by Tanu Jain
He lowered his head and snaked out his tongue, wetting the tip of her nipple. Gauri moaned. He took the nipple inside his mouth and suckled hungrily. Gauri almost buckled under the onslaught of pleasure. He then turned his attention to the other breast and his mouth continued to give her unforeseen pleasure as he sucked and nibbled and kissed.
Vikram felt himself hardening and his erection felt uncomfortable. Desire overwhelmed him and he wanted to slake it then and there. Gauri’s fingers, which were threading through his hair, tightened, and she gave a slight shiver. Vikram looked at her and sanity suddenly returned.
What in sweet hell was he doing? This was madness. Had he lost his head? He was aware of Gauri’s dangerous allure and yet he had succumbed to her. And then there was his promise to Madhav …
He looked at her flushed face and saw that her eyes were half closed and her lips trembling. Even now a part of him urged him to take those lips and possess them again. He pushed her away and silence ensued as they looked at each other aghast.
The silence was broken only by the sound of their rapid breathing and their thundering heartbeats. They looked at each other for pulsating seconds and then, with a sudden growl, Vikram turned away.
‘Follow me,’ he said harshly and walked away.
Gauri stood motionless for a moment and then followed him silently, shocked and dazed by their encounter.
Once many years ago, during the festival of Holi, her sister Maya had tricked her into drinking bhang and she had become thoroughly intoxicated. She didn’t remember anything of the day that followed but that night she dreamt that Vikram had kissed her with hungry passion. The vivid dream had left her thoroughly embarrassed and she had avoided everyone for the next several days.
She had buried the disturbing sensations deep down but the feelings that she was now experiencing were eerily familiar.
As she walked behind Vikram’s rigid back she felt mortification and shame creeping over her. She had behaved like a slut by responding to his kiss. She knew he had kissed her in anger and he, too, was at fault but why had she responded the way she had? She cringed inside. She had never been physically demonstrative and had always been reserved and reticent with everyone, including her father, despite the bond they shared. However, her brother had been warm, open and physically demonstrative with her and he would hug and hold her. He had been the only one whom Gauri had hugged and embraced. Therefore, such intimacies with Vikram shook her up. She had never felt such feelings engulf her and she felt lost, confused and guilty.
Vikram led her back to the bedroom she had woken up in and suddenly she realised this area had earlier been part of her brother’s rooms.
‘This is the suite I use whenever I am in residence,’ Vikram informed her curtly. He went towards a set of doors which were situated at the far end and opened one of them.
‘Come here.’ He beckoned with an imperious finger.
Gauri decided not to antagonise him further.
She went towards the open door and saw that it opened into a bathroom.
‘Go and freshen up. I’ll have some clothes sent to you. And don’t try anything foolish because you won’t be able to find a way out of this suite without my assistance,’ he added in a steely voice.
He turned and the door shut behind him with a click. Gauri stood irresolute for a moment and then decided to go for a shower. She was feeling gritty and maybe a quick shower would put things in perspective.
The shower proved to be refreshing and she felt better physically but her mind continued to run around the kiss. She wondered what Vikram would say if he came to know that he was the only man to have touched her so intimately and kissed her. Of course there was an exception—one other who had tried to assault her—and her mind rushed back to that traumatic night six years ago and panic engulfed her as she recollected the memory of breath reeking with drink and thick, coarse lips kissing her cruelly and she almost gagged. But she beat back the vile memories as she had been counselled to do and took deep long breaths.
Putting on the towelling robe she found hanging behind the door, she peeked out, unwilling to face Vikram, and saw to her relief that there seemed to be no one around.
She came out, wondering what to wear since the clothing she had been wearing was all creased. Her breath caught as her gaze fell on the clothes laid out on the bed.
