This Heart of Mine (54 page)

They had reached the place where her own mount waited, and with strong arms he lifted her from his mount back into her own saddle. Taking up her reins, she rode by his side again. “I will need time,” she said, “to adjust myself to this situation. It is all a great deal to face.” What an understatement! She almost laughed at herself again. What was the matter with her? Why was she so calm? Then it came to her that her intelligence had already accepted what her emotions had not.

“You may have time,” he said. “I am not some animal who will ravish you. I have a zenana filled with willing women. I have no need to resort to force. I want you, but I will wait.”

“It is all so strange to me,” she said. “I never imagined a life like this existed. And I was not wed to my husband very long.”

“How long?” he asked.

“Two and a half months,” she said softly. “There was so little time. He was my parents’ choice, and until we met I knew no man.”

“We have much time,” Akbar said. “It is foretold that I shall live a long life, even as it was foretold that I should have only three living sons. I believe you are here to bring me happiness in my last years, as Jodh Bai brought me happiness in my youth. In turn I shall endeavor to make you happy, my Rose. No woman will be as cherished or as loved as you shall be, O youngest and fairest of my wives.”

“My lord, you barely know me,” she ventured.

“What man ever really knows a woman, my Rose? I know that you are intelligent, beautiful, and brave. Each is a fine attribute, but for one woman to possess all three is a miracle, and you are truly a miracle coming into my life when I thought there was nothing left for me but the long road into infinity.”

They were once again passing through the city gates and back into Fatehpur-Sikri. Velvet was touched and amazed by the words that the Grand Mughal had spoken to her. A tiny flame of hope was kindled deep within her heart, and she realized that perhaps life was not so unbearable after all. After all, she was her mother’s
daughter, and the desire for survival burned strongly within her. She had come through the several weeks’ trek from Bombay to the interior, and without knowledge of the language she had successfully bargained for Pansy’s life. Her fate had been to attract the loving attention of a great ruler. If she must remain in this fierce and hot land, then there were worse fates than the one she was living.

I am young, Velvet thought, and it is true, I am beautiful. I want to live! This man offers me life. He offers me love. Has my mother not always told me that when one door closes another opens?

“You are so kind, my lord, but I do not know you. I will learn about you, though, and I will learn how to please you.” She turned her head and smiled tentatively at him.

“You please me now, my Rose. Do not change, for it is your very uniqueness from other women that intrigues and fascinates me. Be yourself, nothing more. Once the wheel of love has been set in motion, there is no absolute rule.” He reached out and took one of her hands, turning it over to place a kiss upon the palm.

“I
will
make you happy,” he promised, and in that moment Velvet knew that he would.

V
elvet’s days took on a comfortable sameness that suited her for the time being. Sometimes, though, she remembered that it was late September in England now, and she thought back to how a year ago at this very time she had been the queen’s Maid of Honor and a darling of the Tudor court. She and Alex had been feuding then prior to his wild abduction of her. Such memories usually brought tears, or at the very least a deep sadness that would sweep over her, casting her into such dark depths that it was all Akbar could do to cheer her again.

That the Grand Mughal was a man in love was apparent to everyone at his court, a fact that amused his two younger sons who were both older than Velvet, and for some reason increased the bitter feeling of Prince Salim toward his father. Akbar, thought Salim, was at a time in his life when he should behave in a more circumspect manner. Was he not a grandfather? Was he not about to become one again? Instead his father played the fool with a beautiful young woman. Why had he not given the foreign beauty to Salim, as Sultan Selim of the Ottoman empire had given his heir, who had now come into his inheritance as Sultan Suleiman, a beautiful young princess sent to him from Baghdad as tribute? At twenty Salim was much closer in age to Velvet than was his father, who was in his late forties, and having seen Velvet riding with Akbar the young prince truly envied his sire. No one, Salim included, was aware that the union of Akbar and his English Rose had yet to be consummated.

Each day toward sunset they rode together, and sometimes he would take along his hunting cats, two sleek, spotted animals who loped by their sides, occasionally streaking ahead to bring down a rabbit or plump game bird, then returning with it to the emperor who more often than not allowed them to keep their prey.

One day he arranged for her to see an elephant fight, and Velvet was both fascinated and repulsed by the barbarity of
it all. Akbar was very proud of his fighting elephants. In his stables were the most prime examples of elephant flesh to be found in all of India. There were also elephants used for breeding, for traveling, and for other work within the stables of the emperor. One day Akbar ordered that a conveyance he called a howdah be placed upon one of the great beasts so that he might take her for a ride.

Velvet was as excited as a child and her delight knew no bounds when the elephant arrived, for the beast had been decked out in the most incredible finery. It was a young male, she was told, for the male elephants native to India sported long ivory tusks. Upon the animal’s tusks, however, long golden fitted sheaths studded with rubies had been placed. A magnificent red satin coverlet decorated with gold bangles and diamonds was drawn over the great beast’s head. It had openings where his eyes were, and upon the two bumps that the elephant had high up on its forehead were gold shields. The coverlet narrowed between the tusks to cover the trunk and was fringed with gold on either side. Even the elephant’s small ears were encased in satin, and a matching coverlet was spread across his back and fell down his sides in two strips over his chest.

Strapped atop the animal’s swayed back was an octagonal-shaped golden howdah with a domed top and fitted with silk cushions. As Velvet settled herself inside it, Akbar told her that the driver would ride before them where the elephant’s neck joined its head.

