Chapter Nineteen


Jessie closed the door to the apartment, then turned and pointed at Jonny sternly.

"You. Bed. NOW."

"But . . ."

"No buts," she said, shoving him determinedly toward the bedroom. "We need clear heads and none of you are capable of that right now. By dinnertime everyone should be rested and we can tackle this intelligently. Now, go!"

As Jonny drifted off toward their bedroom, Jessie then turned to Hadji. "Knowing you the way I do, I doubt you'll be able to sleep decently until you've taken a shower. I'll give you 15 minutes and if you aren't out and in that bed," she pointed toward the guestroom, "I'll come in and drag you out and plant you there myself."

"But Kefira . . . "

"I'll take care of Kefira. You just go on."

A small smile flickered, and he said meekly, "Yes, mother."

"GO!"

Jessie returned to the living room, shaking her head. "I swear, there are times you'd think they were only five years old."

Kefira laughed. "They are extremely stubborn," she agreed.

"Okay, I did as you asked. I've gotten them back here and out of the way. Now, what is it?"

Kefira peered down the hall at the closed bathroom door and then drew Jessie toward the kitchen. "I need your advice."

"Okay, but make it quick," Jessie warned, reaching into the refrigerator and pulling out two bottles of juice. She handed one of them to Kefira and then leaned against the refrigerator and gazed at her friend. "I promised Hadji I'd get you to bed, too, and I meant it."

Kefira nodded wearily as she crawled up onto one of the high barstools that sat on one side of the kitchen. "This will not take long," Kefira said. Looking Jessie straight in the eye, she said, "I need for you to tell me how I can get Hadji to make love to me."

Jessie gagged violently, spraying orange juice all over the floor. Coughing frantically to clear the juice out of her lungs, she finally wheezed, "You want me to tell you how to do what?"

"Get Hadji to make love to me," Kefira repeated seriously.

"How am I supposed to know how to do that?" Jessie demanded.

"You had no trouble getting Jonny to make love to you, did you? Well, how did you do that? How did you make him want to do that?"

Jessie looked at her helplessly. "Kefira, what's going on? And why are you asking me? Hadji and I have never had that kind of relationship. You know that . . ."

"But there is no one else I can ask," Kefira exclaimed in frustration. She set the bottle of juice down on the bar and leaned forward intensely. "Jessie, I have never been good with boys. I never even dated before I began seeing Hadji, so I have no idea what to do. And now it is vital that I get him to do this, or I will lose him!"

"Haven't the two of you talked about this?"

"Yes, and we both decided that we didn't want to do it until we were married. But that was before someone decided to announce that I am to be his wife. Jessie, he was not exaggerating about what is likely to happen now. And I know him. He is going to try to do what he thinks is best for me, regardless of what I want."

"God, I just hate it when they do that!" Jessie exclaimed in disgust.

"He will not listen to me!" Kefira said, on the verge of tears. "I understand the risks, both to me and my family, and I do not care. I love him and I do not want to lose him. I will not! When he asked me to marry him last night after those men attacked us, I was not dazed or overwhelmed. I knew exactly what I was doing when I said yes. I will not allow him to back out of it now, simply because someone in Bangalore has decided to use me as leverage against him."

"Then just refuse to allow him to have the marriage annulled. You've both got to agree to it before it can be done, and if you refuse . . ."

"You do not understand!" she replied in agitation. "Yes, Bangalore will recognize the marriage as legal if he acknowledges it. They have no choice because he is still an American citizen. If the U.S. recognizes it as legal, then Bangalore must do so as well, although they could refuse to recognize any children we might produce as rightful heirs to the throne. But if he refuses to acknowledge it, then Bangalore can and will ignore it, no matter what I say. And if it is not consummated," she shook her head. "If they examine me and find that I am still a virgin . . . and I promise you that they will do so . . . they will accept his renunciation of me, and that will be the end. There will be no going back . . . ever. But if we consummate it, he will never turn away from me. He tells me he loves me and I believe him. Jessie, I do not want to lose him . . . I do not think I could bear it. So you must help me. Tell me what to do . . ."

