Forbidden in Regency Society: The Governess and the Sheikh

Forbidden in Regency Society: The Governess and the Sheikh
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The Governess and the SheikhDark-hearted Sheikh Prince Jamil al-Nazarri commands his kingdom effortlessly…less so his difficult little daughter! Exasperated, he hires an English governess, hoping she'll instil some discipline… Yet, Lady Cassandra is as innocently alluring as she is forbidden. Famous for his unshakable honour, the sheikh's resolve is about to be tested…as his feelings for Cassie are anything but honourable! Rake with a Frozen Heart Waking up in a stranger’s bed, Henrietta Markham encounters the most darkly sensual man she has ever met. The last thing she remembers is being attacked by a housebreaker…yet being rescued by the notorious Earl of Pentland feels much more dangerous! Can Henrietta’s innocence bring this hardened rake to his knees?

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SEDUCTION in Regency Society August 2014

DECEPTION in Regency Society September 2014

PROPOSALS in Regency Society October 2014

PRIDE in Regency Society November 2014

MISCHIEF in Regency Society December 2014

INNOCENCE in Regency Society January 2015

ENCHANTED in Regency Society February 2015

HEIRESS in Regency Society March 2015

PREJUDICE in Regency Society April 2015

FORBIDDEN in Regency Society May 2015

TEMPTATION in Regency Society June 2015

REVENGE in Regency Society July 2015

Born and educated in Scotland, MARGUERITE KAYE originally qualified as a lawyer, but chose not to practise. Instead, she carved out a career in IT and studied history part-time, gaining a first-class honours and a master’s degree. A few decades after winning a children’s national poetry competition, she decided to pursue her lifelong ambition to write and submitted her first historical romance to Mills & Boon. They accepted it and she’s been writing ever since.

You can contact Marguerite through her website at: www.margueritekaye.com.

Forbidden in

Regency Society

The Governess and the Sheikh

Rake With a Frozen Heart

Marguerite Kaye

www.millsandboon.co.uk

In loving memory of W,

who helped make me the person I am and whose spirit, hopefully, lives on in me


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 fact that, although he had the prince’s confidence, there was no real closeness between them, nor any genuine bond of friendship.

‘No,’ Jamil replied curtly. ‘The betrothal contract seems reasonable enough.’

‘As you can see, all your terms and conditions have been met in full,’ Halim continued carefully. ‘The Princess Adira’s family have been most generous.’

‘With good reason,’ Jamil said pointedly. ‘The advantages this alliance will give them over their neighbours are worth far more than the rights to the few diamond mines I will receive in return.’

‘Indeed, Highness.’ Halim bowed. ‘So, if you are satisfied, perhaps I may suggest we proceed with the signing?’



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