by Tanu Jain
‘Life in this mahal is only about duties and responsibilities. You turned me into a showpiece! I was supposed to parade around dressed to the nines, either doing some puja or carrying out unending social obligations,’ Meethi retorted, moving around the study in her agitation.
Veer looked at her darting around with some surprise. He knew in the royal family both men and women had to observe a certain protocol regarding their dress and behaviour. As his wife, she had been obliged to make certain social appearances and act as the patron of charities connected to the royal family.
There was a protocol for dress too, which had to be observed by all the family members. He was mostly attired in formal or semi-formal wear and rarely wore informal clothes at the mahal.
The dress code was especially stringent for women, and Meethi had frequently complained of feeling like a Christmas tree because of the clothes and jewellery. But he had pacified her, saying it mattered only initially. The restrictions would ease off after some time.
But, in truth, he hadn’t minded the restrictions because when once or twice she had appeared wearing jeans and a shirt he had privately fumed at the close-fitting clothes and had hated the covert glances of his staff. The memory of his reaction stung his conscience and he kept silent.
‘I will not fall into the same trap again. I will not stay married any more,’ Meethi said grittily, though her stomach felt tied up in knots.
Veer’s anger returned when he heard her label their marriage a ‘trap’.
‘There has never been a divorce in the family and there never will be. So forget all about that idea! You are my wife and I will ensure that you fulfil your duties. And the first duty is that you will accompany me tonight to the family dinner at the mahal. Harshvardhan’s future in-laws have been invited, and we are expected to be there,’ he added in a clipped voice with narrowed eyes.
The shock of hearing that Harsh was engaged to be married made Meethi lose the thread of conversation and her mind was diverted. Was this the surprise that Harsh had spoken of?
‘Harsh is getting married! To whom?’ The question flew out unbidden.
‘Why are you so surprised? You wouldn’t know the girl. It all happened after you fled!’ Veer said, feeling a flare of anger that the mention of Harsh had provoked a spontaneous reaction from her.
After she had left! The wheels turned in Meethi’s mind. So, Harsh had failed to convince his parents about Pinar, the girl he loved. Harsh had taken her secretly to meet Pinar, and Meethi had liked the pretty and shy girl straight away, but Harsh had been worried that his parents wouldn’t agree. She had promised to talk to Veer and had urged Harsh to talk to him. Apparently his fears had come true, but Meethi didn’t let her sadness show in case Veer sensed something amiss.
Veer looked at Meethi’s shuttered face. Was she feeling jealous that Harsh was getting married? He knew that Harsh adored Meethi, and whenever they met there was much laughter and horsing around.
He had trouble reading her expression, figuring out what she was thinking. She used to be like an open book, with her irrepressible smile, her feelings laid bare for all to see. She had professed to love him and it had certainly seemed true at that time. He had envied her innocent and optimistic approach but gradually that had all stopped. And though he hadn’t told her, secretly he had missed her warm hugs and spontaneous gestures.
‘Wear something suitable. We will be leaving at around eight,’ he said autocratically, an eyebrow raised in imperious command.
‘You can’t force me to go or do anything that I don’t want to,’ Meethi said pugnaciously.
She wouldn’t be browbeaten this time. She would live life on her own terms. Her time away had matured her, made her stronger, and she would not be bullied.
Veer felt as if she had struck him. She was shamelessly defying him! He looked at her in burning fury.
‘And what will you do?’ he asked dangerously, a flash of rage crossing his face.
‘You can’t guard me all the time. As soon as I find a chance I’ll run away,’ Meethi said defiantly, her eyes shooting sparks. Her mutinous expression inflamed him further.
He pulled her to him, and his mouth swooped down on hers with pent-up fury and desire, silencing further protests. He wanted to punish her, kiss her senseless and douse the fire that she effortlessly ignited in him.
His tongue invaded her mouth, his arms around her, his chest crushing her.
