Page 85 of Trapped By the Maharaja
Urging her mind to stop, she sat up, wincing at the stiffness in her body. Ram must be with his family having breakfast. Soon, Lalita and Kumari would come to the suite looking for her. Before they came and found her naked in bed, she needed to freshen up.
Her bare feet touched the cool marble floor, a stark contrast to the fevered heat still humming under her skin. She stood. Movement made her aware of every tender place his hands and mouth had claimed. She stepped on something at the foot of the bed. When she looked down, she saw her discarded silk blousethat was ripped in the front seam. Next to it was the delicate lace of her bra, torn where impatient fingers had pulled.
Her cheeks heated as she picked them up. The previous night was a blur of anger and raw need. She should have fought him when he kissed her possessively, but she had met his fury with her own desperate, answering fire.
Clutching the torn clothes, she walked into the walk-in closet. Her face burned as she saw more ripped clothes. The diamond buttons she had ripped apart from Kia’s sherwani flashed on the floor. She picked them up carefully and placed them inside a shelf. Picking all the ripped clothes, she put them inside a laundry bin.
She then went into the bathroom and stepped into the shower. She cranked the shower taps hard, needing the roar of water to drown out the memories of the night. But as soon as she closed her eyes, she could feel the possessive, punishing, and igniting feel of Ram’s hands and mouth on her body. She squeezed her eyes shut, leaning her forehead against the cool tile. She focused on the sting of the heat, but all she felt was the harsh rasp of his breath against her ear, the bite of his teeth, the shocking, undeniable surge of her own response that had betrayed her.
Groaning, she opened her eyes and stepped out. She grabbed the thick, fluffy towel hanging outside and dried herself before wrapping a robe around her body.
Last night was a mistake. I won’t let my body control me again.
Taking a deep breath, she unlocked the bathroom door, the click unnaturally loud in the sudden quiet. The steam billowed out ahead of her, curling into the cooler air of the closet and suite.
Just as she wondered what she should wear since Ram’s family was still at the palace, she heard a knock at the door.
“Come in,” she called.
The double doors opened to reveal a small group of palace staff carrying an ornate silver breakfast tray laden with steaming tea, fresh fruits, and delicate breads. They set it down on the low table in the sitting area.
“Maharani,” Lalita said respectfully, “The Maharaja requests that you be ready to join him this morning for an important temple ritual.”
Sanjana’s brows drew together. “Temple ritual?”
“Yes. The Maharaja will be fulfilling a ceremonial duty at the family temple. You are to accompany him.”
Sanjana knew it must be a command. Before she could protest, the staff moved efficiently. One drew the curtains wider to let in more light. Sanjana’s cheeks heated as two straightened the crumpled bedding. She hoped they wouldn’t find pieces of torn clothing.
Before she could say anything, the chosen attire, a soft yet richly embroidered saree in shades of red and gold, was taken out of the closet.
Sanjana opened her mouth to tell them she could dress herself, but she knew it would be of no use. So, she allowed them to dress her for the temple ritual.
Thirty minutes later, Sanjana descended the wide marble palace steps, her sandals clicking softly against the polished stone. She was almost dressed like a bride wearing a heavy silk saree with antique jewelry. Based on the conversation with Lalita and Kumari, she learned that the temple ritual had to be performed by the newlyweds the morning after the wedding. But since the wedding wasn’t made public until the previous evening, the ritual had been postponed.
Does the hospital staff know?
She took in a deep breath and pushed away the thought. Beyond the last marble step, the palace’s front drive stretched like a private runway toward the open courtyard. The familiar sleek Devara helicopter waited, its blades still for the moment, polished steel gleaming under the rising sun.
Ram stood beside it, his presence every bit as commanding as the towering palace behind her.
He was dressed in a deep maroon sherwani embroidered with gold thread, along with a jeweled turban. There was a ceremonial sword at his side. He was talking to his security head, but his gaze shifted when he sensed her approach.
Their gazes met and memories of the night before rushed in—his hands on her, the fire of his mouth, and the way her body had betrayed her again and again.
Her cheeks flushed hot.
His gaze remained steady and unreadable as she approached him. As soon as she was next to him, his hand brushed her lower back as he guided her toward the helicopter.
The contact burned more than it should have. “Did your mother and brothers leave in the morning?” she asked.
“They are at the temple waiting for us,” he said.
Her steps faltered, heat prickling at her cheeks from embarrassment. “What! You should have woken me earlier.”
A flicker of amusement flashed in his eyes. “You needed the rest.”
Her entire face burned. “Oh God, what will your mother and everyone think!”
