Page 38 of This Heart of Mine (O’Malley Saga #4)

“M’lady!”

Pansy whispered as Velvet entered the room.

“Can you not sleep either?”

Velvet shook her head, and then said as she settled herself on the floor next to her tiring woman, “Can you remember what Dugald looked like, Pansy? I mean really remember?”

Pansy looked unhappy. “Nay,”

she answered her mistress. “I cannot, m’lady, not his features—just the fact that he had a mop of red hair, blue eyes, and was as freckled as I am. The rest is gone, but perhaps if me baby is a lad he’ll look like his pa, and I’ll remember then.”

“I cannot remember Alex,”

Velvet said sadly. “Like you I remember that his face was a strong one, his hair black, and his eyes amber. The rest is gone!”

“Maybe it’s better for us that way,”

Pansy said wisely. “Maybe it’s best that we not remember. We ain’t going home neither of us, m’lady. You ain’t said it to me, I know, for fear of harming my child, but I know it to be true. We’re going to have to make our lives here, or we ain’t going to have no lives at all.”

She struggled to sit up on her pallet, and as her gown tightened across her stomach Velvet could see the movement of the child so near to its birth. “Lord Akbar, the emperor of this land, now he loves you; even I can see it when you come to visit me each morning. I don’t think he’d be an unhappy man if you made your life with him.”

“He has already made me his legal wife,”

Velvet said softly, “though the marriage had not been consummated yet.”

“And he wants to, but you don’t?”

Pansy questioned her outright.

“Yes.”

“I think in the end, m’lady, if you’ll not be angry with me for being so bold, you really haven’t any other choice. Besides, it appears to me that you could have done worse than to have the ruler of such a rich land fall in love with you and make you his wife. I always remember me mum saying that her Mistress Skye survived by facing the situation honestly.

What’s past is past, m’lady. ’Tis here and now, and we’ve got to go on. I’m not happy about never seeing me Dugald again, but I’ve had time to think about that these last few weeks, and I’ve faced it. I’m going to have me bairn, raise it, and maybe even find me another husband! I don’t hold no illusions that Dugald ain’t going to find another woman for hisself.”

“Another husband! Oh, Pansy, you are so much wiser than I am, and you are right. We cannot wish away what is. I thought it was so awful of me not to be able to recall Alex’s face, and I grew frightened. Now I had better return to my chamber lest Adali awake and rouse the watch looking for me.”

She stood up. “I shall ask my lord Akbar to move you to my chamber as quickly as possible. I miss you!”

She smiled at Pansy and then slipped from the room to return to her own.

Laying back down upon her bed, she thought of all Pansy had said. The tiring woman was only a few months older than she was, and her experience hadn’t been any greater than Velvet’s. Still, she had her mother’s practical nature, and Velvet was glad that she did, for Pansy’s words had comforted and reassured her. She had to admit that she was a little afraid of Akbar’s making love to her, but it was, she thought, only because she was not particularly experienced. She had to admit when he had kissed her and fondled her this evening she had not found it unpleasant. Her distress had mainly stemmed from her guilt. All she had been able to think of was that she was Alex’s wife. Now she was ready to face the fact that she was Alex Gordon’s widow and the Grand Mughal Akbar’s bride.

These things now clear in her mind, Velvet slept. She did not hear, nor had she heard in all the nights she had lain in this room, Akbar’s entry into the chamber. Bare-footed, he came across the floor to stand by her bed and gaze down upon her, his face alive with the love and the passion he felt for her. Reaching out his hand, he gently drew the coverlet aside so that he might look upon her nude beauty. For some time he drank in her loveliness, aching with his desperate need to possess her. Then with a deep sigh he turned and left the room. Behind him, she stirred slightly as the door clicked shut, but she did not awaken until the morning.

Adali had been briefed by Akbar himself that this night would be the night that the Mughal would consummate his marriage to the English Rose. Since she needed coaxing, the lady Jodh Bai was sending her a Pillow Book, which would arrive sometime that day. The bride was not to be forewarned lest the anticipation distress or frighten her. Her day would be as usual.

Velvet awoke at midmorning and, after her usual meal of yogurt, fruit, and tea, went off to the baths, which she very much enjoyed. It was there that Jodh Bai and Rugaiya Begum made their first overtures of friendship. Having been bathed, Velvet was swimming about the pool happily relaxed when the two other women joined her.

“What is your name, eunuch?”

Rugaiya Begum demanded of Adali.

“I am called Adali, gracious lady,”

he answered her.

“Tell your mistress that we bid her good day,”

said Rugaiya Begum.

