She was alone. Alone for the first time in many months. For some minutes she sat in the middle of the silken bed staring through the open arch that led to the terrace. Her eyes were not really focused on anything, but her mind was very active. She was hundreds of miles from a coast that separated her by thousands of miles of water from her own land. It was a sobering thought. Would her family—could her family—ever find her? And if they did, what was really left for her in England? In the months following Alex’s death she had consoled herself with the thought of caring for her aging parents, but the truth was that neither Adam nor Skye would ever be old in a conventional sense, and they had each other. She had no one. Even Pansy had Dugald, and that was something that she had to think seriously about now.
The baby that Pansy carried was certainly Dugald’s, and he had just as much right to his child as she did. Pansy was eventually going to have to be returned to England with her child to be reunited with Dugald. It was only right. Velvet was relieved, however, to realize that it would be many months before Pansy could even consider going.
Velvet sighed deeply and stretched out, flinging the silken coverlet off her. There was the tiniest of breezes coming through the arch, but it was warm and scented with a hauntingly sweet fragrance that was not familiar to her. She wondered what it was and decided to ask Adali tomorrow. What is to happen to me? she thought. The Portuguese have attempted to curry favor with the Grand Mughal by sending me to grace his bed. He is a kind man, but is he a patient one? How can I submit to him? How can I be his concubine? I am so afraid. They were disturbing thoughts that swirled around in her brain, but despite the distress they caused, Velvet, exhausted both emotionally and physically by her travails of the last month, without realizing it fell into a deep sleep.
The moon rose and silvered the landscape of Fatehpur-Sikri, preening itself vainly in the city’s artificial lake and fountains. The reddish-and-white sandstone glistened as the moonlight touched the whimsical domes, turned columns, and the carved sandstone panels on the exterior of the palaces. All was still and quiet, but for the occasional cackle of a hyena out scavenging beyond the city’s walls.
In the emperor’s zenana the female guards, nodding sleepily at their posts, straightened momentarily as Akbar moved by them. He paused before Velvet’s doorway, and instantly Adali was on his feet quietly opening the portal to him. Silently Akbar moved into the chamber and, standing before the bed, gazed down at the sleeping girl. Slowly his eyes traveled the length of her, taking in the delicacy of her fine bone structure; her lovely, smooth, round breasts; lithe waistline; long, slim legs; and slender feet. In the moonlight her creamy skin was faultless. She had spread her hair over the pillow before falling asleep in order to be cooler, and, reaching out, he fingered a silky curl. Then he sighed. She was flawless, a perfect beauty, and he longed to possess her body. Yet there was more.
The women of his land were taught meekness from the cradle, and though some were strong of character, few would go against their breeding. Those who did generally did it for their sons or husbands who were either young or weak, or both. Indian women did not converse intelligently with men, considering such behavior forward and rude. In the privacy of the bedchamber a woman spoke of love, or of her children, or worried about her lord’s health.
This young woman, however, was vastly different. It was apparent from the moment she was dragged, shrieking, into his presence. An Indian woman would have submitted meekly, but not this English rose. She was highly educated, he could see, for her French was even better than that of the Jesuit who had taught him.
Akbar, though he could neither read nor write, was a highly educated man. In his youth he had escaped his tutors for hunting and riding, pursuits he far preferred, but because he was infinitely curious, he now had scholars of all subjects surrounding him, reading to him, discoursing with him, lecturing to him. There was very little of the world’s knowledge that he did not know, and he was forever seeking to learn more.
This girl who lay here in her innocent, troubled sleep could be something more to him than simply a beautiful body to enjoy, to slake his desires upon. She could be his companion and his friend as well. It was a novel idea, and he pondered it as he turned away from Velvet and exited her chamber to return to his own. It was a thought he would never share with anyone else, for his friends would be shocked and amused and the women of his household would be horrified.
The English woman was going to ask him, he knew, to return her to her own people. It was something he could not do for many reasons but mainly because he would not offend the Portuguese. He was going to have to work very hard to make Velvet happy so that she would want to stay with him, so that she would not pine for her own people. He found it an interesting challenge.
