His Captive Indian Princess. Tanu Jain

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      The guard came running and saluted smartly. ‘Salaam Saheb.’

      Vikram nodded in greeting, and the car moved along the curving driveway which was surrounded by tall trees. It was an old and beautiful estate with an imposing palace set amidst rolling greenery. It belonged to the Rao Bahadur dynasty which had ruled the city of Mogragarh for generations. Royalty had been abolished after Independence in India but the titles and the way of life of many royal families remained as before. The royal family of Mogragarh was still counted among the important royal families in the country and commanded a lot of respect and awe. The present head of the family was Maharaj Sambhaji Rao and Vikram’s friend Madhav had been his son and the male heir of the dynasty.

      He looked around pensively. This was Madhav’s ancestral home. But for as long as he could remember it had been home for him, too. Madhav and he had been inseparable as friends, and he had spent all his vacations at Madhav’s palace rather than his own.

      He had hated his own palace. It held painful memories for him. He belonged to the royal family of Bijagarh which, too, could trace its ancestry way back and which had once upon a time been a wealthy and important princely state. But then rot had set in and his forefathers began squandering their wealth in pursuit of their selfish pleasures. Debauched and decadent, their dynasty became morally corrupt. His great-grandfather had even been accused of betraying the country for his selfish means, and the stigma and dishonour still clung to their family name.

      Vikram’s father had also lived up to his family’s tarnished reputation. He had spent his entire life partying, hunting and having affairs, and his legacy to his heir after his death had been a mountain of debt which Vikram had cleared from the huge personal wealth he had accumulated.

      Vikram had experienced a disturbed and traumatic childhood. His father had been abusive and violent and highly critical of Vikram. He’d mocked Vikram’s deep attachment to his mother and jeered at him, telling him princes had to be strong and unemotional. He had subjected his long-suffering wife and son to harsh beatings.

      When he was eight, Vikram’s father had installed his mistress in his palace and Vikram’s frail and delicate mother, unable to bear the public humiliation, had shot herself.

      His callous and uncaring father had shunted off Vikram to boarding school, where he’d met Madhav.

      Madhav had befriended the grieving and morose Vikram and pulled him out of his depression. Vikram knew he was indebted to Madhav for having saved his sanity and in later years did his best to repay the debt.

      Two years ago, after receiving the news about Madhav’s death, it had been Vikram who had buried his own pain and stepped in to comfort Madhav’s distraught father, Maharaj Sambhaji Rao. The inconsolable, grieving Maharaj had turned to Vikram for emotional support and assistance in his business affairs.

      For the past two years Vikram had been managing Maharaj’s business affairs as well as looking after the expanding chain of luxury hotels which Madhav and he had jointly set up about five years ago. The additional load had meant that for the past two years he had been working his butt off and the last year had been even more frantic since Maharaj had suffered a stroke and gone into coma.

      Vikram had continued at the helm of Maharaj’s business affairs but things had become complicated when the husband of Maya—Madhav’s sister and Maharaj’s elder daughter—had started legal proceedings to try and wrest control of the family property from Vikram.

      But after Madhav’s accident, the Maharajah had written his will and had taken Vikram into his confidence. So Vikram knew that though the Maharajah had bequeathed considerable wealth to his legitimate daughter Maya, he had determinedly named Gauri, his illegitimate daughter, as his principal successor.

      Locating Gauri at this point of time was a stroke of luck. Her presence would untangle the legal mess of Maharaj’s property and enable him to safeguard Maharaj’s wealth until he recovered and assumed control for himself. Vikram glanced at the lying and cheating girl, who was even now sleeping the sleep of an innocent. Gauri hadn’t stirred even once on the way. The sedative had been very effective. And it had worked out for the best.

      The car purred to a stop in front of an imposing building. Vikram shook Gauri. She was in for a shock, he thought with grim satisfaction. But Gauri didn’t awaken.

      The sedative must have been really powerful, Vikram thought wryly. He got out of the car and lifted Gauri in his arms. Shaking his head at the durban who rushed to help him, he turned to go inside. He entered the lobby and turned towards an entrance marked ‘Private’ on the side of the reception hall. A waiting lackey produced a card and opened the door, which swung inside noiselessly to reveal a plush carpeted gallery which led to his suite of rooms.

      Soon he had deposited her on the bed and stood looking down at her sleeping form. In sleep she exhibited vulnerability and innocence, which he knew was deceptive. Women, he had learnt early on, were conniving and unscrupulous and his father’s numerous mistresses, Gauri’s mother and even a couple of his girlfriends had only reinforced his belief that they could cheat and deceive with ease for their own selfish interests.

      Gauri, too, had been adept at twisting people around her finger. He remembered sourly how she just had to look with her huge doe-like eyes at Madhav or Kaka Maharaj and they would be like putty in her hands. He, too, had not been immune to her wiles.

      Face tightening with displeasure, he turned away from her. He desperately needed a shower.

      Gauri rubbed her eyes sleepily and opened them slowly—they met unfamiliar surroundings. Suddenly, remembrance struck and she sat up with a jerk, unsure if the events of the night had been real or a nightmare.

      She looked around and saw that she was in a huge luxurious bedroom, on a king-size bed which had pristine white sheets. Vibrant silk curtains hung in front of what seemed huge French windows with a love seat placed in front of them.

      Filled with desperate panic, she walked out of the room, her feet sinking into the thick carpet on the floor. The room seemed to be part of a suite of rooms and opened into the sitting room. She looked around with foreboding and suddenly saw Vikram sprawled on a sofa. She encountered his hooded eyes. So it had been for real and not a nightmare.

      She looked at him in uneasy silence.

      Vikram broke the silence. ‘Well, you certainly slept soundly. How’s your head now?’

      Gauri didn’t answer his softly worded question. She couldn’t. Her throat seemed to be closing up. The knock she had suffered yesterday was the least of her fears. Her carefully ordered life seemed to be slipping out of her control.

      ‘Where have you brought me?’ she asked angrily, all her worry and frustration coming out.

      Vikram looked at her speculatively, deciding how to tell her. ‘Don’t you recognise where we are?’ he asked, eyes glinting with an unidentifiable emotion.

      ‘No,’ Gauri murmured, her dread increasing at the superior smirk on his handsome face.

      Vikram went towards the curtains in the sitting room and opened them with a flourish. They slid open to reveal achingly familiar acres of glorious green.

      ‘Mogragarh!’ she gasped. ‘You’ve brought me to Mogragarh!’ Her face blanched in horror. There was ringing in her ears and for a moment she feared she would faint again.

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