Kitabı oku: «Forbidden in Regency Society: The Governess and the Sheikh», sayfa 3

‘What would he do, this Prince Jamil, who you seem to know so well?’

‘He would have you beheaded and dragged through the desert by a team of wild horses,’ Cassie said defiantly. She was sure she had read about that somewhere.

‘Before or after the beheading?’

Cassie narrowed her eyes and set her jaw determinedly. ‘You are clearly not taking me seriously. Perhaps I should scream.’

‘I would prefer it if you did not. My apologies, Lady Cassandra, allow me to introduce myself. I am Sheikh Jamil al-Nazarri, Prince of Daar-el-Abbah. I did not intend to alarm you, I merely wished to formally welcome you into my protection. Protection,’ he added sardonically, ‘that you obviously feel in urgent need of.’

Prince Jamil! Dear heavens, this was Prince Jamil! Cassie stared aghast at his countenance, forgetting all about the heinous crime of meeting a prince’s eyes, which Celia had warned her about. ‘Prince Jamil! I’m sorry, I didn’t realise, I thought.’

‘You thought I was about to rip your nightclothes unceremoniously from you and ravish you,’ Jamil finished for her, eyeing the luscious curves, barely concealed by her flimsy garment.

Cassie clutched her nightdress even tighter to her and tried, not entirely successfully, to banish this shockingly exciting idea from her mind. ‘I wasn’t aware that you were going to call on me,’ she said in what she hoped was an unflustered tone.

‘Halim did not mention that I intended to visit you?’

‘No.’ She saw a fierce frown form on the prince’s countenance. She would not like to be in Halim’s shoes. Cassie bit her lip. ‘I’m sure it was an oversight. He may even have mentioned it, but I didn’t hear him. I was very tired.’

‘Your generosity does you credit. Don’t worry, I won’t have him beheaded and dragged through the desert by wild horses.’

His words were accompanied by a half-smile that Cassie could not help but return. ‘I’m afraid I let my imagination run away with me a bit.’

She was not the only one. Reality crashed down on Jamil’s head with a vengeance, forcing him to bid a metaphorical goodbye to his cherished vision of a dowdy, sober, English aristocrat. He looked at the dishevelled female standing before him who apparently was Lady Cassandra Armstrong, Linah’s new governess. This ravishing, curvaceous, luscious creature with lips that were made to cushion kisses was to stay at the royal palace and teach Linah manners. Respect. Discipline.

Jamil clutched at the golden band of his headdress and pulled it from his head along with the gutrah itself and threw both onto a nearby divan. He ran his hands through his short hair, which was already standing up in startled spikes, and tried to imagine the reception his Council would give her. Almost, it would be worth bringing her back to Daar just to see their stunned expressions. Then he imagined Linah’s reaction and his mouth straightened into its familiar determined line. ‘No,’ he said decisively.

‘No? No—what, may I ask?’

‘I cannot permit you to be my daughter’s governess.’

Cassie’s face fell. ‘But why not? What have I done?’

Jamil made a sweeping gesture. ‘For a start you look like you belong in a harem, not a schoolroom.’

Dismay made Cassie forget all about the need for deference and the necessity of not speaking without thinking. ‘That’s not fair! You caught me unawares. I was prepared to go to my bed, not to receive a formal state visit. You talk as if I lie around half-naked on a divan all day, buffing my nails and eating sweetmeats.’

Jamil swallowed hard. The idea of her lying around half-naked was most distracting. To be fair, she was actually showing less flesh than if she had been clad in an evening gown. Except that he knew her to be naked underneath. And the folds of her robe clung so lovingly to her, he could not help but notice her contours. And there was something about her, the slumberous eyes, the full bottom lip, the fragrance of her skin, jasmine and something else, sensuous and utterly female.

‘What I meant is, you don’t look—strict enough to be a governess,’ he said.

Despite the very awkward situation, Cassie’s sense of the ridiculous was tickled. She bit hard on her lower lip, but her smile quivered rebelliously.

‘I don’t know what you find in the situation to amuse you,’ Jamil snapped.

‘I beg your pardon,’ Cassie said, trying very hard to sound contrite. ‘If you would perhaps tell me how you expect me to look, I will endeavour to change my appearance accordingly. I have lots of perfectly demure dresses, I assure you.’

