His Runaway Royal Bride

by Tanu Jain

  The helicopter landed on the ground behind the villa, and Veer helped her out. As they entered the villa, Meethi felt the tight knot in her chest loosen a little. The villa was beautiful, and she had fallen in love with it the last time. It was set amidst a lush forest, which was public property, but the royal family owned a few acres of forestland and the beautiful villa was built on it. It had a private lake, and she had spotted deer and wild pigs on her last visit.

  Built of stone and wood, rustic stone floors, textured walls and high ceilings characterised the villa, which had huge spacious rooms that opened into wide balconies dotted with a profusion of plants, and creepers wound along wooden rails, making the entire villa feel like a living green forest.

  She trailed Veer with a sigh of delight, feeling rejuvenated at the sight and smells of her surroundings. They reached the master suite, which was just as she remembered.

  Veer enclosed her face between his palms and dropped a lingering kiss on her parted lips. ‘Now you can rest for an hour and then we will have dinner.’

  He sauntered off, and a couple of maids entered, heads bowed low in greeting. They were carrying the clothes they had bought and they began unpacking them and hanging them in the closet. Meethi went for a quick shower.

  Afterwards, she stood in front of her wardrobe, debating what to wear, and as she looked at the clothes she realised that they were more her. Suddenly her spirits lifted and she felt happy. To her amazement, she discovered a couple of extremely short glittery dresses in the wardrobe that she didn’t remember having picked. Had the designer added them by mistake? She hadn’t tried any short dresses deliberately, knowing she wouldn’t be able to wear them.

  She had once excitedly worn a really short dress when they had been invited to a private bash thrown by Veer’s friend, Gauravendra Singh, to whom her cousin was married. They had been staying at their town house in Delhi, and she had gone shopping with her cousin, who had egged her on to buy the dress, declaring that Meethi looked absolutely awesome in it and that Veer would be happily stunned. She had bought it knowing there was no danger of standing out and that she would blend into the crowd because everyone wore such dresses in the party circuit. Even her cousin had bought such a dress.

  She hadn’t told Veer, wanting to surprise him, and she had appeared at the last moment, expecting to see his jaw drop. But Veer had taken one look at her and his face had become grim and forbidding. His silence had made an anxious Meethi ask if she should go and change. But he had looked at his watch and said grimly, ‘We don’t have time. Let’s go.’

  The evening had been a disaster. She had refused the many offers to dance, miserable and conscious of Veer’s cold disapproval, but when her slightly tipsy cousin had dragged her to the dance floor, she had felt slow-burning anger ignite at Veer’s attitude. Filled with recklessness and angry defiance, she had downed a couple of tequila shots and begun dancing. To her amazement, she realised that she was enjoying dancing and parrying the light-hearted flirtatious looks she was receiving from young men on the floor.

  Suddenly she had found herself whisked away from the dance floor. Veer had cut in unceremoniously and she sensed his banked-down anger. He had gripped her arm tightly, and they’d left. By the time they reached their suite of rooms Meethi was equally angry and she had turned to Veer, calling him an old-fashioned prig.

  The argument had worsened, and when Veer had denigrated her dress Meethi had felt a red mist of anger and had unzipped the dress and, stepping out of it, had thrown it at his face. She remembered Veer’s look of bemusement as the dress had hit him smack on the face and it had been so comical that her anger had vanished and she had bent over, doubled with laughter.

  Veer had moved towards her and when he had pulled her into his arms she had twined her arms around his neck and held up her mouth for a kiss. ‘Shameless hussy,’ he had whispered, and she had given herself up to his heated loving.

  She fingered the gold lamé dress and, on an impulse, decided to try it. She wore matching golden wedges and was pirouetting in front of the long mirror when she espied Veer standing behind her. He had sneaked up on her and stood there silently, a gleam in his eyes. She turned in surprise and would have fallen but Veer caught her in his arms.

  She looked up at him like a deer caught in the headlights and when he lowered his head and kissed her she melted. His kiss grew demanding and her arms went around his neck, her fingers running through his luxuriant black hair, feeling the shape of his head, the power pulsing at his nape.

