This Heart of Mine (58 page)

“Oh! You are awake, my lord Akbar.”

“Awake and hungry for you, my adorable sweetmeat!” he growled at her.

Mischievously she escaped his hold and, slipping from the bed, knelt to pour them some wine. “First you must drink to our love,” she teased him, handing him a cup.

“Only if you drink with me,” he answered, knowing that this particular wine had certain herbs and spices added to it that would not only stimulate their desires once more but aid him in retaining his prowess with his young and passionate wife.

“A man should never drink alone,” she agreed with him, and filled her own cup.

“I have made you happy,” he said with simplicity.

“Yes,” she answered, rejoining him upon the tumbled bed. “You have made me happy, Akbar. I have been so frightened and lonely. I never expected my life to take the direction that it has.” She smiled. “None of my fine friends at the queen’s court would believe that, as they follow Her Majesty upon her annual progress this autumn, thousands of miles to the south in the land of the Grand Mughal, Velvet Gordon now resides as the monarch’s new consort.”

“Does it make you unhappy that you shall never see your land again, my Rose?”

“Of course it does!” she answered without hesitation. “You must understand that everything I have held dear my whole life is in England. Perhaps in time I shall accept India as my land, but I cannot say it now.”

“You will give me a child, and then it will be better for you,” he said.

Velvet laughed. That reminded her of Alex. “Why is it,” she asked him, “that you men seem to think that all we women
need is babes to make us happy? Is there no more to life than just that?”

“What is it you want?” he asked her.

“I don’t know yet,” she said with complete candor. “I have not lived long enough to be sure. Perhaps had I remained in England I should have wanted to be like my mother, who has built an enormous trading empire. Or perhaps I would be happy living like my sisters, Willow and Deirdre, who are content with their houses and children. Until a year ago I had seen very little of life, sequestered as I was upon my family’s estates in England and France. I have not the experience to be certain what it is I want.”

Her answer astounded him. He had been intrigued by her because of the fact that she was different from the other women he had known, and yet he had mentally attempted to place her in the same position as Jodh Bai and the others, to enclose her world with the walls of the zenana. He realized that he didn’t want such a thing to happen to his beautiful Rose. Releasing her from his embrace, he sat up and Velvet sat cross-legged facing him.

“I will give orders that whatever questions you have should be answered, and when we return to Lahore my library will be yours. Whatever you desire I will give you if it is in my power,” he promised.

“I will have to learn your language, or at least one of your languages for I can see there are many here in India.”

“I shall teach you your first two words,” he said. “Look by the side of the bed and see if Adali has left a basin of perfumed water and soft cloths.” Leaning over the edge of the bed, Velvet found the items, and he said, “Wring one of the cloths out, my love, and give it to me.” She complied, and taking the cloth, he began gently to wipe her free of the evidence of their recent lovemaking. “This, my Rose, is called the yoni,” he murmured, rubbing her secret softness with tantalizing and delicate strokes. Velvet began to quiver with his loving touch. When he had finished, he said as he handed her the cloth. “Discard it, and take a fresh one, my love. You must now serve me as I have served you.”

She obeyed him, and as she began to sponge him her soft touch roused his manhood, which until then had been sleeping peacefully.

“This randy fellow,” he said with a mischievous smile, “is called the lingam, and it is already very fond of your sweet yoni that just a short while ago made it so very welcome.”

The love cloth fell from her hand, and Akbar picked it up
and deposited it with the other one. Then he reached out and touched her yoni with delicate fingers while his other hand began to tease one of her breasts. Following his lead, Velvet, sitting opposite her husband, began to stroke his mighty lingam, which grew greater and longer with her honeyed touch. She took her cue from him, feeling no shame or shyness in what they were doing. She wanted to do to him what he had done before to her, and suddenly she was kneeling before him to take the ruby head of his manhood into her mouth.

“Use your tongue, my Rose,” he said softly.

Slowly she encircled the knob of him with her tongue, and then she grew bolder, taking more of him into her mouth and licking at the shaft with sure and bold strokes. He groaned, and she felt his hand on her head.

“Stop, my love,” he begged her, and Velvet, having no experience in these matters, obeyed him. “I want you to kneel, resting upon your forearms, with your adorable bottom facing toward me,” he commanded. “I will not hurt you, my Rose.”

