In a land far, far away...

Her entire life, Rachel Talbot has dreamed of faraway lands. So when she’s offered a job as governess to the Sheikh of Huria’s children, it seems as if all her dreams are coming true...

But Sheikh Malik turns out to be infuriating! Yes, he’s the most handsome man Rachel has ever seen, but he’s also autocratic and aloof. Until, that is, a night under the starry desert sky leads to a passionate kiss... And suddenly a whole new world of possibilities opens up to this intrepid governess!

The Governess Tales

Sweeping romances with fairy-tale endings!

Meet Joanna Radcliff, Rachel Talbot, Isabel Morton and Grace Bertram.

These four friends grew up together in Madame Dubois’s school for young ladies, where they indulged in midnight feasts, broke the rules and shared their innermost secrets!

But now they are thrust into the real world, and each must adapt to her new life as a governess.

One will rise, one will travel, one will run and one will find her real hom…

And each will meet her soulmate, who’ll give her the happy-ever-after she’s always dreamt of!

Read Joanna’s story in

The Cinderella Governess

Read Rachel’s story in

Governess to the Sheikh

Both available now!

And look for:

Isabel’s story in

The Runaway Governess

And Grace’s story in

The Governess’s Secret Baby

Coming soon!

Author Note

I have always loved writing about exotic and far-flung countries—there is something supremely exciting about conjuring up the sights, sounds and smells of a distant land and immersing yourself in a country’s history until it becomes your characters’ natural environment. In writing Governess to the Sheikh I had the opportunity to do something I had never done before: use a fictional setting—in this case the Middle Eastern country of Huria. I drew inspiration for the desert kingdom from the country of Jordan. Anyone who has ever had the pleasure of visiting Jordan might recognise the vast orange and red landscapes, the verdant pockets of lush vegetation, and the hardy people who make the desert their home. Malik and Rachel even climb a rocky cliff-face to a high place of sacrifice—something my husband and I did on a recent trip to Petra.

Some books are easy to write, and some much more difficult. With its beautiful setting, and the instant chemistry between Rachel and Malik, as soon as I’d written the first couple of chapters I knew Governess to the Sheikh was going to be my favourite book to date. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Governess to the Sheikh

Laura Martin

www.millsandboon.co.uk

LAURA MARTIN writes historical romances with an adventurous undercurrent. When not writing, she spends her time working as a doctor in Cambridgeshire, where she lives with her husband. In her spare moments Laura loves to lose herself in a book and has been known to read cover to cover in a single day when the story is particularly gripping. She also loves to travel—especially visiting historical sites and far-flung shores.

Books by Laura Martin

Mills & Boon Historical Romance

The Governess Tales

Governess to the Sheikh

Stand-Alone Novels

The Pirate Hunter

Secrets Behind Locked Doors

Under a Desert Moon

An Earl in Want of a Wife

Visit the Author Profile page at millsandboon.co.uk.

For Sophie and Meic and your happily-ever-after. And for my boys; you are my everything.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Author Note

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Rachel flicked open her fan and wafted it close to her face. She wasn’t sure if moving the warm air around helped to keep her cool, but at this point anything was worth a try. She was hot, hotter than she had ever been before, and she was loving it. For the last four days, ever since she had first entered the desert Kingdom of Huria, Rachel had been overwhelmed by all the sights and sounds, but most of all by the heat.

‘Not far to the palace now.’ Wahid’s voice came from outside the carrying chair.

Pushing back the thin cotton curtain that surrounded her, she gazed over the landscape. They were currently following a well-worn route, winding through the dunes, every minute taking them closer to Rachel’s new life.

‘Please be careful of the sun, sayeda,’ Wahid said in perfect English, using sayeda to address her formally.

Wahid and his small band of guards had been there to meet her four days ago when she had crossed the border into Huria. He had helped her off her weary horse and ushered her into the luxurious carrying chair. Ever since then Rachel had been treated like royalty and every care had been taken for her comfort. When she had accepted the job in a foreign country Rachel had mainly felt excitement, but there had been some anxiety, too. Naturally there had been worries that she might be moving to a country that was less civilised than England, but so far she had experienced a culture and environment that was worlds apart, but certainly not inferior to her homeland.

Rachel took a moment to turn her face up to the sun and enjoy the warmth on her skin. She hadn’t been blessed with a porcelain complexion, her skin was naturally just a shade darker than was considered perfection, but it did mean she could enjoy odd moments in the sunshine without having to worry about turning a horrible red colour or developing freckles.

‘You’ll be able to see the palace once we reach the top of this dune,’ Wahid said.

Rachel fixed her eyes on the horizon and waited. She had been travelling for weeks to reach Huria and during that time she had imagined a thousand different things—sumptuous palaces and whitewashed buildings, arid deserts and dusty plains—but none of her imaginings had prepared her for the sight that confronted her.

Rachel let out a gasp of pleasure. ‘It’s so beautiful.’

For four days Rachel had travelled through the desert and had seen no evidence of any water. When they stopped Wahid had passed her a water bladder filled with lovely, cool liquid, but never had she seen a single spring or stream or lake. There hadn’t been one drop of rain, or even a cloud in the sky. Rachel had begun to think the whole kingdom must exist without water. The sight before her proved her wrong.

There was a wide, flat valley stretching out for a few miles in front of them, and the entire area was a lush paradise. Trees and plants covered the valley floor and the greens of the vegetation contrasted beautifully with the orange sands. Right through the centre of the valley was a vivid slash of blue, a narrow river that supplied this little oasis.

‘The Great Oasis of Huria,’ Wahid said, gesturing to the area before them.

‘There’s so much life, so much vegetation.’

Wahid gave a little chuckle. ‘It’s as though all the plants in Huria are squeezed into this little area.’

The palace itself was built amongst the trees. From the outside it was nowhere near as magnificent as some of the English stately homes Rachel had visited with school, but even from this distance there were clues that the real luxury was reserved for inside the palace. From their vantage point above the oasis Rachel could see magnificent courtyards with bubbling fountains and cool colonnaded passages, all surrounded by vibrant exotic flowers.

As they descended the hill Rachel pulled her head back inside the cotton curtain of the carrying chair and tried to compose herself. For as long as she could remember she had wished for this day. Ever since she was a little girl and her parents had been sending her letters detailing their adventures in far-flung lands Rachel had wanted an adventure of her own. She wanted to experience a different culture, a different way of living, and now was her time.

Rachel badly wanted to make a good impression; she wanted the Sheikh to be impressed with the English governess he had sent for and she wanted to make a difference to his children’s lives. Unlike many of the girls graduating from Madame Dubois’s School for Young Ladies, Rachel had been excited to take up her position as governess, to start her life after school. Whereas other young women dreamed of marriage and a domestic life, Rachel had always wanted to see the world and experience the exotic. As the daughter of a baron, Rachel’s natural position in life would be as wife to a titled gentleman, but she’d always dreamed of more. She wanted freedom and adventure, and to bring some love and affection into the lives of the children in her care.

She loved children. Her one regret about her determination never to marry was that she would never have a brood of her own, but her position as governess at least meant she would be surrounded by little ones her entire life.

As they entered the oasis Rachel took one last deep breath and smiled. This was what all the years of hard work had been leading to; she would not let nerves ruin this experience for her.

As soon as the carrying chair was set down the curtain was pulled back and a hand reached in to take Rachel’s. Effortlessly Rachel was pulled out of the chair and she found herself being ushered up a wide set of stone steps and into a cool chamber.

‘This way, sayeda. Watch your step.’

Rachel’s eyes took a moment to recover from the bright sunlight, but when she had regained her vision she had to stifle a gasp. The room, although not large in size, was beautiful. Beneath her feet was an intricate mosaic that covered the entire floor. The coloured stones made a vibrant picture of what Rachel had to assume was the entire Kingdom of Huria. Deep oranges showed the vast desert and bright splashes of colour the scattered oases.

The beauty of the room did not end with the mosaic. Although the walls were plain they were more than made up for by the numerous plants and flowers that were arranged lovingly around the chamber. Rachel’s eyes were drawn to a plant that had been coaxed to climb up one wall with stunning flowers of vivid pink.

Rachel felt her whole body suffuse with pleasure. Although she had hoped Huria would be the exotic paradise of her dreams, she had never imagined anything as magnificent as this. In all the letters her parents had sent her from their travels they had never described seeing anywhere like this small desert kingdom. A smile spread across Rachel’s lips; she knew she was going to be happy here.

Slowly Rachel stepped further into the room, taking her time to soak up every little detail, not caring that people were probably staring and wondering why she was quite so enamoured with a sight they saw every day. She started to turn towards one of the archways, wanting to catch a glimpse of the courtyard beyond, when a man stepped through the opening and into the chamber. Their eyes met and Rachel felt her heart begin pounding in her chest.

It was the Sheikh, there was no doubt in her mind. He wasn’t dressed richly and he didn’t wear a crown or any jewellery that Rachel could see—in fact, there were other men in the room far more expensively adorned than he was—but Rachel knew he was royalty purely because of his bearing.

