by Lane, Nina
“So, memsahib, you enjoyed lunching with the maharaja?” Kalindi asked when Devora sat down at the dining table. “What was it like?”
“It was very nice, Kalindi. Please bring me some toast.”
“Did you find out about the harem?”
Devora shot the young woman a disapproving look. “Kalindi, I don’t care to discuss this. Please go about your work.”
Kalindi looked disappointed, but she nodded and returned to the kitchen. With a sigh, Devora sipped her tea and read a newspaper from the British government. She was surprised to see an article about an Indian gang who had just broken into the British governor’s home near Delhi.
Apparently, the crime was thought to be committed by a gang known for roaming the countryside committing acts of violence against the British. Devora recalled that Mr. Thompson had said they even suspected the maharaja of funding such gangs.
A shiver rained down Devora’s spine, and she pushed the newspaper aside. Whatever politics were involved, it was probably better that she didn’t know too much about them. At least, not if she was planning to see the maharaja again.
After getting dressed, she went out onto the back veranda. Rohan, clad in his usual uniform of a white jacket and black trousers, was in the garden trimming dried flowers off the rose bushes. Devora watched him for a moment, then descended the steps to approach him.
“I thought there was a gardener on staff who did that,” she remarked.
Rohan glanced up at the sound of her voice. “There is,” he said. “I enjoy gardening, so I sometimes do it myself.”
Devora remembered what he had said to her just last night, and she fought a sudden rush of anger. She wouldn’t find him so irritating if he would at least display some sort of emotion, but his complete impassivity annoyed her to no end. It made him seem somehow inhuman.
“Heavens,” she murmured. “I didn’t realize that you actually could enjoy something.”
He clipped another flower and didn’t reply.
“Maybe you should enjoy yourself a little more,” Devora suggested. Her gaze roved over the hard lines of his profile. The sunlight glinted off his black hair, shredding it into luminous strands. “Not be so rigorous.”
Rohan dropped the faded flowers into a bucket at his feet. “Thank you for your advice, memsahib.”
“Are you married?” Devora asked.
“No.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
Rohan straightened and leveled his dark gaze on her. “Is there something you wish?”
If only you knew.
Devora gave him a beatific smile. “No, I’m just curious. I suspect that women are rather frightened of you.”
“Is that right? Are you?”
The question startled Devora. “No, of course not. I think you can be intimidating, but I’m not afraid of you.”
“I’m only carrying out orders.”
“Of course you are.” Devora recalled the other morning when she had caught Rohan standing outside her and Gerald’s bedroom door. Her heart pulsed as she thought again of what he had witnessed and how she must have looked. She wondered what kind of images were burned into his mind.
“You’re good at that, aren’t you?” she asked. “Carrying out orders.”
“So I have been told.”
“Good, then why don’t you bring me a glass of lemonade? It’s getting rather hot out here.”
“Yes, memsahib.” Rohan dropped the clippers into the bucket and headed towards the house with his long-legged stride.
Devora smiled and returned to sit on the veranda. Maybe it was about time she showed him who was in charge, regardless of whatever Gerald had told him. She lowered herself into a wicker chair and stretched her legs out in front of her. A trickle of sweat ran down between her breasts.
She picked up a bamboo fan and began fanning herself. Her limbs felt loose and relaxed after last night with the maharaja. Moreover, she felt deliciously wicked. She unbuttoned the top two buttons of her dress to let the air circulate.
She watched Rohan approach her with a glass of lemonade on a tray. He set the tray on a table next to her and handed her a napkin.
“You require something else?” he asked. His gaze darted to the valley created by her unbuttoned dress and the gentle swell of her moist breasts.
A surge of pure triumph rose in Devora as Rohan looked quickly away from her. Hah. So he wasn’t as stoic as he appeared to be. He was a man just like any other man. All he needed to express that was a push in the right direction.
After all of Devora’s wondering about what it would take to provoke a reaction in him, it turned out to be the exact same thing that would provoke a reaction in any other man. She might even have been disappointed by that realization if she weren’t so thrilled by it.
