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.
The gentleness in Akbar’s caress induced Velvet to relax. He sought not to open her lips at this time, instead savoring the firmness of her lovely mouth. Then, unable to restrain himself, his hand crept to her breast, and he fondled her. She murmured softly against his lips, the little nipple of her breast suddenly hardening and pushing itself forward. Taking that little point between his fingers, he pinched it firmly.
A stab of pure desire shot through her body from deep within the core of her very being. With a small gasp she steadied herself, placing her palms against his chest. His skin was like fire, but for a moment she could not draw away. He kissed the corners of her mouth slowly and sweetly with lingering regret as their embrace came to an end.
Velvet opened her eyes to find him looking at her with open desire. She knew what it was he asked her so silently. Tears sprang to her eyes. “I cannot!” she whispered desperately, and then she fled him.
With a groan Akbar placed his head in his hands.He wanted her!And he had every right to take her! Had he not done her the honor of making her his wife, knowing her European sensibilities? And yet despite it all she still denied him! He groaned again for he knew he could not force her. That would be an admission of defeat, and he would not be defeated in any battle, let alone a battle of love, by a mere girl!
“My lord!” Adali had remained at his side. “My lord, she is yet tied to her old life. She will come around soon. I know it!”
With a snort of impatience Akbar stamped from the balcony. He needed to speak with someone who could give him sound advice on how to handle this skittish young mare. His steps led him to the lavish apartments of Jodh Bai, the Amber Princess, one of his favorite consorts. He found her having tea and cakes with the first of his wives, his cousin, Rugaiya Begum. Both women rose to greet him, bowing politely.
Rugaiya Begum was plump and big-boned with marvelous smooth skin and bright black eyes. Her once dark hair was now silvered, and he thought her still most handsome. Beside her was the petite Jodh Bai, doll-like in comparison to her companion. He was enormously fond of them both. They were loving, good women and neither had ever given him a moment’s unrest. He valued their judgment in domestic matters above all others.
They settled him comfortably amid the soft cushions and pressed refreshments on him. He had come for a purpose, they both knew, but they would wait for him to broach the matter that concerned him. Akbar breathed a momentary sigh of contentment and sipped the smoky, dark tea from Assam that they had given him. Jodh Bai held out a plate of tiny cakes made from ground nuts, honey, and sesame seeds. Akbar took one and chewed it slowly, enjoying the lingering sweetness of the honey. When he had finished, a slave woman handed him a moistened towel to cleanse his sticky hands. Calm now, he sat back and looked at his wives.
“I need your guidance in a rather delicate matter,” he began.
“How may we aid you, my lord?” questioned Jodh Bai.
“It is my new wife, the English girl. She is a charming companion, but she is reluctant to come to my bed. I do not want to force her, but I grow irritable in my desire for her.”
“I had heard that she was a widow,” remarked Rugaiya Begum. “Since she is not a virgin I cannot understand this demurring.”
“Does she still mourn her last husband, my lord?” said Jodh Bai.
“Yes, I believe so.”
“Then you must turn her thoughts from him to you, else you’ll never possess her.”
“But how can I?” he demanded of her.
“I shall help you, my lord. I will send your English Rose a Pillow Book. I have just had one made that I intended to give to my brother’s daughter who is to be married next year, but there is time yet for another Pillow Book to be done for my niece. Tomorrow I shall send the one I now possess to your Rose. When you visit her tomorrow evening, you will tell her that you learned I sent it and wish to view it with her. Once she is reminded of the love between a man and a woman I am certain that her shyness will vanish.”
“Unless she is cold by nature,” put in Rugaiya Begum. “These Europeans are very different from us.”
“She isn’t cold,” he said. “She is warm and sweet, but her marriage lasted less than three months before her husband was killed. She had been most sheltered by her parents, and although she has never said it, I believe that she was never even kissed until he married her.”
“Her parents were good people to protect her virtue,” approved Rugaiya Begum. “She is an interesting-looking creature, not at all like us. I have seen her in the baths several times. Her skin is like heavy cream.”
He smiled. “I know,” he said, and Jodh Bai smiled behind her hands.
“I will inform you when the book has been delivered,” she said.