Adali was almost beside himself with joy. Recognition by the Mughal’s first wife and his most favored wife was an incredible social step forward in the tight little world of the zenana. “My princess,”

he called to Velvet, who swam to the pool’s edge.

“Yes, Adali?”

She smiled at the two women.

“My princess, Rugaiya Begum bids you good day!”

Realizing the importance of the situation, Velvet replied, “Tell the lady Rugaiya Begum that I return her salutation and am honored that she has deigned to notice me.”

Adali translated, and Velvet could see the great approval in the older woman’s eyes as he spoke.

Then Jodh Bai said to Adali, “Greet the Rose Princess for me also, Adali, and offer my felicitations to her upon her marriage to our lord Akbar.”

The eunuch was quivering with excitement. As he spoke in his improving French to Velvet, he knew that the bath mistress and her attendants were already spreading word about the baths that these two senior wives of the lord Akbar were in conversation with the youngest and least important of his women. Velvet’s stature would now rise a thousandfold.

“Greet the Amber Princess for me, Adali, and tell her that her kindness and that of Rugaiya Begum mean much to me, a stranger in what is for me an unknown land. Would it be impolite for me to invite them to tea one day, Adali?”

“No, my princess, it would not. I must first ask the Mughal’s permission and tender your invitation based on his approval. I shall invite them for several days from now.”

He then turned to the two older women and repeated Velvet’s message. Rugaiya Begum spoke back to him, and then Adali returned to his mistress. “They will come!”

He tried to keep the excitement from his voice, but his eyes were dancing and his smile was broad.

Rugaiya Begum and Jodh Bai nodded politely to Velvet, who nodded back with a smile, and then the two women left the baths.

Velvet stepped from the pool, and two bath attendants hurried up to pat her dry. She was lotioned and massaged, and with Adali chattering nonstop in her ear she returned to her own chamber to rest in the midday heat.

Toward sunset she and Akbar rode out from the city, and he told her then that they would soon be leaving for his capital of Lahore.

“But Pansy has not yet borne her child, my lord. I do not like to leave her alone as she has not even the advantage of speaking French as I do. She would be very frightened.”

“It is strange that a mistress and servant would be so close, my Rose. You seem to care for her as you would a sister.”

“Her mother has been in my mother’s service for over thirty years, and her father is one of my mother’s captains. She is a bit older than I am, but we were raised on the same estate.”

“Is she the only child of her parents?”

“No.”

Velvet laughed. “She is one of ten. Each time her father came home from a voyage he got her mother with child until Daisy finally put a stop to it. Please do not make me leave Pansy my lord. She is a strong girl, and as soon as her child has come she will be able to travel.”

“If it pleases you,”

he answered her, “then I shall wait for your Pansy, should her child not come before my planned departure.”

She smiled her thanks at him, and as the sun dipped lower with each moment they turned their horses back to the city, where Velvet left Akbar at the foot of the steps that led to her chamber’s terrace. She bathed once more as she did every day after her ride, and then Adali and her two handmaidens brought her a supper of baby lamb and rice with fruit. A small carafe of sweet and heady wine was placed by her elbow.

Velvet ate slowly, enjoying the well-prepared meal and wondering if Akbar would play chess with her again this evening. Would they play here in her chamber or would it be on the balcony above the great playing board? She had not quite finished her supper when Adali answered a knock at her door. Velvet heard him murmuring in his soft voice to someone outside that she could not see, and then the door was shut and the eunuch came to her side bearing a box in his hands.

“What is it, Adali?”

she asked.

“It is a gift to you from Her Highness, Jodh Bai, my princess.”

He couldn’t conceal his delight as he handed it to her.

Velvet accepted the beautiful sandalwood box, its edges bound with gold-filigreed corners. There was a matching filigreed lock, but it was only decorative. Lifting the lock, she raised the lid to reveal the contents. The interior of the box was lined in beaten gold and held a scarlet satin pillow upon which rested a book.

“She has sent you a Pillow Book!”

exclaimed Adali.

Velvet lifted the volume from the box. It was beautifully bound in peacock blue silk, its edges of pure gold studded with tiny pearls and diamonds. “What is a Pillow Book?”

she asked him, opening it to reveal the first ivory-vellum page with words written in gold upon it. “What does that say, Adali?”

“A Pillow Book, my princess, is a book of paintings revealing the postures of love. It is believed among our people that such books aid a bride in overcoming her natural fears. As for the writing upon this page it is a saying from our most famous book of love, the Kama Sutra. It says: ‘Once the Wheel of Love has been set in motion, there is no absolute rule.’ ”

“And the lady Jodh Bai sent this to me?”

