Governess To The Sheikh. Laura MartinЧитать онлайн книгу.
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.