In the morning as Velvet sat wrapped in the silk coverlet on her bed eating something cool, tart, and smooth that Adali called yogurt, sipping a pungent hot drink he told her was tea, a knock came upon the door. Opening it, Adali gave a small cry of delight and stepped back to allow entry to a line of slaves who entered the room carrying all manner of things.
“What is this?” Velvet’s eyes widened.
“Just the beginning, my princess,” said the eunuch. “The lord Akbar honors you with gifts. Did I not tell you that you had caught his eye?”
She watched as two men carried in and out onto the rooftop terrace a large, stuffed, silk-upholstered piece of furniture. It was shaped in a semicircle with a medium-high back and rolled arms. Upon its seat they placed many cushions. Next to it went a small table inlaid with mother-of-pearl.
“What on earth is that for?” she asked Adali.
“For reclining,” he answered her.
“It is very big,” she replied.
“Big enough for two.” He smiled broadly.
“Oh!”
“Aiyee! Look, my princess! Look!” Adali was almost dancing with delight as two matching trunks—each painted with exquisite designs of pink, blue, and red flowers with yellow centers and green leaves upon a shiny, black-lacquered background, and bound with bright polished brass bands—were brought into the room. He did not wait for the trunks to be opened by the bearers, instead eagerly lifting the lid on the one nearest to hand himself to reveal that it was filled with clothing, a rainbow of skirts and dainty blouses that he lifted out with tiny exclamations of pleasure. They were all of the finest, softest silk: some decorated with gold or silver designs, some bejeweled, some plain. The colors were bright, but only those shades that would flatter her: blues, greens, pinks, mauves, purples, tawny oranges, and creams.
Velvet was honestly stunned by this unexpected bounty and, looking at Adali, said, “Why?”
“Foolish woman,” he answered her in a scolding tone, “I keep telling you that you have found favor with the lord Akbar.”
“I have done nothing,” she said, bewildered.
“He is wooing you, my princess. Have you never been wooed?”
She shook her head, realizing that she and Alex had fought and battled through their courtship, but never had he wooed her in a traditional sense. He had loved her, but he had certainly never courted her. Velvet’s female soul was touched.
“Open the other trunk,” she commanded the eunuch, and when he had she stared in surprise at its contents. There were carved jade bottles containing lotions and scents all with the same fragrance that Adali identified as jasmine.
“Is that what is growing outside on my terrace?” she questioned him.
He nodded. “Jasmine is a flower of love, my princess.”
Velvet said nothing, instead looking farther into the second trunk to find a lovely, pearl-studded, gold brush for her hair and a miniature of the larger trunk filled with hair ornaments made from both precious metals and jewels. There was another box carved from a solid piece of lavender jade, mounted with silver hinges and a silver-filigreed lock that, when opened, revealed a small fortune in jewels. If there was one thing Velvet knew it was precious gems, for her mother had one of the most incredible collections of jewelry in all of Europe. As a child she had delighted in playing with the sparkling gemstones and Skye had explained to her child what each stone was and where the finest examples of each came from. In the jade box were Ceylon sapphires, Burmese rubies, Indian Ocean pearls, incredible yellow diamonds, fine, deep purple amethysts, light blue aquamarines, emeralds, olive green peridots from the Red Sea, and honey-colored zircons. They were set in necklaces, chains, earbobs, and rings; and there wasn’t a flawed stone among them.
Adali was almost beside himself with joy. He doubted that his master had done more than hold the English woman’s hand so far, and yet he was already showering her with valuables. While Velvet sat stunned, gazing at the contents of the lavender jade box, the eunuch directed the parade of slaves that continued to enter the room bearing more gifts. Magnificent red and blue wool rugs were spread upon the floors; tall, brass vases filled with flowers were placed upon the floor throughout the chamber; several small tables were placed strategically, and then lamps of silver studded with colorful gemstones were brought and put on the tables. Finally twin girls of approximately ten years of age, with long, straight black hair, expressive dark eyes, and golden skin, entered and prostrated themselves before Velvet. Behind them came Ramesh, who spoke quickly to the eunuch, handed him a small, covered reed basket, and then left.