‘It’s not a matter of clothing. Or lack of it. It’s—it’s you. Look!’ He took her by surprise, taking her by the arm and turning her towards the full-length mirror that stood in a corner of the tent.

Cassie looked at her reflection in the soft glow of the lamp that hung from the canopied ceiling. Her hair was burnished, more auburn than gold, curling wildly about her face, tangling with the lace at the neckline of her negligee. Her skin was flushed. Her eyes had a sparkle to them that had of late been missing. She had an air of disarray that made her look a little—wanton—there was no denying it. How could that be?

Behind her, Prince Jamil moved closer. She could feel the hardness of his body just barely touching her back. She could sense him, warm and male, hovering only inches away from her. He reached over her shoulder to brush her hair back from her face and his touch, for some reason, made her shiver, though she wasn’t cold in the slightest.

‘Look,’ he said, gazing at her intently, straightening the lace at her neck, running a hand down her arm to twitch the lace straight there, too, to tighten the sash of her robe which kept coming undone despite her best efforts to knot it securely. ‘Look,’ he said, his hand brushing her waist. Their eyes met in the mirror, autumn gold and summer blue, and she looked—not at herself but at them, the two of them, close enough to almost merge into one—as he did, too, at precisely the same moment.

And at that precise moment something happened. The air seemed to crackle. Their gazes locked. Cassie’s breath caught in her throat. Prince Jamil bent his head. She watched in the mirror as he lifted the fall of her hair from her shoulders, as if she were watching a play, as if it was happening to someone else, as if the sensual creature before her was not her.

But if it was not her, why was it that she could feel his lips on the bare skin of her neck? The tiniest touch, but it was searing. Her skin contracted and burned. Now her breath came, rapid and shallow, too fast, like her heart, suddenly galloping. She realised only a fraction of a second before he did so that he was going to kiss her.

Kiss her properly.

Kiss her on the mouth.

He turned her around and tilted her chin up. His eyes met hers again, darker gold now, intensely gold, irresistibly gold. He made the tiniest movement towards her, so subtle as to be almost undetectable, except she detected it and responded, stepping into his arms and lifting her face and slanting her lips. And he kissed her.

Cassie had been kissed before. Truth be told, men had a habit of trying to kiss her, though she gave them no encouragement as far as she was aware, and had never had any problem in actively discouraging them when necessary. But strangely, discouraging Prince Jamil simply did not occur to her.

Augustus’s kisses had been worshipful and chaste rather than intimate. To be honest, Augustus’s kisses had failed singularly to arouse the rapture which dwells on the first kiss of love, which Lord Byron had so beautifully evoked and which Cassie had been led to expect. It had been one of the things that had made her question the depth of her feelings for Augustus, for neither the first kiss of love nor the twentieth had roused in her anything but mild indifference. But as Prince Jamil’s mouth met hers, indifference was the furthest thing from her mind, and she knew that when he finished kissing her, she would be in no doubt whatsoever that she had been kissed.

His hand cupped her head, urging her to close the space, the tiny space, between them. She did, relishing the way her curves seemed to meld into the hard planes of his muscular frame. Her breasts brushed tantalisingly against his chest and her nipples puckered in response, as they did when she was cold, except she wasn’t cold, and it was quite a different sensation. His other arm curved round her waist, nestling her closer. She licked her lips, because they felt dry. His eyes widened as she did so. He made a guttural noise like a moan that made her stomach knot. Then his lips touched hers, and she knew instantly that Lord Byron had been right after all.

Rapture. A soaring, giddy feeling surged through her as Prince Jamil’s mouth moulded itself to hers. He kissed as if he were tasting her, his touch plucking tingling strings of sensation buried deep in her belly. He pulled her closer, settling her against him, his fingers sinking into her hair, into the soft, yielding flesh of her waist. His mouth coaxed hers open, his lips settled on hers, harder now, making her sigh at the taste of him. She felt herself unfurling like a flower as his tongue touched hers, a shockingly sensual and intimate act. If he had not held her, if she had not clutched, with both hands, at his tunic, his arms, his shoulders, his back, she felt as if she would have fallen into an abyss. She felt wanton. She felt wild abandon. She wanted the kiss to go on for ever. She pressed herself against him, and encountered something solid and heavy pressing against her thigh.

Jamil leapt back at once. He stared at her as if she was a stranger. Cassie stared, too, her hand to her lips, which were burning, seared, marked. Shame and embarrassment washed over her. What must he think of her?

