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His Captive Indian Princess
Tanu Jain


Banished from her dynastic family home by her grandmother, Gauri Rao has lived under the weight of scandal. But now her past has come back to find her in the shape of deliciously handsome and dangerously powerful Vikram Singh.With the Rao family in tatters, Vikram has promised Gauri’s father he will track down his daughter and bring her home—at all costs. Yet somehow the naive girl who ran away has blossomed into an independent woman. Vikram is not used to taking no for an answer…has he finally met his match?










‘Hello, Gauri,’ Vikram said in a dangerous tone.

Gauri felt faint. The past had caught up with her. What would she do now? Her most feared nightmare had come true.

She had agonised over coming face to face with her past, especially Vikram, and now that it had happened she didn’t know what to do.

She had been filled with dread ever since the media cameras had filmed her and her fears had been proved right. Her family had found her. Vikram was here.

She continued to stare at him in shocked silence. He was unchanged. Vikram: her half-brother Madhav’s childhood friend. She had last seen him six years ago, and the effortless arrogance and dangerous aura of power that he always exuded hadn’t diminished a bit. He was descended from an illustrious royal line and his genetic heritage was stamped in the authoritative way he carried himself, in the imperious lift of his eyebrow and the disdainful expression on his face. His face remained striking as ever. His eyes bored into hers with an icy intensity that frightened her. Black as night and fathomless, like an ocean, at this moment they were glittering with anger. She stared back, flinching, but unable to wrest herself from the force of his dark, furious gaze.

‘No answer? Oh, I forgot. I should have said, Hello, Mira! That’s your name now, isn’t it?’ Vikram said.


Dear Reader

My editor’s letter of approval had an incendiary effect, and I still have trouble catching my breath at times!

As a child I loved reading, and my imagination was peopled with love stories. When I eventually sat down to write a love story I came up with a clichéd romance with wooden characters. The empathy was missing because as an Indian I found it difficult to identify deeply with a Greek hero and a British heroine.

I decided to write about Indian characters, and by the time I submitted my manuscript to my delight I found that Mills and Boon


had begun publishing Indian writers. Harlequin Presents has always been my favourite series, because the one truth that it holds up is that wealth, riches, lineage and beauty alone cannot ensure happiness. A human being’s quest for happiness is eternal. Everyone wants to be happy and everyone has different ideas of what can make them happy.

I write romances because I feel that love leads us to abiding joy and happiness. Love for one’s soul mate, one’s children, parents, friends, and all those who inhabit one’s immediate world. Love is deep and at the same time detached, because it has zero expectations. The missing piece in life’s puzzle, it is love which gives a spiritual dimension to human life.

I hope, dear reader, you will enjoy reading the story of Vikram and Gauri as much as I enjoyed writing it. I would love your feedback at tanurja@yahoo.com

Tanu


About Tanu Jain

And then he kissed her! is the line that used to run like a litany through TANU JAIN’S mind whenever she sat down to laze and relax. For years handsome hunks haunted her imagination and stunning, strong-willed heroines clamoured to come out. She knew it was the effect of countless Mills & Boons


(she started in Class Eight). She tried scratching the itch and came up with the story of a strong Greek male and a suffering Greek beauty. It was sure to be accepted, she thought naively. It was a disaster! The rejection slip opened her eyes to a few pertinent facts and her next work was written straight from the heart, with familiar local settings. An editor who believed in her voice guided her—and voilà!

Strength, kindness, honesty, optimism and love were drilled into her as a child by her parents, and the first Mills & Boon


she read made her realise that these are exactly what romance novels are about! So writing a romance novel is both emotionally and morally satisfying!

Tanu’s interests are wide-ranging. Too wide-ranging, she feels at times! She has done a doctorate in English Literature, and occasionally teaches English Language and Literature. She currently lives in Gwalior, India, with her businessman husband who, for her, epitomises the qualities of a typical romance hero. Her daughter and son are proud of her, but are embarrassed when she uses their names for the characters in her books!




