FROM THE ASHES
Chapter 10
Maysam awaited Barsad on the dining room veranda. Sanjana had just delivered breakfast and was coming through the dining room when Barsad arrived. He was pleased to see she had not been turned out on the streets. With a troubled expression, she wished him good morning.
"Everything OK?" he quietly asked.
"I'm not sure," she whispered.
"Did she ask you?"
"Yes."
"You told her the truth?"
"Yes."
"Don't worry. I'll talk to her about it."
"Thank you."
He smiled to reassure her, but Sanjana quickly turned away and left the room.
"Good morning, Maysam" Barsad said as he stepped onto the veranda and took his seat.
"Good morning, John." Maysam wore a tight expression as she spooned sugar into her coffee.
"Looks like you were right about Bane and Talia not joining us." He forced a grin.
Maysam's spoon tinkled against her cup as she stirred vigorously. "I had planned for you to have as enjoyable a night as they did."
His grin died, and he cleared his throat. "Maysam—"
"I hope I did not insult you. Apparently I misinterpreted your opinion of Sanjana."
"No, you didn't insult me, and no, you didn't misinterpret anything. She's a beautiful girl. What man wouldn't want her?"
"Then why didn't you take her into your bed?"
"I'm surprised you have to ask, actually."
"She is only a servant, John. And she is no virgin. Did you think she was?"
"That wasn't why I didn't sleep with her. Jesus, Maysam, think about it. Think about where I am. This is your home." He lowered his voice. "This is where you and I were together. It just wouldn't seem right for me to be whoring around right down the hall from you."
"Sanjana is no whore."
"I wasn't referring to her."
Maysam pulled up short when she fully realized what he was saying. She laughed humorlessly. "Oh, John, thank you for your sentimentality toward me, but I don't believe you. The real reason you didn't sleep with her is because you are a gentleman. I had wondered if that would come into play."
Barsad laughed cynically. "C'mon, Maysam. I'm no gentleman. If I was, I never would have slept with a married woman and put her life in danger. And about the other, you should believe me. I'm serious. It would have felt…wrong, weird to sleep with someone other than you under this roof. I know you'll think it's nuts, but I'd feel disloyal."
"Well, you shouldn't. The very fact that I'm the one who sent her to you should have told you I approved."
"She didn't wanna be there, Maysam."
"What she wants is immaterial; she is a servant, nothing more."
He sighed and regrouped, reaching for a lemon scone. "I understand your culture, and I respect it. I respect you. But it's not my culture, and it's not my way."
"But you are mistaken about Sanjana. She is attracted to you. Why wouldn't she want to sleep with you? I believe she does. That is why I was surprised when I asked her this morning if she had pleased you and she told me what had happened. She is a damaged girl with no hope for a husband. She should have been flattered to share your bed."
"Like the rest of the world, Maysam, she knows who and what I am."
Maysam bristled at his self-deprecation. "The world doesn't know you as I know you. You are deserving of happiness, just like Haris and Talia. You should indulge yourself now and then, no matter what your League vow allows."
"Don't worry, I do; just not here."
"Don't be a mawkish fool, John. You owe me nothing."
"I owe you at least respect, and to sleep with your servant, an unwilling servant at that, would be an act of disrespect."
"You are mistaken."
"That's how I feel, Maysam."
She studied the stubborn set of his jaw, and she loved him even more, regardless of his folly.
"Perhaps you will change your mind in time. The more you see Sanjana, the more you will want her, and I believe she will eventually be happy to oblige."
Barsad smiled and shook his head as he poured a cup of coffee from an urn. "So what's her story? She said she couldn't remain in Jaipur, that something shameful happened."
Maysam gave a playful shrug. "What does it matter to you? You aren't interested in the girl."
"I never said that."
"A man who refuses to sleep with a girl can't possibly be interested in her personal life," she teased.
"Maysam. You know I can ask Hisham, so just spill it." As he bit into the fresh, buttery scone, powder sugar fell to his plate like snow.
She taunted him longer with silence before giving in. "Very well. I will tell you. As you can imagine, she was well vetted before being allowed on these grounds. The desperate are always the most pliable."
Barsad nodded and sipped his coffee. Maysam noted he was fresh-shaven this morning and because of it looked younger, as young as he had when they had been together. Just the two of them for breakfast reminded her of the old days, and she too felt younger. She allowed herself a moment of thankfulness that he had not slept with Sanjana. Truth be told, Barsad's misplaced loyalty to their affair gave her great pleasure and pride.