The sound of the bathroom door opening down the hall caused Kefira to cut off what she was saying, and a moment later, Hadji appeared in the doorway. His hair was still wet and he had a towel wrapped tightly around his waist. He wore nothing else.

"You should be asleep," he told Kefira, in concern.

She slid off of the barstool and came to him quickly. Putting her arms around him, she laid her bruised cheek against his chest and clung to him tightly. He looked startled and a trifle embarrassed, but after a moment, he wrapped his arms around her and rested his face against the top of her head. One hand drifted down her back in an unconsciously sensual caress, and Jessie saw goose bumps flicker over his bare skin as she responded, burrowing against his body more tightly and running her hands down his bare back. They stood locked together in that way until Kefira finally stirred and loosened her grip enough so she could lean back and look up at him. "You do not need to worry. I was simply waiting for you to finish in the shower so that I could get in. I will bathe and then go to bed."

"And I'll see that she gets there," Jessie said, straightening. "So you go on to bed now."

Hadji gestured toward the sofa. "I thought I would . . ."

"Absolutely not," Jessie replied firmly. "You are to go directly to the guest room. This is my home and I'll take care of sleeping arrangements. Now go on . . ." Kefira released him with a laugh as Jessie advanced on Hadji making shooing motions. Hadji backed away from her, clutching at the towel.

"I was hoping I could borrow a pair of pajamas from Jonny. We came without any kind of clothing . . ."

"Sorry. For one thing, Jonny's brawny enough through the hips that anything he might have would just fall off of you anyway. And if we're going to be brutally honest about it, neither one of us use such things any longer, and I'm not even sure where to find a pair. I suspect they're packed in a box in the storage room someplace. So you're just going to have to sleep in the outfit Mother Nature gave you. It won't be the first time. Now go on! I swear, you're as bad as Jonny . . ."

"I'll just get my . . ."

"No, you won't," she replied, anticipating what he was going to say. "Everything you had on was filthy and right now it's all you've got. While you guys sleep, I'm going to do laundry. I also suspect I'm going to need to go shopping. Would you please go on to bed so Kefira can bathe and do the same?" Under her persistent badgering, Hadji retreated down the hall to the bedroom. Still standing in the kitchen, Kefira could hear Jessie lecturing him for a few minutes more, then she heard the door close and a moment later, she reappeared.

"I swear to God," she said in disgust. "They're worse than children . . ." Leaning over the sink, she grabbed a handful of paper towels and began cleaning up the orange juice from the floor as she picked up the conversation where they had left off. "Look, Kefira, it's not that I don't want to help. But I think Hadji is right. If the announcement that you've married is going to put your family at risk, then it's not something that you should be running to do. Trust me, he loves you enough that he's not going to let Bangalore politics come between the two of you. He'll find a way out of this. I think the best bet is for you to stay here and let Hadji deal with the problem for a while. Then, if necessary, you can go home to your parents' house to stay and . . ."

"Go to my parents?" Kefira looked at Jessie like she'd lost her mind. "But . . . but I cannot do that! What would I say to my father? Or my mother? I would bring shame to my entire family . . ."

Jessie stared at her in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"You want me to go to my father and tell him that I married Hadji . . . the Sultan of our country . . . and that he has refused to consummate the union?" Kefira was seriously agitated and Jessie realized that in some way she had erred badly.

"Slow down!" Jessie commanded sharply. Tossing the used towels into the trashcan, she pulled up the other bar stool and sat down facing her friend. "Take a deep breath and tell me what's happened. Why is it wrong for you to return to your family?"

"Because I have married Hadji," she repeated. Seeing the confused look on Jessie's face, she said, "I cannot look to them any longer . . ."