His Captive Indian Princess

Tanu Jain





www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


To the exceptional men in my life—

Y. c. m., O. p. j., Amit;

To the incomparable women in my life—

Achla, Santosh, Sapna n’Charu;

To the twinkles of my eyes—

Urja, Vidyamaan n’Aryaveer.

And most of all to the alpha male who is the nucleus,

G. J.

And a heartfelt thanks to Megan.




Table of Contents


Cover (#u5ced71f3-cfae-54fd-916c-398bcabe2f45)

Excerpt (#u91e09af7-5b6f-5e81-968a-171e5061bd51)

About the Author (#u6e481fa2-5941-5876-87c7-f0d11ee1734b)

Title Page (#uabb9c2d6-53d1-5087-9fb8-f761af289c2f)

Dadication (#u3fdd557d-74f7-5240-a2cc-63c1c7ccd298)

Chapter One (#ulink_78abddce-925d-5d30-868c-63bf66482766)

Chapter Two (#ulink_6e79371c-6078-5c91-804b-c76d5c65f769)

Chapter Three (#ulink_376f8495-eccd-5abd-9bd2-3824994abc26)

Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)




Chapter One (#ulink_1dad32f3-4f8b-55cf-a766-95570cbe0f43)


THE TELEVISION CAMERAS planned on the girl’s face and captured her tight-lipped expression for just a second before she turned away, hiding her face. But that one glimpse was enough for Vikram.

He sat up straight with a jolt, the glass of whisky almost slipping from his grasp. It was her. He would have recognised her anywhere. His heart began hammering hard, and blood rushed to his head. Her face was imprinted on his consciousness. High cheekbones and delicate nose, doe eyes, lustrous skin glowing like gold, swan-like neck and those luscious lips … He pulled back his wayward thoughts as his mind was assaulted by memories.

He had found her. That was the crucial thing. Two years of frantic searching and a small fortune spent on detectives were finally at an end. He had found Gauri. Rage which simmered deep inside him whenever he thought of her came to the fore. She had single-handedly destroyed her adoptive family, taking their love and caring and turning on them, betraying and shaming them. And then she had fled, escaping the repercussions of her actions.

Controlling the rage swirling inside him, he tried to get a grip on his thoughts. His brow furrowed. What was she doing on prime time television being hounded by the media? Why was she hiding her face? What scandal was she embroiled in now?

His mind buzzing with questions, he focused his attention on the reporter, who was claiming to have unearthed a prostitution racket being run by Home of Hope, a well known charitable trust which worked for poor and needy women.

The reporter interviewed a young girl, an inmate of the charitable home, who alleged that the Director of the Trust was morally corrupt and forced the inmates into prostitution.

What was Gauri’s involvement? Vikram couldn’t find an answer. The newsreader had moved on to the next juicy scandal.

Vikram immediately called his secretary and, with barely concealed impatience, rapped out, ‘Neerja, find out the details about the Home of Hope scandal and information about all the people involved. And there was a clip in the ten o’clock news which showed a young girl hiding her face. Get her details.’

He cut off the call without waiting for her reply, confident his efficient secretary would have the details soon. Unable to sit, his gut churning with emotion, he stood up and began pacing the room.

He had found her and he wouldn’t let her slip away. Gauri, his best friend Madhav’s runaway half-sister, would soon be in his grasp. He would be able to fulfil his friend’s dying wish. Ever since Madhav’s death almost two years ago now, the promise had preyed on his mind, hounding him and keeping him awake at night.

His beautiful lips firmed ruthlessly. Moreover, the events of the past year had intensified the urgency of his search because she was the tool he needed to sort out the legal mess he had been dragged into.

His cellphone beeped. It was Neerja. She had been quick.

‘Yes, Neerja?’ he asked, urgent anticipation coiling in the pit of his stomach.

‘Sir, the organization Home of Hope works for the uplifting of women who are poor or victims of abuse. The head of the organization is fifty-year-old Mrs Singh and she is being accused of running a prostitution racket.’

Vikram bit out impatiently, ‘What about the girl in the news clip?’

Neerja, well used to her formidable boss’s impatience, immediately answered, ‘Sir, that girl is Mrs Singh’s assistant, Ms Mira Rathore.’

