His Runaway Royal Bride. Tanu Jain

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СКАЧАТЬ this chit of a girl had merrily walked all over his pride and trampled it beneath her treacherous feet.

      His mouth tightened and he sat down to wait.

      Meethi opened her eyes, feeling disorientated. She found herself lying on a bed, and as her eyes ran through her surroundings they alighted on the grim-faced man sitting in the chair. She sat up with a jerk.

      Memory came crashing back. Terror and misery, which were eerily familiar, inundated her. He had found her. He would take her back.

      Controlling the sob that swelled in her throat and almost left her mouth, she valiantly tried to silence her anguish.

      Veer stood up, dark and menacing. ‘How are you feeling?’ he asked grimly.

      Meethi lowered her eyes and, her voice a mere husk, replied, ‘I am all right.’

      He came towards the bed and held out his hand, adding brusquely, ‘Let us go then.’

      Meethi baulked. ‘Where are we going? I don’t want to…’

      Veer didn’t bother to reply and gripped her arm to help her stand up. She looked at his implacable face in desperation.

      The touch of his hand on her arm sent tremors running through her, and she tried to shake it off, but he tightened his grip and propelled her outside.

      Meethi tried to ignore the weakness spreading through her limbs and protested, ‘Please, I don’t want to go anywhere. I… I want to go back to my house.’

      Veer said forbiddingly, ‘We certainly are going, but we’ll go to our house.’

      She replied tremulously, ‘I won’t go!’

      The next instant, he lifted her up effortlessly and strode out of the room, down the corridor and outside, where a car stood waiting, his bodyguard holding the door open.

      Meethi tried to struggle but his arms were inflexibly clasped around her body, crushing her to his strong chest. Her breathing became shallow in such close proximity to his body and her heart began beating rapidly. She tried not to notice his lean jaw and the slight stubble which covered it or his aquiline nose, slightly indented in the middle as a result of a childhood brawl. A feeling of dizziness engulfed her as she felt long-buried embers of passion begin to sputter.

      She felt light-headed with relief when he placed her inside the car. It had been torture being held so close. She moved to the far end of the seat and tried to still her beating heart.

      Veer got in silently.

      Meethi wanted to say something but the words died in her throat at Veer’s coldly ferocious look.

      She felt cold and scared inside. And tired. Very tired. The relentless pressure of being on the run had taken its toll. She hadn’t had a peaceful night’s sleep since she had fled. Had forgotten what it was to slumber dreamlessly.

      She hung her head and tried to control her shaking hands, afraid he would see her weakness. And he would be quick to pounce on it and turn it to his advantage.

      Suddenly, the car stopped. Meethi sat stiffly, unsure what to expect.

      The chauffeur opened her door, and she stepped out fearfully. They were on a helipad. A helicopter stood waiting. He was taking her back to Samogpur.

      Cold dread filled her, and her legs threatened to collapse. She swayed and would have fallen, but Veer scooped her up again and sprinted to the helicopter, which took off with a whirring of blades.

      Images from her tormented past rose, mocking her cruelly, choking her breath in despair. But there was no way out.

      Veer wouldn’t let her escape now. He would fling her back into the prison his home had been. She sat there, defeated and spent, huddled into a miserable heap.

      What did he want? How had he found out that she was alive? Why had he traced her? He should’ve been happy at being rid of her, surely? He could have married a suitable girl this time around.

      Veer looked at her downbent head and a sense of satisfaction filled him. She was in his clutches now. He would make her pay for her betrayal.

      He saw her chew her lower lip and lust shot through him with devastating speed. He had loved kissing her luscious mouth, teasing her lower lip with his tongue, biting it playfully. Even her treachery hadn’t dulled his physical response to her beauty.

      But then his glance alighted on her ashen face and a host of emotions gripped him. An unwanted anxiety pulsed through him. She didn’t look well. The head injury must be paining her. He would have the family doctor look at her when they reached home.

      Dusk was falling when the helicopter touched down and Veer stood up and held out his hand to help her.

      Meethi couldn’t stand. All strength seemed to have deserted her. She remained collapsed in the seat. Veer bent his big powerful body and lifted her slight form effortlessly. She was too drained to react; a fog of misery had enveloped her.

      Veer looked at Meethi, perplexed. She was behaving strangely.

      Eyes shut, she lay listlessly in his arms, seeming terrified. The Meethi he knew would have been struggling and protesting at being carried in such a manner.

      She opened her eyes when he reached the stone steps that led to their palace, and he felt her stiffen.

      ‘Where…? What…?’ Her voice tapered off.

      ‘This is where I live now,’ Veer said inflexibly.

      He had moved out of the huge Rajmahal that had been the ancestral home and had begun living in the smaller Jal Mahal that had traditionally belonged to the younger son. Chacha Saheb, his father’s youngest brother, had sold it off to settle his debts, and Veer had bought it for his personal use.

      Meethi froze, paralysed with shock, looking at him in disbelief.

      He had moved out of the palace of his illustrious ancestors! He had broken the royal tradition. She had begged him once to live in a smaller bungalow because she had hated the lack of privacy and the overpowering presence of servants, but Veer had always been a stickler for tradition and propriety and had categorically refused. So why now had he taken such a step?

      And what about her mother-in-law, Maaji Saheb? She also must be here then. She would never leave her beloved son alone.

      Her stomach hollowed out with dread at the prospect of meeting Maaji Saheb again. She was the one who… but she wouldn’t think about her.

      Forcing her thoughts back to the present, Meethi looked towards the phalanx of retainers lining the entrance, their heads bowed respectfully, dreading seeing familiar faces—faces displaying thinly veiled contempt. But they all looked new and unfamiliar. Her breath escaped in relief, and she struggled to be put down.

      Veer lowered her watchfully, keeping a vice-like grip on her arm.

      They entered the Jal Mahal.

      Meethi had been here earlier in her marriage to Veer and had always liked it better than the palace they had lived in. The Rajmahal СКАЧАТЬ