  With shock, she realised he was wet with sweat. He must have been out riding. The musky smell of him and the slippery feel of his skin next to her cheek made her sizzle, and she clutched him harder. She could feel the intimate heat of his erection against her womanhood, and fierce pleasure assailed her.

  ‘I’m dirty and sweaty,’ he breathed, but Meethi felt incredibly aroused and put her lips to his sweat-drenched throat and gave a tiny lick.

  Veer felt his insides combust and desire roared as, with a rough sound, he nuzzled her neck, tracing the throbbing vein with his tongue. He licked and laved, his teeth grazing her collarbone, and then he pulled down the edge of her dress to reveal her glistening shoulder on which he dropped tiny kisses.

  His hand swiftly unzipped her dress at the back, and it fell open to reveal her luscious breasts, restrained by her bra. Unfastening her bra, he nibbled his way down the slope of one, flicking his tongue slickly on the underside, and Meethi moaned.

  Flames of desire shot through her and her body zinged and hummed with liquid heat. He transferred his attention to the other breast, and Meethi almost fainted at the wildfire streaking through her insides. Veer slid the dress off completely and she stood there, her breasts bared.

  Struck with shyness, she brought her arms up to cover them while Veer feasted his eyes as she was revealed in all her glory.

  Bright colour ran up her neck, scorching her cheeks, and Meethi bent to retrieve her dress, but Veer held her hands and placed them on his chest. She looked up at him and all coherent thought vanished at the desperate hunger she saw in his eyes. Her sex pulsed in response to his need and her fingers moved of their own accord under his T-shirt to take it off. She removed it to reveal his powerful bronzed shoulders and the rippling muscles of his abdomen.

  Veer’s hands slipped to the buttons of his breeches, and he ripped them off, sending them to the floor. When he stepped out of his underwear, Meethi felt herself burning up at the sight of his thick shaft that stood proudly. Her legs turned boneless, refusing to support her, and she felt she would collapse. Veer gathered her in his arms and sank down on the bed.

  He settled her over him, taking her lips in a possessive kiss, and his huge erection pulsed and throbbed against her lower abdomen. Fitting his hands to her upturned breasts, he kneaded them, rolling the pebble-like nipples with his thumbs and Meethi felt her breath hissing out in delight. She angled her hips to relieve the ache building at the apex of her thighs, and Veer groaned incoherently at the tantalising movement.

  His hard, rock-like body pulsed and throbbed with tightly leashed power, and Meethi felt her feminine part revel in the glory of making him feel like this. His finger snaked out to touch and then press her wet hidden nub, and as he rubbed, harder and harder, she clutched his bronzed shoulders and her nails impaled his back. His fingers urged her, compelling her, and Meethi writhed mindlessly, drowning in a whirlpool of sensation.

  His other hand rose to clasp the back of her head and he took her mouth in a shattering kiss. Meethi felt her senses dissolve under the double onslaught of his marauding mouth and unremitting fingers and a rippling sensation started from the centre of her being, radiating outwards.

  But, before it could seize her completely, Veer rolled her over and, still kissing her, grasped her hips and drove into her moist flesh. He began thrusting, long and deep, and Meethi simply exploded, shattering into a million pieces. A moment later, she felt him shudder and give out a hoarse cry as he too h
urtled over the edge.

  Meethi lay boneless, eyes shut, feeling moisture trickle down her cheeks. She felt Veer move but kept her eyes closed, fearful of revealing the depth of emotion ricocheting inside her. The potent chemistry between them had breached the dam of feelings inside her.

  Veer saw the trail of moisture on her cheeks and felt guilt slice through him. He had hurt her. She was crying because of him.

  ‘I’m sorry, Meethi! I should’ve been more considerate. Forgive me,’ he said huskily, rubbing away the moisture with his thumb. He was supposed to be taking care of her.

  She opened her eyes when she felt his fingers caressing her face and pushing back the damp hair from her brow.

  Meethi swallowed the lump in her throat at the concerned look on his face. Her eyes fell on the long marks scoring his shoulders. She burrowed deep in his shoulder, feeling mortified at her wanton response. She had behaved like a wildcat, scratching him with her nails.

