GOVERNESS TO THE SHEIKH

by MARTIN, LAURA

  ‘Good evening, Your Majesty...’ Rachel paused for a second. ‘Malik.’

  She looked at him questioningly as if to see whether he would withdraw his offer for things to be so informal between them.

  ‘Good evening, Rachel. You’re looking well.’

  She was dressed in her normal white cotton dress, but her cheeks were a rosy pink and her eyes glittered in the moonlight.

  ‘Thank you. I feel much better.’

  Malik hesitated, then held out the orchid. ‘This is for you.’

  He was rewarded with a sunny smile and found himself suffused with pleasure that he’d been the one to make Rachel so happy. Carefully she took the delicate plant and inspected the beautiful petals and spindly stem.

  ‘It’s beautiful. No one’s ever given me a flower before.’

  Malik opened his mouth to disagree with her, surely a woman as good-natured and attractive as Rachel had received flowers before, but then he remembered her letter of introduction; until she’d travelled to Huria she’d been sequestered and shielded from the world at a girl’s school. He felt inexplicably pleased that she’d never had an admirer before.

  ‘It’s an orchid, not native to Huria, but it thrives with a little love and attention.’

  He offered her his arm and as she slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow he began to lead her slowly through the garden.

  This was one of Malik’s favourite places in the world. He loved coming into the sunken garden after dark, when the paths were lit by the silvery moonlight and the whole place looked magical. It had been a labour of love to cultivate, his father had told him, and his mother had spent all her spare time pruning and tending to the plants. Even though she had died giving birth to Malik, he still imagined he could picture her out here, bestowing love and patience on her garden.

  ‘It’s magical out here,’ Rachel said after a few minutes of silence. She was looking around with an awed expression on her face and her eyes were lit up with pleasure.

  ‘It was my mother’s garden,’ Malik said, surprising himself with the revelation. He’d never told anyone he still thought of the sunken bit of paradise as his mother’s; it seemed indulgent and sentimental, but out here under the stars Malik thought Rachel would understand.

  He saw her turn towards him, her expression full of questions, and Malik knew he wasn’t ready to reveal his past to her yet, however much of a good listener Rachel might be. So instead he guided her forward and began to ask questions of his own.

  ‘How are you finding Huria?’ he asked, finding he genuinely wanted to know the answer. It had heartened him when she had assured his children that she would not be scared away from the country because of the bandit attack. Malik knew she was good for his children—they had blossomed in the short time she had been their governess—but he also knew there was more to his desire for her to stay.

  He respected her; she was a talented governess despite being so young and fresh out of school herself. She understood his children’s needs and wants and seemed to anticipate their questions and queries. More than that, she made him a better father.

  Malik was too astute to fool himself that respect was all there was. Certainly that had been how it had started, but over the last few days he couldn’t deny he had started looking at her with something more than respect in his eyes. He liked her, she was kind and fun and open-minded. Malik, who even as a child had been taught to keep his distance from people, felt himself wanting to draw closer to her, to get to know her better.

  ‘I love it here,’ she said simply. ‘I love the country and I love the children and I love my job.’

  He found himself smiling back at her. It was refreshing to have someone just come out and admit exactly how they were feeling. Many of the people he dealt with were skilled negotiators, people who held back and kept you guessing as to what they were thinking.

  ‘You don’t miss England too much?’

  He saw her pause before answering and she considered the question carefully.

  ‘I miss a lot of things,’ she said slowly. ‘I miss the feel of the rain on my face and the sound of a horse-drawn carriage on the cobbles. I miss the chatter of the other girls at school and I miss talking about my day with my friends. I miss the feel of grass between my toes and I miss having to pull a shawl across my shoulders on a chilly night.’ She paused again and gave a self-deprecating laugh. ‘Lots of things I never thought I would miss really, except for the other girls, of course.’

  ‘But you don’t regret your decision to come to Huria?’

  Malik found he was holding his breath as he waited for her to answer. He wanted her to be pleased with her life out here in the desert kingdom, pleased with the niche she had carved for herself in the palace.

  ‘No, I don’t regret it.’ There was no hesitation this time and Rachel’s eyes met Malik’s and held his gaze. ‘There are things that I miss about England, but there was nothing keeping me there.’

  Malik realised he knew next to nothing about Rachel’s life before she had come to Huria. He knew where she was educated and he was in possession of a couple of praise-filled letters from her teachers at Madame Dubois’s School for Young Ladies, but as to her private life, her family and friends he knew nothing.

  ‘You must have family,’ Malik said. ‘I’ve seen you writing letters, I assumed they were to your parents.’

  Rachel shook her head, looking a little surprised that he had noticed her prolific letter writing. Malik was a bit surprised himself. He was observant, but normally his observations were limited to things important to Huria.

  ‘I write to my friends. The three girls I was at Madame Dubois’s with. They’re all the family I have now.’

  She paused, looking out over the garden with a hint of sadness in her expression, and Malik knew immediately she had lost both her parents, just as he had.

  ‘My parents died a couple of years ago,’ she said, and although Malik could tell she was trying to be pragmatic, she couldn’t keep all the emotion from her voice. ‘Malaria.’

