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.
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
