by Tanu Jain
Meethi felt as if a major burden had been removed. She had kept only those clothes which she liked.
She looked at the time and yelped in dismay. It was almost time for dinner. She took a quick shower, dressed in one of the new tunics and went to the dining room. A lackey rushed to pull out a chair for her, and she sat down. Where was Veer?
For a moment she was transported back to the past. Many times she had waited just like this for Veer, only to be disappointed, forced to eat alone or under the glowering presence of Maaji Saheb. Her head bowed. But a tender touch at her shoulder roused her. He was here. She looked up.
‘Sorry for the delay.’
Unbidden, a smile came to her face. Veer sat down next to her, and the lackeys rushed to serve them.
‘So, how was your day?’ he asked.
‘I’ve had a great day. I followed your suggestion and gave away all those clothes that I didn’t want to Simran and the housekeeper for her daughters. They were ecstatic,’ she related happily.
‘Good for them. And how many paintings did you finish?’ Veer said.
‘Just a few strokes but it was a start. The studio is wonderful, absolutely state-of-the-art. I couldn’t have equipped it better myself. You must have spent a fortune on it!’ Meethi chattered, still overwhelmed at Veer’s gesture.
At the sight of her radiant face and shining eyes, Veer felt his heart give a strange flip. It felt good to see her happy after so long. ‘If you want anything else, tell Raj and he will arrange it.’
Meethi nodded. ‘How was your day? Did you go to the office?’ she asked curiously.
‘Yes, I have been out of the office for almost a week so work had piled up. Did I tell you that I have shifted the office to Rajmahal?’ Veer said levelly.
Meethi’s hand, holding a spoon, stopped in mid-air. ‘Rajmahal! But why?’
‘The mahal was lying vacant so I thought I would put it to good use. And it is nearer so I save precious time.’
Meethi looked at him, amazed. Veer was surprising her constantly.
‘Is that why you sent Maaji Saheba to Haridwar?’ she asked, unable to keep the tremor in her voice at bay.
Veer looked at Meethi, debating what to tell her.
‘I thought she would be happier living at the haveli at Haridwar because many of our relatives live in and around that area. She was redundant at the mahal and she would be better occupied there and happier. After I shifted here a famous hotel chain contacted me, offering to renovate and run Rajmahal like a heritage hotel. I agreed, and the hotel has been operational for six months now and is doing spectacularly well,’ Veer said steadily.
‘But you have increased your load further!’ Meethi was aghast. Veer pushed himself very hard.
‘I don’t have anything to do with the day-to-day running of the hotel. I appointed a distant cousin who had fallen on hard times and he is doing a good job,’ Veer said, deep satisfaction colouring his voice.
Meethi looked at Veer and thought how important he was to so many people in the rarefied world of money, power and privilege. ‘So many people depend upon you. You do so much for everyone. No wonder you have such a punishing schedule.’
Veer gave an unconcerned shrug. ‘With great power and wealth comes great responsibility. I see myself as a custodian of all this and if I am in a position to help people then why not?’ he said laconically.
‘Don’t dismiss your actions so lightly. You go out of your way to help people. Simran told me how you saved her from being married off to an old man. The housekeeper worships the ground you walk on because you are looking after the education of her daughters.’
Dark colour ran up his cheeks. ‘They have been talking too much,’ he said gruffly.
But Meethi could see that Veer had changed. He seemed more carefree and less tense.
‘I have rearranged my life so that you have no cause to complain. I don’t want you running away again,’ he said with dark intent that brought a flush to Meethi’s face.
She looked down, bereft of words.
His next words sent her reeling.
‘Meethi, tell me something—how did the car end up in the river? Did you drive it in?’
Meethi paled. She couldn’t answer him—not without telling him the secret that she was still hiding. And she couldn’t do that. It would mean confronting the painful memories she had buried deep down. She didn’t want to see the pity in his face if he learnt that…
She said imploringly, ‘Please, don’t ask me anything about the accident.’
