His Captive Indian Princess

by Tanu Jain

  And then, overnight, Gauri had grown up.

  He couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment it had happened, but he’d started to realise that his breath often caught at the sight of her.

  She had suddenly blossomed into a beauty and had wreaked havoc on his hormones. His senses would thrum with awareness at the sound of her light step and the blood in his veins would quicken at the sight of her long braid swinging against her hips as she turned and left a room. The disturbing effect she had on him had knocked him off balance and made him angry and he had often resorted to cold sarcasm in her presence.

  With hindsight he recalled that they both had rubbed each other the wrong way right from the beginning.

  He looked at her, wondering why she had the capacity to ruffle his unflappable calm and arouse disturbing feelings inside him, especially when he knew her true nature. The sedative worked and after a few minutes Gauri slid into a deep slumber.

  Suddenly Vikram realised that Gauri hadn’t applied the ointment that the doctor had given her. He hesitated, unwilling to touch her again and uncertain about waking her up. Finally, aware that the doctor’s orders had to be followed, he applied the ointment on the swelling on her forehead. Her skin was like soft satin and his fingers tingled as he rubbed gently.

  Gauri murmured something sleepily but didn’t awaken. He looked at her face.

  The moonlight glinted on her face, highlighting the perfect symmetry of her features and her flawless luminescent skin. She had inherited her heart-stopping beauty from her actress mother, who had been an acclaimed beauty and had graced the covers of many magazines.

  Gauri, too, had received a couple of acting offers while still in school, which her father, the Maharaj, had peremptorily turned down.

  Vikram gazed at her heart-shaped face and sharp patrician nose, which always used to be adorned by a tiny gold nose pin. The nose pin was no longer there. But her lips were perfect as ever. They glistened invitingly in the moonlight.

  A deeply buried memory of the kiss that they had shared almost six years back surfaced.

  It had been during the festival of Holi, also known as the festival of colours. As part of a bet, Madhav and he, along with their friends, had downed numerous glasses of the traditional intoxicant drink bhang. Drunk and intoxicated on bhang, they all had danced in the moonlight and he had found himself dancing with an equally intoxicated Gauri. It was the first time he had touched her.

  The next thing he remembered was kissing her under a secluded arch of the palace. The kiss had rocked him and ignited an explosion of feeling in him. Gauri had kissed him back and he had plundered the sweetness of her lips. They had tasted like ambrosia, and he had drunk greedily, passion flaring intensely between them. Their kiss had gone on and on and he had almost taken her there and then, and only the sudden realization that he was kissing the teenage sister of his best friend had stopped him. She had looked at him with her doe-like eyes, dazed and innocent, and his heart had slammed against his ribs.

  The sensations had been so vivid and the experience so intensely arousing that for several days he had been unable to behave naturally in front of Madhav and had gone out of his way to ignore Gauri. His body’s intense reaction had shocked and disturbed him and, knowing the futility of pursuing their explosive chemistry, he had done his best to douse the raging hunger that had filled him since the kiss. Deep guilt had assailed him when he thought how close he had come to betraying his friend’s trust with his sister. Especially since Gauri was still so young, only sixteen and sweet and innocent—or so he had mistakenly thought.

  It had been a struggle but he had fought hard against the searing attraction which seemed to infect him whenever Gauri appeared.

  But his scruples had been misplaced, as he had soon learnt. Later events had shown how mistaken he had been to think of Gauri as a naïve and innocent teenager. While he had pulled back, thinking she was still a child, she had been conducting an affair with the stable boy under their unsuspecting noses. Even at sixteen she had been a master of deception and wiles and had crafted a careful web of lies and betrayal. He had felt like a fool for being taken in by her.

  Gradually, he had buried the entire incident deep inside the recesses of his mind and had never permitted any recollection to cross his memory. But now Gauri was in his clutches and he would make her squirm for her deception and lies.

  Vikram looked at her with ruthless satisfaction, bent forward towards his driver, gave him some instructions in a low voice and then stretched out his long legs and prepared to rest, too. It would be a long journey and he wanted to be fresh and alert when they arrived.