Trusting him, she followed his instructions and felt him as, clasping her hips in his hands, he entered her burning yoni with his lingam from behind her. She gasped as he plunged deep inside her, thrusting farther than he had before. Again and again he drove himself within the warmth of her quivering body. His passion began to build to an incredible crest. He had never before felt this way with any woman, and he fought to control the shout of exultation that struggled to burst from his throat.

It has never been like this for me, Velvet thought, as he pounded against her. Dearest God, I shall burst with the desire that rages through me for this man. She made a low animal sound, for he seemed to swell and grow within her, filling her so full that she did not think she could bear much more of the incredible pleasure. Then one of his hands reached out to tease her little jewel, and Velvet cried out as her passion crested wildly.

He could wait no longer and flooded her with his essence as together they collapsed onto the bed. For a moment he lay atop her, and then, fearing that he might crush her delicate bones, he rolled off her and gathered her into his arms. “I love you,” he said. “I love you!”

She heard his passionate declaration through the haze of her own receding passion and sighed deeply. He loved her! For a moment the knowledge that this powerful man loved her was too intoxicating. She was beloved of a king! Then she
remembered that she was his fortieth legal wife, and there was a zenana full of lovely women, some of whom had even borne him children. Once they, even as she, had held his favor, but the favor of a king was often a fleeting thing. She had best remember that, she thought. Rolling onto her back, she reached up and caressed his face with her hand.

“I love you,” he repeated.

She smiled up at him. “You are so good to me, Akbar, but my experience is so little. I will never lie to you, and therefore I will not now say that I love you. Perhaps in time I will. What I do know is that I like you and am fond of you. I am grateful for your kindness to me.”

“Had you told me you loved me, my Rose, I should have been very disappointed in you. It would have shown me a lack of sincerity.”

“Yet you claim to love me,” she challenged him.

“I do love you, my darling! My experience is as great as yours is little. I know quickly my feelings for a woman, and you have utterly bewitched me with not only your beauty but your intelligence.”

Velvet had to laugh. “You,” she declared, “have a very quick tongue, my Akbar, which matches your quick mind! I do not know that I should not be afraid of you.”

“Perhaps you should,” he said with a gentle smile. It was not good to ever let one person become too sure of another, he thought.

They made love twice more that night, and Akbar was frankly astounded by his own prowess. He had not performed so vigorously in at least ten years. This beautiful English consort he had taken into his bed and his heart seemed to have renewed him physically. He found that a very flattering thought as he finally fell into a satisfied sleep.

When Velvet awoke she found that her husband had left her side. The day was already hot, and she stretched in a leisurely fashion, flexing her feet and wiggling her toes. She felt, she realized, better than she had in months! She smiled, suddenly comprehending that women had certain needs even as men did. Why was it that they never talked of them?

A light rap came upon her door. “Come in,” she called, and Adali entered the room.

“I have come to tell you that your serving woman is at this very moment attempting to give birth to her child, my princess.”

“Fetch my clothing,” Velvet commanded. “I will go to her.”

Dressing quickly, she pondered the fact that she knew little about the act of birthing a child. She had been considered too young by both her parents to attend Deirdre, the closest of her sisters, when Deirdre had borne the first of her babies. Still, Pansy would need a friendly and familiar face to cheer her along. Her tiring woman herself had seen many a birth, being one of Daisy’s older children.

Hurrying down the corridor, Velvet could hear Pansy’s groans as she neared her tiring woman’s small cubicle. Within the little chamber a midwife sat waiting for nature to take its course. Pansy was a big, healthy girl and should have no problems.

“Come inside with me, Adali. If the midwife tries to give Pansy some direction, we will need you to translate,” Velvet said.

“I will remain, my princess.”

Velvet knelt by her friend’s side. “Adali will stay nearby in case the midwife needs to communicate with us.”

Pansy smiled and said wryly, “I’d hate to disobey the old crone. She looks like a tough one. Lord, Mistress Velvet, I ain’t ever felt such pain before. I remember me ma yelling plenty each time she had one of me brothers or sisters. It ain’t easy birthin’ a babe, but I ain’t afraid.”

“I know you’re not,” said Velvet, and she took Pansy’s hand in her own.

“It does get a bit messy though, m’lady,” Pansy grunted. “I’m not sure you want to be around me right now.”

