GOVERNESS TO THE SHEIKH

by MARTIN, LAURA

  ‘We can make costumes?’ she asked, the hope and excitement mingling on her face.

  Rachel nodded. ‘Dancer’s costumes.’

  For a few seconds more Ameera sat running her fingers over the gauzy material, then suddenly she was on her feet.

  ‘Wait there. Promise you won’t move, Miss Talbot.’

  Ameera darted from the room, disappearing from view within seconds, leaving Rachel to wonder what she could have thought of that was so important or exciting. She was back in two minutes, carrying a large bundle under her arm. Excitedly she held up the items she had run to fetch and Rachel realised they were thin cotton trousers, the sort many dancers wore underneath their flowing skirts to preserve a little of their modesty.

  Carefully Rachel showed Ameera how to measure and cut the fabric, pin it into position and then delicately sew the edges together to fashion flowing skirts to be worn over the cotton trousers. The young Princess watched intently, then followed Rachel’s lead, laughing and smiling when the outfit began to take shape.

  The tops were a little more difficult to make. The dancers in Talir had left their midriffs bare, wearing skimpy tops that covered their breasts but not much else. Rachel knew this wasn’t appropriate for Ameera, but she also knew the young girl wouldn’t want something too different to what she had seen.

  * * *

  They worked together for two hours, Ameera concentrating hard on the task at hand, but opening up a little to Rachel, too. She talked of her mother, and her hopes and dreams, and Rachel realised the little Princess was lonely. With two brothers and no mother she was starved of female companionship and a role model. Rachel just hoped she could go a little way in making up for that.

  For her part Rachel told Ameera of her time at school, of her three friends and some of their exploits.

  ‘You remind me a lot of my friend Isabel,’ Rachel told the young girl. ‘She’s headstrong and outspoken and would like nothing more than to be on the stage as a singer. We used to put on performances at school, some girls would play instruments, others would dance, but Isabel would always steal the show with her singing.’

  ‘I wish I could be the best dancer in the world,’ Ameera said.

  ‘Work hard at it and anything is possible, little one.’

  Finally the outfits had taken shape. It was fully dark outside and Rachel knew she should be ushering her young charge to bed, but Ameera was so excited about the prospect of trying her new outfit on Rachel couldn’t bring herself to deny her.

  ‘You try yours on, too,’ Ameera instructed, as she wriggled into the trousers and started to step into the gauzy skirt.

  Rachel had fashioned an outfit for herself alongside the one she had helped Ameera make, but she had thought only to try it on in private, to keep it as her little indulgence no one else would ever see.

  ‘Maybe another time, Ameera,’ Rachel said, helping the young girl fasten the skirt around her waist.

  ‘Please, Miss Talbot, then we can pretend to be dancers together.’

  Rachel looked into Ameera’s eager face and relented. It would only be her and the six-year-old Princess who would ever see the slightly scandalous outfit—there couldn’t be any harm in it.

  Once Ameera was dressed Rachel unfastened her cotton dress and slipped on a pair of the trousers Ameera had brought for her. She wondered whose they had been. Luckily they more or less fit; the waistband was a little loose, but could be tightened with a piece of cord, and the legs were a little short, but under the flowing skirt it wouldn’t be too obvious.

  ‘Mother was a good dancer,’ Ameera said quietly. ‘Or at least that’s what Mrs Fitt said. I never saw her dance.’

  So the trousers had likely once been Ameera’s mother’s.

  ‘I never saw her do much at all.’

  Rachel moved towards Ameera, thinking to comfort her, but the young Princess turned away slightly, gathering up the material of her new skirt in her hands. Not for the first time Rachel wondered what their mother had been like. All three children hardly spoke of her and when they did their comments hinted that they did not know their mother well. Rachel couldn’t imagine being blessed with three such wonderful children and wanting to keep your distance. If she were a mother, she would want to be involved in every aspect of her children’s lives.

