This Heart of Mine (66 page)

“If he is in Lahore, Michaeleen. It is said that the emperor, like Elizabeth Tudor, travels his land regularly.”

“I will find him, Bearach, and I will gain the release of my poor niece,” Michael said quietly.

“Pray God that she is still alive, Michaeleen.”

Michael O’Malley laughed aloud. “She’s Skye O’Malley’s daughter, Bearach, and if she’s half the woman her mother is then she’s survived. I’ve not seen her since she was eleven years old, but she was a winsome little lass.”

“I will have to present this dilemma to my superiors, Michaeleen, but rest assured they will see the matter even as I do and be most eager to play their part in obtaining the release of this virtuous young Catholic noblewoman,” Bearach vowed.

Michael hid a smile. The Jesuits were well served by Father Bearach O’Dowd, who did not admit to the order’s duplicity in Velvet’s plight, and at the same time made it sound as if they were doing the O’Malleys a great favor out of pure Christian charity and not because of the fine profit they would make. “Ah, Bearach, what would we do in this life if we could not rely upon our friends?” he said. “The family will be so relieved to learn of your aid in rescuing Velvet.”

Rescue was the farthest thought from Velvet’s mind. She was far too happy now, and as her memories of Alex had faded into the dark corners of her heart, her joy at the love that she and Akbar shared filled her soul. He loved her as no other man could ever love her. He shared more of himself with Velvet than he had ever shared with his other wives and concubines. He used her as a sounding board for his thoughts and ideas, which was something he said he had never done with anyone before. Velvet listened to her husband and learned a great deal about politics and strategy from him. Occasionally she even offered her own suggestions or disagreed with him, which no one had also ever done, but he listened to her, and if her reasoning was sound, he would take her advice. It was a love built upon mutual respect as well as passion, but the passion was certainly there as well. Akbar had never loved a woman as he loved Candra Begum, his English Rose, and their love was a fruitful one.

Yasaman Kama Begum was born in her mother’s lakeside
palace in Kashmir, which her father had built during the nine months she spent in her mother’s womb, on August 9, 1590. Velvet had a relatively easy time and although normally the birth of the Mughal’s child would have entailed the participation of the entire zenana, only Rugaiya Begum, Jodh Bai, Pansy, and Velvet’s slave women were present. Most of Akbar’s others wives were not welcome in her Kashmiri home.

The little princess was placed in her bejeweled cradle and guarded by two fierce female warriors. She was a strong, healthy infant from birth, which was a great relief to her parents. Each day that passed saw her growing and thriving as she suckled eagerly on her mother’s breasts, anxious to extract every bit of nourishment that she could. Yasaman was an extraordinarily beautiful baby and had been from the moment of her quick entry into life.

She was not as fair-skined as her mother, but neither was she as bronzed as her father. Her skin color was that of very rich, heavy cream; her thick curls dark as her father’s black hair, but with her mother’s auburn highlights. Most startling of all her features, however, were her eyes, which went from a baby blue at her birth to a vibrant turquoise by the time she was almost six months of age.

In personality Yasaman was most decidedly her parents’ child. Her mother’s sweetness was quickly apparent in the normally sunny-natured infant; but when crossed she was quickly the imperial Mughal’s adored daughter, screaming at the top of her tiny lungs until totally satisfied that her will had been done.

Most children have one mother, but Yasaman Kama Begum had three, for both the childless Rugaiya Begum and Jodh Bai, who had lost her only daughter several days after the baby was born, doted upon her totally. Little Yasaman was fortunate to have two such powerful allies within the zenana, for Akbar’s other wives were jealous of both her and her beautiful mother. It was also in her favor that she was the light of her father’s life, the rich harvest of his love for her mother.

It was hard for Velvet to imagine that it was winter once again in England. She had explained the twelve days of Christmas and the feast of Twelfth Night to Akbar once the month of December was well under way. He had found it an interesting custom and said, “Our little Yasaman comes from two such different cultures. She must know of them both as she grows up.” Velvet agreed. She might be the wife of a powerful Eastern potentate, but she was still proud of her own heritage.
She had already given her daughter the first link in the chain that was to bind mother and child.

