“It is true, my rajah. I have seen the body with my own eyes.” Phanishwar stepped forward and slapped Leandre smartly across the face. “Do not speak insolently to your master, girl. You are no longer a princess.”
The slap had been unexpected and unnecessary. Mentioning her husband’s body—that beloved body—as he had seen it, hanging from a gibbet in a barbarian’s camp, had frozen Leandre before the blow had fallen. She stared at him, tears of fury and hatred filling her eyes.
She heard a snort and a titter, and flushed. Poornima was enjoying the show.
“As she, herself, just pointed out,” Sukumar said, “this woman belongs to me. You may not strike her without my leave.”
“A thousand pardons, my lord. I could not bear for her to speak to you with such disrespect. She was my gift to you, and I had hoped you would be well pleased.” He turned to Leandre, shaking with barely controlled rage. “If her presence offends you, I will be happy to exchange her for a more suitable gift.”
“Oh, I think perhaps we can find some way to make use of her.” Sukumar’s brow furrowed. “Lower your eyes, woman. You may claim to have been a princess in your own land, but here you are of less value to me than my pets.”
She had to set her jaw but managed to pull her gaze toward the floor. Less value than his pets. If it was his intention to humble her, he was failing. First she wanted to kick Phanishwar in his hairless balls, then she would slap that smirk off Poornima’s smug face. And as for Sukumar…
She ground her teeth. It infuriated Leandre to recognize she was just a little afraid of him. He had the power to decide her fate and she had resented having her future decided by men—even men as loving as her father and husband—for as long as she could remember.
Sukumar made a quick gesture and a servant released a curtain that had been swagged in order to reveal the dais. It fell, and they were no longer in full view of the crowd. Leandre thought she could hear a collective sigh of disappointment, although most of them had probably been pretending not to watch. Now only Sukumar, Phanishwar, Poornima and a manservant stood on this side of the curtain.
Leandre glanced up at a rustle of fabric and saw that Sukumar was getting to his feet. She reminded herself to breathe. Would he strike her? Rape her? Send her to be the whore of any man who wanted her? She knew better than to look at his face, so she moved her eyes to the left. Phanishwar was watching the rajah in nervous anticipation. Ugh. She shifted her focus to the right and saw Poornima. She was also watching Sukumar, but seemed less sure. Clearly she was hoping he would do Leandre some kind of harm, but could not know his intentions.
Leandre felt a finger under her chin, and her head was lifted and moved to the side. She bit back a squawk of protest—Sukumar was examining her like a piece of livestock.
“Her skin is very white,” he said, addressing his remarks to Phanishwar. “I can see the veins under her skin.”
“She is probably sickly. Send her away Suku, before she gives you some hideous disease.” Poornima caught Leandre’s eye. “Or kill her before she infects the entire palace.”
Leandre expected Sukumar to silence her, but apparently Poornima was allowed to speak with familiarity once the curtain was closed. Phanishwar hurried to defend his gift.
“It is a sign of her high station and upbringing. It shows she has been protected from the rays of the sun. I assure you, she is very healthy.”
Sukumar nodded his understanding and dropped Leandre’s chin. She saw from Poornima’s sour expression she did not care for this explanation. Then her eyes widened in alarm and Leandre soon saw why. Or rather—she felt why.
Warm hands cradled her breasts, weighing them like fruit through the insubstantial garment. She looked down and saw Sukumar’s jeweled fingers supporting her breasts and his thumbs reach up to stroke the nipples. Already rosy from the hours of teasing by the silky fabric, they hardened instantly.
Leandre told herself she should be repulsed by his touch, but her neglected body betrayed her. The nipples hardened further, thickening and pushing against the pressure of his thumbs. He laughed quietly and pulled the fabric aside, now grasping her without even the subtle barrier of the silk.
“So very white, like milk,” he said, squeezing less gently. “Will they bruise easily, I wonder?”
No! cried her mind, but between Leandre’s legs a responding quiver said yes more urgently.
