“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.