The touch of her lips was like nectar, sharpening his thirst, and his tongue swiped at her luscious lower lip, nibbling at it in tiny bites. Parched after the long absence, they drank thirstily from each other, not pausing to even breathe. He hadn’t forgotten how good she always tasted, sweet and tangy as oranges, and he had missed her.
The kiss deepened and explosions of pleasure burst in him, the last coherent thought torn away.
Veer’s kiss acted like spontaneous combustion. His mouth branded her, his lips searing hers, the rasp of his stubble against her cheek fanning the heat of her desire. Frenzied bolts of electricity shot through her, and her pulse skyrocketed. His lower body ground into hers, his hard erection burning against her abdomen, and Meethi felt her feminine core sizzle and melt. Her legs turned to water and she sank weakly against him.
They kissed ravenously, passion roaring into life, burning and scorching them, submerging them deeper and deeper, crying out for a long-awaited release.
Veer felt the nagging tug on his loins and wanted to ravish her there and then but, when she sagged in his arms, sanity returned, and he broke off the kiss.
He put her away from him, feeling a hard stab of satisfaction at her glazed eyes, swollen lips and dishevelled hair. She wasn’t immune to the inferno that blazed whenever they touched. She had always matched his passion and fervour with her own.
A sudden brainwave struck him. He knew how he could pre-empt her attempt at running away.
With a mocking smile and narrowed eyes, he said softly, ‘Baba left something for you.’
Dazed and flushed from his lethal kiss, Meethi looked at him uncomprehendingly. ‘For me?’
‘Yes, he gave it to me and asked me to give it to you and tell you to do as he wished,’ Veer said.
‘What is it? What did he wish me to do?’ Meethi asked tremulously.
Veer looked at her with grim mockery and said, ‘Do as I say and I will tell you.’
Meethi looked at him, aghast. Emotions churned inside her—disbelief, sorrow and worry.
‘You can be so unfeeling and cruel!’ she said, stricken.
‘You should know that by now! No one makes a fool of me and gets away with it as you have done. Now remember to be ready on time,’ he added threateningly and walked away.
Meethi sagged down dejectedly on the floor. What a mess! Fresh bitterness and pain rose, crowding her mind, suffocating her and leaving her feeling beaten.
She spent what was left of the day slumped in her room, lacking both the inclination and the energy to do anything else, feeling listless and weary in spirit.
Her mind was full of her turbulent past and the memories she had kept at bay were rushing in, hissing and sputtering like poisonous snakes.
Things had moved speedily once she had said yes to Veer’s proposal. She had been surprised and a little disappointed when they had been married quietly and simply at Veer’s ancestral temple. She had wanted a typical colourful Indian wedding but somehow the words had stuck in her throat.
Months later, she had been glad she had held her tongue when Maaji Saheb had snidely told her that Veer had decided on a quiet wedding because he was ashamed of her inferior family connections.
She had entered her married home, nervous and filled with trepidation but determined to be an excellent wife. And had immediately felt diminished and overwhelmed.
It wasn’t just her surroundings or the fact of his immense wealth and his weighty royal title. It was the entire set-up of her marital home. Her forbidding mother-in-law, formidable joint family and the
circumscribed life as a royal bahu had been a complete shock.
She had been the much-loved and doted upon daughter of her parents, who had been highly educated professors at a prestigious college in the small town of Dehradun. Her father belonged to a royal family while her mother had been a commoner and when he’d married her, her father’s family had disowned him.
But the three of them had lived happily in modest comfort until her mother had died when she was thirteen, after which her father had brought her up.
Her parents had cosseted her but not unduly and she had grown up into a bright and cheerful, self-assured and confident young girl.
But, from day one, she realised that she did not live up to the expectations of Veer’s family, especially her mother-in-law, who found fault with everything from her age, looks and height to her family background and dressing style. She had to attend numerous family gatherings and functions where Veer’s many relatives would make snide, critical comments and make her feel self-conscious and inadequate.