He grasped one nipple between thumb and forefinger and she made a small sound. It was answered by a sharp exhalation of breath to her right, and she looked up to see Poornima sending her a look that would have killed had it been a dagger.
She must not be very confident of her position if this distresses her so. She felt some sympathy for Poornima, despite the fact that only moments ago the woman had suggested that Leandre be killed. If Sukumar routinely fondled other women in front of her, a favorite, then he did not treat his zuddhanta with much respect.
Leandre’s focus snapped back to the matter at hand when one of Sukumar’s hands slid down her belly. He pulled away the belt that held up what passed for trousers and the last of her garments landed on the floor. She wore nothing but jewels and sandals, and Sukumar laughed again.
“Look Poornima, you were wrong. The color of her hair does not come from the juice of lemons.” His fingers stroked the silky curls and Leandre felt a wetness start between her legs. She hoped she held them tightly enough together that moisture would not drip out onto her thighs.
“Maybe she dyes the hair of her tardana as well,” was the tart reply, and before Leandre had time to think better of it, she spoke.
“I do not need to resort to tricks to keep a man happy.” She was gratified to see Poornima’s flush of rage. She must have stumbled onto a sore point. She wondered if Sukumar would punish her for speaking, but he only chuckled.
“I am happy to hear it,” he said. The hand stroking Leandre’s pubis moved lower and she watched as one finger, bearing a ruby as large as a pigeon’s egg, reached down to almost touch the quivering bud at the opening she was so desperately trying to keep closed.
It was torture standing so still while his hands roved over her body. For Leandre, lovemaking had always been a very mutual act, with her fingers and mouth and lips and tongue exploring every part of her husband’s body as his did the same for her. Keeping her hands against her sides, she flexed her fingers. What would Sukumar’s body be like under all those flowing robes? Would it be soft and pampered or hard and muscular? Would there be hair on his chest? How big was his cock?
Sukumar must have seen her hands move, because he said, “I see you like to be touched. I like a lusty woman. One advantage of widows, as Phanishwar was just telling me.”
She almost stiffened at the reminder of her widowhood, but at that moment Sukumar’s index finger found what it had been seeking and pressed against her clit. Another burst of moisture erupted from deep within her, and as his finger moved in a small circle, another slid into the slit between her labia. “Ah, I was right.” He removed his now wet fingers and raised them slowly to his lips. Leandre forgot she was not supposed to look directly into his face and watched as he slipped them into his mouth.
“Ummmm. I am trying to decide if you taste different than women here.” He turned to Poornima. “Perhaps I will place you side by side and taste first one and then the other. Then I will see which is more to my liking.”
Leandre’s body protested at the abrupt withdrawal of his caresses, but she felt relieved when he returned to his dais and sat down. Remembering to lower her eyes, she waited to see what would come next.
Chapter Four
The Mistake
Two men, bristling with weapons, stood in front of the curtain to the dais. Bhavesh wanted to push them aside and throw back the curtain, but he knew the daggers were more than ceremonial. Even if they had not been armed, he had no business interfering in the rajah’s business.
He chafed under his invisible bonds. When his father had been betrayed and kil
led by the same barbarian traders who had made him so wealthy, he had left his fortune to Bhavesh’s uncle, knowing his wife and children would be cared for.
But the uncle, good man though he was, was credulous and timid, and easily led into business dealings that were less than profitable. Although her family would never starve, Bhavesh’s mother had come to expect more than simple comforts. The daughter of a poor but noble family, she had married a wealthy man and had believed she would always live in luxury. Her daughters would marry rajahs and her sons would be important noblemen.
Bhavesh had learned a great deal about trading from his father, but he lacked the ability to turn a blind eye to the evils of many of those he had to deal with. And he could not bear to return to the trade routes of the north, wondering whether each person with whom he dealt was the one who put a knife in his father’s back.
So here he was at Sukumar’s palace, among the poseurs and sycophants who, like Bhavesh, hoped to gain the rajah’s favor. If he was not willing to ply the northern trade routes, the best way to improve his family’s fortunes was to take control of one of the rajah’s many business dealings in the city or to run one of his agricultural holdings to the south.