Jamil looked at her in horror. What was he doing? And by the gods, why was he still thinking of doing more! ‘You see what I mean now,’ he said, taking his frustration out on the cause of it, ‘you are clearly not governess material.’

Cassie was too bewildered to do anything other than stare at him. She felt a strange, needy ache, as if she had been starving, had been shown a banquet and allowed just one bite before the feast was withdrawn. Her body hummed and protested and begged for more. She was mortified and confused. Had she encouraged him? Was it her fault?

‘Well? Have you nothing to say for yourself?’

She licked her lips. They felt swollen. ‘I …’

Jamil gave an exclamation of disgust, as much at his own actions as anything else. It was not like him to behave with such a lack of control. A prince must be above such emotions. ‘This arrangement is clearly not going to work. It is best we acknowledge that now. I will have you returned to your sister in the morning.’

The heavy edge of his cloak brushed against her ankle as he made for the door, rousing Cassie from her stupor. ‘Returned!’ she gasped, as the consequences of her entirely inappropriate behaviour began to dawn on her. She was to be sent back, like an unwanted present or a misdirected missive! Why could she not just for once think before she spoke or acted? ‘Please. I beg of you, Prince Jamil, to reconsider.’ Cassie tugged on his cloak in an effort to halt his retreat, and succeeded in earning herself an extremely haughty stare, but desperation made her ignore it. If he left now, he would not change his mind. He would send her back, she would be disgraced for the second time, only this time it was even worse because she would be letting not only herself but Celia down, and Ramiz, too, and she could not bear that. ‘Oh, please,’ she said again, ‘I implore you, your Highness, don’t be so hasty. Just listen to me, give me a chance to prove myself, I beg of you.’

Jamil hesitated momentarily and Cassie threw herself into the breach. ‘Prince Jamil. Your Highness. Sheikh al-Nazarri.’ She made a low and extremely elegant curtsy, completely unaware that she was granting Jamil a tantalising glimpse of cleavage. ‘You would concede that your daughter is in urgent need of a governess and I—well, to be frank, I am in urgent need of an opportunity to prove myself, so you see, we both stand to profit from making this arrangement work. I know I’m not what you were expecting, though indeed I’m still not sure what exactly you were expecting, but I assure you I am extremely capable of looking after a little girl like Linah. I myself lost my mother at an early age, and I have three younger sisters whose education and upbringing I’ve been closely involved in. I’m sure she and I will get on. I know I can get through to her, make a difference to her. Please. Don’t send me back. Give me a chance. You won’t regret it.’

She clasped her hands in supplication and only just resisted the urge to throw herself on her knees. Prince Jamil gave no indication of wavering, his face set in an implacable expression. Only his eyes betrayed a flicker of something else. What, she couldn’t discern.

Why on earth had he kissed her like that? To teach her a lesson? And why had she let him? She wasn’t attracted to him, she couldn’t be, she wasn’t going to allow herself to be attracted to anyone. Not ever. She’d never allowed a man such liberties before. No man had ever attempted to take such liberties before, but Prince Jamil did not seem to think his behaviour questionable. Only her own.

And he was right about that. She had behaved like a very wanton. No wonder he thought—oh, God, she didn’t want to even think about what he thought. Cassie clasped her hands together tighter and swallowed her pride. What use was pride, after all? She had no right to it, and no use for it either, if it prevented her from using all her powers to persuade the prince that she was worthy of his trust. ‘I don’t know what came over me—when you—when you—when I allowed you to kiss me, I mean,’ she said, blushing madly but forcing herself to continue to meet those strange golden brown eyes. ‘I can only assure you that I am not in the habit of allowing—of indulging—in kissing.’

‘I know,’ Jamil said, surprised out of his rigid hold on his control by this naïve admission.

‘You do?’

‘Your kisses were hardly expert.’

Cassie wasn’t sure if this was an insult or a compliment. Though she was much inclined to pursue this very interesting question, for once sense prevailed and she held her tongue. ‘Anyway, whatever they were or were not, I assure you I won’t subject you to them again.’

Despite his determination not to be persuaded, Jamil was intrigued. And amused. It had been so long since he had found anyone so entertaining as Lady Cassandra. Or so—confounding. Unexpected. Interesting. He would be quite happy to be subjected again to her kisses. More than happy. The question was, was this a good thing or a bad? ‘My daughter.’