"Sanjana comes from a poor family. Such families are particularly impoverished when they have many mouths to feed. As you can imagine, Sanjana's beauty gave her some value. Her parents arranged a marriage to a merchant's son. However, the merchant had two sons, and it's not difficult to imagine the jealousy the other brother—also unmarried—felt when he saw how beautiful his future sister-in-law was, especially when he already despised his brother and wanted Sanjana for himself. He was a disturbed boy, often in trouble. Well, he lured Sanjana to his home one day when the rest of the family was away. She was a naïve girl."
Barsad's fist clenched. "He raped her?"
"Yes, and his father returned home in the middle of it. His father—Hisham's brother—is a good man, and he was horrified and ashamed. So when Sanjana's father learned of the rape and threw her out of their home, Hisham's brother begged Hisham to convince me to hire her."
"I take it the wedding was called off?"
"Of course. Her betrothed wanted nothing to do with her after his brother had taken her virginity and sullied her. His mother wouldn't allow such a union either. So, after Amir's men did a thorough investigation into Sanjana and her family, I allowed her to serve me."
"How long ago was she attacked?"
"About a month ago."
"Jesus, Maysam, don't you think being with a man so soon after something like that would traumatize her even more?"
"If the man were someone other than you, yes."
Barsad knew no matter how long he had lived in this country as well as in countries with similar cultures, he would never understand the class separation and the way women were treated in those societies. As warm and compassionate as Maysam could be toward him and Bane, her indifference to a fellow woman still managed to take him by surprise, especially since Sanjana had suffered the same violation as Melisande.
He shook his head and set down his cup. "I appreciate what you were trying to do for me, Maysam, but please don't worry about being a matchmaker." He winked. "I have Bane, remember?"
Maysam chuckled warmly and raised her cup in a toast to him. "The best match I ever made."
###
Talia's suite faced south, so the palace building blocked the face of the rising sun. When Bane had gotten out of bed, he turned off the air conditioning and opened the veranda doors. The sheer curtains had been pulled back but not secured, so they drifted lazily to and fro in the soft breeze. The bed curtains had also been drawn on that side, Bane's side, when he had left to shower. Last night, after their time in the spa together, he refused her request to join him in the shower. Allowing her presence would expose her to his unmasked, damaged face and the deep-seated emotions such a view conjured.
Listening for a couple of minutes to the distant sound of running water, Talia's fingers drummed impatiently against the pillow she hugged to her naked breasts. She still chafed at Bane's refusal. As usual, she had argued against his overprotectiveness until he grew angry, and so she decided to let the subject drop, but not before she reminded him again that if he had reconstructive surgery, then he would not have to feel the need to hide himself from her.
Capitulation did not sit well with Talia. This morning, while she watched him inject morphine for his time in the bathroom, she had again asked if she could join him in the shower. He had growled, "No," and stalked out of the room.
Just once during their lovemaking over the years had he ever allowed her to see his face, and that was only because of Talia's persistence. As self-conscious and reluctant as he had been, he enjoyed finally being able to use his mouth to pleasure her in all sorts of ways. Sometimes he even allowed himself to verbally reminisce about the encounter. Because of that, Talia knew he longed to repeat it.
She sighed in frustration and muttered, "This is ridiculous." Flinging aside the satin sheets, she crawled out of bed and marched toward the bathroom.
The only lights lit in the immense bathroom were those above the shower. The opaque shower door blurred Bane's naked form, his back to Talia as she slipped inside the room. He stood motionless, allowing the water to wash over him in a blanketing wave. He liked to take long showers because the warm water felt good against his damaged body. Talia made no sound as she slipped toward him, but even if she had, the water would have drowned it out. Just as she reached for the shower door, he caught sight of her and tried to keep her out, but she elusively snaked inside with him.
"Talia," Bane snapped. "I told you—"
"I know what you told me." She put her arms around his waist as water splattered off him and onto her face. His rounded belly pressed beneath her breasts.
"And yet you disobey me, like the child in the pit."
"Because I need to shower."
"You may shower after I am finished. Please go."
She rested her chin against his chest and gazed up at him with her most beguiling smile. He was irritated, she could see, but not truly angry. And the press of her naked body had begun to stir his manhood back to life. She rubbed ever so lightly against it, one leg gliding up and down his leg.
"I won't stay long. Let me see you. Let me wash you." She touched his scarred cheek. "Please."