  Chapter Two

  DAWN WAS BREAKING over the sky when the car slowed down before the stately wrought-iron gates which slid open at the sight of the familiar car.

  ‘Bahadur Vilas Palace Hotel’ the sign proclaimed.

  The guard came running and saluted smartly. ‘Salaam Saheb.’

  Vikram nodded in greeting, and the car moved along the curving driveway which was surrounded by tall trees. It was an old and beautiful estate with an imposing palace set amidst rolling greenery. It belonged to the Rao Bahadur dynasty which had ruled the city of Mogragarh for generations. Royalty had been abolished after Independence in India but the titles and the way of life of many royal families remained as before. The royal family of Mogragarh was still counted among the important royal families in the country and commanded a lot of respect and awe. The present head of the family was Maharaj Sambhaji Rao and Vikram’s friend Madhav had been his son and the male heir of the dynasty.

  He looked around pensively. This was Madhav’s ancestral home. But for as long as he could remember it had been home for him, too. Madhav and he had been inseparable as friends, and he had spent all his vacations at Madhav’s palace rather than his own.

  He had hated his own palace. It held painful memories for him. He belonged to the royal family of Bijagarh which, too, could trace its ancestry way back and which had once upon a time been a wealthy and important princely state. But then rot had set in and his forefathers began squandering their wealth in pursuit of their selfish pleasures. Debauched and decadent, their dynasty became morally corrupt. His great-grandfather had even been accused of betraying the country for his selfish means, and the stigma and dishonour still clung to their family name.

  Vikram’s father had also lived up to his family’s tarnished reputation. He had spent his entire life partying, hunting and having affairs, and his legacy to his heir after his death had been a mountain of debt which Vikram had cleared from the huge personal wealth he had accumulated.

  Vikram had experienced a disturbed and traumatic childhood. His father had been abusive and violent and highly critical of Vikram. He’d mocked Vikram’s deep attachment to his mother and jeered at him, telling him princes had to be strong and unemotional. He had subjected his long-suffering wife and son to harsh beatings.

  When he was eight, Vikram’s father had installed his mistress in his palace and Vikram’s frail and delicate mother, unable to bear the public humiliation, had shot herself.

  His callous and uncaring father had shunted off Vikram to boarding school, where he’d met Madhav.

  Madhav had befriended the grieving and morose Vikram and pulled him out of his depression. Vikram knew he was indebted to Madhav for having saved his sanity and in later years did his best to repay the debt.

  Two years ago, after receiving the news about Madhav’s death, it had been Vikram who had buried his own pain and stepped in to comfort Madhav’s distraught father, Maharaj Sambhaji Rao. The inconsolable, grieving Maharaj had turned to Vikram for emotional support and assistance in his business affairs.

  For the past two years Vikram had been managing Maharaj’s business affairs as well as looking after the expanding chain of luxury hotels which Madhav and he had jointly set up about five years ago. The additional load had meant that for the past two years he had been working his butt off and the last year had been even more frantic
since Maharaj had suffered a stroke and gone into coma.

  Vikram had continued at the helm of Maharaj’s business affairs but things had become complicated when the husband of Maya—Madhav’s sister and Maharaj’s elder daughter—had started legal proceedings to try and wrest control of the family property from Vikram.

  But after Madhav’s accident, the Maharajah had written his will and had taken Vikram into his confidence. So Vikram knew that though the Maharajah had bequeathed considerable wealth to his legitimate daughter Maya, he had determinedly named Gauri, his illegitimate daughter, as his principal successor.

  Locating Gauri at this point of time was a stroke of luck. Her presence would untangle the legal mess of Maharaj’s property and enable him to safeguard Maharaj’s wealth until he recovered and assumed control for himself. Vikram glanced at the lying and cheating girl, who was even now sleeping the sleep of an innocent. Gauri hadn’t stirred even once on the way. The sedative had been very effective. And it had worked out for the best.