"Whoa! Wait just a minute! What do you mean, you can't 'look to them' any longer?"

"Because I cannot," Kefira replied simply. Seeing that her explanation had not helped, she continued, "I thought you understood this. When a woman in our culture marries, her loyalties must change. She becomes a part of her husband's family and must look to them when she is in need. The ties to her own family are severed. She cannot look to her parents for aid. To do so brings shame on both families . . . the woman's because they obviously raised her badly, and her husband's because they cannot or will not provide for her."

Jessie's face changed as the implications of the situation began to sink in. "And what happens to you if Hadji denounces you?"

"If no one finds out about the marriage, I return to my father's house where I must tell him the truth. My father is an ethical man. Consummated or not, my marriage to Hadji is real and would prevent him from ever being able to seek another husband for me. The dowry price would be much too high. I would be . . ." she paused and then shrugged, ". . . 'damaged goods', I believe is the phrase you use here. And if word of the marriage were to become known, then my life would be forfeit."

"Forf . . . you mean they would kill you?" Jessie exclaimed in horror.

Kefira shrugged again. "It is the law and such practices are still common. I do not know if they would actually kill me . . . the union with the Sultan is an extremely public one, and there is a tremendous amount of pressure right now to put a stop to such practices. What is certain is that should this happen, the best thing for me to do would be to kill myself. If I do not, then it is certain that the situation would destroy my family." Seeing her expression, Kefira sighed. "Jessie, things in my country are not like they are here. Women are property . . . first of their father and then of their husbands. We do not have the freedom that you do. I have been allowed to continue on to school and to spend time in my father's mines because he humors me. I think that even I realized that no matter what my dreams were for the future, I would never truly have been able to do what I wanted. The best I could have hoped for was a husband that worked in the mines that would have allowed me to continue as I had done in the past."

"But India is such a progressive country . . ."

"We are not India. And the truth is, in many places in India, practices like this are still commonplace. For example, in some areas, killing female children at birth is the only way a family can survive. And Bangalore is worse than most because of Vikram and his father. They isolated the country for so long and resurrected many of the old traditions." She turned her head away, her eyes haunted. "When I was 12, there was a girl I grew up with . . . she was two years older than me and my best friend when we were young. I was forced to watch as she was burned alive on her 67-year-old husband's funeral pyre because tradition called for a man's wife to join him in death." At Jessie's strangled sound of protest, she looked up at her again. "He is trying to change things, Jessie. He is trying so very hard . . . but it is not easy."

"He didn't know, Kefira!" Jessie said fiercely. "He never would have put you in this position if he realized what he was doing."

"I know," the Indian girl replied quietly. "And I could have said no when he suggested that we marry. But I did not . . . because I did not want to. Jessie, I love him, and I would sacrifice anything for him. You, of all people, must understand how this feels . . ."

Jessie was silent for a long moment. Then, slowly, she nodded. "Yes . . . yes, I understand."

"Then will you help me? Will you tell me what I must do?"

As though coming to a decision, Jessie rose determinedly to her feet. Smiling at the other girl she said briskly, "Okay, I don't think it will take you much to convince him. Trust me, he's not disinterested. He's already dressed for the occasion, and I doubt he's asleep yet. He won't until he knows you're out of the shower and settled. So, here's what you're gonna do . . ." Kefira leaned forward, listening attentively. "Take your shower. When you get done, wrap up in the towel and leave your clothes in the bathroom. I'll take care of them."

Kefira's lips twitched suddenly. "I am assuming your planned sleeping arrangements put Hadji and I in the same bed this time."

"Unless you have some objection to that arrangement . . . "

Kefira laughed softly and stepped up to hug the other girl. "I love you dearly, Jessie Bannon," she said. "You are truly my sister." Stepping back again, she demanded, "Then what do I do?"