  ‘I didn’t mean to hurt you,’ he said, full of self-recrimination, his broad hands moving slowly over her back.

  Meethi was stunned. Veer thought he had hurt her. She lifted her head and gently touched the side of his face. She said, ‘You didn’t hurt me. I behaved shamelessly…’

  Veer looked at her penetratingly and then gave a low laugh of relief and kissed her softly. ‘I like it when you are shameless.’

  ‘I want to apologise for the way I behaved the last time you wore a short dress,’ he said huskily after a moment had passed.

  ‘I shouldn’t have worn it. I looked horrendous in it,’ Meethi said contritely.

  ‘No! You looked like every man’s dream. Beautiful, sexy and radiant! I was jealous. I didn’t want anyone else to see you like that!’ he bit out in a staccato tone. He remembered how he had wanted to cover her from neck to toe, bundle her away and keep her just for himself.

  ‘But… but I thought you hated the way I looked! I thought I let you down,’ Meethi shot out jerkily.

  Veer looked at her. She really had no idea of her effect on his libido. ‘You could never do that! I didn’t like you wearing close-fitting clothes because I hated it when people stared at you. I don’t know why, but with you I become insanely possessive. I wanted to punch those boys at the party when they were tripping over themselves to get to you,’ he admitted with raw jealousy, his lean, dark features taut.

  ‘But it was just light-hearted fun! I’ve never looked at another man that way,’ Meethi said, the raw intensity in his voice bringing a lump to her throat.

  ‘I know! You were right to call me a Neanderthal and a caveman! But I’ve changed and I won’t behave like that any more. And, to show you that I mean it, I asked for those two dresses to be packed. You can wear them the next time we go out and I promise I will control my tendencies and not punch anyone who pays you the least bit of attention!’ he said with a disarming smile.

  Meethi looked at him, amazed. Veer was actually admitting his faults. He had liked her in the dress but had behaved the way he had because he’d been jealous! Her heart sang.

  ‘Now, get dressed for dinner. I’ll go and shower in the next room.’ Dropping a kiss on her mouth, Veer leapt up from the bed.

  Meethi took a quick shower and selected a sleeveless shirt and jeans. She brushed her hair into a ponytail and was ready.

  After a sumptuous dinner, they went to the sitting room, where the dessert was served. They were served mango rabdi and kulfi.

  Meethi was feeling too full and shook her head in refusal but Veer said, ‘I told them to make your favourite dishes. You can’t refuse.’

  He nodded to the maid, who put the bowls on the table and disappeared.

  ‘Come here,’ he said, patting the sofa where he reclined. Meethi had elected to sit in a chair opposite him. She kept still, not looking at him.

  ‘You want me to come and get you?’ he asked roughly.

  Meethi felt a blush suffusing her face. During the early days of her marriage there had been many such light-hearted moments when Veer often used to act in a masterful way and she would tease him, accuse him of behaving like a caveman until he would lose all patience and grab her and kiss her thoroughly.

  Veer sprung up with a lithe movement and scooped Meethi in his arms and sank down on the sofa with her nestled flush between his legs. Meethi felt her insides melt at his forceful behaviour.

  Still clasping her firmly in his arms, he bent forward and took the bowl of mango rabdi and, taking some in a spoon, said, ‘Open your mouth.’

  Meethi did so, and he spooned it in. He continued with two more spoons but then Meethi took the spoon from him and said, ‘It’s my turn now.’

  She turned and began feeding him and felt herself melting at the eroticism of it.

  He looked deep into her eyes, and Meethi felt her heart thud at the smouldering darkness of his gaze. He took the bowl from her shaking fingers and set it down on the table. He pulled off the rubber band from her hair, letting it fall free like a glossy black curtain.

  Meethi closed her eyes, feeling tremors of desire racing through her. His lips followed the path of his fingers and he dropped tiny kisses along her jaw and then kissed her behind the ear, swirling his tongue around and nibbling her earlobe.

  His lips moved to capture her mouth and he sucked her bottom lip sensuously, his tongue entangling with hers as he drank in her sweet taste.