“Yes, my princess. It is very good luck to receive one. You are most fortunate to have gained the favor of Jodh Bai. She is the mother of the heir, and one day when our lord Akbar heeds Allah’s call and steps aside for his son, it will not hurt to be his mother’s friend. Particularly if you have children of your own then.”

Children of her own! She had barely begun to accustom herself to the fact that she was Akbar’s wife! Velvet turned to the next page of the book and stared at the picture. Upon a marble terrace, its balcony edged in colorful foliage, were two people on a piece of silk-upholstered furniture similar to the one on Velvet’s own terrace. Beside them on the floor was a tray with two decanters and two goblets. The beautifully dressed woman sat on the man’s lap, her back to him, her head back so that she might gaze lovingly up into his eyes, her arms about his neck. He, in turn, gazed down into her liquid eyes, his hands cupping her round breasts.

“Oh!”

Velvet blushed and shut the book. She took a long sip of her wine and handed the volume to Adali. “Perhaps I shall look later,” she said.

“Yes, my princess,”

he said quietly, taking the book from her and returning it to its box, which he placed upon a nearby table.

What on earth is the matter with me? Velvet wondered. I’m no virgin. I’m not totally inexperienced.

Still, she had never seen anyone making love before. One made love. One did not view it. She was curious, however, about what the rest of the book contained. She would view it later when Rohana and Toramalli had gone to their quarters and Adali slept across her doorsill. She wanted to be alone before she opened Jodh Bai’s gift again.

The remnants of her meal were cleared away, and a basin was brought to her so that she might wash her face and hands and rinse her mouth with rosewater. A tray containing a decanter of wine and two goblets was placed by her bed, but Velvet didn’t notice. She was too busy setting up the chessboard that Akbar had given her. The board was fashioned from small squares of mother-of-pearl and red marble. The figures were carved from ivory and dark green jade. Carefully she placed each piece on its place, never noticing Adali as he directed her two maidservants by means of hand signals. A bowl of fruit with a knife was placed by the tray; the bed neatly remade, its coverlet smoothed, its pillows fluffed.

“Let Rohana brush your hair, my princess,”

said Adali. “The lord Akbar will soon be here.”

Velvet sat upon a stool while the little maid carefully brushed her auburn curls until they shone with elusive golden lights. She was looking particularly beautiful this night, Adali thought. Her silken blouse was mauve pink, and her skirt, which was edged in silver, was a pale purple.

At the knock upon the door Toramalli hurried to allow Akbar entrance into the room. Rohana gave her mistress’s hair a final pat, and then the two girls hurried from the room followed by Adali.

“How lovely you look this evening,”

Akbar complimented Velvet, and he held out to her a dainty golden chain that was sprinkled with small pink diamonds. “For you, my Rose.”

“Why do you always call me your Rose?”

asked Velvet. “You know my name.”

“You remind me of the roses in my gardens at the palace in Lahore. Your skin is like the white roses that grow by the spraying fountains, your lips like the red roses that bloom along the pathway to my chamber, and your beautiful eyes are the green of their leaves. I have never known a woman like you. Still, you are correct. You should have a more suitable name. I will think on it.”

“What a lovely thing to say, my lord. You are indeed kind to me.”

She slipped the chain about her neck. “And generous, too.”

“It pleases me to be kind and generous to you,”

he said. “I should like it if one day you would also be kind and generous to me.”

Velvet lowered her eyes as she felt her cheeks grow warm. His meaning was very clear. “Will you play chess with me tonight, my lord?”

she asked him, attempting to change the subject.

He laughed softly. “Of course, if that is what you wish.”

He turned toward the chessboard when suddenly his eyes lit upon the sandalwood box that Adali had placed so that his master would see it. “What is this, my Rose?”

Akbar said.

She answered without thinking. “It is a gift from the Lady Jodh Bai.”

“What is it?”

“A … book, my lord.”

“A book? Let me see it, my pet. I greatly fancy books and have an enormous library of them at Lahore.”

“My lord, it is a book for a woman, not a man,”

Velvet replied, her cheeks turning pink again.

“Has Jodh Bai sent you a Pillow Book, perchance?”

Velvet nodded blindly, not daring to look at him.

“A Pillow Book, my Rose, is for both the bride and the bridegroom. It is believed that by viewing paintings of the postures of love together they will be reassured.”

Akbar opened the box and lifted the book out. “Come,”

he said to her. “Let us sit outside upon the terrace and view the book together. Bring a lamp so that we may fully enjoy the artwork, for much care and talent goes into the making of such a book.”

