The Governess and the Sheikh (10 page)

‘I must apologise,' Jamil said, rising slowly to his feet.

‘There is no need,' Cassie said quickly.

‘A moment of weakness. I would be obliged if you would forget you witnessed it.'

Cassie chewed on her lip, knowing that further probing might well anger him. ‘Jamil, it is not weakness to admit to having been unhappy—rather the opposite.'

‘What do you mean?'

‘Something horrible happened here, I can sense it.' She shuddered, clasping her arms around herself. ‘Don't you see that by refusing to acknowledge it, you are granting whatever it is the victory of silence?' She clutched at his sleeve to prevent him from turning away.

‘You exaggerate. As usual.'

‘No. No, I don't. Jamil, listen to me, please.' She gazed desperately up into his face, but the shutters were firmly back in place. ‘Why can you not tell Linah how you feel about her?'

The directness of the question took him by surprise. Jamil raised a haughty eyebrow.

‘I know you care for her,' Cassie continued recklessly. ‘I know that you're proud of her, but you can't bring yourself to tell her. Why not?'

Jamil pulled himself free. ‘
Show thine enemy a heart, and you hand them the key to your kingdom.
My father taught me that lesson here in this very room with the aid of a very persuasive assistant,' he said fiercely, stooping to retrieve the riding crop from under the chest.

‘He beat you! My God! I thought that thing was ceremonial.'

Jamil's laughter was like a crack from the whip he held. ‘In that you are correct. The ceremony of beating the weaknesses out of the crown prince was one that took place on a regular basis.'

Cassie's face was ashen. ‘But why?'

‘To teach me to conquer pain. To ensure that I understood extreme emotions well enough to abandon them. To make me what Daar-el-Abbah requires, an invincible leader who relies upon no-one else.'

‘There is no such thing,' Cassie said passionately. ‘You are a man, not a god, no matter what your father thought, no matter what your people think. Everyone needs someone. For heaven's sake, Jamil, that is absolutely ridiculous. You are a man, and you have feelings, you can't pretend they don't exist.' Even as she spoke
the words, Cassie realised that that was exactly what Jamil did. The appalling nature of his upbringing struck her afresh. Her fury at Jamil's father knew no bounds. ‘What about your mother? Where was she when this was happening?'

‘I was not permitted to see her, save on ceremonial occasions, once I was established here.'

‘That's what you meant about losing her at an early age?'

Jamil nodded.

‘What age, precisely?'

‘Five.'

Cassie's mouth fell open. ‘That's barbaric!'

‘Unfamiliar customs often seem barbaric. We are an ancient civilisation, much older than yours.' Cassie's utter horror was written plain on her face, making Jamil deeply uncomfortable. Having locked up these rooms, he had persuaded himself he had also locked away what had happened here. Only in moments of weakness, in the dark of night, did the memories intrude, scurrying out from the crevices of his mind, like scorpions in the desert after dark, to sting him. He dealt with them as his father had taught him to deal with any weakness, by ruthlessly suppressing them. Now, seeing his childhood experiences through Cassie's eyes, he felt cornered. He had endured, but never questioned. What he had been taught here formed the foundations of his entire life. He did not want to have to scrutinise them. He did not want to even think about whether they were wrong. ‘It is the way of things here,' he said, annoyed to find that his voice contained just a hint of defensiveness,
even more annoyed to find himself wondering whether Cassie might have a point.

‘Well, if the result of your traditions is a long line of cold, unfeeling,
invincible
rulers like you,' Cassie responded heatedly, ‘then I'm glad I'm not part of it. And I'll tell you something, Jamil, I think deep in your heart, you don't want to be part of it either.'

‘You know nothing about—'

‘You've already admitted you won't be treating your son in the same way,' Cassie interrupted ruthlessly, desperate to find a way to get through to the man she now realised was barricaded up inside a coat of armour forged from pain and suffering. ‘You told me that you wanted things to be different for Linah, too. You want a different life for your children, you're even prepared to face the wrath of your Council to provide it, but can't you see the place you need to start is with yourself? Jamil, your father was so wrong.' Her eyes were wide with unshed tears. ‘To care is not a weakness, it's a strength. To stand alone, to say you don't need anyone, that's simply a lie. Everyone needs someone to love, everyone needs someone to love them, don't you see that?'