‘Mira Rathore?’ So she was using a false name. No wonder the detectives had been unable to find her. ‘And?’

‘She is a trained lawyer, sir.’

Vikram greeted this news impassively, betraying none of the shock he felt. ‘A lawyer?’

‘Yes, sir, she is an up-and-coming lawyer and has recently joined the organization after having finished her training,’ Neerja relayed efficiently. She then reeled off her address and telephone number.

Vikram immediately called his driver. He would have to act quickly in case his quarry disappeared again. Since it was almost eleven at night, there was not much traffic and they travelled swiftly to the address given by Neerja. As he sat in the car, tight tension gripping him, the past flashed across his mind’s eye.

The last time he had seen Gauri had been six years ago, at Madhav’s sister and Gauri’s half-sister, Maya’s, wedding.

He still recalled the events of that day with a shudder. The festivities had just concluded and the wedding party was about to leave, taking Maya with them, when her father, Maharaj Sambhaji Rao, had complained of breathlessness and had suffered a massive heart attack.

He had been rushed to the hospital for open-heart surgery. All of them—Madhav, Gauri and their grandmother, as well as Vikram—had gathered outside and were waiting anxiously.

Suddenly a weeping Maya, still in her bridal finery, had appeared and, ignoring her grandmother’s consoling embrace, turned on Gauri and, pointing an accusing finger towards her said, ‘You bitch! You are to blame for this. You brought on the attack. Baba was distressed because of your affair.’

She then turned to her brother Madhav and said, ‘Dada, she was caught with the stable boy. He had spent the night in her room and Baba was devastated. She is responsible for his heart attack.’

Pin-drop silence had fallen after Maya’s venomous outburst and every eye turned towards Gauri, who was standing ashen-faced and unmoving.

Vikram had been rooted to the spot. He had found himself holding his breath, hoping and waiting for sixteen-year-old Gauri to refute the allegations. But the normally feisty Gauri continued to stand unrepentant and silent, glaring defiantly at Maya, who abused her with terrible names.

Gauri’s continued silence confirmed her guilt and, as Vikram contemplated her seemingly pure and innocent profile, a strange darkness had engulfed him, almost choking him. Her innocence was just a sham. She was totally rotten from inside without an atom of goodness. How cleverly she had fooled everyone, including him.

Dismissing the darkness engulfing him as acute disgust at her rottenness, he had turned away, unable to bear the sight of her any longer.

She had thrown her family’s love back in their faces and ruthlessly trodden upon the family honour. She had proved totally ungrateful and undeserving of the kindness shown to her by her father and his family. She should be punished.

His driver looked in the rear-view mirror and saw cold fury on Vikram’s handsome face. He grimaced with pity for whoever would be on the receiving end of his employer’s anger. Maharaj Vikram was always fair and just but his anger was legendary and no one dared to cross him.

Vikram came out of his reverie when the car purred to a stop in front of a smart apartment block. So this was where Gauri, alias Mira Rathore, lived. She seemed to have done well for herself. Taking two steps at a time, he bounded up the stairs.

He rang the buzzer. No answer. He rang again, heart thudding. Had she run away again?

Suddenly the door opened and Gauri looked out. The words seemed to die on her lips. She paled with shock and Vikram, taking advantage of her frozen state, swiftly steered her inside.

Once inside, he looked at her with grim intensity. Gauri felt herself being held in thrall, unable to move. Shock rendered her speechless. She stared at him, unable to look away. It was Vikram. He had found her. For a moment she thought her heart had stopped. She had trouble drawing breath. The next second her heart began to thud agonisingly.

‘Hello, Gauri,’ Vikram said in a dangerous tone.

Gauri felt faint. The past had caught up with her. What would she do now? Her most feared nightmare had come true.

She had agonised over coming face to face with her past, especially Vikram, and now that it had happened she didn’t know what to do.

She had been filled with dread ever since the media cameras had filmed her and her fears had been proved right. Her family had found her. Vikram was here.

