The Nanny and The Sheikh. Barbara McMahon

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      She met his glance as she slipped her feet into her shoes. Did she detect a hint of amusement? “It’s fantastic. But I’m puzzled why the beach is so empty. I’d think hordes of people would enjoy a day here.”

      “That is my hope as well, once the resort is completed. In the meantime, construction holds certain danger, so I have closed the area for the duration of building,” Surim said.

      “I see.” All that lovely empty beach. She sighed. There went her idea for swimming.

      They resumed their places in the limo and in only a short time they turned into a long driveway flanked on either side by tall palms. Melissa looked with interest at Surim’s estate. She had no idea of what kind of place a sheikh might own. Somehow she’d thought maybe a lavish tent like in Arabian Nights.

      The edifice surprised her. Max hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d said it was large enough for a battalion—it was huge. Whitewashed walls with terra-cotta trim reflected the bright sunshine. High arches of windows, outlined by ornate fretwork and mosaics inlaid in bright colours, provided symmetry on the front. A wide veranda seemed to encircle the entire three-story structure. Quite simply, it was stunning.

      “It’s beautiful,” she said, now taking in the colorful flowers that grew in profusion right to the edge of the veranda. Gently waving palm trees encircled the house, while a lush lawn stretched out in all directions. Her gaze was drawn to an elegant fountain in the front, providing a focal point to the circular drive. The watery spray made dozens of sparkling rainbows. She sighed wistfully. What a magnificent place to live.

      “Are you near the Gulf?” she asked, not seeing any signs of the sea, but still smelling that slightly salty tang in the air even in the car.

      “There is a path from the back of the house that leads to a private beach. It is not far, only a short walk,” Surim said. “Perhaps you’d care to go for a swim sometime during your visit.”

      She smiled at him. “Yes, I would. It’s freezing in London right now.” Would he join her if she went swimming? She looked away, afraid he’d see the hope in her eyes.

      As she followed her host into the house a moment later, through large acacia wood double doors carved into intricate designs and polished to a gleaming shine, she wondered why Max had brought her since Surim spoke French fluently. To have an impartial person on his side? Not that she could imagine the sheikh being the slightest bit dishonorable. Of course he was probably too busy to translate mere construction documents.

      Or, as her mother had suggested, maybe the trip was a treat for the work she had already done. It didn’t matter; she was thrilled to be here.

      The interior of the house was cool, though not apparently due to artificial means. Windows were wide open allowing a balmy breeze to flow through. The tall ceilings allowed the air to circulate freely.

      Rich colorful furnishings filled the room to the left. She followed the men and stood in the doorway, her sandy stockings starting to annoy her. How soon could she escape to her room and change?

      “You must be tired from the journey,” Surim said. “I’ll have my housekeeper show you to your room. Dinner will be at eight.”

      “Thank you,” Melissa said, glancing at Max to make sure her departure would be all right with him. There wouldn’t be any work today, would there? Surely if he and the sheikh were such old friends they had lots to catch up on.

      “Good idea. That’ll give you and me time to look over the plans. I’ve noted some changes I want in the kitchen area,” Max said.

      So much for catching up on their personal lives. Was work the only thing these men cared about?

      Melissa pulled back the cool sheets from the high bed. It was after eleven and she was tired. Slipping beneath the light covers, she lay back on the mattress, her head still swimming from the conversation at dinner. It had only been the three of them in the ornate dining room that could have seated fifty-four easily. The primary topic of conversation had been the new restaurant and resort.

      She would have preferred an alfresco meal on the veranda, with more talk about Qu’ Arim to enable her to learn more about the country. Maybe with another guest or two to round out the numbers. It was apparent the sheikh liked things formal. It was a good thing she was only here a week; the protocol would drive her crazy.

      After dinner, she’d excused herself to wander in the gardens. They’d been illuminated with subdued lighting. She’d walked down one path and then another, exploring little nooks and thoroughly enjoying herself. It was such a change from wintery London.

      Melissa began settling on the pillow, her eyes closing as she reviewed what she needed to remember for the morning. They would eat at seven and head for Surim’s offices where she and Max would meet with the contractor. Then they would—

      A sudden shriek startled her. She sat up. What had that been?

      Listening intently, she heard another shriek and then a child crying.

      The sheikh wasn’t married, at least not that she knew. But that was definitely a child. She got up and found her robe, pulling it on as she hurried to her door.

      Opening it, she could clearly hear the wailing. It came from the third floor.

      Her heart hurt to hear a child cry so wretchedly. She ran lightly down the hall to the stairs she had seen earlier and quickly gained the third floor. Rushing to an open doorway, the light spilling into the hall, Melissa halted at the scene before her.

      Surim had shed his jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt. His hands were on his hips and he glared at three young children huddled on a sofa. An older woman stood near a door on the opposite wall, wringing her hands. The oldest child looked to be seven or eight, a toddler leaned against her. It was the little boy, about four or five, who was crying so hard.

      Without a thought, Melissa stormed into the room.

      “What is going on?” she asked. Moving past Surim, she gathered the little boy in her arms, brushing back his hair and hugging him as she sat on the edge of the bed. “What’s the matter, little man?” she asked in her most soothing tone.

      The other two children looked at her with startled surprise, then glanced nervously at Surim.

      Melissa turned, the little boy in her arms, and glared at the sheikh.

      “These children should have been in bed long ago; it’s after eleven,” she said in her firmest nanny tone.

      “That is what I have been telling them,” Surim said, his own voice showing his frustration. “Their nurse has been unable to control them. When Hamid awoke with a nightmare, he woke the others. Now they won’t return to bed. If they don’t behave, I’ll have to find new accommodations for them.”

      “That’s the coldest thing I ever heard a father say!” she exclaimed.

      “I’m not their father,” he returned.

      The little boy rested his head on Melissa’s shoulder, quieting. She hugged him again and looked at the other two. They looked tired, scared and wary.

      “Well, whose children are they and why were they left with you?” Melissa asked. The СКАЧАТЬ