‘Linah.’

‘She is.’

‘Unhappy.’

He raised a supercilious brow. ‘I was going to say difficult.’

‘Yes, but that’s because she’s unhappy.’

‘Nonsense. She has no reason to be so. She has everything any little girl could wish for.’

‘Children are not born difficult, they are difficult for a reason,’ Cassie persisted, feeling herself on surer ground. ‘The trick is to work out what that reason is. Linah is only eight years old, she has not the language to express her feelings properly. So instead she expresses them by.’

‘Being difficult.’ Jamil pondered this. All his experience told him that leniency was the root cause of Linah’s tantrums. It had not occurred to him until now that Linah could actually be unhappy; he had assumed that withholding the harsh physical discipline which had been meted out to him would be enough. Could he be wrong? The thought was discomfiting.

‘You see, I do understand little girls,’ Cassie continued, sensing from the look on the prince’s face that she had struck a chord. ‘I want nothing more than to help Linah. If we could forget about what happened tonight—make a fresh start in the morning …’

Jamil raised an imperious hand. ‘Enough. I admit, you’ve given me food for thought, but it’s late. I will sleep on it and inform you of my decision in the morning.’

‘Sleep is the wisest counsel. That’s what my sister Celia always says.’

Jamil smiled properly this time, showing a fleeting hint of a single dimple. ‘My father used to say something similar. I will bid you goodnight, Lady Cassandra.’

Dazzled by the way his face changed, from intimidating sheikh to an extraordinarily attractive and somehow more youthful man, Cassie gazed up at him. Only his turning to go brought her to her senses. ‘Goodnight, Highness,’ she said, dropping another curtsy. By the time she emerged from it, he was gone.

Chapter Three

The next morning found Jamil, most unusually for him, still in two minds. It did not help that Lady Cassandra had haunted his dreams. It did not help that the memory of her lips, her skin, her nubile body, had awakened his own slumbering desires, conjuring endless teasing fantasies that made sleep impossible. He had finally quit his divan in desperation, plunging into the refreshing water of the pool before dawn had even risen, in an effort to cool his body and order his mind. He was quite unused to such carnal thoughts getting in the way of his decision-making process. The base needs of his body had never before intruded on the logical processes of his brain. Lady Cassandra confused him by blurring the neatly ordered boundaries of his mind. She was made for pleasure. She was here for a much more pragmatic purpose.

Returning to his tent to don his travelling clothes, Jamil resorted to drawing up a mental list of the advantages and disadvantages of employing Lady Cassandra as Linah’s governess, and in doing so uncovered one of the questions that had been niggling away in the back of his mind. Lady Cassandra had said she urgently needed an opportunity to prove herself. Why? he wondered. Prove herself after what?

It was the first question he put to her when she appeared before him in the makeshift throne room. She wore her travelling outfit, the blue riding habit and veil in which she had arrived yesterday, and was at pains to keep her head correctly bowed, but Jamil was in no mood to allow her to hide behind the trappings of propriety. He bade the servants draw forwards the light curtains and instructed her to put back her veil. He did not, however, bid her sit, choosing to keep her standing before him, like a supplicant. ‘Explain to me, if you please, what you meant by needing an opportunity to prove yourself,’ he said in clipped tones.

Cassie stared at the prince in consternation. All through the long night she had rehearsed her arguments and mustered her reasons, drilling them into a tight formation, readying them to be paraded, impeccable and indisputable, before the prince. She was ready to recite lesson plans in everything from watercolour painting to deportment, map reading to account keeping, playing upon the pianoforte—though she wasn’t particularly sure that such an instrument would be available—French conversation—though she didn’t know, when it came down to it, if Linah even spoke English—botany—though she had no idea what flowers—if any—grew in the desert—and horse riding, the one subject on which Cassie knew herself to be expert. All of this she had ready at her fingertips, along with her ideas for instilling strict but fair discipline, and most of all her ardent desire to give Linah some much-needed affection.

But it seemed Prince Jamil was not interested in any of this. Instead he wanted to know about her motives, a subject Cassie herself was a little hazy on, just at the moment. ‘I suppose I meant that it would be good to be of use,’ she fumbled.

Prince Jamil’s mouth tightened. ‘Of all things, I abhor prevarication. It leads, more often than not, to deceit. If you are to be my daughter’s governess, I must be able to trust you implicitly. To deceive me as to your motives.’