As he entered the room he didn’t look from side to side to see who was there—he strode with purpose and vitality. It was the walk of a man who always got what he wanted. His back was straight, his eyes focused, and Rachel knew immediately he would be a hard man to deny anything.

He started to move towards her and Rachel found herself momentarily frozen. His eyes were still locked on hers and for a second she was mesmerised. It was only when he came to a halt before her that Rachel remembered herself and dropped hastily into a low curtsy, lowering her eyes to the floor.

As she rose from the curtsy she couldn’t help but look up at the Sheikh, but as she did so she felt her mouth go dry and her lips quiver slightly. Up close he didn’t just have a regal bearing, he was also disconcertingly handsome. Rachel thought it was probably his eyes that made most ladies swoon—they were a deep, dark brown, inviting and forbidding at the same time. Rachel felt herself swallowing nervously as she took in his perfectly shaped lips, caramel-coloured skin tone and short black hair. The Sheikh was a handsome man and a powerful one—it was a potent combination.

‘Miss Talbot, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.’ The Sheikh’s voice was smooth and confident and Rachel was surprised to find he spoke English with only the mildest hint of an accent. ‘I hope your journey was not too arduous.’

‘You have such a beautiful country,’ Rachel said with a smile. ‘It was a wonderful opportunity to see so much of it.’

The Sheikh studied her as she spoke, and Rachel had to suppress a shiver that ran over her skin. Confidence and power emanated out of him and Rachel felt her pulse begin to quicken as he moved in closer towards her. She had an inexplicable urge to reach out and place a hand on his chest, to feel the hard muscles under her fingers and the heat of his body on her fingertips.

‘We do not have many visitors to our small kingdom, but most who do come cannot see past the barrenness of the desert and stifling heat. They do not see the beauty in the rolling sand dunes and the fortitude of the people who can live under such a burning sun.’

Even though Rachel had only just met the Sheikh, there was enough passion in the few sentences he had spoken to her to show her he truly loved his country. She could tell he was proud of Huria and wanted everyone to view his kingdom with the same love and respect as he did.

‘But enough of that for now,’ the Sheikh said with a small smile that lit up his face. ‘Wahid is always telling me I am far too serious when I speak about the merits of our country.’

‘You cannot browbeat people into loving Huria as you do, Your Majesty,’ Wahid said.

Rachel looked at the two men with interest. Everyone else in the chamber stood back from the Sheikh out of respect, but Wahid was at his side, more like an old friend than a subordinate.

‘Please, come through to the courtyard. I will have someone fetch you some refreshments and once you are rested you can meet the children.’

Rachel followed the Sheikh through the archway and into the courtyard she had glimpsed beyond. If she had thought the first chamber was beautiful, then the courtyard was even more so. The whole area was bathed in brilliant sunlight, although there were a few strategically placed trees in case shade was required. There was a bubbling fountain in the centre, surrounded by a small pool of water, and the rest of the courtyard was filled with plants and trees of so many varieties Rachel wondered if they could all be native to Huria.

As they walked Rachel took the opportunity to compose herself. Inside she was a jumble of nerves, her normal confident demeanour shattered by the Sheikh. She wasn’t sure if it was his royal status or the intensity of his dark eyes that was making her feel a little shaky, but there was something about the Sheikh that made you notice him.

‘Please sit,’ the Sheikh said politely, indicating a small table under a tree.

Rachel sat and to her surprise the Sheikh took the chair opposite her. His manner was a little imperious, but there were flashes of normality beneath. Rachel had imagined him to be much more stern and haughty, but she supposed he was in truth just a man, born into a noble family.

Immediately a servant was by his side, setting two glasses down on the table. He served the Sheikh first, but Rachel noticed the ruler of Huria waited for her to take a sip before he picked up his own glass.

Rachel closed her eyes and sighed. She couldn’t help herself. The drink was delicious; it looked like lemonade, but when you took a mouthful there were so many more flavours.

‘This is divine,’ Rachel said.

As she opened her eyes she realised the Sheikh was staring at her and she felt a blush start to creep to her cheeks as he did not drop his gaze. He looked as though he were seeing every bit of her laid bare before him. The air between them hummed with a peculiar tension and Rachel found she was holding her breath, wondering if he might reach across the gap and touch her. She wanted him to, she realised. She wanted him to trail his fingers over her skin or run his hands through her hair.

Hastily Rachel forced herself to return to reality. She wondered if it was the heat, or exhaustion after such a long journey—there must be some explanation for these strange thoughts. The Sheikh was a handsome and charismatic man, but that was no reason to start behaving like one of the airheaded heroines in the novels her friend Isabel liked to read. Luckily the Sheikh didn’t seem to notice the inappropriate way her body was responding to him.

‘You will find it all over Huria, every household, rich or poor, serves lemon and mint to their guests.’

He was still looking at her and Rachel had to stop herself from fidgeting. His eyes were so dark they were almost black, and Rachel thought she glimpsed a hint of wistfulness behind his expression.

Suddenly his manner changed and instantaneously he became the solemn leader Rachel knew most of his subjects would see.

‘I am sure you are eager to meet the children,’ he said, motioning to a servant who was hovering nearby. ‘Then I suggest you rest this afternoon before commencing your duties tomorrow.’

Rachel nodded, glad to focus her thoughts away from the attractive Sheikh and on to an area she felt a lot more comfortable with: her work.

There was a clatter of shoes upon stone and Rachel turned to see three young children filing out of one of the numerous archways that led into the courtyard. Even at first glance there was no mistaking that these three grave-faced children were related to the Sheikh. All had his dark, probing eyes and caramel skin tone, and the eldest had even perfected the slightly haughty look Rachel had glimpsed on the Sheikh’s face.

Rachel had received a few sparse details about the Sheikh and his family before taking the job in Huria. Miss Fanworth, a teacher at Madame Dubois’s School for Young Ladies, had known of Rachel’s desire to travel and see the world, and when she had heard Sheikh Malik bin Jalal al-Mahrouky was looking for a new governess for his children she had acquired all of the information necessary for Rachel to apply for the position and had then encouraged her to do so. Rachel’s correspondence with the palace had been brief and her application accepted almost immediately. The details about the children a palace secretary had sent in a letter had been functional and succinct. She knew the children were aged eight, six and four, and that their mother had died about a year ago. As to their likes and dislikes, strengths and weaknesses, she was in the dark.

Aahil, the eldest of the three children, stepped forward. Rachel could already see he was a Sheikh in the making. His back was straight as he gave a little bow to greet her, and his face unsmiling. From what she remembered he was only eight years old and already he was acting like a man. Her heart squeezed a little, surely there was still time for him to be a child for a few more years.

‘Welcome to Huria, Miss Talbot,’ he said, his English almost as perfect as his father’s. ‘We look forward to starting our lessons with you.’

Rachel’s eyes roamed over the other two children, wondering if they, too, would be so formal at such a young age. Ameera, the young Princess, stared mutinously at her and Rachel got the impression she was trying hard not to stick out her tongue. Hakim, the four-year-old Prince, looked shyly at the ground.

‘I can’t wait to get to know you all,’ Rachel said warmly. ‘I’m sure we will have plenty of fun together.’

Aahil frowned, as if protesting at the idea of fun, but Rachel pressed on.

‘You must tell me all about yourselves.’

Quickly Rachel gathered the children up and hustled them towards the shade of the tree. She noticed that the Sheikh hung back, watching his children closely, proudly, but not really interacting with them. She knew she shouldn’t be too quick to judge, but she did wonder whether he encouraged the formal behaviour she had seen from Aahil.

‘Right,’ she said, perching on a little wall and gathering the children to her. ‘Aahil, tell me what your favourite subject is.’

Aahil looked a little lost at being asked about his likes. He shot a quick glance at his father.

‘I am privileged to learn about the history of our country,’ he said almost mechanically.

Rachel smiled warmly. ‘You must be very proud of your country,’ she agreed. ‘I think that is a wonderful favourite subject.’

The young Prince squirmed a little at her compliment and Rachel glanced once again at their father. She could tell immediately he was interested in his children, but she couldn’t quite understand why he was not getting involved. Maybe he thought it best to let her get to know them first.

‘Ameera,’ Rachel said, turning to the pretty little six-year-old, ‘what is your favourite game to play?’

Ameera gave her a haughty look that would have felled lesser women. ‘We do not play games.’

Rachel felt her eyes widen slightly, but she tried not to show any outward reaction to the girl’s words.

‘That’s a shame,’ she said casually. ‘I do so love playing games.’

‘But you’re an adult,’ Ameera blurted out.

‘Adults are allowed to have fun, too.’

Ameera pressed her lips together firmly as if she disapproved and Rachel could see she was going to get nothing more out of the young girl for now.

Rachel turned to Hakim, knowing she would likely have to simplify her language for the young boy and wondering what she could ask him to bring him out of his shell.

‘Hakim,’ she said gently, holding out her hand and taking his in hers, ‘I do hope you’ll show me round your beautiful home later. I bet you know all the best places to hide and all the best places to play.’