  The car purred to a stop in front of an imposing building. Vikram shook Gauri. She was in for a shock, he thought with grim satisfaction. But Gauri didn’t awaken.

  The sedative must have been really powerful, Vikram thought wryly. He got out of the car and lifted Gauri in his arms. Shaking his head at the durban who rushed to help him, he turned to go inside. He entered the lobby and turned towards an entrance marked ‘Private’ on the side of the reception hall. A waiting lackey produced a card and opened the door, which swung inside noiselessly to reveal a plush carpeted gallery which led to his suite of rooms.

  Soon he had deposited her on the bed and stood looking down at her sleeping form. In sleep she exhibited vulnerability and innocence, which he knew was deceptive. Women, he had learnt early on, were conniving and unscrupulous and his father’s numerous mistresses, Gauri’s mother and even a couple of his girlfriends had only reinforced his belief that they could cheat and deceive with ease for their own selfish interests.

  Gauri, too, had been adept at twisting people around her finger. He remembered sourly how she just had to look with her huge doe-like eyes at Madhav or Kaka Maharaj and they would be like putty in her hands. He, too, had not been immune to her wiles.

  Face tightening with displeasure, he turned away from her. He desperately needed a shower.

  Gauri rubbed her eyes sleepily and opened them slowly—they met unfamiliar surroundings. Suddenly, remembrance struck and she sat up with a jerk, unsure if the events of the night had been real or a nightmare.

  She looked around and saw that she was in a huge luxurious bedroom, on a king-size bed which had pristine white sheets. Vibrant silk curtains hung in front of what seemed huge French windows with a love seat placed in front of them.

  Filled with desperate panic, she walked out of the room, her feet sinking into the thick carpet on the floor. The room seemed to be part of a suite of rooms and opened into the sitting room. She looked around with foreboding and suddenly saw Vikram sprawled on a sofa. She encountered his hooded eyes. So it had been for real and not a nightmare.

  She looked at him in uneasy silence.

  Vikram broke the silence. ‘Well, you certainly slept soundly. How’s your head now?’

  Gauri didn’t answer his softly worded question. She couldn’t. Her throat seemed to be closing up. The knock she had suffered yesterday was the least of her fears. Her carefully ordered life seemed to be slipping out of her control.

  ‘Where have you brought me?’ she asked angrily, all her worry and frustration coming out.

  Vikram looked at her speculatively, deciding how to tell her. ‘Don’t you recognise where we are?’ he asked, eyes glinting with an unidentifiable emotion.

  ‘No,’ Gauri murmured, her dread increasing at the superior smirk on his handsome face.

  Vikram went towards the curtains in the sitting room and opened them with a flourish. They slid open to reveal achingly familiar acres of glorious green.

  ‘Mogragarh!’ she gasped. ‘You’ve brought me to Mogragarh!’ Her face blanched in horror. There was ringing in her ears and for a moment she feared she would faint again.

  She almost tottered. How could he do this to her? She had vowed never to return here and he had brought her back.

  Gut wrenching emotion filled her and she lashed out in anger. ‘How dare you bring me here? You took advantage of me and kidnapped me. I’ll die before I set a foot outside. Take me back or I’ll…’

  But she couldn’t complete her tirade because Vikram slowly sauntered towards her and said with soft menace, ‘Or what? What will you do? Don’t forget it’s me you are dealing with. Not your besotted father or brother! And you know how angry I can be if crossed. Now, just do as I say or I will not be responsible for the consequences.’

  But Gauri was not ready to obey his dictates. He had virtually kidnapped her and deceived her and brought her to Mogragarh and she would never forgive him.

  She looked around wildly, bent on escape, and rushed out of the room not knowing where she was going, intent on just running away from Vikram. Seeing her trying to escape, he cursed fluently and followed in hot pursuit. He would bring her to heel. She was too wilful and headstrong. But this time she wouldn’t have her own way.