Which was not going to happen if Bhavesh stormed into his private chamber and demanded to have a word with the bewitching woman who had eyes like a tiger’s and spoke the tongue of Eriu.
Frustrated, he strode to one side of the room and examined the curtained enclosure. It was not really a private room—surely if Sukumar had intended to bed his newest acquisition, he would have taken her off to wherever he housed his zuddhanta or to his sleeping chamber. From what Bhavesh had seen in the past few weeks, the curtain was occasionally drawn when the rajah wished to have a quick, private conversation without retiring to another part of the palace, and usually reopened promptly.
Open, open, open, he silently willed the fabric. Had it just moved? Was something pushing it from behind? His eyes scanned the edges of the fabric and he saw that it was separated from the wall by a very small opening. Big enough to see through, surely. But Bhavesh could hardly walk up in plain view of the court and peer through a crack in the curtain like a curious child.
He spied the old man Gupta settling onto a cushion near the wall. A plump young woman was offering him dates and he was peering down her sari while pretending to consider which fruit to pick from the bowl. If Bhavesh sat down next to him and then leaned back against the wall as if stretching, would he be able to see behind the curtain? If so, it was probably the reason the old busybody had chosen his vantage point.
He really did not want to start another endless conversation with Gupta, but he had to know what was happening on the dais. Resigning himself to another stream of idle talk, Bhavesh joined him.
“Ah, my young friend! I was just telling Jayanthi here,” he gestured toward the blushing young woman, “that I hoped Sukumar did not have anything too drastic planned for his newest consort.” The wicked expression on the old face belied this statement—clearly, whatever action caused the most scandal would best please him.
“Did you arrive soon enough to get any hint of what he had in mind?” Bhavesh’s own question disgusted him. He sounded like a true member of the court and did not much care for it.
Gupta shook his head. “Alas, no. They were speaking too quietly and I had to move closer. I had no more than found a comfortable seat when they pulled the curtain closed.” He leaned forward conspiratorially. “She said something that made that fat man angry, though. He slapped her and for a moment I thought she was actually going to hit him back. But by the time I was close enough to hear…” He shrugged.
“Phanishwar struck her?” Anger surged through Bhavesh and he struggled to keep his face composed. There was nothing unusual about striking a slave, but the thought of that oily man laying his hands on the woman made his blood boil.
“Oh, yes. And you should have seen her face. By the look she gave him, it would have been wiser to poke a cobra. Or a tiger.” Gupta nodded toward the enclosure, where a few members of the court tried to catch a glimpse of the cubs, now mostly hidden behind their mother.
“Well, that is…interesting.” Shaking his head to indicate he did not want one of the dates Jayanthi offered, Bhavesh affected what he hoped was a convincing yawn. “I suppose that is as much excitement as we can hope for in one day.” He leaned back against a cushion that was propped against the wall and tilted his head back as if resting. Gupta was looking right at him, his back to the curtain, but Bhavesh had deliberately chosen a position that would force the old man to turn his neck to face him. He imagined Gupta’s aging joints would tire of this before long and he would turn back toward the dais.
“We shall see, we shall see,” he replied, selecting another date. “Could you send one of your sisters over with some wine, my dear?” He watched the plump ass with appreciation as Jayanthi went to meet his request.
As Bhavesh had hoped, Gupta moved his head as if to relax stiff neck muscles and settled into a position facing slightly away. Maybe he’ll take a nap.
“I do not think the matter is yet settled,” said Gupta, apparently picking up where he had left off. “You know Sukumar likes to toy with those who try to gain his favor. He will probably make Phanishwar suffer a little bit before announcing whether or not his gift pleases him.”
I would not mind making Phanishwar suffer a little bit, Bhavesh thought sourly. Keeping his eyes on the back of Gupta’s head and one hairy ear, he tilted his head slightly toward the curtain. He moved his eyes in the same direction but could only see one of Sukumar’s wives, the one with the small mouth and dangerous eyes, staring at something beyond his line of vision.