‘Yes, miss,’ Hakim said softly.

Rachel was pleased he didn’t pull his hand out of hers, but she could see it would take a lot of work to make the three children trust her and open up.

‘The children will take lessons every day in the morning and afternoon,’ the Sheikh said.

Rachel could see that as their father spoke all three children stood to attention.

‘I can’t wait to get started,’ Rachel said serenely, wondering if the Sheikh expected them to spend all day cooped up in a classroom. Rachel knew children needed formal lessons, but she also knew they learnt a lot more if they were given time to develop outside the classroom. She had a feeling the Sheikh might not approve of her teaching methods and wondered how she could make him see that fun was as important as French to such young minds.

Chapter Two

Malik reclined back on to the cushions and looked across the parapet and out over his kingdom. He’d invited the new governess to dine with him and was waiting for her to ascend the stairs to the rooftop so their meal could begin. He wasn’t sure what to make of Miss Talbot and he knew he shouldn’t judge her on first impressions, but he was eager they set some boundaries and rules before she began teaching his children.

She was young, younger than he had expected. He had known she would be barely out of the schoolroom herself, but when he pictured an English governess, Rachel Talbot, with her deep, soulful eyes and infectious smile, wasn’t what he imagined. Surely a governess should be old, grey-haired and stern, maybe with a wart or two for good measure. His school teachers and tutors had never laughed and he’d certainly never seen such pleasure in their faces as he’d witnessed on Miss Talbot’s.

He was pleased she saw the beauty of his country—too many visitors couldn’t see past the arid desert and the nomadic lifestyle of many of his people—but he needed to ensure she would be suitably strict with his children. They were of royal blood after all, they had to learn to be serious and solemn as the occasion called for it. He doubted Miss Talbot had ever been solemn in her entire life.

Malik rose as he heard footsteps on the stairs. He had ordered for dinner to be laid out in the traditional style on one of the smaller flat rooftops of the palace, accessible from the courtyard via an outdoor staircase. Cushions were scattered around a low table, which would be filled with Hurian dishes when they were ready.

‘Miss Talbot,’ he greeted her as she emerged on to the rooftop.

She took a moment to take in her surroundings before a heartfelt smile blossomed on her face.

‘Your Highness,’ she said, bobbing into a little curtsy.

Malik watched as her eyes swept over the silk-covered cushions, the dark wood table and out to the palace beyond. He couldn’t help but feel proud that it was his kingdom that was inspiring so much pleasure. More disconcertingly he found that as Miss Talbot was surveying her surroundings he was watching her, or more specifically her mouth. He found her lips just a little mesmerising, and he didn’t think he’d ever met anyone who smiled quite as much as his children’s new governess.

He reached out, took her hand and placed it in the crook of his arm, leading her over to the parapet. Although he had asked her here to discuss his children’s education, Malik didn’t see any harm in showing her a little more of the kingdom she would be living in for the foreseeable future. As they stood looking out over the palace and to the oasis beyond in the fading light of the evening sun, Malik heard Miss Talbot sigh contentedly beside him. The sound made something tighten inside him and he found himself quickly stepping away, trying to cover his confusion with a return to his formal behaviour.

‘Please take a seat,’ Malik said, motioning to the cushions on one side of the low table.

Miss Talbot sat, absentmindedly stroking the soft silk of the cushion beneath her, tracing a pattern over the smooth surface with her delicate fingers. Malik looked away and sat down himself.

‘I asked you here so that we could discuss the children’s education.’

Miss Talbot looked at him directly, nodded and smiled. Malik felt his train of thought slipping away. Hardly anyone held his eye now that he was Sheikh. Most of his advisors and chieftains averted their eyes out of respect when he spoke to them. Only Wahid, who had been with him since he was a young man, dared to look him in the eye and tell him what he really thought. And Wahid was certainly not as distracting as Miss Talbot.

‘Wonderful,’ the governess said. ‘They seem such lovely children. I have so many ideas to help them blossom and have fun at the same time.’

Malik found himself nodding along with her as she spoke, even though he didn’t quite agree with her words. He waited whilst a servant brought a tray of the first course and set the various bowls with hummus, dipping sauces and flatbread on the table.

‘I think it is important that we discuss the objectives and methods you plan to use before you get started with the children,’ Malik said, surprised when Miss Talbot nodded eagerly.

‘I completely agree,’ she said. ‘I think it is very important for parents to play an active part in their children’s education.’

Not quite what Malik meant, but he pushed on anyway.

‘Aahil is Prince of Huria, and one day he will succeed me as Sheikh. He will be the ruler of this small but proud kingdom and he needs to know how to conduct himself at all times.’

He paused. Although he had more to say, he could see the governess’s lips had pursed and already he knew this meant she had an opinion she was eager to give.

‘He is also just a child,’ Miss Talbot said softly.

Malik considered his next words, wondering how to continue. Of course Aahil was still a boy, he knew that, but Malik also knew the weight of the responsibility of running a kingdom. His father had been strict with him, insisting he conduct himself with dignity and gravitas from a young age, and as a result, when his father passed away and Malik became Sheikh, he had already known what behaviour was expected of him.

‘First and foremost he is Prince of Huria.’ Malik expected the governess to drop her gaze and mumble acquiescence, it was what most people did when he talked. Instead she pursed her lips again and held his eye.

‘First and foremost Aahil is a child. One day he will be Sheikh, but right now he is a boy like any other. He might have heavy responsibilities in the future, but that is all the more reason for him to enjoy his childhood.’

‘Games will not teach him to run a country. Laughter will not show him how to deal with mutinous subjects.’ Malik shook his head in frustration. He knew how difficult it was to rule a country, even a small one like Huria. When his father had died Malik had been just twenty-two, but he’d had to step up and do his duty. The first few months had been trying, but he knew he had been well prepared, and that was what he wanted for his son.

‘You’re wrong,’ Miss Talbot said animatedly. ‘Games can teach you strategy and forward planning. They teach you to read your opponents and come up with a way to out-think them.’

Malik didn’t think anyone had come out and told him he was wrong since he’d become Sheikh. It was refreshing, but he found that since he was in fact right, it was also a little frustrating.

‘And laughter?’ he asked coolly.

Miss Talbot smiled. ‘Have you never been in a negotiation with two people who want completely different things? The tension builds and no one can agree on anything. Knowing how to diffuse that situation with laughter is a skill every future Sheikh needs to learn.’

Malik couldn’t help but smile with her. She was clever, this young governess. She might not be right, but she was certainly clever.

While he regrouped Malik motioned for Miss Talbot to begin eating. The food set before them was simple and traditional, food Malik had been served his entire life. The flatbread was baked in every oven in Huria and the accompanying dips found at every dinner table when entertaining guests. Malik loved the food of his country and he felt a glow of satisfaction as he watched his children’s governess place a piece of bread covered in hummus in her mouth and begin to chew. As she ate she closed her eyes momentarily, as if not wanting to distract her tastebuds from the new flavour they were experiencing. He watched her lips as she chewed and noticed the slight curve to the corners of her mouth as she enjoyed what she was tasting. Hastily Malik looked away. Watching Miss Talbot eat was disconcertingly sensual, especially when she popped a finger between her lips and sucked off a stray bit of the sweet dip.

Malik rallied. He was ruler of Huria, a grown man, and he would not be distracted from his true purpose by this young woman’s lips. He might have a body of flesh and blood, but his mind needed to be above such distractions as desire.

‘You may find Ameera difficult,’ he said.

In truth, difficult was an understatement. He knew it must be hard for all his children growing up without a mother, but it seemed to affect his daughter even more than he had ever imagined. Since their mother had died a year ago all of his children had changed. Aahil had become more serious, throwing himself into the role of Prince of Huria, eager to learn everything about the kingdom he would one day rule. Little Hakim had become quieter. Gone was the boy who used to run around the courtyards of the palace pretending to be an assassin or a genie. Those changes Malik could deal with and he knew were to be expected in boys who had lost their mother, but Ameera was different.

Since their mother had died Ameera had become sullen and withdrawn. She refused to utter more than words of one syllable to Malik and he didn’t think he’d seen her smile in months. She was only six years old, but when he looked at her he saw a much older girl, someone who had experienced too much sorrow already in her young life.

He glanced at Miss Talbot. She smiled. She smiled more than anyone he had ever met before. Maybe she might be able to coax a smile out of his little girl.

‘All the more reason to allow her to enjoy herself.’

Malik sighed. He wanted the best for his children, of course he did. He just didn’t always know what that was. His own father had been viewed by many as a liberal. He had sent Malik to be educated in Europe, insisted it was good for his son to be exposed to different cultures and people, but he had also been strict. Malik had never once received a hug from his father, or even anything more affectionate than a warm handshake, and he’d turned out just fine.

‘Ameera will one day be expected to marry into a good family,’ he said. His daughter might only be six, but he had learnt from his own father it was never too early to look to the future.

‘One day,’ Miss Talbot said, waving a hand in the air, ‘is a very long time away.’

‘Not all that long.’