“Why don’t you sit down and rest for a moment?” she said, waving her hand towards another chair. She sipped the sweet lemonade gratefully.
Rohan sat, averting his gaze from her to look out at the garden.
Devora crossed her legs, surreptitiously hiking her skirt up a few inches. She’d show him who was in control here.
“So, how long have you been a servant?” she asked in a conversational tone.
“Since I was fifteen.”
“And how old are you now?”
“Thirty-five.”
“You’ve always worked for the British, have you? That must be why your English is so good.”
Rohan nodded and glanced at her. His eyes wandered over the curve of her calf before he cleared his throat and stood. “I’m sorry, memsahib, but I must return to my duties.”
“Of course,” Devora murmured. She sucked on a piece of ice and watched him return to the rose bushes.
With an instinct as old as time, she knew their relationship had just taken on a whole different dimension.
“Devora, I don’t want you visiting him alone again.” Gerald poured himself another brandy and gave Devora a severe look. He’d been home for less than twenty-four hours, only to discover that Devora had not just gone cavorting off to the maharaja’s palace alone, but also that she hadn’t been attending any of the British functions. “I don’t like it.”
Devora sighed. “Really, Gerald, it’s all perfectly civilized. I’ve simply had lunch with him several times.”
“Several times? I thought you’d only gone once!”
Devora spread her hands out. “Once, twice, what’s the difference?”
Gerald swallowed some brandy and eyed his wife suspiciously. The difference was that she seemed different. He didn’t know why, but there was something rather too relaxed and secretive about her. She was such a lovely woman with those large, brown eyes that could appear so innocent. Only Gerald had firsthand knowledge of the wickedness that seethed within his wife.
“The Thompsons told me you didn’t even go with them to Agra,” Gerald said. “That you were sick or something.”
“Yes, I’m afraid I had a mild cold. I didn’t feel up to traveling.”
“Well, we won’t have that happen again,” Gerald said. “You probably caught something at the palace. I want you to promise me you won’t go there alone again.”
“Oh, Gerald, I was just doing something unique.” Devora stood and approached him. She slipped her arms around his waist and leaned her head against his chest. “I was so terribly bored without you, and the maharaja came here specifically to invite me. I couldn’t say no.”
“Devora, I might be away rather frequently,” Gerald said, unable to help himself from drawing in the scent of her hair. “I want to know that you’ll be safe.”
“I will be.” Devora reached up to kiss his neck. “I promise. Besides, Rohan looks after me quite thoroughly.”
Gerald didn’t miss the somewhat bitter note in Devora’s voice. He pulled back slightly to look at her. “What does that mean?”
She shrugged and toyed with the collar of his shirt. “He acts like my nanny rather than a servant,” she rep
lied. “Questioning my whereabouts and all that.”
Gerald sighed. “Devora, I asked you not to make this difficult. Rohan is acting on my orders.”
“Well, you don’t have to order him to virtually keep me under lock and key,” Devora muttered.
“Now that I know you’ve been visiting the maharaja alone, I might do just that,” Gerald snapped.
Devora pulled away from him, her eyes flashing. “Honestly, Gerald, who is the servant around here, me or him?”
“Devora, this isn’t England! You can’t run about alone here!”
“I didn’t realize you also could order me about like a dog!”
Gerald ran a hand tiredly through his hair and tried to rein in his temper. It was true that Devora had to get used to more restrictions than she was comfortable with, but that didn’t mean she could try and break them at every opportunity. “Darling, let’s not fight. I can’t ask Rohan not to keep an eye on you, and you must not make it difficult for him.”
“That seems to be my main duty here,” Devora replied. “Not making things difficult.”
“There are plenty of activities for you, if you’d only avail yourself of them,” Gerald said.