Veer’s suspicion that Meethi was hiding something was confirmed. But the pallor of her face brought him up short. He didn’t want to upset her. He would have to solve the mystery some other way.
‘All right, I won’t ask you again.’
He changed the subject. ‘I was thinking that we should hold an exhibition of your paintings soon. I spoke to Guruji. And he was extremely happy with the idea.’
Veer had dropped a bombshell. Meethi looked at him, nonplussed. ‘You spoke to Guruji! When? Why?’
‘I didn’t want him to worry about your disappearance and wanted to assure him that his talented protégé was safe and happy,’ Veer said calmly and continued eating.
Meethi looked at him, dumbfounded.
‘But you said that he had been avoiding your calls. How did you manage to contact him?’
‘He was waiting for me to call him. I had an illuminating conversation with him. He said he wanted to reunite us but couldn’t do it openly because he didn’t want to upset you so he was working behind the scenes. He donated the paintings to the charity I patronise because he knew that once I saw the painting I would know you were alive. And he cleverly thwarted all my attempts to contact him because he wanted us to work out our differences without his interference.’ Veer had conveyed his sense of indebtedness to Guruji.
‘He is a good man,’ Meethi said softly.
‘I will be in his debt for ever. And, just to tell you, he was overjoyed at my idea of an exhibition of your paintings. He has asked me to invite him to inaugurate it,’ Veer said enthusiastically.
‘An exhibition of my works! I’m not that good yet,’ she squeaked in dismay, finding her voice.
‘That’s what you think. I want to show off my talented wife,’ he said huskily.
Meethi felt awash with emotion. Veer was making a commendable effort to address all her complaints. He had changed, opened up and seemed less uptight. She had even caught him humming in the shower a couple of times. And she was fathoms deep in love with this new relaxed Veer. His willingness to show his feelings even at the cost of appearing vulnerable touched the innermost recesses of her being.
After dinner, they retired to the lounge and sat down on the sofa. The maid came to serve the dessert. Veer told her they would help themselves.
He took out the pouch from his pocket and gave it to Meethi.
‘Your jewellery from the cottage.’
Meethi took the band out; Veer took it from her and pushed it on her finger.
‘Where is your engagement ring? Wear that too,’ he said without inflection.
Meethi stiffened. She couldn’t tell Veer. He would discover the deception.
She stuttered, ‘I don’t know. I didn’t take it with me. I left it behind.’
‘All right, we will look for it tomorrow,’ he said calmly.
Meethi sagged with relief.
But his next words had her sitting up straight with horror.
‘Maaji Saheb will be at the party tomorrow,’ Veer said with a searching look.
He saw the way she tensed and her face whitened. But he persisted. So far he had avoided tackling this particular subject but it was time to have everything out in the open. He had to know. ‘I want to ask you something. That day in the hospital you said that she had killed our baby. What did you mean?’
Meethi shuddered with shock, the colour draining from her face. Veer’s question had ripped through her cloud of euphoria. The shadows she
had driven to the fringes had begun to loom over her. She had known it was only a matter of time. The situation would have to come to a head soon. But, like a coward, she had been hiding her head in the sand, hoping she wouldn’t have to dredge up the painful details, gouge out the agonising loss she had buried deep down.
She had known that she would have to tell Veer the entire truth but she had shied away, flinching from the merest mention of it and had concealed it so deep that she had forgotten it herself. She had been greedily lapping up the time spent with Veer, making memories and hoarding them away like a miser because she knew that in the future memories were all that were going to sustain her.
He would surely have no use for her when he learnt the truth about her.
‘Tell me, Meethi,’ Veer asked insistently, autocratically.
Meethi bit her lip. Then looked at him and said in desolation, ‘Please, don’t ask me. I cannot answer. I just want to forget what happened.’
‘No, Meethi, we decided that there would be no more hiding or secrets between us. You don’t have to be scared of anything or anyone. I’m here with you always,’ he said implacably.