It was impossible to refuse him, and so with a sinking heart Velvet followed him onto the terrace. The night was warm, the slate-black sky sprinkled with bright stars. Akbar settled himself with his back against the cushions. He wore a white silk gown that was belted about his middle with a cloth of gold sash and his customary white turban, but his feet were bare as they usually were within the privacy of the zenana.

“Sit next to me, my Rose,”

he invited, patting the cushions at his side.

Reluctantly she sat by him, and, placing the book where they both might see it, he opened to the first of the paintings.

On second glance it is not so shocking, Velvet thought. “The colors are very fresh, aren’t they?”

she noted.

“Yes,”

he answered her seriously. “Note that the prince portrayed wears a lotus crown. That would indicate that he has reached a high level of spiritual attainment.”

He turned the page, and Velvet sucked her breath in sharply. The beautiful consort was now bare-breasted, and the prince’s crown was gone. Akbar chuckled. “I do not believe the prince now thinks of the advancement of his soul, but rather the sweet flesh of his consort.”

He turned to the next page.

The prince firmly clasped one of his lady’s breasts in his hand while his other hand roamed her bare belly. Velvet trembled, and Akbar’s hand closed over hers while he moved on to the next page. Here the prince and his consort were both unclothed, and she lay in his arms as he gazed lovingly down at her, his masculinity fully engorged and thrusting forward in anticipation. Velvet’s breath caught in her throat, and then she began to breathe rather quickly. Feeling Akbar’s fingers gently undoing the ribbons that held her blouse together, she tensed.

“No, my Rose,”

he breathed warmly in her ear, “don’t be afraid of me. I have sworn not to force you, and I will keep my promise. I only wish to caress you. Surely you will not deny me that?”

“N-no, my lord,”

she whispered, her throat tight as she forced the words out.

The ribbon ties undone, he pushed the silk blouse off her shoulders and then with swift fingers removed it completely, laying it to one side on the couch. His breath hissed softly. “Allah! Allah!”

he murmured, “your breasts are like twin moons.”

Reaching out, he began to stroke her with a light and gentle touch.

His caress sent a small shiver of pleasure racing through Velvet’s veins, and she was unable to restrain the small “ohhh”

that slipped forth from between her lips.

Akbar moved her from her position at his side so that she sat between his legs. Drawing her back against his chest, he cupped both her breasts in his hands, his thumbs softly but insistently rubbing against her nipples. “Turn the page, my Rose,”

he commanded her, and Velvet obeyed him.

The picture before her both shocked and excited her, for now the beautiful woman lay upon her back, the prince between her legs, his tongue gently probing at her deepest secret. She stared, fascinated, at the little painting. The woman wore a look of pure ecstasy, her eyes half-closed in her passion. Velvet shivered uncontrollably.

“Did your first husband do that to you, my Rose?”

came Akbar’s deep voice. “Are you remembering your own pleasure?”

“Alex never d-did that to m-me,”

she whispered. “I did not know that a man did such things to a woman.”

She was still shivering.

“It is a way to give a woman sweetness, my love. A woman’s pleasure only adds to a man’s pleasure. I want to love you like that, my Rose. I want to give you joy.”

Velvet quickly turned the page, unable to bear it any longer. The paintings were frankly exciting her. If she could just get through the Pillow Book, then everything would be all right. But the next painting showed the woman between the man’s legs, her mouth caressing his sex. With a cry of despair she turned the page once more to discover the two lovers now joined in a conjugal embrace, his mighty shaft plunging deep into the beautiful consort, who was quite openly encouraging his efforts. “Oh, God,”

she sobbed, closing the book with a slam.

Releasing his hold upon her breasts, Akbar pulled Velvet into his arms, and his mouth crushed bruisingly against hers. Unable to restrain her inflamed emotions, she wrapped her arms about him and returned the kiss as passionately. For some time they kissed hungrily and without ceasing, one deep kiss blending into another. His tongue made its first penetration of her, plunging between her lips and into her mouth to meet with her tongue, which leaped with shock at his touch and fled, only to be pursued until the two were entwining together with ever-mounting ardor.

Finally their lips parted, and he gazed down upon her with burning eyes. “I want to make love to you,”

he said in his deep voice. “I want to plunge my lingam deep within your sweet yoni! Can you honestly tell me that you do not want me, too, my beautiful Rose? Can you honestly deny us the bliss that our bodies so desperately crave?”

“No,”

came her reply, “I cannot, for I want you even as you want me!”

“Is this then to be our night of nights, my love?”