“Yes, watching cricket matches and attending garden parties. I could do all of that back in London, but I certainly couldn’t visit a maharaja’s palace there.” She shook her head and sighed, turning away from him. “I’m sorry, Gerald. I don’t mean to be upsetting you, but this is such a wonderful country that I can’t abide being restricted from it.”
“And I can’t abide constantly worrying about your safety.”
Devora nodded, a hint of guilt flashing in her expression. “I know. I’m sorry. I’ll cooperate.”
“Good.” Gerald nodded and swallowed the last of his brandy, feeling somewhat vindicated.
“I’m going to bed.” Devora tugged her robe around herself and stood on tiptoe to kiss him goodnight. “I’m awfully tired.”
“Sleep well, darling.”
“You, too.” Devora went into the bedroom, closing the door behind her.
Gerald poured himself a bit more brandy and went to the doorway that led to the veranda. He stared out at the night sky, thinking that as long as he lived in India, he would never fully understand the country or its people.
“Sahib, if you wish nothing else, I’ll retire for the night.”
Gerald turned at the sound of Rohan’s voice. “No, nothing, thanks.”
Rohan nodded. “Goodnight then.”
“Wait a moment.” Gerald swirled his brandy in the glass and hesitated. “Besides her visits to the maharaja’s palace, have you noticed anything different about my wife?”
“Different? No. However, she appears to be very headstrong.”
A smile tugged at Gerald’s mouth. “Yes. She is that.” He took another sip of brandy and returned to stare out at the night. “Rohan, I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to keep a closer eye on her when I’m away. I realize you are the servant, but I’m worried about her.”
“I’m afraid she refuses to listen to me.”
“Yes, well, perhaps you’ll have to follow her a bit and listen in on conversations,” Gerald said. “Just so that you have a better idea of what’s going on, you understand.”
“Yes, sahib.”
“Fine, thanks. That’ll be all. Goodnight.”
Rohan murmured another goodnight and left to return to the servants’ quarters. Gerald finished his brandy and put the glass on the sideboard. Despite the alcohol burning through his veins, he still felt tense. He knew his tension wasn’t only a result of his words with Devora, but also simply from having been without a woman for two weeks.
He was in no mood to attempt amorous activities with his wife, so he went out onto the veranda and started in the direction of Kalindi’s dwelling on the outskirts of the village. A single oil lantern burned in the window of her room.
Gerald didn’t bother knocking. He opened the door and let himself in, his passion surging at the sight of Kalindi’s half-naked form lying underneath the sheets. Her dark skin fairly glowed in the dim light as she lay with her head propped on her hand, skimming through a magazine spread out on the bed. She wore a sleeveless, cotton shift, and the bedsheet slid off her figure to expose her bare thighs.
Gerald closed the door hard, causing Kalindi to look up, startled.
“Sahib!”
“Hello, Kalindi.” Gerald reached up to unbutton his shirt. His cock was half-hard already. “I’ve missed you.”
Kalindi stared at him, her dark eyes sparking with a hint of mutiny. Then she pressed her lips together and nodded. “I am missing you, too.”
Gerald cast his shirt aside and unbuttoned his trousers, reaching out to run his fingers through Kalindi’s coconut-scented hair. “Come on, then, darling. Make me feel good.”
Kalindi’s throat muscles worked as she swallowed, lifting herself up to enclose the head of his penis between her lips. Gerald let out a groan as Kalindi began to take his stiff flesh into the hot, wet cavern of her mouth. Her lips slid slowly over him, her tongue teasing as she traced the veins of his shaft.
She was a wicked one, Kalindi was. She knew how to please a man. She reached down to caress his testicles, rubbing beneath them with a light touch that scorched his desire.
Gerald wrapped the length of Kalindi’s hair around his hand, pumping his hips so that his prick slid in and out of her mouth. He loved watching Kalindi when she was doing this, the way her lips puckered up and her tongue flickered out of her mouth.
He reached down to massage her breasts through her shift, rolling her large nipples between his fingers. He liked Kalindi’s body, which was full, womanly, and very different from Devora’s more slender figure. Ah, how delicious to have the best of two worlds.
