by Tanu Jain
Meethi stared, dumbfounded, incredulous. He would hold himself cold and stiff whenever she had hugged or touched him in public. It was his stiff upper lip at work, she had thought. She hadn’t given a thought to the invisible but ever-present servants and often had her gaffe pointed out by a contemptuous Maaji Saheb. Feeling dispirited and despondent, she had changed her behaviour, bottling up her feelings, behaving circumspectly. And it was stupefying to learn that Veer had actually missed her physical gestures.
‘I began thinking that my chatter bored you and that you found me gauche and unsophisticated, especially in front of the women of your family and other ladies. I was terrified that I always ended up letting you down. They were all so tall, thin and beautiful!’ Meethi said miserably.
Veer tensed. She had been labouring under such false impressions and he hadn’t noticed. He cupped her chin with his hand and said, ‘Meethi, I had never met anyone as open and clear-hearted as you. You were so young, untouched and beautiful and I was always afraid that you would one day realise that I was too old and staid for you. As for the women of my family, they were jealous of you because they didn’t have what you had—sweetness of spirit and unbounded generosity of the heart.’
Meethi’s eyes filled with tears at Veer’s eloquence. She bit her lip, staring down. Could the problems they faced have been avoided? Was it just a tangled web of misunderstandings? Could the web that seemed hopelessly knotted be put to rights? But the baby… Her mind shied away from going further. She sat nestled in his lap, vacillating between hope and fear.
Meethi’s face wore a look of utter hopelessness. It ripped through Veer’s insides. He rose lithely, lifting her effortlessly, and went inside and tumbled her down on the bed.
‘Don’t look so sad! I will allay all your fears. The crux of our problem has been a lack of communication. It led to misinterpretation and misunderstandings. But from now on, no holding back, no secrets and no hiding!’ he said, his fingers tracing her soft cheek, his lean powerful face determined.
He bent his head and kissed her with piercing sweetness that brought tears to her eyes. He made love to her tenderly, worshipping her reverently with his body, leaving her feeling wonderfully ravished as she slid into a dreamless sleep.
Chapter Nine
EARLY NEXT MORNING, Veer roused her playfully, spanking her on the rump, and said, ‘Let’s go for a ride!’
Meethi protested, snuggling under the covers, but he began tickling her and she wriggled enticingly but there was no escape. She had learnt horse riding after her marriage and though she wasn’t a very good horsewoman she could canter comfortably.
It was a beautiful morning. The sun had just risen, driving away the layers of mist, and it bathed everything with fingers of gold. Leaves of trees and blades of grass glinted with dewdrops and the melodious chorus of the birds could be heard. As she followed a galloping Veer, Meethi felt a measure of peace steal into her soul.
Veer looked back and smiled, his eyes crinkling and his windswept hair giving him a rakish look. Meethi felt her breath catch as she looked at her gorgeous husband. His lean, chiselled face exerted a magnetic pull on her senses and his body fascinated her for its sheer male perfection. She had wanted to capture his male beauty on canvas, but he had been too busy to pose for her and she had resorted to painting him from memory. She had taken the small painting with her when she fled, often gazing at it in her lonely moments. She had left it at the cottage, she remembered with a start. But she relaxed at the thought that Veer would have had all her things collected.
It had been a long time since she had seen him smile. He seemed transformed into the Veer she had met and married—young and carefree. Emotions swirled inside her. He had done so much for her. She owed him so much. She could never repay all that he had done for her baba. She could only pray that he be blessed with all the happiness that he deserved.
She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t realise that her mare had come to a standstill. They had reached the little lake, and Veer had dismounted and was tying his horse to a tree. He reached for her stirrups and helped her down. He tied her mare to another tree. Reaching into his saddlebag, he pulled out a little packet. Meethi looked at him, wondering what it was.
He took out sandwiches with a flourish and offered her one. Meethi shook her head. ‘It’s too early to eat.’
‘Eat it. I told them to make your favourite cheese and tomato sandwiches,’ he said.