Jessie shook her head. "Go directly to the bedroom, shed the towel, and get into bed. Beyond that, I really can't give you any advice. I've only known one man, so I can't say if what works for Jonny would work for Hadji. I think it's probably better that you figure that out on your own. Just don't be shy and don't take 'no' for an answer." She grinned at Kefira suddenly. "You're stubborn enough to win this war, and I just don't think he's got that much will power. Get going, before his exhaustion overwhelms him. You don't want him falling asleep before you get there."

Kefira still hesitated. "Jessie, how can I ever thank you?"

"By being sure that you end up as my sister permanently. Get going!"

With a final smile, Kefira turned and disappeared in the direction of the bathroom.


~ ~ ~ ~ ~


Using the towel, Kefira wiped the steam from the bathroom mirror and stared at the image reflected there. Not for the first time, she wondered what it was that Hadji had seen in her that night in the Royal Palace in Bangalore. She wasn't pretty. Her mouth was too big and her eyes were too widely set. Daria had told her often enough that when she got angry, her expression could curdle milk . . . and that was exactly the way he had seen her that first time. So what was it that the most important person in all of Bangalore saw in Rajeev Subramanian's overly intelligent and independent middle daughter? She really didn't know. What she did know was that she loved him with all her heart and one way or another, she would fight to keep him. By law, she was his wife. Now it was time she became so in all other ways.

Picking up the towel, she wrapped it under her arms and then opened the bathroom door. Kefira glanced toward the living room and saw Jessie appear at the head of the hallway. She sketched an encouraging, thumbs-up sign and Kefira nodded. Gathering her courage, she hitched the towel up, opened the door quietly, and slipped in, closing it behind her.

Hadji was still awake, and he started upright, grasping frantically at the sheet as she crossed the room toward him.

"Kefira! What . . . I thought . . . what . . . what are you doing here?" he sputtered, staring at her like she was a cobra poised to strike.

"Where else should I be?" she asked. Pulling the towel loose, she released it and let it fall to the floor at her feet. She heard him gasp softly as it fell away and then his breathing increased sharply. She stood there quietly for a long moment letting him stare. Then, before he had the chance to gather his scattered wits, she grasped the sheet and pulled it out of his grasp. She'd wondered if maybe he might have found something to wear after all, but he hadn't. She heard her own breath catch as she let her eyes wander over his lean, smoothly muscled body. She felt herself tremble at the evidence of his arousal, and moved quickly to join him in the bed before her own fear and uncertainty froze her in place. Sliding over, she pressed her body against his and snuggled in tightly, running one hand up his side and reveling in the feeling of his bare skin against hers. Where their bodies met, heat flared, and she felt it flow through her, igniting a fire she'd never experienced before. She whispered his name in a soft, breathy voice and rubbed her face against his bare chest as her hands caressed him from his shoulders, down across his buttocks and back up his side. The shudder that ran through his body was strong, and she was aware of the hard erection that pressed against her upper thigh. Remembering Jessie's admonishment about not being shy, she allowed her hand to drift down his body, but as she ran light fingers down his groin, he reached out and stopped it.

"Kefira, please, we cannot . . ." he protested, trying to draw away from her, but she clung to him tightly.

"You told me that you loved me."

"I do. But you know . . ."

"You also said that you desired me," she continued, pulling her hand free from his grasp and letting it drift up his side toward his shoulders again.

"I do." The response was almost a moan

"Then I do not see the problem, because I desire you as well."

"Kefira, we have been through this. It is necessary that I . . . "

"You are my husband," she said flatly.

"That was a mistake." Pulling away, Hadji levered himself up on one elbow and looked down at her, fighting the urges of his body desperately. "Kefira, I was panicked by the attack against you. I grasped at anything that I thought would protect you. I should have realized that doing so would only draw you more deeply into the mire that is my life. The best I can do is to try to extricate both you and your family from this mess."

"Hadji . . ."

He cut her off. "No! I cannot risk . . ."