  Gauri was running, trying to get her bearings, but the surroundings had changed beyond recognition. Unable to recognise which part of the palace she was in, she just kept on running, opening a succession of doors. She heard Vikram following swiftly and knew that this was her only chance to escape because once he caught her it would all be over.

  But soon she reached a gallery which was a dead end. There were locked doors on either side but, apart from that, nothing. She thudded to a halt, her heart in her mouth.

  Vikram thundered to a stop behind her. He was awash with rage and the sight of her defiant back did nothing to mollify his temper. He caught her and turned her around with a harsh, ‘I told you not to act smart with me.’

  Gauri threw back her head in a show of bravado. She would not let him browbeat her. She looked at him scornfully and said, ‘Don’t think you can dictate to me. I will do as I please.’

  Vikram met her scornful gaze and tried to control the multitude of emotions erupting inside him. She had wreaked so much havoc in everyone’s life but was unchanged. She remained the same headstrong and selfish girl, unrepentant of her behaviour. His grip on her arms tightened and he rapped out, ‘You will do as I say. Do you understand? I don’t tolerate disobedience from anyone!’

  Gauri said heatedly, ‘Other people may put up with your autocratic behaviour but I will not! You cannot tell me what to do and what not to do.’

  Her defiant eyes shot sparks at him and her disobedient pout inflamed him further.

  ‘You have grown even more insolent. If I had my way I would have cured you of this insolence years ago,’ Vikram snarled.

  Gauri looked at Vikram and felt anger flooding her at his disgusted tone.

  What did he know of her life here?

  She had been browbeaten and dictated to all her life. All the years she had been here had been spent being submissive and compliant, especially to her half-sister and her grandmother. She had been forced time and again to put her family first, even when it had meant huge sacrifices on her part. But she would no longer give in. The past six years had changed her and she was no longer a submissive and cowering girl, desperate to fit into the family which had adopted her grudgingly. She was grown and independent and capable of making her own decisions and would no longer be at anyone’s beck and call.

  Hands clenched tightly and with a rebellious glint in her eyes, she replied with angry emphasis, ‘Thank God then that you had no say in any of my matters. Even now you have no right to tell me anything. It is none of your business what I do with my life.’

  Vikram was enraged at Gauri’s words and wanted to shut her up. He jerked her towards him roughly and, bending his head, took her mouth, kissing her angrily.

  He wanted to punish
her for her defiance. He couldn’t resist her pouting lips or the desire that was plaguing him. He plundered the sweetness of her lips with punishing heat and his tongue flicked forcefully in the moist cavern of her mouth. Her lips tasted heavenly and, despite his fury with her, his kiss softened.

  Gauri had not the slightest idea of his intentions and the suddenness of Vikram jerking her towards him took her by surprise. Her stunned gasp was quickly muffled by his hard and hungry mouth and she stood paralysed in his clasp, helpless under the onslaught of his punishing kiss. But not for long. Her stunned shock gave way to a wild surge of heat which began from the tips of her toes and travelled right through her body. Scorching rays of desire assaulted her insides and her body felt on fire.

  His marauding lips nibbled and caressed hers and his tongue stroked inside her mouth. Her body felt as if it was on sweet fire and she felt herself responding and, unbidden, she wanted to kiss him back. Her arms crept around him of their own volition. His tongue was now flicking inside her mouth and twisting her tongue deliciously.

  Her tongue responded on its own, giving a shy flick inside his mouth, and she felt him shudder in response. The hand holding her head tightened and the kiss deepened as he edged her close, so close that Gauri felt fused with him.

  Vikram felt her tongue try a delicate foray into his mouth and fierce desire erupted inside him. The iron-clad control he was famed for deserted him and he angled her closer to his body, voraciously drinking in her sweetness. Soon it wasn’t enough.

  He felt her soft breasts pressing into him and he cupped one breast and rubbed his thumb against her nipple. It had grown pebble-hard and it throbbed invitingly under his touch. Still kissing her, he pulled up the sweatshirt she was wearing and bared her breasts. They were perfect, he thought. Round and full, they glistened like ripe mangoes and were enough to tempt a saint.