She continued to stare at him in shocked silence. He was unchanged. Vikram, her half-brother Madhav’s childhood friend. She had last seen him six years ago and the effortless arrogance and dangerous aura of power that he always exuded hadn’t diminished a bit. He descended from an illustrious royal line and his genetic heritage was stamped in the authoritative way he carried himself, in the imperious lift of his eyebrow and the disdainful expression on his face. His face remained striking as ever. Ebony winged eyebrows, high cheekbones and a sharp nose melded together to create an intimidating impact. Only the planes and angles which sculpted his face seemed more pronounced now.

His jet-black hair, which had been long and curling at his nape six years ago, was now cropped short. It gleamed menacingly in the soft light of her home. His lips, as always, were set in grim forbidding lines. His eyes bored into hers with an icy intensity that frightened her—black as night and fathomless like an ocean, at this moment they were glittering with anger. She stared back, flinching but unable to wrest herself from the force of his dark, furious gaze.

‘No answer? Oh, I forgot. I should have said, Hello, Mira! That’s your name now, isn’t it?’ Vikram said sarcastically.

Gauri felt her stomach hollowing out with dread. She struggled to find words but failed. Her mouth tried to move but her throat felt dry and no words came out.

Her mind was probably working overtime to seek a way out, Vikram thought furiously. Lying and pretending were as natural as breathing to her and she must be trying feverishly to concoct a story.

‘Still nothing to say? You never used to be short of words, as I recall! Trying to buy time, are you? Or are you going to pretend amnesia so you don’t have to recognise me?’ Vikram jibed cruelly.

Gauri bit her lip to stop her pained cry at Vikram’s cruel words. He had often used this sneering tone with her and it still hurt. Tears which she had thought she would never allow again in her eyes clogged her throat. Panicking that he would see her tears, she tried to compose herself. She wouldn’t let him see any weakness.

She turned around on the pretext of shutting the door and tried to control her turbulent emotions.

Exerting all her willpower, she wiped every trace of emotion and, composing her face, turned to him and asked stonily, ‘What do you want?’

Vikram narrowed his eyes at her calm tone. She had morphed into a tough cookie. Even his surprise appearance hadn’t managed to unsettle her. He could have sworn that she had paled and her lips had trembled but now she was in control. But she always had been a tough one. He had suspected that right from the beginning. Her fragile and delicate appearance hid her hard, avaricious and scheming nature.

He had been the only one not taken in by her seeming vulnerability—except for that one moment so many years ago.

For a short while he had believed that he had been wrong about her and that she had been all that she seemed—an innocent young girl. Against his better judgement, he had let down his guard with her and had been speedily disillusioned.

Even now, with her hair in a tight braid and no make-up that he could see, she appeared unworldly and delicate. But he was aware of her true nature and would be on his guard, as always.

He said in a condemning tone, ‘First tell me how you came to be involved in this scandalous business. Why are you working for that corrupt Singh woman? Have you lost all sense of morality? Have you no regard for the family honour?’

Gauri quailed under his verbal onslaught. But she wouldn’t tolerate his scathing attack on the one person to whom she was hugely indebted. She immediately jumped to her defence.

‘Mrs Singh is not corrupt. She is, in fact, one of the most upright people I’ve ever met. She has been wrongly accused. The girl who has levelled these accusations is doing all this out of spite because she was indulging in nefarious activities and Mrs Singh asked her to leave the home. So she decided to take revenge and went to the press with these trumped up allegations.’

‘But why are you involved?’ Vikram asked with narrowed eyes.

‘I am a part of the organization. I am assisting them as their lawyer,’ Gauri replied.

‘A lawyer! How and when did you become a lawyer?’ Vikram asked with grim disbelief.

‘It is none of your business! I don’t need your permission to become one,’ she said belligerently, smarting at his disbelieving tone.

‘Obviously, degrees these days can be easily obtained for the right price,’ Vikram said with biting scorn.

Gauri knew he was deliberately insulting her and wanted to snarl in retaliation but contented herself with a stiff, ‘Sorry to disappoint you, but I slaved for my degree and passed with flying colours.’

