him of the past, and Nasreen, overshadowed the present. He had a duty never to forget Nasreen and the guilt he felt about her, didn’t he?
It was too late now to wish that he had taken the time to understand Sophia better. They were married, the marriage had been consummated and they both had no choice now other than to make the best of the situation. She had wanted to marry for love, she had said. Well, if she had mentioned that earlier he could have told her that sometimes marrying for love was the worst thing you could do, especially when the other person didn’t think of ‘love’ in the same terms that you did.
He slipped out of his robe and headed for his bed, not sure whether it had been the action of removing it that had brought to mind the way Sophia had looked at him when she had seen his naked body, but knowing that whatever had caused it he wished it hadn’t. Being reminded of that right now simply wasn’t something he could summon the strength to deal with.
What he’d discovered earlier about Sophia had turned everything he had thought he had known on its head. Lying sleepless in a bed that suddenly felt far too empty, he couldn’t hold on to the barriers he wanted to erect against his own emotions. Guilt, pain, a sense of overwhelming loss—he could feel them all.
Moonlight edging in through the unshuttered windows stroked across the faces and bodies of the two people who slept alone and separated. Sophia’s hand was on the pillow adjacent to her own as though in her sleep she was reaching for something—or someone. Ash’s dreams were vivid with unwanted memories unleashed to torment him. He was a bridegroom approaching his bride on their wedding night. Regret and guilt slowed his progress to where she stood waiting for him, her head bowed, her face veiled. With every step he took towards her the sense of doom filling him grew stronger, but somehow he forced himself to go on. When he reached her he took hold of her veil, pushing it back off her face as she lifted her head.
The sight of Sophia’s glowing face looking back him, her eyes warm with desire, her lips soft and parted, filled his heart with an intense relief and joy. He took hold of her, drawing her closer to him, his lips seeking hers as he murmured emotionally, ‘Sophia …’
Abruptly Ash woke up, the clarity of his dream still with him, his heart pounding and thudding into his chest wall. What was happening to him?
Nothing. Nothing. And to prove it he would stay away from Sophia’s bed until he knew he could take her in it without any shred of emotion threatening his hard-won resolve. This was a marriage of necessity, a marriage that would work because of the duty they both owed to it and to each other. It must not be prejudiced by emotion or by any desire with him that was prompted by any kind of emotion. Once they knew whether or not Sophia had conceived, that would be the time for him to return to her bed. And the ache within him that was burning so fiercely even now must be overcome, because to allow himself to want her was to allow himself to become vulnerable, and he could not permit that.
CHAPTER SEVEN
THEY had been married almost three weeks, and not once since that first night had Ash even touched her, never mind taken her to bed again. Did she want him to? Sophia closed her eyes. It made her feel so humiliated to have to admit how badly her body ached for more of the pleasure he had given it. All those years when she had been able to turn down attempts to seduce her without feeling she was missing out on anything had not prepared her for feeling like this: of lying awake and raw with need in the emptiness of her bed; of feeling her body surge with fierce tight longing just at the sight of Ash’s bare throat or arm; of wanting what he had already given her so badly that she had to fight against her need for him. Of course, she had expected to feel like that about the man she loved, but she did not love Ash, he did not love her, and it left a sour and bitter taste in her mouth to know how shamefully she wanted him.
Ash had told her himself that he felt they should wait to see if she had conceived before they had sex again. His uncompromising words had stunned her. He had made it sound as though he didn’t want to have sex with her. His words had been a stinging reminder that for him sex with her was merely a duty. That had hurt. In fact, it had hurt so much that even now when her body’s evidence said she was not pregnant, she had not said anything about it to Ash. Because she was afraid that now he was married to her, and despite everything he had said to her about duty, he had discovered that the comparison between her and Nasreen was such that he simply could not bear to touch her.
Nasreen. She didn’t want to allow the other woman to take up residence in her thoughts and undermine her but somehow she couldn’t help it. If Ash could make her feel like that without loving her then how must Nasreen have felt? How much had she delighted in the pleasure they must have shared. As a new husband, Ash would not have stayed away from her bed. The hot surge of jealousy burned her pride. She couldn’t allow herself to be jealous of Nasreen. She must focus instead on her own life. So why was she constantly breaking the rules she had made for herself by questioning Parveen about Ash’s first wife?
When she had broken the protocol with which she had been brought up and questioned Parveen, the maid had been reluctant to satisfy her curiosity at first, but gradually Sophia had coaxed her into confiding in her. Nasreen had not been well liked by those who staffed the palace, which she rarely visited, preferring to be in Mumbai with her own family, she had been told.
‘When a woman marries, her husband’s family becomes her family, but the maharani was very close to her family,’ Parveen had said.
‘But Ash, the maharaja, loved her?’ Sophia had asked.
‘Yes, the maharaja had loved her very much,’ Parveen had replied reluctantly after a small pause, before offering, ‘but a man may love more than one wife. For the wife who gives a man his first son there will always be a special place in his heart,’ she had added.
And if that wasn’t a hint then she didn’t know what was, Sophia thought tiredly. Yes, Ash needed an heir. But she had her needs, as well, and right now her pride needed evidence that her husband valued her enough not to humiliate her by rejecting her sexually, because of the intense way she had responded to him.
Today at least she had something with which she could occupy her time and her thoughts.
She was visiting a school in a small village not far from the city, as part of her role as maharani, accompanied by the wife of one of Ash’s most important advisers. Aashna, a teacher herself before her marriage, had become Sophia’s unofficial lady-in-waiting for such events.
‘You may feel shocked by the poverty of the village,’ Aashna warned Sophia. ‘India is not Europe, and although Ash is doing his best to modernise and educate our children, this will take time. The first generation of young graduates who have benefitted from the schemes he put in place when he came to his maturity are only now returning to Nailpur to help their families. Many of them were agricultural students. Ensuring that we grow enough to feed our people and the tourists that Ash hopes will bring investment to the area will be a vitally important part of our growth towards prosperity.
‘We also have doctors graduating to staff our new hospital which will be opened later in the year. Ash has already done much for the people but there is more to do, especially with the young mothers from the tribes. Their husbands are not always willing to allow them to take advantage of modern health care. The traditional nomadic lifestyle is an important part of our identity and heritage, but it brings its own challenges.’
Listening to her Sophia felt both a huge sense of pride in Ash and all that he was doing and an equally intense desire to be contributing something towards benefitting his people herself.
‘The maharani’s interest in the new education programme is most gratifying, Highness. My wife is accompanying her today to visit one of the newly opened schools.’
As he signed the final batch of official papers, Ash looked up at his most senior adviser, the words, ‘And which school would that be?’ spoken before he could stop himself.
‘It is the village school at the oasis of the White Dove where some of the children of the nomads are also schooled.’
Nodding his head Ash watched as the older man left the room. It was