Rachel smiled. She supposed it wasn’t truly a bad thing, although the thought of having people talk about her, speculate about her relationship with the Sheikh, felt a little surreal. She’d never been anyone important, never been interesting enough to be the subject of anyone’s gossip before.
‘You don’t mind?’ Rachel asked.
Malik shrugged. ‘Speculation and rumour had been part of my life for so long I barely even notice it.’
Rachel was suddenly struck by how different Malik’s life had been to hers. He had never known anonymity, every trip he took had to be pre-planned and every place he visited he was surrounded by a group of guards. He couldn’t just pop out to the market if something took his fancy, or stop to talk to an interesting old lady on the street. Despite his riches and his power Rachel felt a little sorry for him. Malik might be Sheikh of Huria, but he didn’t have true freedom.
Chapter Fourteen
The sun was just beginning to dip lower in the sky as Malik rounded up his children and escorted them to the small campfire Wahid was building. Rachel was sitting on the ground, passing pieces of wood to Wahid when he needed them and talking quietly to the older man. For a moment Malik was struck by Rachel’s serenity and he wondered how many women would be as calm as she was after hearing the rumours Omar had been repeating.
Inside Malik was still a maelstrom of emotions from his confrontation with his ex-brother-in-law. Everything he had told Rachel was true—Omar was a fool and an impetuous one at that, but even so Malik didn’t want the rest of Aliyyah’s family hurt by the rumours. More importantly he didn’t want this trip with his children to be spoiled by Omar’s rude interruption.
‘Come and sit down,’ Wahid said. ‘Pick a spot close to the fire, it’ll get cold once the sun goes down.’
Immediately Hakim went and cuddled in next to Rachel, and Malik was struck by a sudden wave of sentimentality as she pulled the small boy in closer to her. She’d make a good mother; she had so much love for his children and they weren’t even her own blood. Malik knew governesses generally didn’t marry and have families of their own, but for Rachel to stay single and not be someone’s mother would be a great shame.
He was surprised at his thoughts, but he knew they were driven by images of his wife with their children. Aliyyah had loved Aahil, Ameera and Hakim, Malik was sure of it, but she hadn’t really been in a position to demonstrate her love. So much of her life had been consumed by the blackness that crept over her mood, she’d never picked Hakim up for a cuddle or danced around the courtyard with Ameera. Sometimes Malik wondered if he could have made things better, but deep down he knew Aliyyah’s sadness sprung from something even he could not fix. He could have been a better husband, more attentive, but after years of trying to coax his wife out of her rooms Malik had given up. He’d focused on running Huria, on devoting his life to his kingdom, and Aliyyah had hardly noticed when he had stopped visiting her bedchamber or when the invitations to dine with him had dried up. There were only so many years a man could take rejection before he hardened his heart and turned to other things to occupy him.
Malik knew that some of his undeniable attraction for Rachel sprung from the fact that she was always happy. It was hard to imagine her sobbing in her bedchamber or refusing to get dressed for days on end. For Malik it was refreshing to have someone living in the palace who cherished life as much as he did.
‘I’m sorry you had to leave,’ Malik said to his children. He knew his next words, how he handled this entire situation, were important. As much as he disliked Omar, he didn’t want to separate his children from their family. He needed to reassure them whilst explaining a little about why their uncle had been so upset.
‘Why was Uncle Omar angry?’ Ameera asked. She had remained standing whilst her brothers sat. Malik couldn’t help but smile to himself. Even at the age of six Ameera was a force to be reckoned with. He loved how his daughter spat fire if she thought something was unfair and was never content to lay down and let someone deceive her.
‘Uncle Omar is still very upset about your mother’s death,’ Malik said, choosing his words carefully.
He glanced at Rachel and found her looking at him with her wide, encouraging eyes and immediately he knew what he had to do.
‘Come here, all of you,’ Malik said, pulling his children in towards him as he sat. Even Rachel moved closer, which pleased Malik more than it should. ‘I know in the past few months I haven’t spoken much about your mother, but it has been a difficult time for all of us and maybe it would make us all feel better if we remembered her a little tonight.’
All his children looked up at him in surprised silence, and Malik realised that since Aliyyah’s death he hadn’t spoken to his children once about their mother. They must have so many questions, so many unspoken emotions, and he’d left them to deal with it on their own.
‘Do you have any questions about your mother?’ he asked.
There was silence. Eventually Rachel shifted and spoke.
‘I’d like to know how you met,’ she said. ‘Did you always know you were to be married, what did you think when you first saw her?’
Malik caught Rachel’s eye and smiled gratefully. He wondered how she always knew what to say. Her question was innocuous, unlikely to dredge up any bad memories, and a good way to help his children understand a little more about their mother.
‘We met when I was eight years old and Aliyyah was six. Our fathers had just signed the betrothal contract and we had a dinner with all the noble families of Huria to celebrate. Your mother was beautiful even then. She looked very much like you, Ameera, although she was a little taller.’
‘Were you angry your father had decided who you would marry?’ Ameera asked.