It was a beautiful red-and-cream churidaar kameez. As a little girl, her favourite colour had been red and she had loved wearing clothes which were red in colour. Who could have brought these clothes for her? Madhav Dada had known that she loved red and whatever clothes he bought for her had always been red. Her breath caught as the memory of her brother engulfed her again, but she pushed back the grief grimly, bracing herself with the thought that she would believe in his death only when she had checked out the facts for herself.
She looked at the clothes, torn between her pride, which dictated that she wear her own creased clothes, and sheer practicality, which exhorted her to appear presentable in case she met the family.
Suddenly the door opened and she looked up, alarmed. It was Vikram.
‘Go away—I’m not dressed!’ Gauri screeched, turning red with mortification.
She rushed into the bathroom.
Vikram surveyed her fleeing figure with narrowed eyes. The thick robe had clung lovingly to her delectable body and her slender legs and dainty ankles had been clearly visible from under it.
He pushed away in his mind the attractive picture she had made and asked, ‘Why aren’t you dressed yet?’
‘Why can’t you knock before entering?’ Gauri asked back angrily from behind the closed door.
Vikram ignored her question and reiterated, ‘Why aren’t you dressed? I had sent clothes for you.’
‘I want to wear my own clothes. I will not wear these clothes,’ Gauri replied truculently from behind the bathroom door.
‘As you wish! If you want to go around looking like something the cat dragged in it’s fine by me. I would have thought you would want to at least appear presentable when we go. But of course you must dress as you wish,’ Vikram said derisively. ‘But if you are not dressed in five minutes I’ll take you out as you are,’ he added threateningly and walked out.
Gauri opened the door and rushed out, putting on the clothes hurriedly. She knew that Vikram was capable of carrying out all his threats.
Vikram sprawled on the sofa in the living room and stared broodingly at the closed door. His usually unflappable mind was in turmoil. Today’s loss of control was totally out of character for him. Only once earlier had he lost control so completely and that had been when he had kissed Gauri six years ago in the moonlight.
He had never been short of girlfriends but never had he felt such an incendiary desire for anyone else. None of his girlfriends had ever inflamed him to the extent of making him forget everything. In every relationship there had been an emotional and mental distance, with a part of him always remaining aloof and detached.
His childhood experiences had underlined the futility of emotions and relationships. Life in boarding school had further hardened him and made him contemptuous of human frailties and weaknesses. Wary and guarded, he found it difficult to warm to people, let alone trust them, and no one was permitted to cross the iron-clad barriers he had set up.
He knew that most people found him cold and intimidating and kept a safe distance. Even his employees, who had no complaints about him as an employer and were a dedicated lot, dared not cross him.
Madhav, with his infectious grin and generosity of spirit, had been the only one who had breached his defences and forged a deep bond with him. Raw ache inundated him as he thought of his friend. He would never get used to Madhav’s loss. Cold determination filled him. And never again would he let himself be vulnerable or dependent on anyone.
Therefore, it was all the more disquieting to realise the strange powerful pull that Gauri exerted over him. She tugged at his emotions—emotions he knew he was inc
apable of feeling. Was it because she was Madhav’s younger sister? But he had never felt the same way about Madhav’s other sister, Maya.
It was probably sexual attraction, he thought morosely, more so since it had been a long time since he had slept with a woman. Once this business with her was settled he would look for a girlfriend.
His thoughts were interrupted by the appearance of Gauri in the red and cream churidaar kameez he had selected.
Immediately his body hardened as he saw how the kameez clung lovingly to her body and the churidaar revealed her long shapely legs and thighs. She looked sensational and he was suddenly angry with himself. He would have to guard against falling under the spell of her attraction.
He stood up with a brusque, ‘Finally!’
He walked out of the room. Gauri followed behind, trying to get a bearing on her surroundings as well as form a coherent plan, but she received a shock when she saw that the palace had changed drastically. This part of the palace had been her brother’s wing and it had been given a total facelift. The old stone floor had been replaced by rich marble flooring and was overlaid with thick carpets and elegant rugs.
Vikram’s imperious, ‘Come on—I don’t have time to stand here gawking all day,’ brought her attention crashing back.