‘If you are a bona fide lawyer how can you willingly choose to defend such unscrupulous and wicked people?’ Vikram asked.

‘They are not wicked!’ Gauri refused to hear anything wrong against Mrs Singh, who had been her saviour and mentor when her life had seemed to be all over.

‘How can you be so sure of her innocence?’ Vikram pressed.

Gauri clammed up, refusing to elaborate further. She couldn’t explain without going into the details of her past and she had vowed never to dredge that up again. It was dead.

‘Well? Is that all you are going to say?’ Vikram growled, waiting for her to elaborate further.

But Gauri didn’t answer. She realised the difficulty of explaining herself. She would have to reveal her past to him and the mere thought of doing so made her tremble.

‘What inducements have they offered you for defending them? How much have you sold yourself for?’

Vikram’s cruel accusations were like a sharp blow to her solar plexus. She felt winded and weak. He couldn’t have made his low opinion of her any clearer.

But she answered stoically, ‘You may think what you want to! I will not say anything further about this.’

Vikram sensed that there was something Gauri wasn’t telling him. ‘You are hiding something. If you are so sure of their innocence why can’t you explain properly?’ he said fiercely.

Gauri refused to say anything and kept her eyes lowered and hands clenched.

‘So, you’re not going to answer? All right then, let’s try some different questions. Why did you flee six years ago? That, too, in the dead of the night and without informing anybody! You didn’t stop to think that we would be worried? You didn’t even care?’

Gauri turned paper-white as Vikram hurled a volley of accusations. Her legs began trembling and she felt she would collapse. Vikram saw her tremble but the anger inside him had burst its dam and he couldn’t stop. ‘Answer me, damn you!’ he hurled.

‘I … I left a letter for Madhav Dada, explaining that I had to go away and not to worry.’ Gauri forced out the words through trembling lips.

‘Don’t lie! I was with Madhav when we discovered your absence and there was no letter.’ Vikram was ready for every possible falsehood that she would offer.

Gauri raised her eyes in confusion. ‘But I left a letter in his room. He must have found it. Probably he didn’t mention it to you.’

‘Do you expect me to believe your untruths? If you had left a letter he wouldn’t have hired a detective to trace you,’ Vikram raked out.

‘He did that? But why? I mentioned that I would call him once I was settled to assure him that I was fine,’ Gauri said tremulously, bewilderment writ on her face.

She must think I am a fool. Her doe eyes and seemingly sincere expression would have swayed a more susceptible man, Vikram fulminated. But he knew better. She was a consummate actress and, even as a young girl, she had been adept at putting on performances and deceiving others.

‘Then why didn’t you call, as you claim?’ he countered with patent disbelief.

Gauri remained silent for a moment as another painful memory flitted across her mind. She had called once after about a month and Madhav’s grandmother, who was also her grandmother and whom she called Aaji Ma had received her call.

Aaji Ma had abused her, calling her names and then had banged down the phone on her after hissing venomously, ‘No one here wants to even hear your name, let alone speak to you! You are dead to us. Don’t ever call here again!’

Gauri said in a low pain-filled voice, ‘I did call but Aaji Ma answered and said that Madhav Dada had returned to England and Baba didn’t want to speak to me ever again. She said that I was dead to everyone and forbade me from calling again.’

‘What a convenient explanation,’ Vikram sneered. ‘If you had called as you claim, why didn’t Aaji Ma ever mention it? She knew detectives had been employed to trace you and she wouldn’t have kept quiet. I don’t believe you. You should have chosen a better story,’ he delivered cuttingly.

‘I don’t believe you.’ The harsh, dismissive words reverberated in Gauri’s head like bullets. Pain sliced through her. The majority of her childhood had been spent hearing these words. Aching thickness clogged her throat as she recalled how she had been branded a liar and a cheat as a child. And the slur had always remained.

Being the illegitimate daughter of her father, who had brought her to live with his family when her mother died, she had always been regarded as being conniving and dishonest and had been punished all her childhood for the circumstances of her birth. She had grown up suffocated under a crushing burden of guilt, believing that being born was her unforgivable crime. But she had learnt to school the hurt and the pain and had rarely revealed the depth of her misery.