It was all done so insidiously that Veer never had an inkling of what was going on, and when she tried to haltingly share her misery he would either laugh it away, saying she was being oversensitive, or he would kiss her and drown her in a flood of passion so that she would forget her worries and concerns for the time being.
Having no previous experience and no one to guide or advise her, Meethi was thrown in at the deep end and she had floundered before sinking ingloriously.
Veer had been too busy with his work and an inordinate amount of travelling to understand her predicament and would chidingly tell her that she should accept his mother’s help.
But he hadn’t known that her mother-in-law scoffed at her attempts and took great delight in humiliating her publicly for her ineptness.
And things had only worsened with time, especially when she fell pregnant. Gut-wrenching agony gripped her as she thought of her miscarriage, and she closed her eyes in despair. She had sutured the gaping wound ruthlessly, trying to obliterate the agony, and never permitted any memory to cross her mind.
Suddenly, she remembered the family dinner and Veer’s threat. She knew he was capable of dressing her and dragging her if necessary by force. And, besides, now she couldn’t run away. She had to see what Baba had left for her. She had to carry out his last wishes.
Her breath caught, her insides quailing at the very thought of meeting everyone. Terror overwhelmed her for a moment but she willed her mind to stay blank. She wouldn’t be cowed any more. She would hold her head high and meet everyone. She had nothing left to lose now except her pride and she wouldn’t let them see her inner pain.
Chapter Four
SIMRAN FLITTED EXCITEDLY around Meethi, draping the sari and brushing her long hair. Meethi looked at herself in the mirror and saw a face, pale and unhealthy, eyes too big and a voluptuous figure.
Short and curvy, her height and figure had always been an issue for the royal family. Maaji Saheb and most ladies of the royal family had been tall and elegant and had looked down their aristocratic noses at her.
‘Thigni, chhoti, moti… were some of the names they had called her when Veer wasn’t around. At family functions and ceremonies, Maaji Saheb would insist Meethi wear lehengas which had been in the royal family for generations because it was tradition and would snigger when they looked ill fitted because they had been shabbily altered to fit her buxom figure.
Meethi had felt miserably self-conscious and had tried to share her inadequacies with Veer, who initially had laughed it away and had then grown irritated when she persisted. So she had stopped sharing her misery with him.
But her self-esteem had taken a beating and she had lost confidence in her manner of dressing and always felt painfully conscious in public.
Veer stood transfixed at the door. Meethi was standing in front of the mirror, and Simran was fluttering around, straightening her sari folds. She looked stunning.
She was a tiny thing whom he had many times laughingly called his ‘pocket Venus’ but she packed quite a punch and literally took his breath away. She always carried off whatever she wore beautifully.
Today the blue sari clung lovingly to her body, though she seemed to have lost her curves, and her hair hung in a shimmering curtain. He had loved burying his nose in her gleaming tresses that fell well past her hips and inhaling the scent that had been her own.
He felt a tightening of his loins and stifled the upsurge of lust. Despite her betrayal, he was unable to control the hunger she aroused.
Dismissing Simran with a nod, he went towards Meethi who, on sensing his regard, had stiffened and paled. Opening the jewellery box in his hand, he took out a double sapphire string and fastened it around her neck, lifting her hair out of the way.
Meethi gave a violent start and began trembling. The rapid rise and fall of her voluptuous bosom, her flat belly that had regrettably lost its slight roundness ignited the slumbering fire in him, and his hands on her shoulders tightened for a moment. Satisfaction engulfed him. He had his wife back where she belonged.
He held out the matching jhumkis but her hands were trembling so much that he had to fasten them in her ears.
He turned away with a gruff, ‘Let’s go.’
As they reached the youngest Chacha Saheb’s mahal Meethi’s dread grew. Her insides twisted, and she had trouble breathing. Her narrow shoulders stiffened with tension, and a heavy weight seemed to press her down.
Uniformed lackeys bowed low in greeting, and with an imperious nod Veer led her inside, his touch burning at the small of her back.
