The Nanny and The Sheikh. Barbara McMahon

asked.

      “I think it’s warm. We’ll find out together.” Melissa found the gate leading out of the garden and followed the neatly kept path. In only five minutes they reached a pristine stretch of beach totally empty in both directions. The children ran toward the water.

      “Don’t go in until I get there,” Melissa called, running after them. It felt so good to be free of office clothes, to be running in the sunshine. The laughter of the children warmed her heart. She was glad she’d followed her instincts and sought them out.

      The children kicked off their shoes and waded in the warm sea. Melissa quickly followed, getting the bottoms of her trouser legs wet, but she didn’t care. She was happy to enjoy the excitement of the children.

      “I want to go swimming,” Hamid said, splashing his sisters.

      “Whoa, not so much water. Another day we’ll ask about swimming. How about we race along the water’s edge? Who can run the fastest?” Melissa said, looking to channel some of their energy. They probably got into trouble in the house from sheer curiosity and exuberance. She’d make sure they got enough exercise to sleep soundly tonight.

      “Me,” little Nadia said.

      “I can,” Hamid said.

      They were off, running at the edge of the water, splashing and laughing. Alaya took off after them, with Melissa following.

      When they tired of that, Melissa suggested they build a sandcastle.

      Alaya looked sad. “Mummy and Daddy built a fabulous one the last holiday we had. We went to Cornwall.”

      “I’m sure they’ll be happy to see you are building a new sandcastle on this beach. It’s a long way from Cornwall, but sand is sand. Won’t you join us?” Melissa wasn’t exactly sure what to say to grieving children, but she knew it was good for the children to talk about their parents.

      “You can tell us how to make one like your mummy and daddy built. Did you help them?” she asked.

      Alaya nodded. “I miss them.” She started to cry. The other two ran to her, upset by their older sister’s tears.

      Melissa reached out to draw her into her arms, hugging her warmly. “I know you do. You will miss them all your life. My daddy died when I was five and I still miss him. But the aching, crushing hurt will diminish, I promise. One day you’ll look back at all your memories so grateful to have them. They’ll bring smiles to your face and a lift of love to your heart.” Melissa wished she had more memories of her father. Alaya was older than she’d been. She would remember. But the others would not. It was so sad.

      “I miss Mummy, too,” Hamid said.

      Melissa sat on the sand, pulling Alaya down with her, and keeping one arm around her shoulder. She patted her lap and Nadia climbed on, while Hamid crowded from the other side. She wished she could hold each one until the hurt eased.

      “Of course you miss them. They were your parents and loved you very much. You know they didn’t want to die.”

      “It was a truck, crashing into them,” Alaya said. “The brakes failed, that’s what the policeman said. Why did it have to happen?”

      “No one knows things like that, sweetheart,” Melissa murmured. “But you will be cared for here.”

      “Nobody here knew our parents or talks about them. It’s as if they were never alive,” Alaya said.

      “Your uncle knew your mother. Get him to talk about her and your father. I bet he has wonderful stories about when they were young,” Melissa suggested.

      “He’s our cousin,” Alaya said, bitterness tingeing her voice. “He doesn’t want us. Mummy asked him long ago to be our guardian if something happened to them and he said yes. But he doesn’t want us.”

      “He’s your family,” Melissa said, hoping it wasn’t a total lie. “He’s just not used to children. We need to find a way to have him feel more comfortable around you.”

      “He’s getting married,” Hamid said, looking up at her. “Will she be our new mummy?”

      “No, we are not getting another mother,” Alaya said firmly.

      Nadia slipped her thumb into her mouth, watching with large eyes.

      “Because of the age difference, I’m sure the sheikh wouldn’t mind if you called him Uncle Surim. His new wife will be your new aunt. Have you met her yet?”

      “He’s looking,” Alaya said.

      “Looking?”

      “He needs to get married to have sons to carry on when he dies,” Alaya said.

      “But he’s not going to die soon,” Hamid said, looking at his sister. “Is he?”

      “No, he has to get married first,” Alaya said.

      “How do you know this?” Melissa asked, curious.

      Alaya and Hamid looked away.

      “Sometimes we spy on him,” she said in a low voice.

      “We sneak down the stairs and listen at the door, then run like the wind when someone leaves the office room,” Hamid said.

      Melissa was torn between laughter at the picture, and telling them that spying wasn’t really a good thing.

      “So he wants babies. They’ll be new cousins for you to play with,” she said, wondering why he was planning to send these adorable children away if he wanted children of his own. She hoped he found his wife soon, and she’d insist on keeping the children.

      Paul’s scathing denouncement echoed in her mind. He hadn’t wanted children at all. He considered her involvement with them immature and beneath a woman he’d want to marry. For a moment she was back in the small restaurant hearing his voice, feeling each word as a dart piercing her heart. She’d thought they had so much going for them, until she’d voiced that thought and been soundly corrected. How had she misjudged him so much?

      Shaking off the melancholy, she smiled.

      “Let’s get going on those sandcastles. Dinner will be soon and we’ll have to return to the house.”

      The children scrambled up and ran to the water’s edge again. Soon they were all mounding wet sand, trying to sculpt it with fingers. Melissa made a mental note to see if there were sand toys in the children’s nursery for future visits to the seashore.

      Surim walked down the path to the beach alone. Annis had come to tell him the children had not returned in time for their supper. She was worried she’d done the wrong thing by allowing them to go off with his guest. Sometimes it was almost more than he could do to control his frustration. His aunt had insisted Annis be hired to watch her grandchildren. But however qualified Annis appeared on paper, her skill with the children lacked a great deal in his opinion.

      As he approached the beach he heard laughter and happy chatter. Pausing by the last of the green grass, he observed four people caught up in building a sandcastle. Little Nadia for once didn’t have her thumb in her mouth. Hamid was laughing so hard he fell over and rolled on the sand. Alaya stood, running to the water to scoop some in her hands and carry it, dripping all the way, back to the ditch they’d built around the castle.

      But the person he had the most difficulty recognizing was Melissa Fox. She looked like one of the children. Gone was her suit and her business attitude. Her hair was flying in the breeze, and her trousers were damp and sandy. He could see the joy in her expression. He was struck by how beautiful she was. Suddenly he was gripped with an urge to see her dressed in a designer gown, with pearls from Qu’ Arim at her throat.

      Every one of them was having so much fun a pang of envy struck. Surim couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed like that. Or spent a carefree afternoon doing nothing more important than building a sandcastle.

      Hamid rolled