Returning his regard to Gupta, Bhavesh shifted his shoulders slightly and tilted his head even farther. This position could not possibly look natural. The old man prattled on and again Bhavesh looked toward the curtain. He cursed under his breath—now a potted plant was in his way. But through its leaves he could make out Sukumar on his dais, or at least the back of his head. The front of his body was obscured by the curtain.
“Did you say something?”
Bhavesh realized Gupta had heard him swearing, and quickly replied, “I was just yawning. Not that I am not interested in what you speak of, but these afternoons can be tiresome.”
To Bhavesh’s relief, Gupta did not turn his head. He thought he must look ridiculous, leaning against the wall at this unnatural angle. He would have to move before someone else took note. He lowered one shoulder and tried to peer again through the curtain, just in time to see Sukumar lean back against his cushions.
“Will you have some wine, sir?” Jayanthi’s voice startled Bhavesh and he nearly fell over in his awkward position.
“What? No, no, I think I will take a walk.” He struggled to his feet. “You will excuse me, Gupta, I am going to get some air before I start snoring in the middle of the hall.” Bhavesh rapidly walked around to where the tiger enclosure extended from the shelter of the building into the gardens beyond, breathing deeply of the air that was less filled with the stench of perfumes, incense, wines and oils than that of the room.
What’s going on behind that curtain? Why had Poornima seemed so tense? And what is Sukumar doing with the woman?
Leandre rubbed her arms nervously. Only moments ago she had been straining against Sukumar’s caresses, her body blossoming under his touch. How could she be so weak-minded as to respond to this man who seemed so callous and cruel? He was enjoying embarrassing Phanishwar and taunting Poornima, that was plain enough. He looks ridiculous, covered in God only knows how many layers of silk and studded with jewels like a sparkling peacock. Leaning back on his cushions and gesturing grandly as if he owns the world.
But he does own me, she reminded herself. And this palace and everything and everyone in it, from the way everyone sidled up to him and fawned over him.
“You said you know how to please a man.”
Again, Leandre forgot not to look dir
ectly into his face, so startled was she by this statement. She had certainly said no such thing—or had she? What had she allowed her annoyance with Poornima to goad her into saying? In any case, there was no point contradicting him. He was her lord and master and, like it or not, he could demand that Leandre please him any time he chose. She quickly lowered her eyes.
“Are you suddenly modest, then?” This time his laugh was unpleasant. “I know you desire me, I felt it. Tasted it, in fact.” Again, he touched his fingers to his tongue as if savoring the remaining drops of the fluids Leandre had left on them. “I think you should show me what you mean about pleasing a man.” He gestured for her to approach and she took a few tentative steps toward the couch.
What will he want me to do?
As if she did not know.
“Poornima, help me with my robes.”
Leandre glanced at his wife or courtesan or whatever she was, and felt another pang of sympathy for her. Sukumar was going to make her help him undress for another woman. She could see her jaw tighten but Poornima did not argue.
To Leandre’s surprise, she did not remove any of his clothing but merely rearranged his belt and some of the elaborately draped folds of cloth to expose his breeches. They were loose and Leandre could see his cock swelling against the fabric. It did not make a very large lump, she noticed. Not that she had a lot of experience with men, but her husband had been more impressively endowed and had assured her that he was of normal size when, as a virgin, Leandre had expressed some doubts that his hard shaft would fit into the tightness of what he called her belle chose.
Perhaps the fabric hides some of it, she thought, and waited for Poornima to expose his flesh. She, however, apparently decided she had been helpful enough, and returned sullenly to her place behind the chaise. Leandre did not blame her.
She wanted to scream, to run, to slap him. How dare he humiliate both of us in this manner? But both her logical mind and her mutinous body betrayed her. If you please him, he will at least keep you safe from becoming a whore, said the former. And perhaps he will please you in turn, added the latter.
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