As they entered the huge sitting room, voices died down, and a hush descended on the room, which was teeming with friends and relatives.
Meethi tried to swallow the block in her throat and her hands gave an imperceptible tremble. It hurt to be here again. Unwelcome memories inundated her, and she tried to suppress the panic that welled up. She would have to face all of them and probably go through the ritual humiliation, as always.
First to come was Harshvardhan, who bent low and touched Veer’s feet and then he turned to Meethi, greeting her.
Meethi gave a wobbly smile and murmured her greeting.
Immediately they were inundated with Veer’s relatives, bowing obsequiously and displaying wide smiles. The two Chacha Sahebs, his father’s younger brothers, and the Chachi Sahebs, their wives, descended upon them.
On the surface, they were all smiles, greeting Meethi with affectionate hugs, telling her they’d missed her and commiserating with her. But Meethi knew that as soon as Veer left her side they would revert to their true colours.
Harshvardhan brought his fiancée to meet her—Pinar, the girl she had met. Meethi smiled with delight. So, the family had acquiesced.
Pinar bent and touched her feet and whispered, ‘Thank you, Bhabhi Saheba! It’s because of you that our match was finalised.’
Meethi looked at her shining eyes in bewilderment.
Harshvardhan explained in a low voice, ‘I did as you told me to. I went and spoke to Bhaiya Maharaj and told him that I loved her and wanted to marry her. He overruled the elders’ objections and spoke to Pinar’s parents and finalised everything.’
Meethi was pleasantly surprised. After her secret meeting with Pinar, she had told Harsh to confess to Veer that he wanted to marry Pinar. She hadn’t been completely sure if Veer would agree. But she had hoped that since Veer had put aside convention when he married her he would do the same for Harsh.
She looked at Veer, who stood just inches away, listening to Chacha Saheb, his lean, darkly handsome face wearing an inscrutable expression.
Veer had always exuded power and now that power seemed to have increased. His chiselled, handsome face radiated the force and authority of his ancient heritage. Dressed in the customary short black bandhgala that fitted snugly over his powerful shoulders, the diamond studs in his ear glinting wickedly, he looked like a predator in a sea of sheep.
Their kiss earlier had awakened the
passion which had lain dormant inside her for the past three years. Veer had been her first and only lover, the only man she had ever kissed and made love to. But, even in her innocence and naiveté, she had known that the passion they shared was something special.
During the past three years, while she had been pursuing her degree, she had met boys her age and even older men who had shared her interest in art and had been eager to pursue a relationship with her. The feeling of being wanted and admired had been a boost to her self-confidence but not one of them had roused those heady feelings, much less the passion she had shared with Veer. How did he do it? How did he arouse such feelings in her? she thought despairingly.
Veer lifted a brow, sensing her covert scrutiny, and his brilliant gaze narrowed as it raked her face. A sizzle of awareness ran across her nerve ends, and she looked away, trying to appear composed.
Veer looked at Meethi as she sat talking to Pinar’s mother. Her colour was better and she seemed less tense. As he saw the expression of gratitude on Pinar’s mother’s face he was struck again by how Meethi effortlessly drew people towards her.
He had married Meethi because he had been insanely attracted to her, and marrying her had seemed just right. But there had been more than just sexual attraction between them. Her kindliness and warmth had drawn him towards her like a moth towards a flame. She was always considerate with everyone.
Her warmth, vivacity and joie de vivre had warmed the coldness that had existed inside him since childhood and bewitched him so completely that he had jumped headlong into marriage.
Her supposed death had increased his sense of alienation and had brought home the magnitude of his loss. He had spent one entire year feeling completely adrift. But, despite her callous betrayal, his anger and the bitter realisation that he had invested more in their relationship than her, he wasn’t ready to let her go. She was his lawfully wedded wife and she would remain so.
Meethi entered the drawing room after a visit to the restroom and paled when the two Chachi Sahebs beckoned her. They were standing in a group with a couple of their cronies. Veer was nowhere to be seen.