‘Whether you believe me or not doesn’t matter. Madhav Dada will believe me once I tell him,’ she asserted.

Naked emotion streaked across Vikram’s face before it was hastily masked. ‘And how do you propose to do that?’

Gauri looked at him uncomprehendingly and Vikram said, ‘Madhav is no more. He is dead.’

Gauri let out a faint cry. ‘No!’

She looked at Vikram in numb disbelief, sure that he was playing a cruel joke on her, but the bleakness in Vikram’s face convinced her more than his words. Madhav Dada was no more. Her dear brother was dead. There was a roaring in her ears. She swayed and felt the floor rushing to meet her as she slid down in a dead faint.

Vikram saw her collapsing and tried to catch her before she fell but couldn’t reach her in time. As Gauri slid down she knocked her head on the edge of a wooden side table and Vikram winced as the thunk echoed around the room. He should have relayed the news more gently but anger had overridden his usually unflappable control.

He picked her up and, after laying her on the sofa in the corner of the room, pressed the alarm on his watch. His driver came rushing in and he dispatched him to fetch a doctor. In the meantime, he filled a glass with water and splashed some drops on Gauri’s face.

Despite his deep rage, he couldn’t fail to notice how her beauty shone and beckoned. Held close, the perfection of her delicate features was magnified.

He had last seen her as a young girl on the threshold of womanhood and now she had matured into a breathtakingly beautiful woman. Her long lashes fanned out in perfect crescents against her flawless skin. Desire coiled dangerously in the pit of his stomach. He wanted to touch her. Against his will, his hand reached out to gently smooth away a strand of hair that had escaped her tight braid, and he felt the satiny silk of her skin. He cupped his hand around her pale cheek and gently nudged her, calling her name.

Gauri opened her eyes and saw Vikram bending over her, a grim look on his face. Her insides turned at his proximity when suddenly remembrance struck and she closed her eyes in agony. Madhav Dada is dead, her mind whispered.

She heard Vikram calling out her name softly but kept her eyes shut. She didn’t want to open them and see anger and accusation on his face. It was better to lie still, hoping the agonising pain in her heart would ease a little.

Suddenly, she heard the sound of her apartment door opening. She opened her eyes cautiously and saw a man enter and murmur something to Vikram in a low voice.

The next instant she was lifted up in Vikram’s strong arms. Shock held her still for a moment. In so many years, they had never been within touching distance ever and here he was, holding her in his arms. She tried to wriggle away, but in vain, as Vikram held her tight and told her sternly to keep still.

‘What are you doing?’ she asked weakly, ignoring the throbbing in her temples. Vikram didn’t deign to answer and she fell silent, defeated by his forbidding expression. Her body was tingling and even through the drumming in her head she was extremely conscious of his strong arms enfolding her. Held close to his masculine chest, she could inhale the cologne that he always wore and which had been a part of her restless dreams for so long. She stiffened, mortified and self-conscious, trying to mask the sensations running through her body.

Vikram carried her effortlessly down the stairs and she demanded, ‘Where are you taking me?’

He answered curtly, ‘To the doctor. Now keep still until my driver comes.’

He lowered her into his car and snapped the door shut. He then got in from the other side and an oppressive silence filled the car as they waited for his driver.

Gauri closed her eyes in despair. She was back into the morass of her memories. Grief engulfed her when she thought of Madhav. She would never see her beloved brother again. Never have her hair pulled by him teasingly or see the twinkle in his eyes as he joked with her.

So deeply was she sunk in her painful memories that she failed to register that Vikram’s driver had returned and only when the car began moving did she come back from the past. They soon reached a doctor’s clinic and when the car stopped Gauri opened the door, determined to avoid being carried inside in Vikram’s arms. By the time Vikram reached her from the other side she was standing on her own, ignoring the pain shooting up her temples. Vikram ushered her in with grim authority, where they were greeted by a kindly-looking doctor.

