Jamil nodded his dismissal and turned towards Lady Cassandra’s tent. Over the last few days he had constructed his own mental image of his daughter’s new governess—that of a rather frumpy, slightly forbidding bluestocking, austere and businesslike. He hoped he would not be disappointed.
He pulled back the door curtain of the tent and stepped through into the main room. The vision which greeted him was so far from the one he had imagined that Jamil stopped in his tracks.
Her long hair, a dark golden colour with fiery tints, rippled over the cushions. Her face had all the classical proportions of beauty, but it was not that which made her beautiful. It was the way her mouth curved naturally upwards. It was the hint of upturn on her nose which made it not quite perfect. And it was her curves.
A sharp pang of desire jagged through him. This woman had the type of beauty which turned heads. The type of beauty which inevitably spelled trouble.
AUTHOR NOTE
When I was asked to write my first ever sheikh story for the Mills & Boon Summer Sheikhs anthology, I assumed it would be a one-off. But the exotic magic of the desert cast its spell over me. The allure of an all-powerful prince, master and commander of a fantastical kingdom steeped in sensuality and set in the midst of a starkly beautiful and totally alien landscape, proved irresistible. I had to return.
Cassandra, heroine of this book, made her first appearance in INNOCENT IN THE SHEIKH’S HAREM, which tells the story of Prince Ramiz of A’Qadiz and Lady Celia, Cassie’s elder sister. English Rose meets Desert Prince, and in the process eminently sensible Celia discovers her true passionate nature, while autocratic, invulnerable Ramiz finds that ruling in splendid isolation can be a very lonely business. The enclosed world of the harem, the wild beauty of hot desert nights, the intervention of not only Celia’s father but her formidable aunt and Cassie, too, are the ingredients for a denouement in which Regency England meets exotic Arabia. Of course, true love ultimately bridges the cultural divide.
Cassie was smitten, as was I, with the intoxicating atmosphere of Arabia. Her story was begging to be told, and I was as eager as she to return to the sultry world of the desert in order to tell it. Two years after Celia and Ramiz are married Cassie has her opportunity, when she visits Celia in an effort to heal her broken heart. She swears she will never love again, but of course she’s never met anyone like Prince Jamil al-Nazarri, one of Ramiz’s closest allies. And Jamil has never met anyone like Cassie. Sparks fly from that first meeting. Their encounters are as scorching as the desert sun, as tumultuous as a desert storm.
I hope you enjoy reading Cassie and Jamil’s story as much as I loved telling it. Here in Scotland, as I write this, we’re having our usual damp and driech summer. Outside my window the rain is falling steadily, and the sea is iron-grey. Something tells me it won’t be long before I am transported back to the desert again.
About the Author
Born and educated in Scotland, MARGUERITE KAYE originally qualified as a lawyer but chose not to practise—a decision which was a relief both to her and to the Scottish legal establishment. While carving out a successful career in IT, she occupied herself with her twin passions of studying history and reading, picking up first-class honours and a Masters degree along the way.
The course of her life changed dramatically when she found her soul mate. After an idyllic year out, spent travelling round the Mediterranean, Marguerite decided to take the plunge and pursue her life-long ambition to write for a living—a dream she had cherished ever since winning a national poetry competition at the age of nine.
Just like one of her fictional heroines, Marguerite’s fantasy has become reality. She has published history and travel articles, as well as short stories, but romances are her passion. Marguerite describes Georgette Heyer and Doris Day as her biggest early influences, and her partner as her inspiration.
Marguerite would love to hear from you. You can contact her at [email protected]
Previous novels by the same author:
THE WICKED LORD RASENBY
THE RAKE AND THE HEIRESS
INNOCENT IN THE SHEIKH’S HAREM
(part of Summer Sheikhs anthology)
and in Mills & Boon® Historical eBook Undone!: THE CAPTAIN’S WICKED WAGER THE HIGHLANDER AND THE SEA SIREN BITTEN BY DESIRE
Look for THE CAPTAIN’S WICKED WAGER, now part of the Scandalous Regency Nights anthology. First time in print format. Available now.
THE GOVERNESS AND THE SHEIKH
Marguerite Kaye
In loving memory of W,
who helped make me the person I am
and whose spirit, hopefully, lives on in me
Chapter One
Daar-el-Abbah, Arabia—1820
Sheikh Jamil al-Nazarri, Prince of Daar-el-Abbah, scrutinised the terms of the complex and detailed proposal laid out before him. A frown of concentration drew his dark brows together, but could not disguise the fact that his face, framed by the formal head dress of finest silk, was an extraordinarily handsome one. The soft golden folds of the cloth perfectly complemented the honeyed tones of his skin. His mouth was set in a firm, determined line, but there was just a hint of a curve at the corners, enough to indicate a sense of humour, even if it was seldom utilised. The sheikh’s nose and jaw were well defined, his flawlessly autocratic profile seemingly perfectly designed for use on the insignia of his kingdom—though Jamil had, in fact, refused to consent to his Council’s request to do so. But it was his eyes that were his most striking feature, for they were the strangest colour, burnished like autumn, with fiery glints and darker depths which seemed to reflect his changing mood. Those eyes transformed Jamil from a striking-looking man into an unforgettable one.
Not that the Prince of Daar-el-Abbah was easily overlooked at the best of times. His position as the most powerful sheikh in the eastern reaches of Arabia saw to that. Jamil had been born to reign and raised to rule. For the last eight years, since he had inherited the throne at the age of twenty-one following the death of his father, he had kept Daar-el-Abbah free from incursion, both maintaining its independence and enhancing its supremacy without the need for any significant bloodshed.
Jamil was a skilled diplomat. He was also a formidable enemy, a fact that significantly enhanced his negotiating position. Though he had not used it in anger for some time, the wicked scimitar with its diamond-and-emerald-encrusted golden hilt that hung at his waist was no mere ceremonial toy.
Still perusing the document in his hand, Jamil got to his feet. Pacing up and down the dais upon which the royal throne sat, his golden cloak, lined with satin and trimmed with passementerie twisted with gold thread and embedded with semi-precious stones, swung out behind him. The contrasting simple white silk of the long tunic he wore underneath revealed a slim figure, athletic and lithe, at the same time both graceful and subtly powerful, reminiscent of the panther, which was his emblem.
‘Is there something wrong, your Highness?’
Halim, Jamil’s trusted aide, spoke tentatively, rousing the prince from his reverie. Alone of the members of the Council of Elders, Halim dared to address Jamil without first asking permission, but he was still wary of doing so, conscious of that