“Pansy, unlike most girls my age I have never seen a baby born. What if I have one of my own? Do you think it should come as a surprise to me?”

Pansy was forced to chuckle although it was uncomfortable for her to do so. “Are you planning on having a baby soon, m’lady?” she teased her mistress.

“My lord Akbar says he wishes to have a child by me, Pansy. I think I should like children of my own.”

In the brief minutes between her labor pains Pansy looked closely at her mistress. Velvet had lost that guarded look she had worn these many weeks. There was a glow about her this morning, and Pansy immediately knew the reason. Her mistress’s marriage to the Grand Mughal had been consummated at last. Pansy breathed a sigh of relief. She had frankly been frightened that Velvet’s long resistance would finally pall on the lord of this land, and then they would be lost. What would
have happened to her and her about-to-be-born child if Velvet had lost the master’s favor? Pansy’s thoughts were interrupted by another pain that seared through her straining body.

The midwife shuffled to her feet and motioned Pansy to rise as well, cackling words at her that neither of the young women could understand.

“She says your servant is ready to give birth and must squat down over the birthing cloth she has set out,” said Adali.

Velvet translated Adali’s French into her own native tongue for Pansy, then helped the girl to her feet. “I hope she knows what she’s doing,” Velvet fretted.

Pansy gave one of her many impudent grins to her mistress. “I don’t have no other choice, m’lady do I? ’Twill be all right, I’m sure.” Clumsily she got to her feet and, walking slowly across the room, squatted over the brightly colored cloth the old woman had spread out.

With Adali translating, Velvet relayed the midwife’s instructions to her tiring woman and friend. “She says you must push as hard as you can, Pansy.”

Pansy gritted her teeth with the next pain and then bore down with all of her might. The effort almost tore her in two, and large beads of moisture stood out upon her forehead. “Gawdalmighty!” She groaned. “That was the worst.”

“Again!” Velvet ordered.

Pansy repeated her labor, remarking, “The little bugger had better be born soon. I’m growing tired with all of this.” Her lower regions felt stretched beyond their limit.

“Once more, Pansy, ’tis almost over, dear one!” Velvet encouraged.

Pansy obeyed a third time, pushing as hard as she could, and suddenly she felt something slide from her body, and the pressure was gone. A mighty howl broke the hot stillness of the morning, and she strained around in her awkward position to see the child.

“ ’Tis a boy, Pansy! You’ve given Dugald a fine son!” Velvet cried happily.

Pansy expelled the afterbirth from her body with a matter-of-fact nonchalance and said, “He’ll never know it, m’lady. ’Tis a pity, but that’s the way of it. At least I’m a proven breeder of sons, and maybe I’ll catch some lusty soldier’s eye.”

The midwife cleaned first the infant and then his mother, finally tucking them both back upon the low pallet bed. She smiled broadly, saying a few words they could not comprehend,
and then with a final cackle of laughter exited the little room.

“She said your servant was made for birthing, and that both mother and son are in excellent shape and should live to be a hundred. She wishes your Pansy many more such fine sons,” Adali translated.

“But not too soon,” Pansy said wryly, and then she turned to get the first good look at her son. The sight brought quick tears to her eyes. “Lord, don’t he look just like his father,” she said, her voice somewhat quavery. “I only wish Dugald was here to see him, m’lady.”

“So do I, Pansy!” replied Velvet. “Oh, Pansy, I will try to get you home! I will!”

“Don’t break your heart, m’lady. Your family don’t know where we are. If I was allowed to return home I would tell them, and then they would want you back, and there would be all kinds of an unholy trouble. Be honest with yourself. Do you think the lord Akbar would really release me?”

Velvet didn’t even need to consider the matter seriously. She knew the answer and it was no. Akbar would certainly never let Pansy or her go, and frankly, after the passion she herself had experienced in his arms last night, she did not believe she wanted to leave. Eventually after she had had children she would get him to allow her to communicate with her family. If they knew that she was well, and loved, and happy with a husband and babes there would be no problems. That, however, would not be for at least several years. It pained her to think of their agony and heartbreak over her disappearance in the meantime, but what else could she do? Someday she would be able to explain it to them, and they would understand. Till then there was nothing she could do to relieve their unhappiness, and it was up to her to see that she, Pansy, and Pansy’s son survived.