Meethi felt her heart pounding in dismay. Veer wouldn’t rest till he knew everything. But she couldn’t tell him. Couldn’t bear to see his shocked disappointment when he learnt…
‘I’ll tell you tomorrow after the party. Please don’t force me. I… I need time to…’ Her voice tapered off as she took a shuddering breath.
Veer relented because Meethi looked at the end of her tether. He remembered the doctor’s orders to treat her with care and patience. There was no hurry. He would be patient and give Meethi time enough.
He touched her cheek and said huskily, ‘Don’t stress yourself. None of us is going anywhere. We have all the time in the world. I don’t want even the tiniest cloud darkening your horizon.’
Meethi looked at him, her heart full. His solicitude touched her. ‘I don’t deserve you.’
Veer cupped her face and brought his lips close to her mouth and whispered, ‘But I do and I love you.’
He bent forward and kissed her luscious lips, parting them hungrily, his tongue foraying inside boldly.
Shards of sensation rippled through her and desire exploded. Veer pulled her up against him and they kissed hungrily, their desperate need for each other returning with a vengeance.
Veer found his hands moving inside her tunic to cup her breasts, and Meethi moaned. He brought his hands up to gently push away the tendrils of her damp curling hair and ended the kiss with a gentle nip. She tormented him and blew his control to smithereens.
Meethi looked at him, still dazed from the onslaught of his kisses, and Veer told her cheekily, ‘We can’t waste the dessert.’
He ladled some kesar kheer in a bowl and proceeded to feed her. Meethi didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He did it deliberately. Teasing her, taunting her, fanning the flames of her desire, turning her into a trembling, quivering mass of longing.
‘You love me?’ she asked, not sure she had heard him right. It had been just a whisper.
‘Yes,’ he said simply. The words of love had simply flown out of his mouth and uttering them had renewed him. He felt rejuvenated.
Meethi looked at him, moisture seeping from her eyes.
‘Don’t cry! I thought you would be pleased but you’re crying. Or are you crying because I’ve been so late in saying these three words, especially when you have been so generous?’ he said with gentle mockery, dropping a tender kiss on her jaw.
Meethi sagged against his chest, full of emotion. In the act of enfolding her in his arms Veer forgot the bowl of kheer he was holding and it turned sideways and spilt over them, falling between them, staining their clothes. They stared at each other, nonplussed, and then collapsed in laughter.
‘If only your staff could see their cool, unflappable Maharaj Saheb drowned in kheer!’ she hiccupped.
‘I will not let you waste this delicious kheer,’ Veer said with mock anger and bent his head to lick the shadow between her breasts where most of the kheer had spilt.
Meethi felt her breath stop when she felt his hot breath against her breast. He licked and laved and then brought his mouth up to give her a piercing kiss. She could taste the sweet kheer on his lips, and ecstasy quivered through her. He ravished her mouth and she felt boneless with need.
But soon it wasn’t enough. He picked her up and took her to their suite.
Stripping off her clothes and his, he walked her into the shower and stood under the warm water, letting it cascade over them. He made her stand with her back towards him, her arms spread out wide against the wall in front of them; he took the soap and lathered her from behind, soaping every inch of her body, moving his hands caressingly till Meethi felt she would explode with desire. Then he pulled her back against his chest and rubbed the soap against her voluptuous breasts, circling them, teasing them until, mad with longing, she turned and twisted under his clever hands and snatched the soap from him.
‘My turn,’ she whispered. And proceeded to do what he had done to her. She took her time, moving the soap tantalisingly over his powerful shoulders, rock-hard pectoral muscles, the ridged expanse of his abdomen and then downwards over his pure masculine, tightly controlled strength.
Veer humoured her but then suddenly he had had enough. He turned on the water, letting it wash away the soap, and then, lifting her by her bottom, angled her perfectly and plunged his silken sheath inside her.
As he filled her, her head spun and her senses were drenched in unbearable pleasure. Amid harsh breathing and soft gasps, he slammed into her again and again and Meethi lost her control and came apart, drowning in ecstasy, and Veer followed her with a harsh guttural groan.