He had married Aliyyah when she was twenty. He had a horrible feeling time would speed by and suddenly his little Ameera would soon be the same age.

Malik waited until their plates had been cleared away and the main course brought up to the rooftop. He couldn’t help but watch as his children’s governess bent over the dish, inhaling the exotic scent and looking on with anticipation a servant uncovered the side dishes that accompanied it.

Most visitors to Huria from Europe were overwhelmed or outright disgusted that nearly all meals were eaten with the hands. Miss Talbot just watched him closely as he scooped up some of the spicy stew with a piece of flatbread and then did the same.

‘You will need to teach them arithmetic, geography, languages and world history. I will employ a local tutor to teach them the history of Huria.’ Malik glanced at Miss Talbot and wondered whether she would argue. She had seemed to protest against everything else he had said that evening.

‘That sounds like a wonderful plan,’ she said. ‘Of course I couldn’t hope to know all the intricacies of the history of a country like Huria.’ She paused and then continued mildly, ‘I will also be teaching the children music, a little natural science and engaging them in physical activity.’

Malik put the piece of bread he had just broken off back down on his plate and exhaled slowly. She was infuriating. He’d forgotten what it was like to have someone argue back, someone calmly pat you on the hand and then tell you they would disobey.

‘You will teach them arithmetic, geography, languages and world history,’ he repeated, struggling to keep his voice calm and level.

‘Oh, yes,’ she agreed. ‘Those subjects are very important. Especially languages.’

Malik waited. He just knew she would have something more to say.

‘But children need a rounded education. They can’t be cooped up in a classroom all day.’

He frowned. That was exactly what was supposed to happen. She was a governess, hired to teach his children. If she wasn’t going to do it in the classroom, then where was she planning on taking his children?

‘Miss Talbot,’ he said sternly—it was a voice many of his advisors cowered from, but she just sat there and smiled sunnily. ‘I have employed you to teach my children the subjects I see fit.’

‘And of course I will do that,’ she said. ‘But when we’re finished with arithmetic, languages, world history and geography we might branch out a little.’

How could you ever be finished with world history? Or languages?

She leaned forward and Malik found himself momentarily distracted by the swell of her breasts above her neckline. Hastily he looked away. Here he was preaching about how he wanted his children to behave and he couldn’t keep his eyes from roaming.

‘Why don’t you let me do it my way for a few weeks? If you really don’t like how your children are coming along, you can send me home.’

Malik opened his mouth to reply, then shut it again. She’d outmanoeuvred him. He was a skilled negotiator, always able to smooth things over with neighbouring countries or warring tribes, but he’d just been outmanoeuvred by a governess. He couldn’t argue with her logic—if he didn’t like how she did things he could always just send her home in a few weeks and employ someone more suitable.

He glanced at her again—maybe someone a little less distracting, with that grey hair, stern visage and the scattered warts he had been expecting. Maybe someone who didn’t smile quite so much.

Chapter Three

‘Enough,’ Rachel proclaimed.

Three sets of dark eyes looked at her with surprise. It was eleven in the morning and they still had another hour of lessons to go until they broke for lunch.

‘I think we need a change of scenery,’ she declared.

None of the children moved. Insistently Rachel stood up and gathered one or two things from her desk. She needed fresh air and she needed to see some proper daylight. The palace was magnificent, there was no denying it; cool whitewashed rooms were never far away from bubbling fountains or beautiful mosaics, but the schoolroom had something to be desired. It was plain and boring, there was no way of getting round it. Rachel supposed the Sheikh or one of his aides had thought it best to keep the room as dull as possible so as not to distract the children from their studies. The result was a room Rachel was dying to get out of after just two hours.

‘Come, children, we will finish our lessons outside.’

She had reached the door before anyone moved, but as she stepped outside into the bright sunlight she heard the scraping of the wooden chairs against the floor.

Rachel made a beeline for a shaded area, arranged her skirts around her, and sat down. The children followed awkwardly and stood looking down at her.

‘Now to finish off the morning we are going to work on developing your imaginations.’

One of the toughest things Rachel was finding was tailoring her lessons to three children of different ages and abilities. Aahil was intelligent and probably the most confident of the three when it came to answering her questions. Little Hakim was still so very young, but Rachel could see that under his shy exterior he had a quick mind. Ameera had refused to answer any of Rachel’s questions, instead preferring to scuff her feet along the floor and sigh loudly whenever Rachel spoke.

‘Between us we are going to tell a story,’ Rachel explained. ‘I will go first, set the scene and introduce a character or two. Then we will all take it in turns to add to the story.’

It was a game Rachel had played many times with her school friends on cold, wet, winter afternoons. For a moment Rachel pictured herself back at Madame Dubois’s School for Young Ladies and felt a pang of homesickness. She wondered how Joanna was faring in Hertfordshire. Of all her friends Rachel was most concerned for quiet, kind Joanna. Found abandoned on the steps of the school when just a baby, Joanna had never had a family, never known who her parents were. Rachel’s friend wanted so much to belong somewhere and had been excited about the prospect of becoming part of the family she was being employed by, but Rachel just hoped they treated her kindly and not like a servant. Joanna had so much love and warmth to give, she deserved happiness.

Pulling herself back to the present before Aahil could protest this wasn’t educational enough or Ameera could vocalise whatever criticism was making its way from her brain to her lips, Rachel began the story.

‘Once upon a time there was an old woman who lived in a small cottage in the woods.’ She turned to Hakim and smiled gently at him. ‘Why don’t you add something next, Hakim?’

The young Prince frowned and started to chew on his thumb.

‘You can add anything you like,’ Rachel said encouragingly.

‘She had a pet,’ Hakim said after a minute or two.

‘What kind of pet?’ Rachel asked.

‘A pet dragon.’

Ameera snorted. Rachel ignored her for a second and focused on Hakim.

‘That’s very good, Hakim. Once upon a time there was an old woman who lived in a small cottage in the woods. She had a pet dragon.’

Rachel was delighted when Hakim gave her a small, shy smile. She’d have to remember he liked dragons, work it into one of their lessons soon.

‘Ameera, it’s your turn next.’

Rachel watched as the young girl’s lips moved, but no sound came out. After a few seconds she spoke, a sly smile crossing her face.

‘The old woman liked to eat children for breakfast,’ she said. ‘And her name was Miss Talbot.’

Ameera sat back triumphantly, crossed her arms across her chest and levelled a challenging stare at Rachel. Rachel held her gaze. She had heard titbits of conversation from some of the servants about Ameera’s behaviour with her previous tutors. The young girl had been rude, naughty and sometimes downright mean, but despite her previous shenanigans, Rachel knew she was still just a child. A child acting up most likely because of the loss of her mother.

Rachel hadn’t spent years at a boarding school with lots of other girls not to learn how to deal with difficult characters. Ameera might be a little terror, but she was no match for Rachel.

Without changing the tone of her voice Rachel repeated the story so far. ‘Once upon a time there was an old woman who lived in a small cottage in the woods. She had a pet dragon. The old woman liked to eat children for breakfast and her name was Miss Talbot.’

Serenely Rachel turned to Aahil and motioned for him to continue the story. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Ameera’s face fall.

Aahil was quiet for a moment whilst he observed the interaction between his sister and his governess, then he realised what Rachel was doing and started to speak.

‘One day a brave prince was riding through the forest and he stopped outside the old woman’s cottage.’

Rachel turned to Hakim.

‘And he saw the pet dragon.’

She smiled encouragingly, then motioned for Ameera to carry on.

‘He killed Miss Talbot with his sharp pointy sword. The end,’ Ameera said firmly.

Rachel clapped her hands together.

‘What a wonderful story. We had an evil villain, a brave prince, a happy ending, and of course a dragon—everything a good story needs.’

‘Did you hear what I said?’ Ameera asked, no longer able to contain herself.

‘Yes, Ameera, I did.’

The young girl looked as if she were about to say something else when a shadow fell over them. Rachel looked behind her to see the Sheikh standing over them. She shivered slightly, telling herself it was because he was blocking out the sunlight and not because his dark eyes held hers for just a moment longer than was necessary.

‘How are your lessons going, children?’ he asked.

‘We’ve been making up a story,’ Hakim said, his face shining with pleasure.

Rachel saw the Sheikh’s surprised look as his youngest son spoke without prompting and felt a stab of pride. Just a few more days and most of Hakim’s shyness would be a thing of the past.

‘It had a dragon in it.’

The Sheikh frowned. In the two weeks since Rachel had arrived at the palace she had barely seen him. Apart from the rather surreal meal on the rooftop he had been busy with state business. Sometimes she would glimpse him talking quietly with some advisor or discussing something animatedly with Wahid, but he had not approached her since their dinner together.

Not that she expected him to want to talk to her, of course, but seeing as she spent most of her day with his children, she was pretty sure he hadn’t spoken to them either.