  Malik frowned in surprise. Malaria was not what British people died of, at least not parents of a nice young lady like Rachel Talbot. Rachel must have noticed his surprise and smiled a sad smile.

  ‘They were keen travellers, always setting sail for different parts of the world. One day they left and never came back. They’d always written me such wonderful letters about their travels, but the letters suddenly stopped. A few months later I received word of their deaths.’

  Malik found himself raising a hand and touching her gently on the upper arm. It was a gesture of sympathy and he saw her take strength from his touch.

  ‘You must miss them very much,’ he said, thinking of the hole left in his life when his father had died.

  Rachel turned to look at him and a new expression crossed her face—guilt.

  ‘Is it bad if I say some days go by when I don’t think of them at all?’ she asked. ‘I loved them, of course I loved them, but they were hardly ever there, always travelling, always setting off to exotic locations, that sometimes I feel like they’re not really gone.’

  Malik saw the pain in her face as she confessed her feelings and not for the first time marvelled at how open and honest she was. Most people would have just said they missed their parents and left it at that, instead Rachel was baring her soul to him.

  Malik moved in closer, knowing his next words were going to be important.

  ‘It isn’t bad,’ he said. ‘Just honest. If more people were honest about how they felt, the world would be a better and more simple place.’

  He watched her as she searched his face for a few moments, then looked out across the garden.

  ‘I have fond memories of them,’ Rachel said. ‘They were fun to be around, but sooner or later they would always leave again and I would be left
behind, wondering when I would see them again.’

  ‘It sounds like you were hurt by their desertion of you,’ Malik said gently.

  Rachel nodded. ‘Every time they returned I thought it would be different, that if I was better, more interesting, they might stay or even take me with them. For years I cried and thought I would never be good enough.’

  ‘What changed?’ Malik knew something must have changed. Rachel was a confident young woman who did things her own way. She did not kowtow to anyone else and she obviously believed in herself.

  ‘I went to school. I met Joanna, Isabel and Grace and I realised there was more to the world than my parents. They became my family, the ones that I turned to when I was upset or when I was celebrating.’

  ‘They sound like wonderful young women,’ Malik said quietly.

  A smile blossomed across Rachel’s face, a smile of true happiness. Malik knew in that instant he would move heaven and earth to see that smile directed at him. The thought hit him and he felt himself physically taking a step back. He hadn’t expected to feel such strong emotions towards the pretty young woman. Physical attraction he could deal with, but deeper feelings were an abstract concept for him and he felt a bubble of panic.

  ‘They’re who I write the letters to,’ Rachel said. ‘I’ve told them all about Huria, all about the children...’ she paused and turned to look at Malik ‘...all about you,’ she finished quietly.

  They stood no more than a foot apart, his hand still resting on her arm. It would take no effort at all to pull Rachel towards him, to cover her lips with his own.

  Before Malik could act Rachel looked away, breaking the moment. Even in the moonlight he could see the blush creep across her cheeks and he found himself wanting to reach out and run a finger over the silky skin, to feel the warmth of her blush under his fingertips.

  ‘I’m glad you want to stay,’ Malik said, cursing himself for his words. This moment called for poetry, for a quotation from a book or an improvised compliment, but he’d never been one for poetry. He’d always preferred hard facts to flowery verses, favouring engineering and history to literature in his studies, and Aliyyah had never wanted him to woo her. She had shied away if he’d even tried to hold a conversation, he probably would have received stony silence if he’d recited a line of poetry at his late wife.

  ‘Right now, right at this moment, I can’t think of anywhere I’d rather be.’

  * * *

  Rachel felt dizzy with anticipation. It must be the head injury, she reasoned, normally she wasn’t so forward and daring. There was something rather magical about this garden, though, as if they had entered another world, one where only she and Malik existed. The moonlight glinted from pools of water and the lovingly tended foliage cast deep shadows across the ground, and for a moment Rachel felt like a princess being wooed by a handsome and exotic prince.

  She knew she needed to get a grip on reality again. Nothing could happen between them, at least nothing lasting and meaningful, and Rachel wasn’t about to throw away her dream job for the sake of a man.

  ‘Tell me about the children’s mother,’ Rachel said, suggesting the one topic that was bound to put distance between them.

  Malik turned away slightly and immediately Rachel regretted the question. She realised she wanted to bask in the Sheikh’s undivided attention for a few moments longer and now she had instead brought up a topic that was bound to be painful for Malik. She felt selfish and unkind and placed a hand on Malik’s arm to stop him from answering.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, waiting for him to look at her before she continued. ‘I don’t want to pry. Let’s talk of something else.’

  For a moment Rachel thought Malik would agree, that her ill-timed question would be swept away and they could continue their pleasant walk through the gardens, but then Malik seemed to withdraw a little and Rachel knew his thoughts were in the past.

  ‘It was an arranged marriage.’ He chuckled softly. ‘In fact, I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t betrothed to Aliyyah. On paper it was a perfect match, she was the daughter of the wealthiest family in Huria, but in reality it was a disaster.’

