Free The Governess and the Sheikh by Marguerite Kaye Page A

very different from England that she felt as ifshe were on another planet. Celia said it had intimidated her when first she came here, but Cassie found it invigorating and beguiling. She liked its very otherness. She even liked the way it put her firmly in her place, reminding her she was one tiny scrap of insignificance in the face of nature’s magnificence.
    It struck her that Jamil seemed the very physical embodiment of the desert’s exotic charms. Perhaps that was why he integrated so seamlessly into the terrain. It certainly explained the ease with which he navigated the way across what looked to Cassie to be a vast expanse of nothingness. He was a product of the desert, yet not subjugated or intimidated by its harshness, seeming instead to dominate the sandy landscape.
    Above her, two shooting stars streaked across the sky, one after the other. Her aches and pains forgotten, Cassie cried out with delight. ‘Most glorious night! Though wert not sent for slumber!’
    â€˜I beg your pardon?’
    Cassie jumped. Jamil was standing beside her. How did he move so silently? ‘It’s Byron. An English poet, he—’
    â€˜You admire such a man, who has behaved so scandalously?’
    â€˜You know of him, then? I admire his poetry, regardless of his behaviour.’
    â€˜I forget, you have a weakness for poets, do you not? Or more accurately, perhaps, for poets who treat women with a callous disregard for honour. But it is much too beautiful a night for harsh words,’ he added, noting her hurt expression, ‘and in any event, you must be very tired, Lady Cassandra.’
    â€˜Cassie, please. My given name has too many unwarranted associations.’
    â€˜You don’t see yourself as a prophetess, then?’
    â€˜Hardly.’ When he smiled, as he was doing properly now, his expression softened, making him look much less austere. Cassie smiled back. ‘If only I had been able to see a bit further into the future, I wouldn’t have made such a fool of myself over Augustus.’
    â€˜But then you wouldn’t have come here.’
    â€˜Very true.’ Cassie tried to smother a yawn.
    â€˜You are tired, and no wonder, it has been a long day.’
    â€˜I am a little weary, I must confess.’ Her head drooped. ‘I should retire.’ As she stumbled to her feet, a strong pair of hands circled her waist. ‘I can manage,’ she protested, but already she was falling asleep.
    With an exclamation that could have been impatience, and might have been something more tender, Jamil scooped her up and carried her to her tent, where he laid her down on the divan. She was already deeply asleep. He hesitated before loosening the double row of buttons on her ridiculous little jacket, easing her carefully out of it, resisting the urge to look at the soft curves revealed under the flimsy material of her undergarment. Settling her carefully, he unlaced her boots, but left her stockings on. This much she might reasonably thank him for; any more would be a liberty.
    He pulled a rug over her, tucking it securely in at the sides, for the coming dawn would be cold. She nestled her cheek into a cushion, her lips pouting into a little contented sigh. Long lashes, a darker gold than her hair, fanned on to the soft curve of her dusty cheek.Her hair was a tangle, tresses curling down her neck, little tendrils clinging to her forehead. No doubt she would be horrified by her state of dishevelment, but to Jamil the imperfections enhanced her appeal. She was no goddess now, but mortal, flesh and blood, and possibly the most disturbing flesh and blood he had ever encountered. There was something about her that made him want to cradle her and ravish her at the same time.
    â€˜Governess, governess, governess,’ he muttered to himself as he made his way to his own tent, matching the words to his stride.
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    They rode on the next day and the next. The land began to rise as they