Before he could respond, Talia took the bar of soap from him. Quickly she lathered her hands and began to massage the mountain range formed by his trapezoids. He stared at her, simmering. Bane knew he should stop her, yet her touch felt so good, and the moment held an erotic fascination for him because he often fantasized about showering with her. Now here she was, under her own volition, looking at his mess of a face with nothing but affection. How could he refuse her?
Her hands traveled down his chest in small, sweeping motions with the soap, rising and falling over the hard undulations of muscle. She took her time, her hips still moving ever so leisurely against his growing erection. When she reached his hips, she asked him to turn around so she could wash his back. Bane made sure he gave her a slight scowl before obeying.
He closed his eyes to the spray from the showerhead and reveled in Talia's ministrations: the gentlest touch of a fingertip as it drifted down the jagged scar along his backbone, the softness of her hands as they lingered upon his buttocks, then down his legs and back up again, now reaching between his legs to that sensitive spot at the base of his scrotum, a light tickle that caused him to expand his lungs with a great draught of air. She played with him thusly until he could take it no longer and turned around, his arms engulfing her, pressing her against his rock-hard erection. He bent to kiss her, but her playful finger against his mouth somehow stopped him.
"Now me," she purred, reaching for her own bar of soap left there last night, one with the scent of roses.
Bane growled with impatience at her and with irritation at himself for still standing there. As he snatched the soap, he caught her smile of triumphant amusement as she turned her back to him. His work was rushed, tarrying only upon the sweet mounds of her buttocks, smooth and shining with water, mottled with sudsy bubbles. Briefly he slipped his fingers between her legs, giving her dripping folds a couple of strokes to torment her as she had done to him. Then he abruptly spun her about, drawing a gasp of surprise, half strangled by his sudden, devouring kiss. She allowed it, surrendered for a moment then found his hand and lifted the soap to her neck.
"Finish," she murmured, breathless now.
"You are a vixen," he grumbled. "I should still throw you out of here."
Talia chuckled and drew his hand with the soap down to her breasts. Before he washed those two beautiful, ripe delicacies, his face plunged between them. His kisses progressed outward, one by one, to her erect nipples where he sucked and pleasured her with his eager tongue. Then he finished washing her, watching the lazy trails of suds snake down her flawless skin to the tile then flow toward the drain behind him. On his knees, he explored her hot folds with his tongue. She moaned and dug her fingernails into his shoulders, her pelvis thrusting slightly toward him. His quick, skillful work made her writhe and sigh his name, trembling.
Bane stood, having discarded the bar of soap, his hand remaining between her legs to ensure the flames remained ignited. Talia reached for his penis, which wept in anticipation. Her firm, sliding grip fired him even more. The water from the shower seemed to roar like the cataract back in his Gotham sewer lair, drowning out the rest of the world, everything but her hungry cries for him. One of her arms and a leg wrapped around him, as if she wanted to climb him, to put him below her so he could find what they both wanted him to find. The need was now urgent, imperative. He squeezed her buttocks, lifted them, and with a hop she had both legs around his waist. Her hand guided him to her, rubbed his engorged head against her swollen opening. With another growl, he pushed toward the rear of the shower, pinning her against the warm tile wall as she kissed him in a wild flurry, her hands holding his head, as if afraid he would try to escape her lips.
He thrust up into her. She cried out, her head thrown back. His mouth plunged to her neck, kissing and biting as he thrust again and again, her breasts bouncing against his heaving chest. Her heels dug into him, like a rider urging a horse faster. Their mingled noises echoed in the confined space, rising above the fall of water. Her fingernails sank into the flesh of his back. The pricks brought his thrusts stronger, increasing her outcries almost to the threshold of pain. But he kept going. She had come here against his wishes. Surely she had expected to be punished. So when moments later Talia shrilled in a climax of both pain and pleasure and shuddered in his arms like one possessed, he continued his thrusts and reveled in her capitulating moans. When his own release came, the sudden limpness of her body and the draining of his energy finally loosened his hold enough for her to catch her breath.
Slowly, with little strength left in his legs, he shifted his weight, still bearing hers, to a teak bench along one wall. There he slumped, Talia in his arms, their bodies no longer coupled, but their arms still holding one another close.
Finally able to lift her head from his shoulder, Talia tenderly touched his cheek.
"When I look at your face," she said near a whisper, barely heard over the neglected shower, "I don't see these." She caressed his scars. "I see the beautiful young man from the pit. The one who loved me and Mama and kept us safe. That's what I'll always see. Please don't hide him from me. Not always."
Bane put his hand over hers. With all his heart, he wanted to believe her. And when she kissed his torn lips, he closed his eyes and allowed himself to do just that, even if only for a fleeting moment.