It had been done quietly, of course, almost secretly. Akbar had enough difficulties between the Moslems, the Hindus, and the Buddhists without encouraging further rebellions. His youngest child had, therefore, been baptized by the Jesuits in her mother’s house in the presence of only her parents, Pansy, who was designated her godmother, Rugaiya Begum, and Jodh Bai. Velvet had also taken the opportunity to have her tiring woman’s son, now a year old, baptized, too. The two Jesuits who had performed the ceremony, one acting as godfather to both of the children, had been amazed to learn that Akbar had a Christian wife.

“My child,” exclaimed Father Xavier, the elder of the two, a man with a kindly, worn face. “How is it you have come to this place? When did you last make your confession? When was the last time you received the sacraments? Do you not fear for your soul? Who are you? You have not the look of a peasant girl.”

“Who I am is of no importance to you, Father,” replied Velvet, “but to satisfy your curiosity I will tell you that in my own land I was a Catholic noblewoman. I was betrayed into captivity by those in high places and sent here to my lord Akbar. Those who sought to harm me, however, did me a great service instead. I have found true love and happiness as my lord’s wife.”

“But it is not a Christian marriage, my lady,” fretted the priest.

“What does it matter in this land?” said Velvet. “Once, not so long ago, such things were important to me. I have since learned that it’s what is in a person’s heart which God judges him by, not by the way in which he worships.”

The two Jesuits looked scandalized, but nonetheless they baptized the children, then went about their business sworn to secrecy. Velvet was well satisfied.

On the first day of Christmas Akbar gave his favorite a strand of bright green emeralds with matching earrings. On the following days he presented her with a chestnut-colored Arabian mare, a carved ivory box containing several strands of pink pearls, and a chess set with a board made from alternating squares of green and white marble with playing pieces carved from ivory and green jasper, each piece studded with multicolored gemstones. On the fifth day, he presented her with a beautifully decorated, gilded barge with crimson velvet cushions so that she might sail on the man-made palace lake.
The sixth day brought a diamond necklace and earrings. The seventh morning saw a beautiful female elephant with cloth of gold trappings sewn with pearls and precious jewels standing beneath her windows, its graceful trunk raised in salute. On the eighth day of Christmas, Akbar presented his wife with the revenues from the lands upon which her palace in Kashmir stood; on the ninth day, a solid silver litter with purple cushions and mauve hangings with four slaves to bear it; on the tenth day, a necklace of priceless rubies and two gold and ruby bracelets were her gift; and on the eleventh day, a pair of spotted hunting cats. Finally on Twelfth Night Akbar gave Velvet the most opulent gift of all. She was weighed three times, the first time receiving her weight in silver, the second in gold, and the third time in precious gems.

“Lordy, lordy!” gasped Pansy. “You must be the richest woman in the world now, m’lady! They wouldn’t believe this back home if we could show them!”

Akbar laughed when Velvet told him what her tiring woman had said. “It is I who am rich in your love,” he said gallantly.

“And it is your love that means more to me than all of this wealth of gold and jewels,” she replied, kissing him sweetly.

He pulled her into his arms. “You are my world, Candra! Before you I did not live. I existed.” Gently his lips caressed her forehead, then moved to find her mouth.

I never grow tired of his kisses
, she thought.
He lifts me from the everyday world into a magic realm.

The kiss deepened as he explored the texture of her lips as if for the very first time. Her mouth was always warm and welcoming. He felt as if he were floating and from her little murmur of pleasure he knew that she was experiencing a similar delight. His hands moved downward over her nude form, caressing, stroking, cupping her willing flesh. He fondled her breasts, marveling at the texture of them. They were so wonderfully firm and silky, and full with the milk she fed their daughter. It gave him a marvelous feeling of deep physical enjoyment to gaze upon those twin globes of smooth, moonlight-colored flesh. He bent his head and nuzzled a dark pink nipple, already puckered with her own pleasure. A tiny bead of milk burst forth from it, and Akbar leaned over and caught it up with his quick tongue.

Velvet shivered and, falling back amid the pillows, drew him with her. He lay for several long minutes, his head pillowed against her heart, listening to its rapid beat, gaining an almost boyish enjoyment from being able to make her heart
race when he slipped his hand between her legs to tease her little jewel.