Rachel didn’t profess to be an expert on how royalty normally interacted with their children, but she had experienced first-hand the heartbreak indifference from a parent to a child could bring. Her parents had always been kind towards her, they’d never beaten her, or even told her off. She had been well clothed, decently fed and well educated. All in all she’d had more than many children could expect. What she hadn’t received was their attention. They’d always been more interested in each other than in her. Sometimes they hadn’t even noticed when she had entered the room. As a child she’d craved their attention, their approval, and when they didn’t do anything more than glance at the picture she’d painted or smile distantly when a governess paraded her in front of them on a Sunday, it had hurt more than if they’d slapped her face.

She wouldn’t let the same happen to these children. She could tell the Sheikh loved them, she could see it in his eyes, but he just didn’t know how to act around them. No doubt he had been brought up to focus fully on running his kingdom and didn’t know how to engage properly with the three young children who loved him so much.

‘A dragon,’ the Sheikh said.

Hakim nodded. ‘A pet dragon.’

‘I’m not sure...’ the Sheikh started to say.

‘Doesn’t Hakim have a wonderful imagination?’ Rachel said lightly.

The Sheikh stopped speaking and nodded, smiling down at his son.

‘Really wonderful.’

Rachel watched as father ruffled his son’s hair and Hakim smiled shyly.

‘Miss Talbot was in it,’ Ameera said, stepping forward between Rachel and the Sheikh. ‘She was the villain. I made sure she was stabbed with a really sharp sword.’

Rachel knew she was just doing it for attention so she smiled serenely and inspected her nails. She hoped the Sheikh would similarly ignore his daughter’s provocation and Ameera would soon realise nothing was to be gained from this sort of behaviour.

‘Ameera,’ he said sharply, ‘apologise at once.’

Ameera crossed her arms mutinously.

‘No.’

‘Apologise to Miss Talbot.’

‘No.’

Rachel closed her eyes briefly and steeled herself for the disaster this was about to become.

‘Ameera, you will apologise.’

‘I won’t.’

‘I am your father. You will do as I say. Apologise to Miss Talbot immediately.’

Ameera stared at him silently, fury flashing in her eyes.

‘Apologise.’

‘Never.’

‘Go to your room. You won’t be allowed out until you apologise.’

‘Good. Then I won’t have to see her annoying face ever again.’

Ameera stalked off towards her room, not sparing a glance for her father or Rachel, making sure the door slammed loudly behind her once she was inside.

The Sheikh ran a hand through his hair and for a moment he looked beaten, but Rachel couldn’t bring herself to feel sorry for him. He’d brought the whole episode on himself.

‘Could we have a word, Your Highness?’ Rachel asked excessively politely.

‘I need to be getting back.’

‘This can’t wait. Boys, why don’t you go and get cleaned up for lunch.’

As Aahil and Hakim scurried away Rachel saw the Sheikh turn as if he was about to leave, too. She caught him by the arm and proceeded to pull him into a little alcove that was sunk into the courtyard wall.

He was so surprised to be touched in this way that for a moment he followed her without any protest. Rachel saw the instant he rallied, but did not care if he was angry at being manhandled. She was angry at how he’d handled the situation.

‘That was poorly done,’ she hissed.

The Sheikh recoiled from her slightly and she wondered for a second when the last time he had been criticised to his face was.

‘Ameera needs discipline.’

‘She needs to see acting out will not get a reaction from us.’

‘She needs to learn she cannot be so rude.’

‘She’s testing the boundaries, seeing what she can get away with.’

‘And you would let her get away with that sort of behaviour?’

They were both talking in muted voices, but the anger was apparent in both sides. The Sheikh drew himself up to his full height and Rachel suddenly wished she hadn’t brought him into such a small, enclosed space. His body was only inches from hers, his face so close she could reach out and touch his cheek without stretching.

Rachel felt a tingle of anticipation run through her body. She was angry with him, there was no denying it, but there was something else lurking inside her, too. She saw the passion flashing in his eyes as he spoke about his children, passion that matched her own, and she felt drawn to him. Even though they were arguing she wanted to reach out and pull him closer, to feel his body up against hers.

She rallied, trying to push all inappropriate thoughts from her mind and focus on the real issue.

‘Ameera is craving attention,’ Rachel said, forcing herself to speak calmly. ‘She needs to realise that acting out will not get her attention, but behaving well will.’

The Sheikh looked as though he was going to say something more, but as he digested Rachel’s words he fell silent.

‘So you were just going to ignore her rude comments?’

Rachel nodded. ‘And praise her when she did something well.’

‘And eventually she will stop being rude.’

The Sheikh sank back against the wall. For a moment he looked just like a man, just like an ordinary father struggling with a difficult child.

Rachel watched as different emotions flitted over his face: sadness, helplessness and finally acceptance. She had another overwhelming urge to reach out to him, this time to comfort him, but just as she was raising her hand she stopped. He might look like an ordinary man right now, but she had to remember he was royalty. He was the ruler of a kingdom and so far above her in social status she probably shouldn’t even think about speaking to him directly.

As she let her hand fall back to her side the Sheikh surprised her by catching her fingers in his own. For a moment Rachel thought there was a slight longing in his expression, but after a second it was gone and the façade he presented to the world was back. Quickly he released her hand and stepped out of the alcove.

‘I’m sorry for interfering,’ he said. ‘In the future I’ll leave such decisions on discipline up to you.’

Rachel felt him slipping further away and knew if she were not careful he might feel like it were best if he disengage from his children completely. Thinking quickly she spoke.

‘This afternoon I was planning on taking over the kitchen for a few hours with the children. I know they would love for you to join us for a little while if you have the chance.’

Rachel saw him hesitate and then to her surprise he nodded without any further persuasion.

‘I’ll see if I can manage to join you for a short while in between the land disputes this afternoon.’

As he walked away Rachel sagged back against the wall. She had invited him to join them for the sake of his children, but she could not deny the flutter of excitement she’d felt when he’d agreed.

Chapter Four

Malik held up a hand for silence and immediately the raised voices fell quiet. He was developing a headache and he felt like they’d been cooped up in the mediation room all afternoon. As Sheikh it was his job to rule on all land disputes and intertribal quarrels in Huria. The kingdom was not huge, but the people were largely nomadic and had differing views of possession and ownership, which made disputes such as these very difficult.

The head of the Banjeree people opened his mouth to speak again, but Malik silenced him with a stern look. He’d heard enough. It was the age-old argument that the land belonged to nature and therefore the tribe should be allowed to wander anywhere to pitch their sturdy tents and take what they needed from the roaming livestock.

‘Talid,’ Malik said, addressing the head of the Banjeree people, ‘you are right that this land of ours is a gift from nature. We need to nurture it and give back exactly what we take, otherwise we will be left with nothing.’

He turned to the other supplicant, a successful farmer who didn’t like having his goats eaten by the Banjeree people, quite understandably.

‘I also agree with your opinion, Yusuf,’ Malik said in a conciliatory tone. ‘You work hard to build a successful business and feel it is unfair when your land is used and your livestock taken.’

‘They are not his livestock,’ Talid said.

Malik frowned at him and the nomad fell silent.

‘This is what will happen. Yusuf, you will allow the Banjeree to pitch their tents on your land, but only in places you are not currently using to grow crops or rear livestock. Talid, you will not allow your people to take anything from Yusuf’s land. There is plenty of countryside and wildlife that belongs only to the population of Huria as a whole, there is no need to destroy this man’s hard-built business.’

Both men looked as if they were about to argue, but Malik dismissed them before anything further could be said. It had been a long afternoon.

When the two men had left Malik stretched out on his adorned chair and glanced out of the window. He could hear giggles of pleasure coming from the kitchen where Miss Talbot had taken his children for an afternoon out of the classroom. He remembered her invitation and for a second he was tempted to go and join them, but something made him hesitate.

She was a little minx, his children’s new governess. She was clever and quick with her words and far too attractive to make Malik feel comfortable. When she had pulled him into the alcove earlier to discuss Ameera and how they would deal with her she had been spitting fire. He liked how protective of his children she had become in two weeks and, although he had been annoyed, too, he had been able to admire the self-confident way she had dealt with him. Many people could not even look him in the eye when they spoke, but Miss Talbot always fixed him with a look that told him he would listen or there would be hell to pay.

She’d been right about Ameera, too—he had blundered in and made things worse, given her bad behaviour attention when it just needed to be ignored. Malik wasn’t used to admitting he was wrong, he hardly ever had to do it, but he could see Miss Talbot’s methods would work with Ameera, at least better than any of the previous tutors’ had.

He almost stood, almost strode from the room and went to join his children in the kitchen for whatever lesson their governess had in store, but something made him hesitate. Of course he didn’t approve of her taking them out of the classroom all the time, but he did have to admit Hakim was becoming a little more confident and Aahil a little less serious under her care. The problem wasn’t with the location of the lesson, or the content, but with Miss Talbot herself.

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.

‘But I would like to make one thing clear...’ She paused and stepped closer, so close that Malik could smell that enticing scent of rose and lavender again. ‘If I am to remain as the children’s governess, I will do things my own way. The children will learn everything that you wish them to, but I will not trap them in a classroom to wither in the dark. I will nurture not only their minds, but their bodies and their souls, too. There will be laughter and there will be fun.’