Meethi took one and sank down on the ground near the edge of the lake. She munched slowly. Veer produced a bottle of water and sat down next to her, taking large sips of water. Meethi sat up straight. His proximity was assaulting her senses. His raw masculine scent filled her nostrils, slithering over her, drugging her, heating her insides.
She finished her sandwich; it had turned to sawdust in her mouth. Veer held out the bottle, and Meethi took it and held it up and emptied it down her throat. Some water spilt, wetting her shirt.
Veer traced a lean finger from her mouth, down her throat into the shadow of her breasts, following the trail of water. The sexual tension building between them reached a crescendo, and Meethi felt every inch of her throb. He gently lowered his head, grasping the back of her head, and claimed her mouth.
Meethi trembled with a hunger that only he could awaken by a mere glance. His tongue plunged into her mouth, and searing heat spread through her lower body. He lowered her gently on the grass, and Meethi lay boneless with desire, feeling his body tauten, his eyes glittering with desperate need.
Meethi was lost. She put her arms around him and stretched up to find his mouth. The kiss grew frenzied, shattering their control, and they ate up each other, as if starved for ages. They tasted, touched and devoured, urging each other on, entangled and entwined, forgetting everything except their potent need for each other.
Clothes were ripped off and still they didn’t break their contact, rolling over in a frenzy, her nails scraping down his back and his teeth making sharp nips on her throat. Skin next to skin, sizzled and burned and the ache inside both grew intolerable.
Veer moved down her body, torturing her with his tongue, flicking her velvety softness with a merciless finger, he shoved her towards the peak, making her sob as she shattered into fragments.
Veer felt deep shudders rack her body, and he rolled on to his back, holding her tight, giving her time to recover and reining back his desperate hunger.
But Meethi had other ideas. With shocking suddenness she bent and closed her mouth over him. Veer was rendered immobile for an instant and then hot raging blood sped to every nerve of his body, and his muscles knotted painfully, bringing him to explosion point. But he yanked his tattered control, drawing upon formidable reserves and, plunging his hands in her hair, pulled her up, claiming her mouth greedily, tasting himself on her lips. His hands on her bottom, he lifted her and settled her astride him, her soft moist core flush against his hard velvet heat.
Meethi almost combusted. With a gasp, she braced her small hands against his corded shoulders and saw sweat beading his forehead. She bent over him, lowering her voluptuous breasts tantalisingly over his face and gave a tiny lick on his forehead, followed by a slow grazing of teeth. Veer shuddered, his control fast coming apart. He captured her lips and moved her pert bottom up and down in purposeful motion, impaling her, surging into her, dragging her to the pinnacle of sensation until, with a last hard powerful stroke, they both were hurled off the edge to splinter into pieces and lay drowned in agonising pleasure, sunk in shocking sensations.
Meethi was dimly aware of damp cheeks and a keening sound from her throat. Veer lay weakened by the coruscating impact of their lovemaking, unable to extricate himself from the grip of passion. But when his chest became damp he rolled onto his side and dried her tears, pushing back her damp hair from her face. Her pallor unnerved him.
He helped her back into her clothes and quickly shrugged on his own, before lifting her up to her mount and riding back to the stables.
/>
Dismounting, he scooped her up and strode into their bedroom. He set her down gently and murmured, ‘Take a shower.’
He began undoing her buttons, but Meethi mumbled something unintelligible, colour winging along her cheeks, and rushed into the bathroom.
Veer let her go. He wanted to strip her naked, lather her sensuously and worship her body reverently but he realised that she needed space and he wouldn’t rush her.
Meethi stood in the shower, letting the water flow over her, shivering though the water was warm, feeling wrung out. Their physical connection, cataclysmic as it had been, had smashed her emotions to pieces, emptied her insides, and she felt broken, never to be put right again.
Their intense lovemaking had shattered the veneer she had developed, blasting the wall of indifference she had built around her and resurrecting the weak and needy girl she had been. She still loved him. She had never stopped.