She enjoyed the rolling gait of the beast as they moved through the city. His back was a wonderful vantage point from which to see the countryside about them, but unfortunately height did nothing to improve the flat, monotonous landscape surrounding Fatehpur-Sikri. For miles and miles it seemed that everything was dun-colored and dull.

“I miss my green hills,” she said one day to Akbar.

“Is all of your land green?” he asked her.

“Yes,” she answered. “Is all of your land brown?”

He laughed at her quick retort. “No, not all, but a good part. We have our forests, and toward the north is Kashmir, a lovely land of lakes and mountains that I will soon make completely mine.”

“Then
that
is where I would live,” she said.

“We will soon journey to Lahore, my capital,” was his reply.

“Is it green?” she begged him.

“Greener,” he promised, “and I shall give you your own
palace there with gardens and fountains, and you will never complain to me again about your England.” He smiled at her, and Velvet smiled back.

He loves me, she thought. He has never even kissed me, and still he loves me. It was strange and wonderful and frightening all at once. This was no boy but a man well versed in passion. He had said he would be patient, and he certainly had been true to his word.

“Will you play chess with me again tonight?” he asked her.

“Oh, yes, my lord! I shall beat you this time, too!” she threatened, and he laughed delightedly. Those of his other women with whom he had occasionally played the game had never beaten him. Even had they been skillful enough, he doubted they would have dared. This adorable creature, however, not only dared, but on two occasions she actually had bested him, clapping her hands and shamelessly crowing with glee at her victory. Tonight, though, he had a rather interesting surprise for her.

He ordered the elephant driver to return them to the palace housing the zenana, and there she left him, to bathe, eat, and rest.

When he rejoined her several hours later she was attired in a deep blue silk skirt decorated with golden dots the size of coins that had a wide hem of gold. Her dark silk blouse with its low, scooped neckline was short-sleeved and molded her figure to its best advantage. About her neck Velvet wore a long double strand of pearls, the outside strand being decorated with pure gold rounds edged in tiny sapphires. Each ear sported a round sapphire to which was attached a cluster of pearls. She wore arm bands of gold that were decorated with colored stones or raised gold work, and rings on every finger but her thumbs. Her hair was loose and wavy and very full about her shoulders, and atop her head was a circlet of pearls and sapphires. Rohana had taught her how to outline her eyes in kohl, but neither her cheeks nor her lips needed further color.

“I have the chessboard already set up for us, my lord,” she greeted him.

“No,” Akbar said. “I have a surprise for you. Adali, attend your mistress and follow me.”

He led them from her chamber to a small balcony overlooking a wide, square courtyard. “This, my Rose, is how we shall play chess tonight!” he said with a wave of his hand over the courtyard.

With a gasp of delight Velvet looked out to discover that
the square below her was in actuality a giant playing board. Standing upon the board were live female chess figures: the pawns nude maidens with long dark hair and ropes of pearls about their waists; the knights naked but for cloth of gold turbans each adorned with a good-sized diamond from which sprouted a gold aigrette and white feather. Each of the “pieces” was unclothed for the most part but for the costly jewelry, with the exception of the king and the queen “pieces,” who were positively resplendent in silk garments sewn over every inch of their surface with pearls and rubies, their golden crowns studded with emeralds.

“Beat me,” Akbar challenged, “and you may keep the jewels from the pieces you win.”

“And if I lose,” she demanded, “then what will you have in forfeit?”

“A kiss,” he said quietly.

Velvet looked at him, her face serious. “A kiss?” she repeated. “Do you agree, my Rose?”

For a moment she hysterically contemplated the possibility of answering him with a no. Then she simply nodded her head.

“I will allow you to begin the play,” he said.

It was a serious game they played that night; Akbar calling out his moves to be carried out by the bejeweled players below, and Adali translating Velvet’s commands to the human pieces. Velvet did not really care that she might keep the gems adorning the playing pieces if she won. She sought to win for the joy of knowing that she could outwit him if she was skillful enough in her strategy. Akbar quickly understood that. Another woman would have played recklessly and rashly in order to gain the jewels, but not his Rose. She pleased him greatly, and he thought about the kiss that she would give him when he won their game because he knew he would triumph. She was an excellent opponent, better than some men he knew, but he was still the better player. What would her lips be like? He knew from his vast experience that each woman’s mouth was different.

“Ha!” She took his rook, watching the glittering player, her shoulders drooping, walk from the board, then laughed into his face with her small victory.

A smile touched his lips at Velvet’s enthusiasm, and he mentally chided himself for thinking of other things and not concentrating on the game at hand. It was a mistake he did not make again, and after an hour’s play, Velvet was forced to concede defeat, doing so reluctantly as she carefully studied
the great board below her in hopes of finding another move she might make that would prolong the game.

“Checkmate!” he said. “I win!”

“Indeed you do, my lord,” she admitted.

“Are you ready to pay your wager?” he asked her.

She turned to face him, and, closing her eyes, she lifted her face slightly and in childlike fashion puckered her lips at him. For a brief moment Akbar studied her, knowing that she fully expected him to give her a brief kiss. He had, however, waited too long for this opportunity, and, slipping an arm about her waist, he drew her close to him. For a moment his fingers caressed her cheek, and then, taking her chin between his thumb and his forefinger, his lips descended upon hers.

Strange thoughts flitted through her consciousness as she felt his fleshy mouth upon hers.
I haven’t been kissed in seven months. Not since Alex died. Akbar does not kiss me like Alex kissed me. I didn’t realize that men kissed differently. Alex possessed me like a wild and wonderful storm. This man kisses me with tenderness. It is almost as if he is trying to please me.