  Rachel wriggled into the rest of the costume and turned to survey herself in the full-length mirror. For a few seconds she just stared, running her hands over her body, not quite believing it was her she was seeing in the reflection. Gone was the prim white dress, with buttons all the way up to the neck, and in its place was a scandalously revealing outfit that showed off more skin than Rachel’s underclothes.

  ‘You look nice, Miss Talbot,’ Ameera said, coming to stand beside her.

  ‘You look lovely,’ Rachel said, turning to face Ameera. ‘You look as though you’re about to go and join a troupe of dancing girls.’

  Ameera swayed from side to side, swishing her skirt around her knees and running her fingers over the soft material. Rachel knew she’d done a good thing today, despite Malik’s words of warning over risking her own safety. The smile on Ameera’s face, and the confidences she had begun to share, were worth a little risk.

  ‘I never want to take it off.’

  Rachel smiled indulgently. ‘I think maybe it would be a good idea to take it off before you go to sleep, otherwise the whole outfit might become ruined.’

  Ameera looked up at Rachel and seemed to hesitate for a second, then she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around Rachel’s hips, hugging her close. Rachel felt a swell of contentment inside. She was slowly and surely breaking down these children’s walls and finding a way to help them blossom and grow.

  ‘Thank you,’ Ameera said, her face buried in Rachel’s tummy.

  ‘Thank you, Ameera, I had a lovely evening.’

  Rachel watched as the young girl skipped from the room, swishing her skirt backwards and forward as she went, twirling and pirouetting and leaping from side to side.

  Rachel turned back to the mirror. She had chosen the purple material to complement Ameera’s colouring, but she could see it was a shade that also sat well on her own honeyed skin tones and looked good against her dark hair. Tentatively Rachel raised a hand and trailed her fingers across the bare skin of her abdomen. Never had she worn anything that left so much skin scandalously bare, not even as a small child. She could not tell if so much skin was alluring or if it didn’t leave enough to the imagination. Although the dancers in Talir had held everyone’s attention with similar outfits.

  A soft knock on the door roused her from her perusal of her body and her outfit. She thought it was likely Ameera returning for something she had forgotten, but just in case Rachel hurriedly pulled a sheet from the bed and wrapped it around her body, hiding the outfit underneath.

  She opened the door to find Mallik standing on the other side, leaning casually against the wall. He raised an eyebrow at her attire, taking in the voluminous sheets that covered her from neck to toe.

  ‘I thought I’d let you know the trek is arranged for the beginning of next week,’ Malik said.

  Rachel knew he didn’t have to come and tell her this information this evening, it would have been much more appropriate to seek her out tomorrow when she was with the children.

  ‘I just saw Ameera leaving your room,’ Malik continued. ‘She was dressed like a dancer.’

  ‘We made costumes,’ Rachel said, feeling the colour start to rise in her cheeks. Malik was studying her intently, as if he were trying to see through the sheet to what lay beneath.

  ‘I know, I spoke to her.’

  Rachel nodded, her mouth feeling suddenly too dry to speak.

  ‘She said you had both made costumes.’

  Rachel nodded again.

  ‘I see.’r />
  Malik seemed to be wrestling with himself and Rachel wasn’t sure which side of him she wanted to win.

  ‘Maybe I...’ He trailed off, straightened and took a step back. ‘Goodnight Rachel,’ he said firmly.

  Rachel watched as Malik walked away, undeniable disappointment blossoming inside her. It wasn’t as though she ever meant for him to see her in the outfit, but a small part of her wanted to observe his reaction as his eyes swept over her body, taking in every inch of bare skin and every curve.

  Chapter Twelve

  Malik rose early, favouring a quick trip to his private hammam to an extra hour’s sleep. He was going to be spending the majority of the day on the back of a camel and the night on the desert floor, so he wanted his muscles to be as relaxed as possible before the trek ahead. It wasn’t as though he would have slept well anyway, his dreams had been invaded the last few nights by images of Rachel dressed as a scantily clad dancer. Every time Malik imagined something slightly different and after nights of interrupted sleep he was aching to know the truth. He wished he hadn’t tried to be so noble, so self-controlled, and had pulled Rachel’s covering sheet down and seen what lay beneath when he had had the chance.