She didn’t know why he had tracked her down and virtually kidnapped her and brought her here, but she knew he would reveal his motives only when he chose to. He was very stubborn and pigheaded.
She had no alternative but to do as he dictated. There was no use fighting him right now. She would have to bide her time. She followed in Vikram’s wake with leaden steps.
As she left the western part of the palace and entered the spacious entrance hall she was further astounded at the changes that had taken place. It had been turned into a hotel lobby and it was bustling with activity. At one end a long reception counter was being manned by smartly dressed receptionists while a couple of bell boys scurried about with luggage trolleys.
She turned in shock to Vikram and said, ‘What’s this? The Mahal has been turned into a hotel!’
‘Yes,’ Vikram answered briefly.
‘Where does the family live, then?’ Gauri asked.
‘The family lives in the southern wing of the palace,’ Vikram said guardedly.
‘But the southern wing was part of the queen’s chambers. Why did Baba shift?’ Gauri asked mystified.
‘So curious and yet for the last six years you haven’t bothered even once to find out what happened to your family?’ Vikram asked, cold fury lacing his voice.
Gauri flinched and lowered her eyes, unable to deny the truth in his accusations and unwilling to offer any explanation of why she had acted the way she had.
Thereafter, she trailed silently after Vikram as he led her outside into the bright sunshine. They walked down the steps to a waiting car and Vikram opened the passenger door and gestured impatiently for Gauri to get in.
Giving him a nervous glance, she got in, holding her breath when she was forced to brush past him since he was standing close to the door. Her body seemed to have acquired an unsettling awareness around Vikram.
When they were younger, she and Vikram had viewed each other with mutual distrust and the vibes between them had always been cold. The opposite of her warm and open older brother, Vikram had always been distant and reserved with everyone except Madhav. She had known that he viewed her with irritation and tolerated her merely because she was the sister of his best friend.
That had changed when she’d reached puberty. She had suddenly become aware of Vikram’s devastating appeal and her hormones would go into overdrive if Vikram so much as even entered the room she was in. She was not alone in feeling the effects of Vikram’s rampant masculinity. His dark, handsome looks and the power he effortlessly exuded attracted girls like moths to a flame. Maya’s friends would flirt shamelessly with Vikram whenever the opportunity arose and, though he was disdainful and cold, they didn’t give up.
Courtesy of Maya, Gauri heard snippets about his mother’s death and a traumatic childhood. Her girlish teenage fantasies had turned him into a brooding romantic figure, and her heart would knock at her ribs when he looked out at her with those unfathomable eyes. She had spent many disturbed nights dreaming of him holding her and kissing her. For a short while, around her sixteenth birthday, he had changed, softened his usual abrasiveness and even smiled at her a couple of times. He had further astounded her by giving her a beautiful charm bracelet on her birthday.
But then the business with Maya had blown up and he had reverted to his cold, scathing self and had looked at her with withering contempt. Thank God, she had hidden her attraction well, never revealing to anyone the disturbing effect Vikram had on her senses.
This time around also she vowed to exercise all her restraint and not let the betraying awareness take over her senses.
The car glided along the winding driveway and entered the massive iron gates which led to the southern part of the palace. They stopped in front of a familiar stone building which Gauri recognised very well. She wanted to get out and flee but felt welded to the seat, unable to move.
She didn’t want to go inside. She had fled this place ignominiously six years ago and she had thought she would never return here again. Her childhood had been spent here and she still had memories of cavorting around happily at the Mahal, but later events had made sure that she would always view this place with fear and despair.
Suddenly her door opened and a grim-faced Vikram held out his hand insistently. When she wouldn’t comply he bent and took hold of her hand and easily pulled her out.
Unwilling to make a spectacle of herself, Gauri stood up and hissed, ‘Let go of my hand. I’m not running away anywhere.’
Vikram dropped her hand and went inside. Gauri looked around, trying to gather her composure. Thankfully, there was no one around. Slowly, she followed Vikram.