She stopped speaking and they held each other’s eye for well over a minute. Malik knew they were at a vital point in their employer–employee relationship. He didn’t doubt—as much as Miss Talbot loved his children already and was enjoying her time here in Huria—that she would return home rather than teach in a way that went against her principles.

Suddenly Malik realised he didn’t want her to leave. Ever since she had walked into the palace, her face glowing with pleasure, she had injected a happiness into a place that had been consumed with grief and guilt for too long. He hadn’t heard his children laugh for months, but in the past two weeks every time he stepped outside there was a giggle or a shout of joy. Her methods weren’t what he had expected, not what he had wanted when he had sent for an English governess, but he couldn’t deny the children were responding to her. As long as they came out of it with an education, maybe it didn’t matter too much how they got it. Even if his father really wouldn’t have approved.

Malik took a step back. The proximity to the delicious-smelling Miss Talbot made something stir deep inside him that he didn’t want to admit to.

‘You will remain as the children’s governess,’ he said gruffly.

He wanted to say more, wanted to explain how in the past year he had felt adrift, with a chasm opening up between him and his children that he didn’t know how to bridge. Malik knew he blamed himself for Aliyyah’s death and knew the children probably did, too. He’d retreated into himself a little, giving everything to the kingdom as his own father had taught him, and not knowing how to help his sons and daughter grieve and move on.

Miss Talbot nodded once and turned back to clearing up the mess the children had made on the counter.

Malik rallied. He was Sheikh, ruler of the proud Kingdom of Huria, and he was good at it. No one had prepared him for the role of widowed parent, but he did know how to run his kingdom. He would just have to do his job and let Miss Talbot do hers.

* * *

Rachel took some deep breaths and started to count to a hundred in her head. Even though she was facing away from him, she could still feel the Sheikh’s presence in the kitchen. His power and determination seemed to radiate from him wherever he went.

She couldn’t quite believe how she had just confronted him, he was, after all, not only her employer, but also royalty, but Rachel had always felt her first responsibility was to the children in her care. When she was a child she had wished for a champion, someone who would stand up and tell her parents what she really needed, but instead she’d had governesses with weak personalities who just agreed with whatever their employers said.

Rachel reached a hundred and was surprised to find the Sheikh still standing in the same position in the kitchen. She knew others sometimes mistook her passion for rudeness or disrespect and hoped the Sheikh wasn’t about to tell her to pack her bags and leave because of insubordination. Miss Fanworth, her favourite teacher at Madame Dubois’s School for Young Ladies, had always cautioned her over her trait for speaking out, never trying to stifle Rachel’s personality, but advising her to balance her forthrightness with a way to move forward after she’d said her bit.

The Sheikh was frowning, an expression that did nothing to mar his near-perfect features, and Rachel wondered not for the first time what was going on inside his head. She could see something was holding him back from his children, even from life itself, and although being brought up knowing your first duty was to your country would certainly change your perspective on life, Rachel didn’t think it was enough to account for the distance he seemed to keep from everyone.

She supposed he could still be in mourning for his late wife, although in the two weeks Rachel had been at the palace she had heard quite a lot of gossip about their relationship. Rachel had always had a talent for making friends easily and people seemed to like opening up to her, so she had heard how the couple had remained distant despite being married for almost a decade.

Aahil, Ameera and Hakim were cared for, their father was ensuring they got a good education and were always safe, but Rachel knew something else integral was missing and she was determined to help this little family find it.

‘If you do not have to rush back, I think it might be a good idea for us to go and see Ameera together.’

She saw the Sheikh glance towards the door as if wondering if he could make a speedy escape. Rachel found herself holding her breath, wondering if this father would step up and make an extra effort with his children, even though he was struggling.

‘Of course,’ he said after a few seconds of internal debate.

‘Maybe we could discuss how best to approach the situation,’ Rachel suggested, knowing they would both have to present a united front if Ameera was to understand the lesson they were trying to teach her.

‘I won’t go blundering in,’ the Sheikh said with a half-smile.

Rachel found herself momentarily unable to speak. The Sheikh didn’t smile much—in fact, Rachel wasn’t sure if she had ever seen anything more than an amused upturning of his lips before now—but when he did smile it was devastating. He was a handsome man, Sheikh Malik bin Jalal al-Mahrouky, but when he smiled he was more than handsome. Rachel felt her skin start to tingle and her lips felt unusually dry. Maybe it was a good thing he was so serious most of the time—if he smiled at everyone then no one would ever get anything done.

She rallied, chastising herself. It was her first golden rule of being a governess: don’t fall for your employer. Such thoughts had been the downfall of so many young governesses and Rachel was determined not to be one of them. Besides, whenever she conversed with the Sheikh they always seemed to end up butting heads over their differing opinions. It was just his smile that had put her a little off balance, nothing more.

‘Wonderful,’ Rachel said sunnily, trying to hide the slight tremor in her voice.

‘Maybe you should take the lead,’ the Sheikh said. ‘I don’t want to undermine your authority. You have to be with her every day.’

Rachel nodded her agreement. It was exactly what she would have suggested, but his reasons for letting her take the lead made Rachel a little sad. She knew things were different for royalty—the Sheikh had to focus on running his kingdom—but Rachel knew all too well how upsetting it was when your parents left decisions on your upbringing to others.

From a young age Rachel could remember realising her parents were much more interested in each other than they were in her. They had had a tempestuous relationship—blazing rows one minute, elaborate shows of affection another. She could recall many nights sitting at the top of the stairs listening to them shouting and throwing things at each other. The next day it would be back to kisses and pet names, all the while hardly remembering they had a daughter quietly taking it all in. By the age of eight Rachel had known she never wanted to marry if this was what it turned you into and, by the time she arrived at Madame Dubois’s School for Young Ladies, she had decided she would much rather travel the world and make her own enjoyment than be stuck in a marriage such as her parents’. She felt she had always been destined to be a governess, but unlike many of her contemporaries, Rachel had looked forward to her chosen career with anticipation. She didn’t want to be tied down, married to someone who made her miserable, not when she could be making a difference to young lives. Rachel knew many children experienced the same benign neglect as she had, and as a governess she could give these emotionally abandoned children the affection their parents couldn’t. If she was completely honest with herself, the knowledge that she would never have children of her own made Rachel a little sad, but it was a sacrifice she had come to terms with.

Ameera’s situation wasn’t exactly like hers, but Rachel could empathise with the young girl. She was craving attention from her father, just like Rachel had from her parents, and he didn’t know how to give it to her.

‘Shall we?’ The Sheikh motioned towards the door and Rachel found herself immediately moving that way. He was a man used to being obeyed without question and that was powerful all in itself.

They crossed the courtyard in silence, walking quickly to get out of the blazing sun, then ascended the stairs to Ameera’s room. Rachel knocked on the door, but didn’t wait for an answer before turning the handle and stepping inside.

It was dark in the room compared to the courtyard and Rachel’s eyes took a moment to adjust. She glanced around the room and saw Ameera had pulled her books and her toys from the shelves in anger. For now Rachel would ignore the mess and instead she crossed to the bed where two wide, dark eyes were staring at her mutinously from out of the darkness.

Rachel sat, taking a moment to smooth her skirts and ensure she was comfortable. Ameera was a wilful little madam and they might be here for a while. She was pleased to see the Sheikh had hung back, standing by the door, silent but very much present in the room.

‘Good afternoon, Ameera,’ Rachel said.

The young girl stared back at her, lips firmly pressed together.

‘Have you been having fun in here?’ Rachel asked, looking around as if she genuinely didn’t know that Ameera had been sent to her room for bad behaviour.

Still silence. Already Rachel could see a flicker of triumph in the young girl’s eyes and she had to quash her own smile. The day Rachel was outmanoeuvred by a pupil was the day she gave up being a governess.

The Sheikh shifted his position behind them, but still remained silent.

‘I would like you to apologise, Ameera, to myself and to your father.’

‘No.’

‘Very well.’ Rachel stood and turned to leave. She counted the steps in her head and only got to four before Ameera’s voice burst through the silence.

‘That’s it?’ she asked. ‘You’re not going to force me to apologise?’

Rachel shook her head. ‘I’m not going to force you to apologise, Ameera.’ She continued walking to the door, stopping only when she was level with the Sheikh.

‘It’s a shame,’ she said, ‘but we tried.’

Rachel hoped the Sheikh would catch on and not spoil her little ruse.

‘We tried,’ he repeated, solemnly nodding his head.

Rachel had her hand on the door handle when she heard Ameera standing up.

‘Why is it a shame?’ she asked in a much-less-defiant voice than before.

‘Well, we’ve baked biscuits,’ Rachel said, ‘and your father was telling me how you love sweet things, so we thought we’d come in and give you the chance to apologise and come and join us once the biscuits are out of the oven.’

‘I can’t be bribed,’ the little Princess said in a voice that said she could quite easily be bribed.