A tumultuous storm swept inside her. The past that she had submerged deep inside her conscience rose to the surface and images began hammering away mercilessly, leaving her feeling raw and wrecked.
After their hurried wedding, Veer had whisked her away for a week to Bavdi Mahal. Despite the chemistry that blazed whenever they so much as touched, he hadn’t rushed her. She had been an innocent when they married and had been terribly nervous, but Veer had been tenderness personified as he had initiated her into physical pleasure. And when they had finally joined as man and wife she had wept with pleasure as Veer had gently gathered her close and murmured, ‘Meri jaan ho tum!’
Meethi had fallen deeply in love with him.
Over the months, she had realised that her husband was an intensely virile man and her body loved the ravenous demands he made on her. He had unleashed unknown levels of ardour in her, and she had quickly lost her shyness and uncertainty and matched his hungry passion with equal fervour.
So deep in love was she that each time Veer possessed her body she felt as if he possessed a bit of her soul as well. He had been a demanding lover and she had felt utterly consumed by him. In the months that followed, their explosive passion had raged gloriously, unharmed by the friction that was occurring outside in their life. She had drawn some comfort from the thought that their hungry passion had continued unabated and remained untouched by the discord which otherwise marred their life.
But outside the bedroom she had felt isolated and alone. And Meethi had realised that she had lost her identity, her individuality and had been swallowed up by her persona of Maharani Saheba.
She had found herself distanced from her father because each time she wanted to go and visit him her mother-in-law would insist that there was some family function or puja that required her presence. So her visits had been few and far between and when she would remonstrate with Veer he would prevaricate and change the subject.
Meethi had felt helpless and alone, more so because Veer had begun travelling extensively and in his absence Maaji Saheb became more and more domineering.
And the situation had worsened when she’d found herself pregnant. Meethi had sensed that Veer wasn’t very happy with the news because he had been very careful about precautions, saying it was too early and that he wanted her to himself. Meethi too hadn’t been prepared because she’d still harboured dreams of going to college but she had come to love the tiny life growing inside her.
News of her pregnancy had snowballed into a major event and it was as if she had suddenly acquired special status as the carrier of the royal heir.
It led to her being doubly confined at home, forced to participate in religious rituals and sit through renditions of religious scriptures. She had been lectured and instructed over what to do and what not to do and at times she couldn’t breathe for the fear of upsetting the baby within. Meethi had begun to feel trapped and Veer hadn’t been there to offer any kind of support.
She had to constantly enact the many roles thrust upon her and, in the midst of it all, Meethi, the girl she had been and the woman she had wanted to become, had become lost. She had become a shell of a girl, empty but for a bone-deep wretchedness which even leaving Veer hadn’t alleviated.
And now that he had brought her back, she feared it could only get worse. She hadn’t stopped loving him. She had only thought she had. Utter hopelessness engulfed her and she stared, unseeing, at the wall. The future looked bleak and terrifying.
Veer was pacing in the bedroom anxiously. Why was Meethi taking so long in the shower? With sudden resolution, he strode in, pushing the door open, and saw Meethi, her beautiful face desolate, unheeding of the water pouring over her, staring with unseeing eyes at the wall.
He wrapped her in a towel and, scooping her up in his arms, walked out and deposited her on the bed. The blank look in her eyes had him worried sick. He pulled the quilt over her and picked up the phone, asking for a warm drink.
The maid came and he took the cup from her, dismissing her with a nod.
He helped Meethi sit up and held the cup to her lips. ‘Drink.’
She took a sip and stopped, but he made her finish it. She had a milk moustache and he suddenly wanted to lick it clean and instantly felt like a heel. Even knowing she wasn’t well, he couldn’t control his raging desire for her.
A disquieting thought occurred to him. Had their lovemaking aggravated her condition? The doctor had told him to be careful but, as always, he had been so blinded by lust that he had been swept away.
His thumb stroked her upper lip, rubbing away the drops of milk, and he gently helped her lie down again. He got in beside her and, pulling her close to him, settled her snugly in the crook of his arm.