Leaning in, she silenced him with her mouth. His lips were parted when hers fastened on them and she let her tongue slide into his mouth, flicking against his and caressing the smooth surface of his teeth. When he tried to pull away, she tightened her arms around him and allowed her hands to rove more widely. She felt him shudder again as she ran light fingers down his chest, across his groin, and up the rigid hardness of his erection, causing him to moan loudly. Ruthlessly, she laid back, using a firm grip and her own body weight to draw him down on top of her. She could feel his resistance weakening as he fought to control his reactions to what she was doing, and knew she was winning. She broke the kiss and drew his head lower, until his lips rested against her neck. Arching her head back, she whispered in a low, breathy voice,

"Please, Hadji. I love you. Do not make me beg . . ." That brought a soft, strangled sound of protest from him, and he pulled back to look down at her again. " . . . because I will if I have to."

He reached down and stroked her cheek gently with his thumb. She could see pain as well as desire in his eyes. "Just the other day you said you were not ready for this."

"The other day, I was not your wife."

"I told you . . ."

"Please, Hadji, I am begging you . . ."

"Don't . . ."

" . . . please make love to me . . . "

"Kefira, please . . . "

". . . I will do anything . . ."

"Stop! Please . . ."

"I cannot go on without you. Not any more." She reached up tugged at the clasp that held his hair until it came loose and tumbled down around his face. Reaching up, she ran her fingers through the thick, silky mass. The sensuous feel of it sliding through her fingers made her moan and writhe under him. Her eyes were huge and smoky as she gazed up at him, and he could feel the desire well up in him with such intensity he couldn't have replied if he'd wanted to. "Please, husband. I am yours by Royal declaration, by law, by heart, and by soul. All that remains is to make me yours by body, also, and I want it more than anything else in the world." Using the hand that had been playing with his hair, she caught the back of his neck and drew him down to kiss her again. As their lips met, she grasped his free hand and laid it on one of her breasts.

Hadji was still for a moment, and then his thumb flicked across the nipple lightly. He was rewarded immediately by a passionate moan that he could feel rumbling deep in her chest, and her hands clutched at his shoulders convulsively. His lips moved over her mouth, the hunger for her raging through him. Some part of his mind seemed to be telling him that he should stop . . . that if he continued, there would be no going back . . . no matter what the potential consequences. But that voice of reason was getting softer and harder to hear with each passing second.

He had married her. Yes, part of the reason had been to provide her with as much shelter as he could. But he knew he would be lying to both her and himself if he tried to say that was the only reason. He also married her because he loved her, and deep in his heart he was terrified that someone or something would come along and take her away from him. When he saw her fall and thought her dead, it had been as though his life was ending. He'd gone after the man with the gun with absolutely no thought for his own safety. He had little or no memory of what he had done in those succeeding seconds. Nothing had penetrated again until he heard her moan and he stumbled away from the man to find her stirring feebly. Even then, the numbness really hadn't left him. But feeling her lying here in his arms now, her hands caressing him eagerly, her lips soft and willing against his, he suddenly felt alive again for the first time since the gunshot shattered the peace of that dark New York night.

All will he had to resist her advances crumbled, and he crushed her to him, kissing her fiercely. His hands developed a life of their own, stroking and caressing . . . searching hungrily for things that caused her body to arch against his. She responded passionately, making breathless, incoherent cries that only inflamed him further. But when a particularly sharp move caused her cry to be tinged with pain, sanity washed over him like a draught of cold water and he sat up abruptly.

"No!" she cried desperately, grabbing at him and trying to pull him back.

"I hurt you," he gasped.

"You did not!"

"Yes, I did," he insisted, scooting away from her. "I will not hurt you!" Breathing heavily, he searched frantically for the strength to quell the animal passion that drove him. Slowly, he brought himself under control and the wild, mindless need receded to a steady, throbbing ache in his groin. He watched as she sat up and huddled against the headboard of the bed. Wrapping her arms around her body, she laid her forehead on her knees until her hair fell forward and shrouded her body. Then she started to cry.