The doctor made her lie down and examined her pulse. ‘I am fine …’ she tried to protest and then felt another excruciating pain shoot up the side of her head. With a stifled moan, she put a hand up to the painful area and found it was quite tender. The doctor examined her head gently.

‘She knocked her head on the edge of the table when she fainted,’ Vikram told the doctor.

The doctor finished his examination and said, ‘The area will remain tender for a couple of days. She seems fine, except for some stress, but the blow on the head needs to be monitored for concussion. Although there is nothing to worry about, she should rest and sleep. Apply this ointment and I’ll also give her a painkiller with a mild sedative. And make sure that she is not alone for the next twenty-four hours.’

He held out a painkiller. But Gauri refused, saying, ‘I’ll be fine in a moment. I don’t need it.’

Vikram was immediately at her side and, taking the painkiller, said with gruff impatience, ‘Don’t argue! Just take it!’

Gauri tried to sit up and bit back a cry as pain shot up her head. Vikram pushed the painkiller at her, an implacable look on his face. She wanted to protest but when the throbbing increased she capitulated and downed it in one go. Then, summoning all her willpower, she stood up.

Vikram took hold of her elbow and shepherded her out of the clinic. He seated her in the car and slammed the door shut.

Gauri collapsed in the seat and a mind-numbing sorrow filled her. Thoughts of her half-brother and father engulfed her. Feelings she had kept buried for six long years inundated her and she bit back a sudden sob.

Her half-brother had been the pillar of her life and she had loved him so much. She would never get the chance to see him again. She tried to keep her grief at bay but it had burst its banks. Silent sobs convulsed her and tears ran down her face in rivulets. She bent over, hiding her face, trying to control her sobs, but her tears wouldn’t be checked and kept falling incessantly.

When Vikram got in from the other side he noticed her huddled up but didn’t look too closely. She was probably feeling groggy, he thought. But gradually the silent tremors shaking her body registered and he realised that she was sobbing silently.

Unwillingly, he stretched out his arm and stopped, undecided. But when a particularly long tremor shook her, he grudgingly patted her shoulder. But she wouldn’t stop shaking. Seeing that her weeping wasn’t subsiding, Vikram hauled her close and tried to comfort her.

‘Shh …’ he murmured.

Gauri tried to pull away, conscious that it was Vikram who was holding her, but grief had overwhelmed her and she couldn’t stop crying. Vikram didn’t let her pull away and kept on holding her, stroking her back rhythmically and offering unwilling comfort.

Her piteous sobs tore through his composure and revived the agony of his best friend’s death that he had submerged deep down. He hadn’t had the luxury of breaking down. Ever. The news of Madhav’s accident had been a crippling blow and he had almost keeled over with grief but he had exerted superhuman control and trudged on stoically, ruthlessly suppressing his deep agony.

Gradually, Gauri’s sobs petered away and she stopped shuddering.

‘I’m sorry for losing control like this,’ she said haltingly, pulling away, agonised that it had to be Vikram who had witnessed her loss of control. He was the last person she wanted to bare her emotions to.

Face grim and hard, Vikram let her pull away. This was the second time he had held her in his arms. It had been torture. His body had been submerged by waves of sizzling awareness. The feel of her soft ripe breasts against his chest had set off unwanted sensations inside him and he had been tempted to crush her close.

He wondered why holding her nestled in his arms had felt so right and why now that she had pulled away did he suddenly feel bereft. The next moment he furiously berated himself for succumbing to her lure and letting her get under his skin.

She was adept at affecting people by batting her huge eyes and shedding crocodile tears. Just like her notorious actress mother! He, too, it seemed, wasn’t immune to her appeal. His rage returned. He sat up straight, angry with himself, all softness gone and a forbidding expression in place.

‘You are wasted as a lawyer. You should have been an actress like your mother,’ he said cruelly.

Vikram’s harsh words were like a hard slap on her face. Gauri recoiled, almost gasping aloud in pain. He had caught her at her most vulnerable point.

She stared at him with still wet cheeks, unable to react.