‘Oh, no, I would never do that.’

‘Then I ask you again, what precipitated this burning desire to prove yourself?’

Blushing, Cassie shuffled from one foot to the other, trying desperately to find a way of satisfying the prince’s curiosity without putting herself in too unflattering a light, but a glance up at his stern countenance told her she would do far better to give him the unvarnished truth. He would not tolerate anything else, and she most assuredly did not want to risk being discovered in what he would then assume to be a lie. She clasped her hands together and began the sorry tale of her ill-fated betrothal to Augustus, though telling it rather to her riding boot than to Prince Jamil, not daring to look up for fear that his countenance would betray his disapproval.

‘I made a mistake, a terrible lack of judgement,’ she concluded. ‘Had I not been so headstrong, so indulgent of my sentimental inclinations, I and my family would have perhaps been spared the humiliation of my being so publicly jilted.’

‘But surely it is this man Augustus—if you can call such a desert scorpion a man—surely it is he who should feel shame?’ Jamil said contemptuously. ‘You are the innocent party. He, on the other hand, has behaved in a manner that shows a complete lack of honour and integrity. He deserves to be the outcast, not you.’

Cassie shook her head. ‘It is not how the world sees it, nor indeed how my—my papa sees it.’

‘In my world we would see such a thing quite differently.’

Cassie jutted her chin forwards determinedly, a gesture Jamil found strangely endearing. ‘Well, however anybody else chooses to see it,’ she said, ‘I assure you, no one could be more ashamed than I, nor more determined to change. I do not intend ever to give my heart rein again.’

‘A wise decision. The heart is not, in my opinion, a logical organ.’

‘No. Nor a reliable one. I have my faults, but I do not need to be taught something twice.’

‘He who is burned must always beware the fire, hmm?’

‘Exactly.’

‘So, not to put too fine a point on it, Lady Cassandra, you’re telling me that you were sent out here in disgrace?’

Cassie wove and unwove her long fingers. ‘No, not precisely. Papa wished me to retire to the countryside until the scandal had blown over. It was Celia’s suggestion that I come out here—she knows, you see, how very taken I was with Arabia when Aunt Sophia and I came to rescue—’ Jamil raised his eyebrows quizzically. ‘That is to say, came to visit Celia before she was married. And I was also most eager to … to put some distance between myself and Papa’s new wife, who seemed to relish adding fuel to the fire with regards to my predicament.’ Cassie’s breast heaved at the thought of her stepmother. ‘Bella Frobisher is a grasping, selfish cuckoo in the nest and now, of course, that she’s produced an heir—well! You can imagine how she crows.’

She broke off with an exclamation of dismay. ‘I beg your pardon, we seem to have strayed rather from the point. The thing is, your Highness, that I’m afraid my betrothal rather confirmed Papa’s opinion of me as—as a little lacking in judgement and not very dependable,’ she said, blushing deeper than ever, ‘and I would very much wish to prove him wrong.’

‘It seems to me that your father is at fault in allowing you far too much latitude. Here in Arabia, we recognise that women are the weaker sex, and do not permit them to make life-changing decisions, such as a choice of husband, for themselves.’

Cassie’s immediate reaction was to inform Prince Jamil that here in Arabia, in her opinion, women were not so much protected as subjected, but even as the words formed she realised that they undermined her cause no end. ‘My papa would heartily agree with you on that topic,’ she said instead.

‘Meaning?’

‘Meaning, if Papa had his way, he would marry all of us off to his advantage, regardless of our wishes.’

‘That is not what I meant at all. It is not my intention that Linah become a state asset, not that that is any of your business. All I want is for her to learn respect for authority, to understand that there are boundaries she must not cross.’

‘Children who are unhappy are wont to misbehave in order to gain attention,’ Cassie said carefully.

‘Yes, so you said last night. What do you mean by that?’

‘Well, Linah has been without a mother since she was a baby, hasn’t she?’

‘She has had any number of females to look after her and pander to her every whim. In fact, she has been over-indulged. I concede that’s partly my fault. I have allowed her to be spoiled in order to compensate for the loss of her mother and as a consequence have been reluctant to discipline her.’

‘It’s not spoiling or discipline she really needs. Tell me, Prince Jamil, are you close to your daughter?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Do you see her every day? Play with her? Talk to her? Show any sort of interest at all?’