‘And then there was the little excursion next week...’ Rachel let her sentence trail off. ‘Hakim will be ever so disappointed, but I can’t take your brothers and leave you here unsupervised.’

‘Excursion?’ Ameera asked.

Rachel nodded. ‘Hakim was so looking forward to it.’

She knew it was important to give Ameera a way to save face. The little girl had declared she would never apologise and now Rachel was asking her to go back on that. She needed a way to justify it to herself.

Ameera fiddled with a strand of hair for a moment, twisting it round her finger. Just as she’d planned, Rachel could smell the first wafts of the scent of biscuits baking.

‘I’m sorry,’ Ameera mumbled.

‘If you are going to apologise, Ameera, you need to do it properly, otherwise there’s no point in doing it at all.’

The little Princess looked up at her and took a deep breath.

‘I’m sorry, Miss Talbot, for being rude.’

Rachel smiled warmly. ‘Thank you for apologising, Ameera, it was very big of you.’

For a moment they stood looking at each other. Then Ameera launched herself across the room, and gave Rachel a quick hug. Rachel stroked the young girl’s hair and felt herself relax. Soon she would be able to start breaking down the walls these children had built to defend themselves from the pain of their mother’s death. Soon she would be able to start to help them heal. She glanced briefly at the Sheikh, who had remained silent throughout. He was watching the interaction between her and his daughter almost wistfully and Rachel wondered if he was the one who needed the most help to heal.

‘Why don’t you choose a book for story time, then go and find your brothers? We will test out the biscuits in ten minutes, I’ll bring them to the table in the courtyard.’

Rachel stepped outside, followed closely by the Sheikh. To her surprise he caught her by the upper arm and gently spun her to face him.

‘You were magnificent,’ he murmured, looking directly into her eyes.

Rachel mumbled something incomprehensible under her breath, not able to string a coherent sentence together with his rich brown eyes locked on hers.

He was still touching her upper arm and Rachel could feel the heat of his skin against hers through the thin cotton of her dress. She felt herself sway towards him ever so slightly and found herself wondering for the first time in her life what it would be like to kiss a man.

Rachel’s eyes flicked to his lips and she knew instantly what it would be like to kiss the Sheikh: sensuous and divine.

With a great effort she rallied. These thoughts were totally inappropriate. Not only was the Sheikh her employer, but she had sworn to herself long ago she would never let herself fall for a man and it would be all too easy to fall for the Sheikh. Sometimes his cool manner and distant demeanour irritated her, but she could already recognise the caring heart that beat under his icy façade.

Rachel stepped back, knowing she needed a little distance. Deep down she knew her attraction to this man was laughable really—he was royalty and she was the neglected daughter of a baron. Their gulf between their social statuses was so large it gaped before them, yet Rachel didn’t feel uneasy when the Sheikh was around. At least as long as he didn’t touch her and make her heart pound in her chest.

She had made her decision to always remain single and free years ago and she would not lose her head over this man who probably noticed her no more than he did his servants. Rachel had seen how love and relationships were more destructive than anything else. Her parents had always been somewhere in the cycle of vicious row or passionate reconciliation and Rachel knew she didn’t want that in her life. She would be quite content to see the world, focus on the children in her care and never fall in love in her life. She would just have to work on maintaining a safe distance from the Sheikh and his seductive eyes, whilst of course getting him more involved in his children’s lives.

‘I would like to take the children on a little excursion out of the palace next week,’ Rachel said, getting back to business.

‘That sounds a wonderful idea. I’m keen for all of them to appreciate this country as a whole and not just the luxurious life they lead behind these walls. I will arrange for an escort to accompany you.’

Rachel took a deep breath before she continued. She knew her next suggestion wasn’t going to help her maintain a safe distance from the Sheikh, but she also knew getting him involved with his children was more important than avoiding him because she felt a little tingle under her skin whenever he looked at her.

‘I think it would be so good for the children if you came with us.’

Rachel thought he would refuse outright, cite some important mediation or duty he had to attend to. To her surprise he seemed to deliberate her suggestion.

‘I’ll meet you out the front of the palace at nine o’clock Tuesday morning.’

They both seemed equally shocked by his agreement, but the Sheikh recovered first, giving a short bow and striding off, leaving Rachel to wonder what she had got herself into.

* * *

It was late before Rachel got any time to herself to sit down at the little writing desk in her room and lay out her paper and pen. She was an avid letter writer, and since arriving in Huria she had hardly had time to pen anything but short notes. But tonight she had decided to make time to write to her friends back in England, telling them about Huria, and maybe manage to get some of her thoughts straight at the same time.

It was times like these that she missed her parents. They had both died just over two years ago after contracting malaria on their travels. Despite not having a close relationship with them whilst she was growing up, Rachel had always wondered if things would have changed once she was an adult, once she was leading an interesting life of her own. She’d often imagined sending them postcards and letters whilst she was exploring the world, and when they were reunited for her parents to actually be interested in what she had been doing. Now she’d never know.

She started writing, addressing the top of the letters to Joanna, Isabel and Grace, her closest friends from the years she’d spent at Madame Dubois’s School for Young Ladies. The three girls were like family to her and Rachel had found that leaving them all behind had been the hardest part of leaving England. The only consolation was that they all had been moving on to take up positions as governesses at different locations.

In her letters she described the beautiful desert and the verdant oasis and the luxurious palace. She told her friends of the three children in her care and how they were now beginning to blossom and allow her into their world. She even began to write about the Sheikh, carefully thinking about the words before she put them to paper. Rachel had never kept secrets from her friends, but she found herself unwilling to say much on the subject of the Sheikh. Just thinking about him made her face feel hot, and hurriedly she moved on to other matters.

As she signed her name at the bottom of the letters Rachel felt a sudden sadness at being so far away from her three friends. They had always been there for each other throughout their time at school and now Rachel wished she could sit with the three girls on one of their beds and just talk about nothing and everything. She wanted to laugh at Isabel’s light-hearted exaggerations, pretend to be shocked at Grace’s latest act of rebellion and listen to Joanna’s quiet, soothing voice as she helped all three of her friends through their latest predicaments.

Rachel wondered how they were getting on in their new homes, whether they had been welcomed as they had all hoped and whether their employers were as infuriating and attractive as the cool, distant Sheikh. She worried about Grace’s situation the most. Whereas she, Joanna and Isabel had all set off to make lives for themselves as governesses, Grace had set off in search of her young daughter, the baby born in secret and who Grace had regretted giving up every moment since. Rachel squeezed her eyes shut and wished Grace luck in her search, knowing her old friend would not be happy until she’d found her daughter.

Chapter Five

Malik wondered what he had got himself into for the hundredth time that morning. He had so many things he needed to do, decisions that needed making, disputes that needed settling, but instead he had agreed to spend the entire day with Miss Talbot and his children. The strangest thing was he was quite looking forward to it. Normally he avoided too much contact with his children. He had been raised by tutors and servants, seeing his father just once or twice a week, and he had turned out fine. He could remember the old man lecturing him on how children needed a firm hand and someone to look up to. He had cautioned Malik over becoming too involved in the day-to-day raising of the children, telling his son his first duty was to Huria and to set an example to the entire population. The fact that he sometimes caught himself wishing it was he his children ran to when they scraped their knees or he they wanted to read them a story at night was mere sentimentality and Malik knew he couldn’t let that interfere with running his kingdom. His duty was to the people of Huria and he had never once shirked his duty, but today he was going to allow himself to show his children the kingdom he was so proud of.

Malik strode out into the blazing sunlight and surveyed the scene. Miss Talbot and the children had not yet arrived, but the horses were ready and waiting, as was Wahid.

‘Nice day for an excursion,’ Wahid said with a grin.

Malik had known Wahid since he had been a boy. The swarthy man was a few years older than him, and when the old Sheikh had sent Malik to Europe to study, it had been Wahid who had accompanied him. Now Wahid was more than a bodyguard. As well as being head of security for the palace, he was the closest thing Malik had to a confidant. It was a lonely business being Sheikh, with no one to share decisions with and no one really to talk to, and Wahid seemed to recognise that.

Malik turned back towards the palace as he heard a stampede of feet and saw all three children bursting through the doors and out into the sunlight. Walking calmly behind them, seeming cool and in control, was the unshakeable Miss Talbot.

Malik watched her for a few seconds. The half-dozen Englishmen who had visited Huria at one time or another always seemed red in the face and sweaty. They spent half their time mopping their brows or exclaiming about the heat of the sun and the other half fanning themselves with whatever they could lay their hands on. Miss Talbot was different, she seemed to enjoy the heat, as she seemed to enjoy everything, and take pleasure from the sun. She never appeared flustered or hot and her crisp cotton dresses remained a brilliant white in colour, unstained by sweat or the sands of the desert. Malik didn’t know how she did it.

His gaze was drawn away from the governess by the sight of all three of his children stopping suddenly, mouths gaping open.

‘Father?’ Aahil said, as if he didn’t quite believe what he was seeing.

Malik wasn’t quite sure what the question was, but smiled encouragingly at his children.

‘Come on and find your horses, we’ve got a busy day planned.’