She remained stiff for a moment and then yielded, nestling close to him, a small sigh escaping her lips. He looked at her tiny frame that right now seemed smaller, her head bowed and hunched up in misery. His broad hands moved over her back caressingly, kneading her shoulders soothingly.
‘What is it, Meethi? What is troubling you? Can’t you tell me?’ he said gently.
Meethi remained silent. What could she tell him? How could she let him know about the silken threads that bound her inexorably to him? Threads that, try as she might, would never break. How could she tell him that she still loved him? That she had lost herself once more.
‘I can’t…’ she mumbled.
Veer cupped her chin and looked into her eyes. ‘Tell me, Meethi. Please,’ he said in a ragged voice.
‘I can’t go through it again! I will be lost again.’ The words were a whisper.
‘I’m here for you. I will always be here,’ Veer said, his heart breaking at the pain in her voice.
‘You are saying it now, but once we go back things will change. It’s not your fault. I don’t fit in. I never did and still don’t!’ she said tremulously.
‘That’s not true, Meethi! You fitted seamlessly! It was my fault that you had to face such problems. I promise you will not have to go through anything like that again,’ he said with authoritative conviction.
‘I cannot be the wife that the Maharajah of Samogpur requires! The Maharani of Samogpur is simply an ornately dressed doll to be paraded as and when the need arises,’ Meethi choked out.
Veer replied, ‘When I married you I wasn’t looking for a Maharani of Samogpur! The family had been pressing me for years to get married but I hadn’t because I couldn’t imagine spending my life, day in and out, with another person. But when I met you I wanted you. And I didn’t think of anything else but marrying you.’
‘You married me because of the attraction between us. But you only cared for my face and body. You weren’t really interested in knowing me as a person, my likes and dislikes, my dreams and ambitions.’
Veer was caught on the raw by the truth in Meethi’s accusations. ‘I am guilty of all that you are saying but it wasn’t completely like that. I liked being with you. You brought energy to my life, made me smile and amused me with your easy humour. I wanted time to woo you properly but time was short, especially after Baba told me
about his illness, and so I did everything in a rush. That messed up a lot of things.’ The admission was torn out of him with difficulty.
‘You didn’t let me study for my degree. You knew I loved to paint but you never encouraged me,’ she said, full of misery.
Veer suddenly felt very small. Meethi was right when she accused him of not being encouraging about her career. She was immensely talented and, as her husband, he should have encouraged and supported her. He had been self-centred, not allowing her talent to blossom.
‘Meethi, I was proud of your talent but my possessiveness didn’t let me send you for your degree. I know I behaved selfishly but I promise you things will not be like that any more,’ he said with touching determination.
Meethi shook her head. ‘There is no future for us. I cannot fit into your mould of expectations. I will end up disappointing you again.’
‘You don’t have to fit in. You will live the way you want to, do what you like and not bother about anything. I have tackled some of the problems which existed and will erase the rest when we return. Haven’t you noticed that I have rearranged my life so that neither of us has to live under the burden of what people expect us to do?’ Veer shot back fiercely.
‘I felt like a blot on your illustrious family name!’ she said with raw bitterness.
‘Meethi, what illustrious family name are you talking about? My family tree is tainted by all kinds of vices. My ancestors were mired in greed, corruption, illegal doings and my ancestral wealth has been acquired by immoral means. I became aware of all this at a very young age and, like my father, I too have been trying to do the right thing, follow the law and clear the taint. My family name is not something I’m proud of!’ he bit out caustically.
‘I had no idea. You never told me…’
‘I know—I was a close-mouthed egotist but that was because being arrogant and dominating is the only way I know to be. After my father passed away, I learnt the hard way to stand on my own two feet, trusting no one, depending on no one. My distrust and cynicism ran deep and I had learnt to exercise an iron control over my emotions. The habit of controlling, being in command has become ingrained and I realise that I was guilty of arrogance where you were concerned,’ Veer said shamefacedly.