‘Your love for your poet—did that strengthen you or weaken you?' Jamil asked coldly. It was a cruel remark, he knew that, but he was hurting.

Cassie flinched. ‘I did not love Augustus.' Not at all, she realised suddenly. She had been in love with the idea of love only.

‘You told me yourself, the first time that we met, that what you felt was humiliation as a result of this so-called love.'

He was just lashing out, she knew that. This place held such awful memories for him, it would be a miracle if he did not. And what he said was true, after all, even if it was said to divert her. To divert him. Cassie laced her fingers together, then unlaced them. Then laced them again, frowning hard. ‘You're right, I did feel humiliated,' she admitted, ‘but not by being in love, by being so mistaken. I was humiliated and ashamed of my stupidity, my wilfulness.'

She stared at him hopelessly. An immense pity for the lonely boy he had been, for the solitary man he had been forced to become, washed over her. How to get through to him, she had no idea, especially since he seemed intent on preventing her. This was a pivotal moment, she felt it. If she did not make him see now, he never would. ‘You are missing out on so much by denying yourself.'

‘You cannot miss what you have never had,' Jamil replied curtly. ‘In any case, I am not
denying
myself. I am protecting myself. And my kingdom.'

‘By refusing to allow yourself to feel! To love! Do you deny your people such things?'

‘Love! Why must you always bring that up? It doesn't exist, save in those pathetic poems you are forever reading.'

Seeing his determinedly set face, Cassie almost despaired. His knuckles were white around the horse whip. A horse whip, for God's sake. His father had trained him in the same way as he trained his thoroughbreds. A flash of rage gave her a surge of strength. She grabbed the riding crop from Jamil and, bending it over her knee, snapped it in two. ‘There! That is what I
think of your father's methods, and that is what I think of your stupid traditions,' she declared, panting with the exertion. ‘Do you really want this thing to dictate your entire life?' She threw it with all her might out into the desolate garden. ‘What he did to you was cruel. Disgustingly, horribly cruel, but he is dead now. You are your own man, not your father's. He was wrong, Jamil, wrong. Allow yourself to feel, allow yourself to love, and you will see for yourself how happy it can make you.'

‘It did not make you happy,' Jamil retorted pointedly.

‘Oh, why must you keep bringing Augustus into everything?' Cassie exclaimed. ‘I'm beginning to feel as if I'll never be rid of him.' But at least Jamil was looking at her properly now. He was listening. Cassie took a deep breath. ‘When you love someone, really love someone, you can feel it here…' she pressed a hand to her bosom ‘…or here.' She touched her stomach. ‘I've never felt that, I admit it. Few people do, but when they do, they just know. That is the kind of love that makes you strong.'

‘That kind of love is a myth.'

‘No. No, it's not. It's just rare,' Cassie said, surprising herself now, for it turned out she did believe in love after all. ‘But when you find it, as my sister Celia has, it is the greatest source of strength in the world. Far, far greater than the sword, or scimitar or whatever. It's not that you depend upon someone, it's that you have someone else to depend on. Oh, why can't you see that?'

‘Perhaps I would give your little flights of fancy more credence if you spoke from a position of experience,'
Jamil replied. ‘But since you have already admitted that you do not…' He shrugged.

Cassie gave a rather undignified squeal of frustration. ‘You don't have to have experienced something to know it exists, believe it exists! In here!' she exclaimed, pressing her hand to her breast.

Her face was flushed. Her bosom heaved with indignation. A long tress of fiery gold hair had come undone and lay over the white skin of her shoulder, where her dress had slipped. Her eyes sparkled a blue that put turquoises to shame. The maelstrom she had stirred up was suddenly too much for Jamil to cope with. Resorting to one of the few ways he knew of to express himself, he pulled her roughly into his arms, and silenced her in the age-old way, with a passionate, angry, famished kiss.