Malik looked at his daughter’s mutinous expression and had to hold back a laugh. He wondered what his little warrior Princess would do if she was betrothed to a boy she barely knew. He didn’t think the outcome would be positive.
‘I didn’t know any different. All my life my father had told me I would marry a daughter of one of the noble families, I just accepted it as part of my life.’
‘I wouldn’t just accept it if someone told me who to marry,’ Ameera said, making sure her views on the matter were clear.
‘I wouldn’t dream of forcing you to marry anyone, Princess,’ Malik said, planting a kiss on the top of her head.
‘Why was Mama sad all the time?’ Aahil asked quietly.
Malik turned to his eldest son and saw the pain and confusion behind his eyes. Ameera and Hakim had only been five and three when their mother had died and probably already many of their memories of her were slipping away. However, Aahil had lived for seven years with his mother’s mood swings and unintentional neglect. He remembered his mother as she’d actually been, not the rose-tinted caricature Ameera and Hakim had spun in their minds.
He wondered how best to answer his son, knowing all his children were far too young to know the full truth, but also realising he did not want to lie to them. Aliyyah had been their mother—in a way she meant more to them than she had ever done to him.
‘Your mother was very often sad,’ Malik said, choosing his words carefully. ‘Even as a young girl I don’t remember her laughing or playing much, not like the three of you.’
It was something Malik had watched for carefully in his children, this tendency towards melancholy, but thankfully he had not detected it in any of them so far.
‘But when we got older, when it was time to marry and move to the palace, your mother missed her family very much.’
There was so much more to it than that, but his children did not need to know their mother had pined for another man. Malik himself hadn’t known the depth of Aliyyah’s feelings, otherwise he wouldn’t have gone through with the marriage, but as time passed it had become apparent Aliyyah’s heart and mind we
re fully occupied elsewhere. By then it had been too late, of course, Malik and Aliyyah were married and Aliyyah had to give up on the man she loved, which had eventually proved impossible.
Malik caught Rachel’s eye and felt a surge of confidence. Although she remained silent Malik could sense her approval at how he was handling the situation. This was what it must feel like not to have to deal with everything on your own, to have someone to back you up through the important moments in life.
‘Will we get a new mummy?’ Hakim asked, his voice thick with exhaustion after the long day’s ride.
The question startled Malik, who had been poised to answer the most awkward and difficult queries about their mother, but not about himself.
‘Well...’ Malik started, not sure what to say.
‘I’d like a mummy. Someone to kiss me at night. Someone like Miss Talbot.’
Rachel and Malik’s eyes locked over Hakim’s sleepy head and a spark flared between them. Suddenly Malik was reminded of all the reasons he admired his children’s governess and couldn’t remember any of his arguments for keeping his distance.
In the slightly awkward silence that followed Malik found himself considering Hakim’s question. It was just over a year since Aliyyah had died and he was officially out of mourning. If he wished to he could get married tomorrow, but every time one of his advisors brought up the subject, suggesting some political match or other, Malik had shaken his head and put an end to any speculation.
The truth was he was still reeling from Aliyyah’s death. Even a year on, despite not being particularly close to his wife, he was still mourning. He wasn’t sure if he was still mourning Aliyyah, or if in fact he was mourning the loss of his innocence and hopes she took with her. If Malik was honest with himself he felt angry and betrayed at the circumstances surrounding his late wife’s death and he wasn’t sure if he could ever trust anyone to allow them into his life and his heart.
He risked another glance at Rachel, who was gazing into the dancing flames of the fire and stroking Hakim’s hair absentmindedly. Malik felt the all-too-familiar surge of desire as he watched her and he wondered if this was a sign that he had been without a female companion for too long. Maybe he did need a wife, someone to share his bed and share his burdens, someone to stop him from fantasising about his children’s governess.
‘Why did Mama die?’ Ameera asked, shaking him from his reverie.
Malik found himself clearing his throat nervously and studying his daughter. He wanted to make sure the question was innocent, that there was no deeper probing behind it. He hoped none of his children were old enough to begin to understand what he suspected, but he knew sometimes a child could be especially intuitive.
‘Your mother got lost in the desert,’ Malik said softly, ‘and she couldn’t find her way home.’
‘What was she doing in the desert all alone?’ Ameera persisted.
‘She liked to walk alone to gather her thoughts,’ Malik lied. Despite wanting to be honest with his children there were some things they just didn’t need to know.
‘You won’t ever leave me in the desert, will you?’ Hakim asked, his voice slurring with tiredness.
‘I won’t ever leave any of you in the desert,’ Malik said firmly.
Chapter Fifteen
Rachel shifted under the heap of blankets and moved carefully away from Ameera’s sleeping body. She didn’t want to wake the young girl with her tossing and turning, but she knew she would struggle to get to sleep.
The conversation from the campfire earlier that evening kept floating into her head and an image of Malik’s pained face as he talked about his late wife was seared into her mind. Something terrible had happened to this little family, something they hadn’t recovered from even a year on. Rachel realised the children had been shielded from the worst by their age, but the events of the past year had caused Malik to retreat into himself and strengthen his defences so no one could penetrate easily.