They remained joined, Meethi slumped against his chest because her legs couldn’t take her weight. Veer struggled to catch his breath, one arm still braced against the wall and the other curved around her bottom. Veer lowered her gently to the floor, feeling a rush of emotion as he looked into her passion-glazed eyes. He gave her a lingering kiss and then wrapped a towel around her and another around his waist and carried her to the bedroom.
Meethi fell asleep, worn out, fears forgotten, feeling cocooned in his warmth.
But Veer stayed awake for a long time. His arm tucked around Meethi, his fingers gently twirled her hair, seeing the shadows in her beautiful, fragile face. They still had some demons to slay.
Having Meethi back where she belonged had laid a lot of his demons to rest. After so many years of being alone and holding himself aloof he felt whole. As if his other half had fallen into place, completing him. The fear of exposing his innermost self, the terrifying possibility of appearing weak and vulnerable had slipped away magically, and the words of love had glided off his tongue smoothly, naturally.
He remembered the first time she had told him that she loved him. It had been their wedding night, the night of her physical initiation, he had thought, but it had proven to be an initiation for him as well. Making love had been such an intense experience that it had blown his mind and he had felt a primitive thrill go through him when she had murmured her love for him.
He could only now appreciate how much courage it had taken to admit her love for him and say the words again and again even when he hadn’t said it himself. He felt humbled at the realisation that Meethi was a stronger person than him. But he would prove worthy of her and her love, which were the most precious things in the world for him.
Chapter Eleven
THE NEXT MORNING Meethi was awakened by warm breath feathering across her lips. She opened her eyes to see a showered Veer dressed in a suit, bending over her, cupping her cheek gently. The gleam in his eyes turned her to mush, and she had difficulty concentrating on what he said.
‘I have urgent back-to-back meetings till the afternoon but I will return well in time for the party. Don’t fret about anything and stay happy.’ He crushed her mouth with his and then, seeing her tremble with desire, left
, giving her a wink. ‘Something to remember me by.’
Meethi took a leisurely shower, her mind filled with images from the night before. Her body was stiff and ached in a few places. Her breasts felt tender and her insides still quivered with remembered pleasure. The clawing unease of yesterday had gone. She was feeling stronger. Veer loved her. She had to believe him, have faith in their love. They would surmount all problems. She would tell him everything tonight after the party.
She decided to go to her studio and spend a couple of hours working on the painting she had begun the day before. She was engrossed in her work when there was a sudden commotion and an anxious-looking Simran appeared.
‘Didi, Maaji Saheb has come. She wants to meet you,’ she said urgently.
The brush clattered out of Meethi’s suddenly nerveless fingers. She had known that she would have to face Maaji Saheb in the evening but not here and especially when Veer wasn’t with her. She stood up with a jerk, her face paling.
She went out. Maaji Saheb stood in the outer room. A tall, thin woman, she was always impeccably dressed in expensive saris, not a hair out of place, diamonds around her neck, in her ears and on her fingers. She was unchanged except for her face, which seemed to have grown harsher.
Meethi faced her, schooling her expression and joining her hands, bent low from a distance. As the mother of her husband she was entitled to a polite greeting. But nothing more.
‘Why have you returned? We agreed that it would be better for Veer if you vanished. But you have turned up like a bad penny. And what is this that you are wearing? Have you no regard for our family name and honour?’ Her hard, black eyes glittering malevolently, Maaji Saheb wasted no time launching an offensive.
Meethi remained silent, head held high. She would not react.
‘Well, don’t you have anything to say? You claimed to love my son! Don’t you want him to have a happy life with a better-suited girl? A girl with a pedigree, from a respectable family, not an upstart like you with greedy aspirations! I don’t know what bad karma I have done that I have to see you sticking like a leech to my son! How could you have the gall to return? Haven’t you done enough? You have caused untold suffering and stress to my son. And now you have returned to trouble him again. But I’m warning you for the last time, I will make sure you leave again and this time for ever,’ she said venomously.