‘Does Baba know that I’m coming?’ Gauri blurted out hesitantly.
‘Why don’t you satisfy your curiosity by asking Maharaj directly? We are going to meet him now,’ Vikram said with perverse pleasure.
Gauri felt her legs almost give way. She couldn’t bear to face her father and see accusation and disapproval on his face or, even worse, face his silent disappointment.
‘I cannot meet Baba like this. I need some time,’ she murmured piteously.
‘Haven’t six years been enough? You have had six years in which to prepare yourself and if you couldn’t do it in that time what hope do you have of doing it in a few minutes?’ Vikram said caustically, grim satisfaction filling him when he saw how she paled and trembled.
Panic engulfed Gauri and she blurted, ‘You cannot force me to see him.’
She looked around, desperate for a way out of the coming ordeal. But Vikram held her elbow firmly and led her towards a room on the left where a lackey awaited.
Gauri looked at Vikram’s implacable face. She hated him.
She dreaded going inside, and her heart began thudding hard as she tried to compose herself to meet her father, whom she had left lying seriously sick when she had fled in shame.
The lackey bowed and opened the door, and Vikram marched Gauri inside. As soon as he entered he let go of her arm and walked away, almost as if she were contaminating him.
Gauri looked around, aware of a pin-drop silence which was broken at regular intervals by the beep of a machine. She looked towards the far end of the room where an inert figure lay upon a vast bed.
Unwilling to believe what she was seeing, she approached on trembling legs and looked down, stunned, at the face of the man who lay comatose on the bed. As she looked on in disbelief she registered just how gaunt and drawn her father looked. He had aged considerably in the last six years and seemed a pile of flesh and bones.
‘What happened to him?’ She dragged the words out, stunned.
‘He has been in a coma for the last year,’ Vikram replied.
‘Coma … but how?’ G
auri asked, turning stunned, pained eyes towards Vikram.
‘Madhav’s death hit him hard and he became careless of his health. He began suffering from high blood pressure and diabetes and this resulted in a stroke, which paralysed him and he went into a coma. He hasn’t recovered since then,’ Vikram replied tonelessly but Gauri could sense emotion simmering under the surface.
She looked for a chair to sit on since she felt her trembling legs give way. She found it difficult to take in that not only was Madhav Dada, her dear brother, gone but Baba, her father, was in a coma.
Unable to locate a chair, she simply collapsed on the side of Maharaj’s bed. Thick tears clogged her throat and she looked at the now frail and spent man who had protected her and looked after her as well as he could in her childhood.
All through her childhood years Gauri had been taunted by the bitter truth that she was the result of a one-night stand, conceived as part of her cunning and greedy mother’s devious plan to trap the wealthy Maharajah.
When her mother had died in an accident, the Maharajah had taken five-year-old Gauri to his home, overruling his family’s disapproval and disregarding scandalous gossip. He hadn’t shirked his responsibility as a father.
But Gauri hadn’t been able to fulfil her responsibility as a daughter. She bowed her head in shame. In the end she had failed him. And, rather than see the disappointment in his face every day, she had run away. She had wanted to spare him further humiliation.
Chapter Three
AS HE LOOKED down at her bent head, Gauri’s apparent despair angered him. He looked at the gaunt figure lying on the bed and anger swirled inside him dangerously. If she hadn’t run off six years ago, all this mess wouldn’t have happened. She was responsible for Madhav’s death and Maharaj’s coma.
And now she was trying to shed crocodile tears and show her hypocritical concern. But he would make sure she faced up to her responsibilities now. She would fulfil her duties towards her family.
The latest prognosis about Maharaj’s illness was very encouraging and his chances of recovering were good. The world-renowned specialist that Vikram had consulted had diagnosed that the Maharaj’s brain needed a catalyst to come out from the coma. It seemed that Maharaj’s brain was being controlled by his subconscious, which was reluctant to recover.