None of the children moved.

‘You’re really coming with us?’ Ameera asked.

Malik nodded.

‘Really?’ Ameera persisted. ‘Miss Talbot said you were, but we didn’t believe her.’

Malik felt a stab of sadness at his daughter’s comment, but he understood his children’s incredulity. He loved Aahil, Ameera and Hakim, but he didn’t spend much time with them. Running the kingdom took so much of his time and energy and it wasn’t as if he had ever taken them on an excursion before.

‘Really. Now, who needs a hand mounting their horse?’

Malik knew in the year since his wife had died his children had most likely craved attention, but he had been too busy working through his own issues to even realise it. His children needed him, they needed him to give them the attention their mother once had and they needed him to help them understand her death, even if he didn’t quite understand it himself. Throughout their young lives Malik knew he had kept his distance from his children and, looking at their beautiful faces assembled in front of him, he felt a pang of regret. As a boy it had been drummed into him that his place was running the kingdom and his wife would bring up any children, but now his children needed him to do both. Malik wondered whether he was capable of shouldering the responsibility for both Huria and the children and felt the weight of responsibility pressing heavily on him.

Malik watched as Aahil expertly mounted his large grey horse and a stab of regret coursed through him. He didn’t know who had taught his son to ride, but it wasn’t he.

Ameera was next. She placed a foot in Malik’s hand and swung herself up on to the small mare that nuzzled her hand and preened under her touch.

All the while Hakim was standing with his hand firmly gripping Miss Talbot’s, looking more than a little terrified.

‘Hakim,’ Malik said softly.

His youngest son looked at him with tears in his eyes.

‘What’s the matter?’

Hakim looked down at his feet.

Malik took a step towards him uncertainly. He glanced up to see Miss Talbot smiling encouragingly and all of a sudden he knew what to do. Malik knelt down in the sand in front of his son’s feet and took the boy’s hands in his own. Carefully he reached up and brushed the tears from his son’s cheeks.

‘Do you know I was seven when I first learnt to ride?’ Malik said quietly.

Hakim’s eyes flicked to his for just a second before returning to his feet.

‘Before that I was rather scared of horses.’

Malik felt his heart soar as his son looked up again with an expression of doubtful hope on his face.

‘I never thought I would ever be able to ride like my father or my uncles.’

Malik watched as his son glanced at Miss Talbot. She smiled at him encouragingly and gently let go of his hand.

‘Maybe you’d like to ride with me today?’ Malik suggested. ‘And then next week we can choose a horse for you from the stables and I can teach you to ride.’

Malik surprised himself with the suggestion; he had never considered anything like it before. For a moment he felt a wave of panic and uncertainty, unsure whether his son might reject his offer, but before the feelings could take hold Hakim had launched himself into Malik’s arms and was already chattering about what horse he might like.

As he led the boy towards his huge black stallion, Malik caught Miss Talbot’s eye and saw the gleam of happiness there. He was inordinately pleased she cared so much for his children already and for a second wondered what it might be like to have her care for him in the same way.

Malik knew he had been blessed in life. He was Sheikh of this wonderful kingdom, he didn’t want for any of life’s necessities and he had three healthy children to carry on his line. He had once been married to one of the most beautiful women in Huria and time and time again other men had told him how lucky he was to have Aliyyah for his wife. But one thing he had never had was love. In childhood his father had cared for him in a distant kind of way, but never demonstrated any love, and his mother had died in childbirth. When he had married, Malik had done so to carry out his duty, not for love. Aliyyah had made her feelings on the matter quite clear and throughout their marriage he had never received a single look or touch laden with anything more than tolerance. Up until now Malik hadn’t ever really thought too much of love, or having someone else’s affections, but witnessing the way Miss Talbot looked at his children he wondered whether he was missing out.

Malik mounted his horse, bent down and pulled his son up in front of him. He could feel the small boy trembling slightly and Malik gently wrapped his arms around his son.

‘Here’s your first lesson,’ he said, knowing that encouraging Hakim to concentrate on learning how to ride would take away at least some of the fear. Malik reached around, picked up the reins and positioned them in his son’s hands. ‘You hold the reins loosely, like this, allowing the horse to feel like they have some freedom. When you want to direct them one way or another, a gentle movement is all it takes.’

He demonstrated how to guide the horse, then let Hakim have a go.

The last person to mount a horse was Miss Talbot, and for a moment Malik wondered whether she knew how to ride. The idea of having her up on his horse, nestled between his thighs, was rather too appealing and he felt a surge of disappointment as she expertly settled on to the back of a headstrong mare. Malik watched as she rearranged her skirts, managing to look as composed as always, and felt the first stirrings of desire as he glimpsed a flash of her smooth calf before her dress settled into position.

Pushing such inappropriate thoughts away, Malik did a quick check that everyone was safe and comfortable, then they moved away from the palace. He’d decided to take only Wahid with them, not a formal full bodyguard, so they could move at their own pace and enjoy the outing. Most people in the surrounding villages would probably recognise him and the royal children, but there was a slight hope of a little more freedom if they travelled without a full escort. Sometimes Malik craved anonymity; he wanted to wander this kingdom he was so proud of incognito and enjoy some of the delights of the common man.

‘This oasis is the largest in all of Huria,’ Malik said to Miss Talbot as she drew her horse alongside his. Already Ameera and Aahil were out in front of their little group, talking animatedly to Wahid, leaving Malik with his youngest son and the pretty, young Englishwoman for company. ‘When my ancestors became rulers of Huria they understood the most important resource for a desert kingdom was water. If you controlled the water you controlled the people.’

‘That’s why they built the palace around the oasis?’ Miss Talbot asked.

Malik loved the way her eyes shone with genuine interest, he knew that she wasn’t just asking the question to be polite.

‘They built this settlement around the oasis and they built strongholds around the other sources of water in Huria.’

Malik’s face darkened for a second as he thought of the less scrupulous of his ancestors, who had held the people of Huria hostage by withholding water over the centuries.

‘Nowadays water belongs to every man, woman and child equally,’ Malik said, ‘but at certain points in our history the less principled of my ancestors used our most precious resource to hold the citizens of this kingdom hostage and enforce their rule.’

‘Surely living in such an arid climate sometimes you have to ration the water so it does not run out completely.’

Malik was pleasantly surprised to see Miss Talbot take such an interest in his country. As he talked she listened to him attentively and did not let her concentration waver to other matters. It was rather enjoyable having someone to talk to who actually wanted to interact with him.

Although he and Aliyyah had been married for nine years he had never felt able to talk to his wife about anything other than routine matters. She had not once asked him about his plans for Huria, or wanted to discuss his wishes and dreams. Most of that indifference stemmed from the fact that she resented having to marry him. Malik had known her heart was lost to someone else long before they said their marriage vows, but he had never questioned his duty to marry her and assumed she had done the same. Once they had been married for two months and Aliyyah had only ever spoken the words yes, husband or no, husband, Malik had begun to suspect her feelings about their marriage did not mirror his own. He’d never expected love, but he’d hoped for pleasant companionship, a woman to be Shaykhah of the kingdom he loved so much. In the years that followed they had led completely separate lives, only coming together to fulfil the rest of their duty and conceive heirs to the throne of Huria.

He glanced again at Miss Talbot. She was the opposite of his late wife in so many ways. Whereas Aliyyah spent most of her life locked away in her rooms, Miss Talbot blossomed in the sunlight, and where Aliyyah’s default expression was the frown, Miss Talbot’s was a smile. It was refreshing to have someone so cheerful around the palace.

‘At times of drought we do ration the water, prioritising drinking water above all else. We’ve had some tough years, but thankfully nothing too terrible in my lifetime.’

Malik watched as she digested the information, considering what he had just said. He liked how he could see her different thoughts as her expression changed.

Malik sat back in his saddle and contemplated another way Miss Talbot was different to his late wife: he was attracted to her. He could not deny Aliyyah had been beautiful; she was admired by everyone. But there had been no spark between her and Malik, no fire, no passion. Miss Talbot was a different matter. She was passionate about everything and her self-confidence and happy demeanour made her glow. Malik had found himself trying to catch glimpses of her over the past few days, wanting to see her as she walked across the courtyard or shielded her eyes from the sun. Although they disagreed on many aspects of how to raise his children, Malik loved the fire in her eyes when they argued and her determination to convince him she was right. All of these things made her attractive, qualities Malik had never paid attention to in anyone else, but when Miss Talbot looked him in the eye and smiled that genuinely happy smile, he couldn’t deny the rise in his body temperature or the desire that flared inside him.

* * *

They rode at a comfortable pace, with Ameera and Aahil ahead, pestering Wahid with questions, and Malik and Hakim level with Rachel. She felt strangely contented, riding along with the Sheikh and his children. She knew she’d done a good thing here, asking him to accompany them. Already Hakim was appreciating all the attention from his father, and Rachel had seen the Sheikh’s face as he swung his son up on to the horse in front of them. There was no questioning he cared for his children, he just needed to be shown how to demonstrate it.

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