  Damn his sense of chivalry and honour, for once Malik just wanted to be a man.

  He allowed himself thirty blissful minutes in the sweltering steam room, and after a dip in the cold pool he felt refreshed and revitalised.

  ‘Father, Ameera said I can’t ride my own camel,’ Hakim accosted him as soon as he exited his private rooms.

  Malik smiled indulgently and felt a sense of well-being wash over him. A few weeks ago he would have stormed off to find his daughter and reprimanded her for dashing her brother’s hopes.

  ‘I don’t see why you can’t ride a camel,’ Malik said, ruffling Hakim’s dark hair.

  Hopeful eyes looked up into his own.

  ‘All by myself?’

  ‘All by yourself.’

  When planning the trip Malik had realised his youngest son would probably like a taste of independence, especially because they would encounter nomadic children even younger than Hakim who were more confident on camelback than walking on their own two feet. He had instructed one of the stable masters to find a saddle Hakim could be safely strapped into and to ensure the little boy’s camel was always tethered to his own. That way Hakim would feel like he was in control without things actually being dangerous.

  Hakim scampered off, no doubt to find Ameera and correct her. Malik made his way to the entrance of the palace to see how the preparations were coming along.

  * * *

  At nine exactly Rachel emerged with all three of his children in tow. Their faces broke out into beams of pleasure as they saw the assembled camels and they ran towards him chattering excitedly. Malik couldn’t help but glance at Rachel and saw for once she was looking a little apprehensive.

  ‘There’s nothing to worry about,’ Malik said softly to her as she came to stand by his side. ‘Camels are gentle beasts. They will not try to throw you or hurt you.’

  Rachel’s eyes met his own and for a few moments it was as though it was just the two of them. Malik was tempted to sweep Rachel up on to one of the camels and show her there was nothing to be afraid of, but he knew the proximity wouldn’t be good for them. He’d spent far too much time recently thinking about his children’s governess, he didn’t need any more close encounters to fuel his dreams.

  ‘You might find it a little difficult to ride in that dress, though,’ Malik said, looking Rachel up and down.

  He had never really considered suitable camel-riding attire before. He had donned the traditional loose trousers and white tunic top that the nomads of Huria had been wearing for centuries, whether riding their camels or trekking through the desert on foot. The thin garments gave protection from the sun, but let you remain cool at the same time.

  Rachel looked up at the camel standing before her uncertainly.

  ‘What else can I wear?’

  Malik considered the question carefully. When he came to think about it you didn’t see many women riding camels in Huria. They were expected to stay at home, raise the children and run the house, not trek through the desert on camelback. If they did need to travel most women either walked if they were poor or sat in front of their husbands on horseback.

  ‘Come with me, sayeda, I have just the thing,’ Wahid said, stepping forward.

  Malik busied himself helping each of his children mount their camels, ensuring each was securely strapped into the saddles before the servants ushered the large beasts to their feet. Hakim and Ameera squealed in pleasure as the camels rocked backwards and forward as they rose, and even Aahil could not stop himself grinning at the ungainly movements.

  After a few minutes Malik heard Rachel’s voice from the entrance chamber of the palace. She sounded as if she were disagreeing with Wahid and he was trying his best to reassure her. Reluctantly Rachel stepped out into the daylight.

  Malik stared in disbelief. Wahid had certainly found clothes Rachel would be able to ride a camel in: Malik’s clothes.

  ‘I’m not sure that’s appropriate,’ Malik began as Wahid led Rachel down the steps.

  ‘See, it’s not appropriate,’ Rachel protested.

  ‘Nonsense,’ Wahid said with a wave of his hand. ‘His Majesty is just worried he won’t be able to keep his eyes on the camels.’