Sitting up, Rachel wondered what life would have been like for Malik, living with a wife who didn’t want to be married to him. Although he had never come out and said Aliyyah was unhappy in the marriage, Rachel only had to look at Malik to know he had never been properly loved.
It was heartbreaking, really. Malik was a good man, he was principled and generous, but he had never known the warmth love could bring. From his comments about his parents Rachel knew his father had been distant and formal, even if he cared for his son, and his mother had died giving birth to Malik. Rachel knew the pain from having distant parents, but she had been loved. She loved her friends Joanna, Isabel and Grace as though they were her sisters and they had loved her back. She doubted Malik had anyone like that.
It was hard to fathom, though, because Malik would be an easy man to love. Behind the formal exterior and serious demeanour was a kind heart and a man who could admit his mistakes, which was a rare quality indeed. Rachel only had to look at the progress he’d made with his children over the last few weeks to know he was a man unafraid to address his weaknesses.
Malik would certainly be an easy man to love, an easy man for her to love.
Rachel stiffened as she mulled over this latest thought. Surely she didn’t love Malik. She respected him, liked him and would even go so far as to say she desired him, but love was too big a step. Love implied either settling down into a married life or tremendous heartbreak, or most likely both. Rachel had always vowed she would protect herself from heartbreak by not opening herself up to love, but sitting here, in the middle of the desert with only a fabric tent between her and the stars, Rachel wondered whether she had been naive, whether she didn’t have much choice in the matter after all.
Careful not to disturb Ameera, Rachel stood and made her way out of the tent. She needed some water and she needed some fresh air. Hopefully that would help her gain control of her thoughts and work out what she really felt.
It was dark out, darker than she had ever known a night in England, but after a few moments her eyes adjusted and she could just about see the ground in front of her by the soft light of the moon. She picked her way over to the main tent, away from the sleeping tents, and was just about to lift the flap to enter when a warm body collided with hers.
‘Rachel.’ Malik’s deep voice rumbled in her ear.
She looked up, but couldn’t make out his expression in the darkness.
‘I was just getting some water,’ she said, trying to hide the fact that her heart was beating double its normal speed.
Malik held something up in the air. ‘So was I.’
They stood in silence for almost a minute, neither knowing what to say, but neither wanting to leave the other and return to their tent.
‘Will you come and sit with me by the fire?’ Malik asked eventually. ‘I’m finding it difficult to sleep.’
Rachel took his proffered arm and allowed him to lead the way to the smouldering fire. Only the embers were left now, but it still leant some warmth to the chilly night air. She felt nervous, on edge, as if something momentous was about to happen. She wondered if Malik could feel her pounding heart through her skin, but knew he was likely to be oblivious to her heightened sensitivity.
They sat for some moments, side by side, staring into the glowing embers. Malik, always quiet, seemed particularly contemplative this evening. Rachel wondered whether she should say something, try and reassure him he had done the right thing by allowing his children some insight into their mother’s life, but she sensed he would begin speaking when he was ready.
‘I’ve never spoken to you about Aliyyah, have I?’ Malik asked eventually.
Rachel shook her head. She had heard snippets of rumour and chatter from the palace servants, but Malik had been understandably close-lipped about his late wife.
‘I don’t often speak of her. I wonder if the children notice.’
<
br /> Rachel remembered Aahil’s wide eyes as he asked why his mother was always sad and Ameera’s probing questions as she quizzed her father about why her mother had died. She thought that despite their young age the children knew something had been wrong in the palace. They would have noticed Malik’s reluctance to remember the years he spent married and the lack of emotion as he spoke of her death.
‘I think they realise it was a great loss for you as well as them,’ Rachel said diplomatically.
Malik shook his head sadly. ‘Is it bad if I say I don’t miss Aliyyah?’
Rachel wondered how you could be married to someone for nine years and not miss them when they were gone. She knew Malik had a soft heart under his stern exterior—how could he not mourn his wife?
‘I never really had her in the first place.’ Malik sighed and Rachel felt his body sag under the weight of his emotional baggage. She realised he had probably not spoken to anyone about his feelings since Aliyyah’s death—he didn’t have anyone he could speak to.
Tentatively Rachel reached out and took Malik’s hand. He stiffened for a moment, then allowed himself to relax, entwining his fingers with hers and pulling her forearm to rest on his leg. They sat there for a few moments, both contemplating the secrets Malik was holding close to him, and Rachel knew she wanted to understand what he was thinking and feeling. She could tell herself it was for selfless reasons—that he needed to let go of all his pent-up anger so he could properly connect with his children—but deep down Rachel knew that it wasn’t true. She wanted to understand him for herself, to reassure herself she hadn’t misjudged this man...that he was capable of real emotions and wasn’t sailing through life without his relationships affecting him one bit.
‘Talk to me,’ she said softly. ‘Tell me about your wife.’
Malik grunted softly, seeming to consider the offer. ‘Where to begin?’
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