To Kiss a Sheikh. Teresa Southwick
just a bit shy eyes were turned on her. “This is Miss Rawlins. What do you say?”
“Hi,” the boy glanced up at his father. “I mean how do you do?”
Fariq nodded approvingly.
The little girl still clutched his leg. “How do you do?” she mimicked her brother.
The prince smiled tenderly at his daughter then angled his chin toward the other man. “That poor excuse for a nanny is my younger brother Rafiq.”
“Your Highness,” she said, acknowledging the adult introduction first.
The prince stood and ran his hands through his disheveled hair, attempting to correct the damage his niece had inflicted. Any man who would play with children at the expense of his appearance was all right in her book.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Rawlins,” he said, extending his hand.
“And you, Your—”
“Call me Rafiq. I insist,” he said before she could protest.
“Thank you.” She looked first at the boy, then his sister. “This must be Nuri and Hana.”
“How did you know our names?” the little girl asked, clearly impressed. She blinked huge, beautiful black eyes fringed by exceptionally long thick lashes.
In fifteen years, probably less, the male population of El Zafir had better hang on to their hearts with both hands, Crystal thought. “Your Aunt Farrah told me. When I met her in New York, she showed me pictures of you both.”
“Your glasses are very large,” Nuri said. “And very ugly.” He was as handsome as his sister was beautiful and had no doubt picked up a dash of arrogance from his father.
“You’re very observant,” she said dryly.
“Your hair is too tight,” Hana said.
“It only looks that way,” Crystal answered quickly. But the beginnings of a headache put a lie to her words.
“Does it hurt?” Hana asked, studying her intently.
“No.” Crystal looked from one tall man to the other, then fixed a gaze on the children’s father. “May I ask a question, Your—”
“Fariq,” he said. “My brother is correct. There’s no need for formality in private. And I will call you Crystal.”
“All right. Fariq.” She tested the name and found she very much liked the exotic sound.
“Is it a stupid question?” he asked, with a look she now knew meant he was joking.
“You’re going to make me regret that remark, aren’t you?” she said, smiling. “Never mind. I’ll risk it. I was just wondering if you take the children to work with you often.”
“You mean because they are here with my brother,” he stated. “The answer to that question is no. But my little brother offered to pick up the slack, as you Americans say. Because he blames himself for the last nanny’s sudden and less-than-dignified departure.”
“It wasn’t my fault,” the other man protested, a twinkle in his eyes.
“Don’t fib, uncle,” Nuri said. “Nanny was in your bed.”
“How do you know that?” The stern facade was destroyed by his half smile.
“Aunt Farrah told grandfather,” the boy explained. “Then he said the new one must be a dried-up old prune.”
“How did you hear that?” Fariq’s tone was disapproving.
“Nuri was hiding behind Aunt Farrah’s sofa again,” Hana cheerfully volunteered. She looked shyly at Crystal. “I’m glad you’re not old or dried up.”
“That goes double for me,” Crystal said, grateful that someone in the royal family could see the forest for the trees.
“Little one, you shouldn’t tattle on your brother,” the prince admonished his daughter.
“Even if it’s the truth and he’s naughty?” the girl wanted to know.
“Even so,” he explained. “Family loyalty is a treasure.”
Fariq enjoyed the embarrassed exasperation clearly visible on his brother’s face and struggled not to laugh at his son’s words. He’d been unaware that the boy knew details of the former nanny’s downfall, but it was the truth. A word to the wise would be in order, he thought, watching Crystal carefully observing his brother. He wondered what she was thinking.
Fariq cleared his throat. “Like every woman Rafiq meets, the former nanny developed a crush on him. Her actions were an effort to garner his regard. The resulting attention was probably not what she’d had in mind.”
Crystal’s eyes widened. “I think I can guess what that attention was since I’m here and she’s not.”
“Instant dismissal,” Rafiq confirmed. “I talked the king out of beheading her.”
Hana giggled. “You’re fibbing again, Uncle.”
“Yes, little one. Your uncle is quite the fibber,” Fariq agreed. “He claims to have rebuffed her advances.”
“It is the truth,” he protested. “Innocently, I walked into my room and there she was. I immediately turned and walked out again. Father believed me.”
“The king was uninterested in explanations,” Fariq said to Crystal. “He ordered my brother to cease and desist flirting with the staff and to find a wife and settle down. His exact words were that he didn’t want justice, merely peace and quiet.”
“I can understand why,” she answered.
“But there was still the matter of no nanny.” And the necessity of finding another. Since the twins’ own mother was gone. That thought was followed by a familiar twist of anger. The woman still had the power to arouse his ire, further stoking his displeasure.
Fariq looked at his new nanny. “I was in negotiations to bring a hotel and a well-known, upscale department store to El Zafir. It was decided that Aunt Farrah would go to the world-renown employment agency in New York.”
Fariq hadn’t disagreed with his father’s stipulation. In fact, he’d thought the addition to the list of qualifications a good idea. He had no wish to deal with a woman hiding a duplicitous heart by flaunting the face of an angel. Once had been enough.
He decided Crystal was exactly what the king had in mind when he’d made his decree. And his children had a keen eye for detail, he thought proudly. Her glasses were indeed very large and ugly, but they couldn’t quite hide her engaging, hazel eyes. Cat’s eyes. They shimmered with intelligence and humor. He’d seen through her spectacles, although they did conceal a good deal of the upper half of her face. Still, the skin he could see was flawless and smooth.
Her hair was brown, and the severe style hid any possible attractive shadings. It did look quite painful. He wouldn’t be surprised if her eyebrows behind the glasses had a permanent, quizzical arch to them. But he couldn’t fault her for having a single strand of hair out of place.
Her loose-fitting navy skirt skimmed her ankles and was topped by a matching jacket that he couldn’t help wishing was a bit shorter and more tailored—so that he might get a better idea of her shape. The ankles he could see showed great potential for the rest of her legs hidden from his view. And he was a bit curious about the exact contour of the limbs attached to the ankles with such potential. But curiosity killed the cat, he reminded himself. Therefore he should be grateful for the conservative attire that restricted his view. Because he needed a nanny, and his aunt had assured him Crystal was perfect.
He had to agree. He liked her forthright manner. Lack of pretense was a character trait he’d learned to value the hard way. Crystal said what she was thinking. It was most refreshing.
Then