Vikram stared back at her stonily, steeling himself against the effect her wet cheeks were having on him. ‘These crocodile tears are wasted on me. I’m immune to your tricks.’

Gauri bowed her head and tried to pull her tattered emotions around her. She was in no fit state to argue any more. Her storm of weeping had left her feeling weary and she felt tiredness swamping her. She wanted to lay her head back and close her eyes but she dared not give in to any more weakness in front of him.

Biting her lip, she said hesitantly, ‘Can you please take me home? We can continue our discussion tomorrow.’

‘Don’t think you can dismiss me so easily! We have matters to discuss. I have found you with great difficulty and I don’t trust you. There’s no telling when you might skip out again,’ Vikram said in a soft, chilling voice which raised goose bumps on her skin.

His eyes bored into hers relentlessly and Gauri looked away, unable to meet his implacable gaze.

‘Lie back and close your eyes. It will take us time to reach our destination,’ he said tersely.

‘I … I’ll sleep once I reach home,’ Gauri mumbled.

‘Don’t make me more angry, Gauri. Just do as I say.’

Gauri capitulated with a sigh. She knew she didn’t stand a chance in the face of Vikram’s indomitable will. And she was feeling too spent to argue any further. It was only her air of bravado that was keeping her going.

She laid her head back on the seat and closed her eyes. Despair overwhelmed her again and, despite her bout of crying, fresh tears pricked at her eyes under her closed eyelids. But she didn’t let them escape. With tremendous control she lay soundlessly, pushing away the painful memories, blocking out everything from her mind and trying to focus on her breathing as she had been taught.

She had been an emotional wreck years ago and then she had run into Meenakshi Singh, who had been her saviour and on whose insistence she had seen a counsellor. The counsellor had trained her to switch off whenever painful memories began to intrude. She had had years of practice now and had become adept at pushing away agonising emotions while continuing to function stoically.

Vikram looked at her spent form, angry at the unwanted feeling of protectiveness that surged inside him. The only people he had ever truly cared about were his mother, his childhood friend Madhav and, later on, Madhav’s father. He had always been a loner and had never formed any attachments, even as a child. He’d always maintained an emotional distance with everyone, including Madhav’s family. But, ironically, Gauri always managed to disturb his equilibrium and had ruffled his equanimity on countless occasions.

The circumstances of her birth, her sudden appearance in Madhav’s family and the resulting furore had shaped his view of her. She had been the product of a one-night stand between Madhav’s father, Maharaj Sambhaji Rao, and a desperate and greedy actress who had seen the married Maharajah as a meal ticket and who had connived to get him very drunk at a party, seduced him and then trapped him by becoming pregnant.

That the Maharajah was bound to a terminally ill wife whom he could not leave had suited Gauri’s mother perfectly—knowing the limited shelf life of an actress, she had only wanted a benefactor to fund her expensive lifestyle. After Gauri’s birth, she had pretended great love for her daughter and had actively discouraged the Maharajah from having any contact with Gauri.

She had tearfully convinced the susceptible Maharajah that she didn’t want their daughter growing up ashamed of her illegitimate birth. The Maharajah had acquiesced and had retreated to the background. The astronomical sums of money she was given every month for Gauri’s upkeep were spent on leading a lavish, hedonistic lifestyle.

When Gauri turned five, Maharaj’s wife had died and, ironically, so had Gauri’s mother in an accident. Maharaj finally brought Gauri home.

Madhav had welcomed his chhoti bahen—younger sister—whom he lovingly called chhoti with open arms but the issue of her illegitimacy and her mother’s notorious reputation had filled Vikram with dislike.

As a child, she had been jealous of Vikram’s bond with her brother and would either ignore him or behave in a prickly manner. In turn, her doglike devotion to Madhav would irritate Vikram intensely and he had frequently been forced to hold his tongue, swallowing the scathing words springing to his lips in order not to upset Madhav.

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 (#ulink_b1a773cb-cb8c-5676-a7e8-982dd1cbad20)


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.

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 incapable 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?’ Gauri 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 (#ulink_c29a2363-5d20-59e9-928a-0392e55f1d8c)


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




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