. The further they got from the village, the less likely an attack from the bandits seemed.
Just as Malik was thinking he was certain they were out of danger, a figure on horseback appeared in front of them. He was clothed head-to-toe in black, most of his face obscured by fabric wit
h only his eyes peeking out.
Quickly Malik looked behind them, knowing if this was an attack by the bandits then they would soon be surrounded. He needed to find a way to get his family to safety before the rest of the bandits got into position.
With a loud cry four more men appeared and galloped towards them, their horses kicking up sand and snorting into the dust cloud. Malik wheeled round a few times, keeping one arm looped around his son, the other controlling the reins and trying to brandish a sword. He could feel Hakim shaking with fear, his whole body stiffening in Malik’s arms. Malik knew bandits such as these were often ruthless men who would think nothing of killing a child if it got them what they wanted. He felt sick at the prospect of one of his children being injured and he wondered if he should offer himself as a sacrifice, let the bandits have him if they let his children go.
‘Stand still,’ the head bandit ordered. Everyone gripped their reins tensely, nobody daring to move. ‘Do exactly as I say and you’ll stay alive.’
Malik glanced over at Wahid and saw his old friend eyeing up the two bandits closest to him. Wahid would be able to defeat both men, but that left three to deal with. Malik looked to his right. The two bandits there were nervous, their bodies stiff and their swords held at unnatural angles. He would bet his fortune that these men did not want to attack their party—that they had argued with their leader. All the attacks so far had been on people on foot, small groups or individuals that would not even think to put up a fight. Malik knew he would be able to disarm both men without too much trouble, but that left the leader. He was calm and confident, and was making sure he stayed well out of reach from both men.
‘Give us your valuables,’ the bandit said. ‘Money and jewellery. Pass them to the lady and she will bring them to me.’
‘What’s he saying?’ Miss Talbot asked.
Malik translated. Miss Talbot looked thoughtfully at the head bandit, then nodded.
‘Do it,’ she said.
GOVERNESS TO THE SHEIKH Page 7