  Malik turned away from her slightly as if he found it hard to confess his marriage had not been successful. Rachel supposed he was so good at everything in life, so used to succeeding, that it must hurt to admit his marriage hadn’t been as perfect as it should.

  ‘We both did our duty, married and produced children, heirs for the kingdom, but there wasn’t really anything more to it.’

  He fell silent and Rachel realised he probably had never told anyone about his marriage before. It wasn’t as if he had lots of close friends or a brother to confide in. She felt strangely pleased that he had told her so much and felt as though she should give something back.

  ‘I always wonder what makes a marriage work,’ Rachel said slowly, not wanting to say anything to offend the Sheikh. ‘My parents were madly in love, they didn’t have eyes for anyone else but each other, but they had an awful marriage. One moment they were full of passion and devotion, the next they were shouting and throwing things at each other. I don’t think either of them were truly happy.’

  Malik turned back towards her and Rachel felt as though his eyes were inside her head, reading her innermost thoughts.

  ‘And that is why you have decided to become a governess, to focus on the children in your care.’

  Silently Rachel nodded, thinking it sounded a bit foolish when it was said out loud. It was why she had worked so hard at school. Whilst other girls had dreamed of husbands and families Rachel had always longed for an adventure and freedom. She couldn’t deny the fact that she never would have children of her own didn’t sadden her a little, but that was the price she had to pay. She would just have to love other people’s children instead.

  ‘I think the ways of our parents affect us more than we ever realise,’ Malik said.

  ‘When my parents sent me to school I think it was a way to pass on their responsibility for me. They never meant for me to be a governess.’ She paused, wondering if Malik really wanted to hear all of the details of her unsatisfactory childhood. ‘They always assumed I would marry a young man of a good family.’

  ‘You didn’t agree?’

  ‘Secretly I always wanted to be a governess. I didn’t want to be tied down in marriage and I wanted the freedom to choose my own path.’ Rachel grimaced. ‘It was a good job really—when my parents passed away they were in debt. What money was left over from the sale of our house just about covered my remaining school fees. I wasn’t exactly a good match for a titled gentleman.’

  They walked on wordlessly for a few minutes, both lost in their own thoughts, their own pasts. The garden was not large, but Malik was guiding her down winding paths and through miniature tree-lined avenues. He seemed to be walking with a purpose and after a few minutes they emerged from the foliage and started to climb some steps. Once at the top Malik directed her to a small bench and together they sat down.

  As Rachel turned and looked over the garden they had just walked through she heard herself gasp with pleasure. From the elevated height the garden was magnificent. What seemed like a haphazard collection of plants, trees and water features whilst you were walking through was actually a meticulously planned pattern, swirling out from a central pool with a fountain. She understood now why the garden was sunk beneath the level of the palace—whilst you were in it you could enjoy a stroll through the foliage, but from above you could admire the majesty of the entire layout.

  ‘It’s beautiful,’ Rachel said, unable to tear her eyes away from the garden beneath them.

  ‘Many people see Huria as a country of dust and sand,’ Malik said. ‘When I picture my country I think of this; the beauty you can have in an arid climate if you put in a little work and a lot of love.’

  Rachel turned to
wards him and studied his face. Malik was looking out over the garden with pride and happiness, the raw emotions obvious on his features. She thought back to the man she had first met on her arrival to the palace, the stiff and formal Sheikh who she had butted heads with over the education of his children. She had thought him severe and uptight, but she realised now she had been blind. Malik was a proud man and as Sheikh he had to keep his distance from people, but that didn’t stop him from feeling happiness and sadness, love and grief the same as everyone else.

  Hesitatingly Rachel reached out and took his hand in hers. She wondered if he would pull away, erect the invisible barrier that until recently had stood between them. Malik looked down at her hand and then at her.

  Slowly, their bodies swayed closer together. Rachel felt Malik raise his free hand and run his fingers through her hair, down the nape of her neck and over her shoulders. The contact made her shiver with anticipation and lean even closer to Malik. For a few moments their eyes met and Rachel knew she would not be able to resist his kiss. She wanted to feel his lips on hers, his hands caressing her skin. She wanted it so much she allowed her eyes to flutter closed and her body to press against his.

  Softly he brought his lips down on to hers, kissing her slowly, languorously, as if they had all night to enjoy each other. Rachel felt Malik’s hand continue to travel down her back, caressing her skin through her thin dress and coming to rest in the small of her back. She arched her neck, pressing her lips more firmly on to his, and felt a thrill of pleasure as he gently ran the tip of his tongue along her lower lip.

  Rachel moaned softly and the sound seemed to galvanise Malik into deepening the kiss. They were clinging on to one another now, as if both afraid the other would pull away, and Rachel raised a hand to cup Malik’s cheek. She stroked the smooth skin, eliciting a deep groan from Malik, and then she felt him gently pull away.

  For thirty seconds they just looked at one another, both their eyes glazed from the passion of the moment. Malik’s hand was still resting on Rachel’s lower back, but Rachel had let her fingers fall from his cheek.