"Do not cry," he begged her. "I am sorry. I did not mean to."

"I knew . . . " she sobbed.

He looked at her in confusion, upset at her obvious distress. "Knew?" he ventured.

"I knew . . . I would never be . . . good enough," she said raggedly "You . . . you are . . . right . . . not to . . . want me . . ."

"No!" he said explosively. He launched himself toward her, grabbed and held her tightly. "No, Kefira! You do not understand. It is not that I do not want you." He forced her head up, brushing her hair out of her face, making her look at him. "My love, it is that I want you too much. I could not control myself and I was hurting you. I will not allow it to be that way between us."

She sniffed, trying to stop her tears as she gazed up at him. He sat in the middle of the bed and cradled her against his chest, stroking her hair and rocking her gently.

"How can you possibly believe that I do not want you?" he asked her gently. "I want you so much, I ache for you. Why do you find that so hard to believe?"

"I have never been . . . I am not even . . . Daria always told me . . ."

"Daria! Why would you listen to what she says?" Hadji exclaimed. "She is an idiot!"

"Daria is not . . ." Kefira bristled reflexively, but then she stopped. Looking up at him, her eyes widened and suddenly her lips twitched. "Actually, I think you are right . . . she is not very smart. But she is very beautiful."

"So are you." When she would have shaken her head, he stopped her. "So . . . are . . . you," he said with a quiet finality that allowed no room for argument. He eased her down so she lay on the bed again and slid down beside her. Propping himself up on an elbow, he gazed at her seriously. "I told my mother the other day that I have never asked for anything from Bangalore for myself other than the right to choose my own wife. And I did choose her . . . I chose you . . . not because I had to have a wife, but rather, because you were everything I ever dreamed I might find."

"Then why do you refuse me?" she asked him, bewildered. "I am yours by right . . ."

"You are not property!" he exclaimed angrily. "I have no rights in this matter other than those you give to me of your own free will." Then, as quickly as his anger had flared, it faded. He sighed and hung his head. When he looked up, the sorrow in his face made her want to cry. "How can I take you, knowing that the very thing I want so much is certain to cost you those people you hold most dear? Arun Birla will kill your family, Kefira. You know it as well as I do. How can I do that to you?"

"And what about you? What will Arun Birla do to you? Forgetting about my family for a moment, what will he do to you when you set foot back in Bangalore?" He opened his mouth to reply, but she reached up and laid her fingers over his lips, stopping him. "I know you must go back. It is more than my family at stake . . . it is all of the people of Bangalore . . . people who have no way of protecting themselves against men like Arun Birla. No matter what my feelings are in the matter, I know you must go. I would go with you if you would only permit it. But Hadji, you say that you have no rights other than what I would grant you, and yet by refusing me, you deny me what I most want to give. Please, beloved, just this once, can you not set aside Bangalore and all of her problems and let this moment be just for us?"

He gazed down at her, shaken by the depth of his feelings for this woman. "Are you certain, Kefira? If we do this, there will be no going back."

"There is no going back now, husband. There wasn't from the instant I set eyes on you. And even if there was, I would not do it. I, too, have chosen . . . I have chosen you and no matter what happens, I will never regret that decision. I want to be your wife . . . now and for all the days to come . . . no matter how many of them there may be." She reached up and caressed the side of his face gently. "Will you permit me that honor?"

He gazed at her for a long moment before he replied, "I love you very much, Kefira Singh, and I always will." Then he leaned down and kissed her. There was no hesitation now, either in his lips or in his hands as they began to rove across her body once more. He moved carefully, but with pointed intent, searching to arouse the passions that had burned so hotly in her not long before. She responded avidly, returning his kisses with an abandonment that reignited the fire in him, as well. Kefira was right. Whatever the future held in store for them, this moment was for them alone.