Gerald pulled away from Kalindi, his cock as hard as stone as he pulled the woman’s shift over her head. He gazed for a moment at the lush curves of Kalindi’s body, then straddled her abdomen and pressed his cock between her breasts.
“Squeeze them,” he said hoarsely, feeling as if he would explode then and there.
Kalindi pressed her breasts together, her abundant flesh surrounding and immersing him like warm pillows. Gerald’s entire body stiffened with tension as he pumped himself back and forth, his hips slamming against the undersides of Kalindi’s breasts.
A powerful pressure began to build at the base of his penis, and he pulled away from her before he lost control completely. He slid down the length of Kalindi’s body, reaching to push her thighs apart and delve his fingers into the plentiful curls between her legs. Kalindi gave a little moan of pleasure, spreading her legs even wider to allow him access.
Gerald pushed his erection into her slowly, savoring the sensation of her tight heat enclosing him. His blood was hot with the need for release, but he so enjoyed the act of fucking that he sought to prolong it for as long as possible.
Pushing Kalindi’s legs almost up to her chest, he penetrated her as far as he could go, pushing in and out. Her body shook with each thrust. Whimpers spilled from Kalindi’s throat in a steady stream. Gerald bent to capture one of her nipples between his teeth, licking thirstily at the salty taste of her skin.
Ah, woman. He could drown in a woman’s taste and scent and, oh yes, her cunt. Kalindi’s inner muscles tightened around him in the way she knew he liked, stimulating his fire all the more potently. With a groan, Gerald pulled out of her, grasping his cock in his hand as he stroked it up and down. Within seconds, a shudder of pure rapture exploded through his body, and his seed spurted out onto Kalindi’s belly.
“Oh, Christ.” Gerald flopped down next to Kalindi, gasping as he tried to catch his breath. “That was wonderful.”
Kalindi propped her elbow on his chest as she gazed down at him with a smile. “You are missing me, yes?”
“Sometimes, yes.” Gerald put his hands on her shoulders and dropped a kiss on her forehead before pushing her gently away. He wasn’t certain he
liked Kalindi’s growing possessiveness. “I must go now.”
“You will return when, sahib?” Kalindi asked.
“I don’t know.” Gerald dressed quickly. Kalindi was wonderful when it came to satisfying his physical needs, but he had little use for her otherwise. Housekeepers and cooks were readily available in this godforsaken country.
Kalindi watched him dress, skimming a hand down her naked body.
“Goodnight, Kalindi.” Gerald dug into his pocket and tossed a few rupees on the bedside table before he turned and left.
***
CHAPTER SEVEN
“Honestly, I simply can’t understand it.” Mrs. Thompson shook her head and took another dainty sip of tea. “Your husband is away at work every day, and yet you still won’t join us for our bridge parties. What is it you do all day long?”
“I’ve been working on my paintings,” Devora said. She waved a hand towards the dining table, which she had converted into a veritable worktable. Her sketchpads, paints, and pencils lay scattered over the entire table, and a half-finished painting rested on an easel by the window. “I’ve done so many sketches that I thought it was about time I turn them into paintings.”
“Well, you can only do so much doodling,” Adele said. She was sitting on the piano bench, looking very refined and British in a white dress and pearls. “Isn’t Gerald leaving this weekend again?”
“Yes, he has to take a trip to Delhi,” Devora replied. “He promises that the next time he goes, he’ll take me with him.”
Mrs. Thompson chuckled. “Oh, my dear, they always say that. But don’t worry. You’ll get used to living with an absent husband. We all do eventually.”
Devora glanced at Adele, who nodded in agreement. “Yes, we do.”
“Well, Gerald is different,” Devora said. “He has no intentions of simply leaving me here to rot.”
“Oh no, they never have the intention of doing that.” Adele turned to the piano and began to play a light, delicate tune. “Somehow, though, that’s what always seems to happen. That’s why we have to occupy ourselves with bridge parties and luncheons.”