  His hands were busy with their own exploration as they trailed up from her thighs to her hips, her waist and then the undersides of her breasts. His thumbs moved in a swaying motion, and Meethi felt liquid heat spread low in her belly.

  With a practised movement, he pulled up her shirt, and the sight of her luscious breasts, sweet like the mangoes he loved, made him hard. Veer bent his head and captured the pouting nipple in his mouth, nipping gently and then rolling it between his teeth. Meethi cried out. It was pleasure and pain and she couldn’t bear it.

  Veer felt her cry out and stopped. He wanted her so badly that he had almost taken her again. But he brought his raging libido under control and pulled down her shirt, hiding her tempting breasts. Dropping a chaste kiss on her lips, he scooped her up, cradling her against his chest as he carried her towards their room.

  Once inside, he let her slide down till she stood in his potent embrace.

  ‘You will be the death of me! I can’t control myself at all. I have been deprived of you for a long time and my body is insisting upon making up for lost time. I missed you…’ he declared thickly.

  Meethi looked at him disbelievingly, stunned by the emotion she glimpsed in his dark eyes. ‘You missed me but…’

  ‘But what, Meethi?’ Veer asked gently.

  ‘You regretted marrying me so you should have been relieved that I had gone,’ Meethi said painfully.

  ‘You are mistaken, Meethi! And I intend to prove that these are all your misconceptions. Come, we need to be more comfortable.’ He led her by her hand to the balcony and sank down in one of the stuffed easy chairs kept there. He pulled her to him so that she sat nestled between his legs.

  They sat there in silence for some moments, looking out across the dark wilderness, sparsely dotted with twinkling lights. A smattering of stars speckled the gargantuan sky. Tall broad trees, their branches weighed down with age, thick foliage and lush undergrowth, were testament to nature at its raw, untamed best. Facing the vastness of the universe, Veer suddenly felt small, mortal and insignificant. Life was rushing by and soon their time would be over. And, tragically, they were wasting precious breaths, besieged by complexes and mired in insecurities.

  Meethi had forced him to acknowledge some unflattering truths about himself. His stint at school, his father’s sudden demise and the machinations of his uncles had rendered him defenceless, and he had hated feeling weak and helpless. His struggle for power had begun from that very moment. His quest for total power stemmed from his vow to never be dependent on anyone. And he had been invincible until he’d met Meethi. Their physical connection had be
en intense, and she had touched him in places that he hadn’t allowed anyone to enter. And that had made him feel intensely vulnerable and weak. In his bid to exert some control, he had tried to withhold parts of himself, maintain a modicum of distance. Their relationship had been coloured by this unconscious struggle for power he had been waging.

  But it would no longer be like that. It was time to tell her, even if it meant baring himself, humbling himself in front of her.

  He dropped a tender kiss on her nape and said in an undertone, ‘You had me under your spell from the very first moment we met. So beautiful you took my breath away. And you were unlike anyone I’d ever met, sparking with energy and defiance, sizzling with sassiness and standing up to me, arguing with me, defying me. I was lost.’

  ‘But you soon realised your mistake…’ Meethi said, unable to believe what he was saying.

  Veer said with a raw intensity that brought a lump to her throat, ‘Never! I messed things up because I had never felt anything like this before so I was at a loss over how to behave! As a child I had been powerless and helpless, at the mercy of corrupt elders, and I had vowed never again to be weak or vulnerable. I learnt to protect myself, to conceal my emotions. You threatened my equilibrium. Around you, I always felt vulnerable and out of control. That is why I tried to maintain an emotional distance, to stay cold and aloof.’

  Meethi’s heart twisted when she pictured Veer as a little boy facing such a troubled childhood that had conditioned him to stifle his feelings and suppress his emotions.

  ‘And I would behave in exactly the opposite manner, chattering away nineteen to the dozen, baring my emotions and behaving uninhibitedly. No wonder you treated me like an immature child,’ Meethi muttered guiltily.

  ‘No! Secretly, I didn’t dislike it and later on, when you stopped completely, I missed your hugs and handholding. I missed the way you used to chatter non-stop, talk about everything and everybody,’ he confided with a grimace.