His own breath caught in his throat as her slender fingers caressed first his dark head and then slipped beneath his hair to brush softly the nape of his neck, sending shivers down his spine.

“I love your hair,” she said. “It is so incredibly soft. I never knew a man could have such soft hair. I hope our Yasaman’s hair has such a texture.”

“I want Yasaman to be like you,” he insisted as, parting her legs, he entered her body in one smooth motion.

“Ah, my darling,” she cried out softly, not from pain but rather pleasure. There had been little foreplay between them this night, but she had been ready for him. She was, she thought for a brief, lucid moment, always ready to make love where he was concerned.

Her legs were firmly between his thighs. Now he put his arms about her and drew her up against his chest. Together they rocked back and forth, their arms and legs now entwined, their tongues caressing one another in sweet embrace. Her breasts were pressed hard against his smooth chest, and his hands moved down to cup her buttocks, raising her up just slightly. Velvet cried out with delight as she found the first peak of pleasure. For many long minutes they sat face to face, their bodies entwined, making passionate love, each giving the other sweet, lingering moments of delight. Then came one flaming minute when the lovers soared together only to slide back finally to reality.

With a sigh Velvet lay her head upon Akbar’s chest. With a matching sigh he slipped a loving arm around her. They lay together, slipping in and out of a light sleep for at least an hour, and then Velvet had the desire to make love again. Slipping from the bed, she fetched a basin of warm, perfumed water and several cloths. He grumbled at the sudden loss of warmth.

“If you would permit Rohana and Toramalli to attend us …” he began, only to be silenced by her.

“I want no one, even a slave, to be present during our most intimate moments. You may say what you wish about their powers of observation, but they are still human beings and cannot help but see and hear us even if they dare not acknowledge it. Our love is for us alone, my darling. I will not share my time with you!”

She carefully cleansed him free of all evidence of their prior lovemaking, handling his lingam now without any show of
embarrassment, even when it began to rise and stir beneath her delicate touch. He watched as she then quickly bathed herself, and removed the cloths and basin. When she returned to him she was freshly perfumed with jasmine, now her favorite scent as gillyflowers were not grown here. It surrounded her like an invisible cloud, and he could see that her hair had been brushed with a jasmine-scented brush, for it was slightly damp and shining with fiery lights.

Velvet saw the desire in his dark eyes as she walked toward him, each step deliberately slow to entice and arouse him. It was a small trick that Rugaiya had taught her, and she had learned it well. She moved upon the balls of her feet, her body long, her buttocks tight, her breasts thrust forward.

Lying on his back amid the pillows, Akbar watched her. She was the most desirable and graceful woman he had ever seen. She almost slithered onto the bed, her slender hands sliding up his legs ahead of the rest of her. Her warm hands massaged first his feet, then his calves, and finally his muscled thighs. Swinging her body over his and leaning just slightly forward, she caressed his smooth chest, her fingers moving in a circular motion over his skin.

“Does this please you, my lord?” she murmured provocatively.

The corners of his mouth twitched just slightly, but he answered coolly, “It pleases me,” and nothing more. He did not even look at her, his impersonal gaze staring over her shoulder.

Her hands moved upward to cup his face between them, and bending forward just a wee bit more, she covered his mouth with her own, running her little tongue over his lips and then thrusting it boldly into his mouth. She caressed his tongue with her own until he thought his blood would surely boil, and then she sucked upon it lingeringly. It took every ounce of willpower that he had not to take her then and there, but he was very much enjoying having her act the aggressor. Only since Yasaman’s birth had she occasionally begun to make love to him, and he frankly enjoyed it. Still, he could not resist clasping her delectable bottom in his two hands and fondling the deliciously springy flesh of its twin cheeks.

Releasing him from the kiss, Velvet sat back just slightly but not quite enough to dislodge his hands. Then cupping her breasts in her own palms she began to play with them, fondling the sensitive flesh, teasing the nipples until a little moan escaped from between her lips. When he tried to release her bottom, she would not let him, seating herself firmly upon his
hands and looking straight into his eyes while she continued to play with herself.