Jamil stiffened perceptively. ‘Of course I take an interest, she is my daughter.’

‘How?’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘How do you show an interest?’

‘I am given a weekly report of her behaviour and her progress with her lessons—at least I was, until the last female I hired departed. Linah is brought to me at the end of each week to discuss this.’

Cassie bit her lip. It was exactly as she had suspected. Poor little Linah was desperate for affection, and her cold-hearted father did nothing but mete out criticism. ‘So, the only time you see her is to chastise her?’

Jamil stiffened. ‘I have never laid a hand in anger upon my daughter.’

‘Good heavens, I should hope not,’ Cassie said, startled by the sudden harshness in his face. His eyes glittered fiercely, and she remembered Celia’s caution again. Prince Jamil was not a man to cross. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to suggest such a thing for a minute.

‘I do not want my daughter beaten.’

‘Of course not! When I said chastise, I meant tell her off.’

‘Oh. I see. I misunderstood. Yes. If that is what you meant, then I do. When Linah behaves so badly, she can hardly expect—’

‘She behaves badly to get your attention!’ Cassie interrupted. ‘For goodness’ sake, can’t you see that? You said last night that Linah had everything a child could wish for.’

‘She does, she wants for nothing.’

‘Except for the most important thing of all.’

‘And what would that be?’

‘Love. A father’s love, your love.’

‘My feelings for my daughter are—’

‘Unspoken!’ Cassie declared roundly. She glared at the prince, all deference forgotten in the heat of the moment. ‘Well, are they not?’

Jamil got swiftly to his feet and descended the step upon which the throne stood. ‘As I was saying, Lady Cassandra,’ he said through gritted teeth, ‘what Linah needs is discipline.’

‘And as I was saying,’ Cassie riposted, ‘what she needs is affection.’

‘Respect is what she should have for me. I see no evidence of it, and showing her affection is hardly likely to induce it. As well expose an open wound and suggest she strike there.’

Cassie stared at him, appalled. How could he talk so coldly of his own daughter? Even her own father was not so—so clinical. ‘She needs love,’ she said obstinately, forcing herself to continue to look straight into the prince’s stormy eyes, ‘I can provide that. I can teach you how to do the same.’

‘How dare you! How dare you presume that you can teach me anything?’ Jamil replied angrily. ‘I am a royal prince, a direct descendent of generations of wise and powerful potentates, a leader of thousands. And you, a mere woman, dare to tell me how to treat my own daughter.’

‘The poor girl is obviously starved of love. For goodness’ sake, you’re all she has. How would you have felt if your mother had died when you were a baby? Wouldn’t you have made every effort to make sure you didn’t lose your father’s love, too? I know when my own mother …’

The rest of what she was about to say died on Cassie’s lips as she took in the prince’s stark white countenance. With horror, she realised just how presumptuous her hasty words must have sounded. She had no idea, after all, about the prince’s own experience. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she whispered, ‘I didn’t think—did your mother die young?’

‘No, but she may as well have.’ He had been five when he had been forcibly removed to the east wing. She might as well have been dead for all the contact he was allowed with her. Jamil’s knuckles whitened. Realising by the way the English woman was looking at him, that his anguish was plain to see, he made a huge effort, forced the past back into its box and turned the key. ‘You are impertinent, and you raise issues that are entirely irrelevant. We are talking about Linah, not me.’

Too relieved at being spared any more serious rebuke to even consider pursuing the interesting question of Prince Jamil’s as-good-as-dead mother, Cassie could only nod her agreement. It was time, most definitely time, to take another tack. Time enough, when she had Linah’s confidence, to return to the subject. ‘Please. I didn’t mean to offend you. Let me talk to you instead of what I mean to teach Linah.’ Giving him no chance to interrupt, haltingly at first, then with growing confidence and enthusiasm, Cassie put forward the plans she had made for her charge. As she talked, gesticulated and talked more, Jamil watched her closely, listening even more closely, trying to focus only on what she said about Linah, not to be distracted by the way enthusiasm lent a glow to her beautiful countenance, the way her body rippled under her ridiculously inappropriate travelling dress when she made her point with extravagant hand gestures. He tried to see her as a governess. To imagine her as Linah’s governess. To picture her there, in the schoolroom of the palace, and not, definitely not, as he had seen her last night, strewn invitingly over a divan, reflected lusciously in a mirror.