  Rachel’s eyes widened and rose to meet Malik’s. For his part Malik couldn’t deny Wahid was right. His old friend had raided Malik’s own wardrobe and clothed Rachel in his European riding trousers. They were skintight and hugged every curve. Admittedly Rachel was also wearing a tunic over the top of the trousers, but that only covered so much, and Malik could make out enough of her figure below to distract him from the trek ahead.

  ‘But what if we meet people on the road?’ Rachel asked.

  ‘They will just think you are an eccentric English woman, sayeda, you’ve nothing to worry about,’ Wahid said cheerfully. ‘Now, why don’t you help Miss Talbot on to her camel, Your Majesty?’

  Malik stepped forward, trying to pretend he wasn’t still a little mesmerised by the shape of Rachel’s legs under the skintight riding breeches.

  ‘I’m guessing you’ve never done this before?’ Malik asked.

  Rachel shook her head. She was nervous, he realised, the woman who took everything in her stride was nervous of riding a camel.

  ‘They’re gentle beasts,’ Malik repeated his assurance from earlier. ‘But it is very different riding a camel to riding a horse.’

  Malik held out his hand and steadied Rachel as she swung one leg over her camel’s back. Already he could see Wahid was right, Rachel wouldn’t get far at all trying to ride in her voluminous dress.

  ‘Now make sure you’re comfortable, then hold tight.’

  He arranged her hands on the pommel in front of her.

  ‘Really tight.’ He pressed his hands on top of hers to ensure she had a good grip on the wood. ‘Are you ready?’

  For a moment he wondered if she was going to say no, to ask him to saddle a horse for her and have done with it, but he doubted Rachel had ever shied away from any new experience in her life.

  ‘I’m ready,’ she said, a slight tremor in her voice.

  ‘Up,’ Malik gave the command and swatted the camel on the rump.

  The camel lurched upwards, throwing Rachel first forward, then backwards. Malik saw the fear on her face, but once the camel was on its feet he could see her muscles relaxing a little as she got used to the new sensation.

  Malik had been riding camels since he was a boy. He loved the ungainly looking beasts. They looked as though they could only move at a slow pace, but once camels got going they could cover large distances surprising quickly and their movements were much more graceful than
their appearances suggested. He hopped on to the back of his camel, issued the command and hung on tight as he rose from the ground.

  Now that they were all mounted Malik rode to the front of their small group and waited for Rachel and the children to gather round him.

  ‘The rest of the group will meet us on the route east, but first we have a stop to make.’

  Aahil’s eyes widened and Malik turned to his eldest son.

  ‘Pay attention to the route we take. One day you will be the guardian of the high place and you will need to know how to get there.’

  ‘You’re taking us to the high place?’ Aahil asked, his voice husky with anticipation.

  ‘It’s time,’ Malik said simply.

  All three children remained quiet for the next few minutes—even Hakim was aware of the enormity of the moment. Malik led their little party through the oasis and out into the desert to the north-east. This route was rocky and wound through long-dried-up gorges and riverbeds. The rocks were a beautiful amber colour out here and the sand beneath their feet had a similar vibrancy. This was the true Huria that Malik loved, these rocky hills and jagged pathways. Centuries earlier his ancestors had made this area their home and as a young boy Malik’s father had brought him on a similar journey to the one they were doing now. It had been one of the few times they had done something together, just father and son, with no servants or advisors accompanying them. Malik remembered the weight of responsibility as his father had explained the purpose of their trip, and now he felt proud to be passing the tradition on to his own son.

  ‘Long ago this is where our ancestors settled when they first made Huria their home. They had been nomadic people, but the beauty of this land inspired them to put down roots and build a kingdom here.’

  Malik swivelled his head round as he spoke so he could see his children. They were all looking around in awe and at the back of the group Rachel was visibly enthralled by the experience.

  ‘For many years our ancestors lived as one with the landscape, slowly turning the many caves in the cliffs into homes and adding small additions made from wood and fabric.’