Cassie struggled only briefly, her hands flailing against his chest in an ineffectual attempt to free herself. It was a kiss meant to punish, she knew that, knew, too, that she had pushed him to his limit. It meant nothing, she told herself, nothing more than a show of strength, but still, the touch of his lips on hers, the lean length of his body held close, but not close enough to the soft yieldingness of hers, was beginning to work its magic. Cassie stopped struggling. Her body seemed to melt into his. Her lips parted. Her skin heated. Her heart began to pound.

It was over too quickly. With a hoarse cry, Jamil pushed her away, glaring at her as if it were her fault. As it was, Cassie could see quite clearly why he would think so. For long moments they simply stared at each other, breathing, lost in a tangled jungle of emotions,
unsure about which path to take to regain solid ground. It was Jamil who broke the silence, his voice harsh, edged with something less certain that gave Cassie a tiny cause to hope.

‘I will not apologise for that, it was your own fault. Once again, you dare to intrude on matters that do not concern you. You should not have entered here. I wish that you had not. This place…'

‘You should reclaim it. Banish the ghosts, take it back. Until you do, it's like a dark secret, brooding away.'

‘This place,' Jamil continued, ignoring her interruption, ‘is none of your business. I don't want you coming here again and I certainly don't want you bringing Linah here.'

‘Of course not. Jamil, you could make Linah so happy if you showed her just a little bit of affection. Loving her could make you happy.'

Jamil sighed heavily. ‘You just don't give up, do you?'

Cassie took his hand and pressed it to her cheek. ‘It takes courage to change the habits of a lifetime, but courage is something you have in abundance.'

Jamil's smile was twisted. ‘I'm not the only one. You have the courage of your convictions.' He kissed her knuckles. ‘I'll think about your suggestion.'

‘That's all I ask.'

‘For the moment, at least,' he said wryly. ‘Come, let us leave this place.'

Turning the key in the lock of the outer door, Jamil removed it and secreted it in his robes. Cassie watched him stride down the corridor, his tunic rippling in the
slight breeze caused by his rapid gait. Poor, tortured Jamil. If he could but make a start by loving Linah, then maybe some day he would be capable of real love.

Why was that thought making her uncomfortable?

She had an absurd urge to run after him, missing him more with every step he took away from her, a premonition of a time when he would be gone from her for ever. She hadn't thought about that until now. Until today. She didn't want to think about it now.

 

It would have been naïve to expect that Jamil would be transformed overnight, but from that day on, Cassie did detect a marked difference in him. Awkwardly at first, but with increasing confidence as Linah responded, he began to allow his feelings for his daughter to show. Cassie looked on with a pride she took care to disguise. Knowing that she had been instrumental in effecting this change was enough; she did not want his gratitude, and she most certainly did not want Linah to guess the part she had played. Besides, it was a painful enough process for Jamil to override the years of pain that had beaten his reserve into him. She did not want him worrying about her witnessing his metamorphosis.

She was watching him with Linah one day. Jamil was standing in the middle of a bathing pool, teaching his daughter to swim. He had abandoned his cloak and
igal
, but retained his tunic. The water came up to his waist. Linah, lying supported in his arms, was giggling at something he had said. He looked over at Cassie and smiled. Their eyes met and her heart did a little flip flop. His tunic, damp from Linah's splashing, clung to his body like a second skin, showing off
his muscles, the width of his shoulders, the dip of his stomach. His hair was sticking up in endearing spikes. His eyes sparkled with good humour.

Father and daughter together. It was exactly the tableau Cassie had dreamt of creating, but though it was of her making, she felt excluded. Father and daughter. The obvious gap opened up before her like an abyss. They had been playing happy families, the three of them, but she was not really part of it. And yet she wanted to be, she realised. She wanted to be a lot. Because she loved Linah now, too. But mostly because she was in danger, in very real danger, of feeling something she should not feel for Linah's father. And that would be a mistake.

Cassie turned away from Jamil's beckoning smile, busying herself with packing away the lunch things. It was not too late. She had caught herself just in time. It was not too late.