Page 25 of A Royal Deception

I pushed at his shoulders desperately, trying to break free. I didn’t care if I toppled us both and got crushed under his weight. I wanted down. Right now!

But it was as if he didn’t even feel my hands shoving his massive shoulders. At any other time, I would have run my hands up and down the powerful slopes dreamily because these shoulders were meant for one thing only. To hold on tightly as the man they belonged to took you over the edge of pleasure again and again until you forgot your own name. They weren’t made for kidnapping a woman, I thought, as I renewed my assault on them.

Rani Sa wouldn’t stop screeching in horror, and I wished someone would stuff a dupatta into her mouth to shut her up. When her screams got cut off abruptly, and the man mountain below me came to a sudden halt and let out a bark of laughter, I realised that I had said that out loud.

Fuck! I wished someone would cut my tongue out for my own good. I couldn’t keep saying such things!

Kavya Baisa moved to bar the door with her body.

“You’re not leaving this palace without me,” she said in desperation. “I won’t allow it. I’m going to be your wife, dammit!”

“Thanks, but no, thanks,” replied His Highness.

Why wasn’t he out of breath? I was quite heavy!

He hitched me higher on his shoulder before he went on.

“If you stop me from taking my wife out of here, I will call the police and create such a scene that you and your despicable family won’t be able to show your faces in royal circles for centuries to come,” he warned. “Step aside now before I have you shoved out of my way.”

When she didn’t move, he beckoned to a woman who stood just outside the room. She put her arms around Baisa’s waist and dragged her out of the way.

“Thanks, Raksha,” he murmured, and I saw the woman trying to hide a smile. Meanwhile, the Yuvarani of Jadhwal stared at us with her eyes as wide as saucers.

Kavya Baisa and Rani Sa’s wails echoed in my ears as His Highness ran down the stairs nimbly. Did he bench press my weight thrice a day? How the fuck was he so fit? I got breathless if I carried so much as a sack of flour.

He ploughed through the crowd that was watching the tamasha avidly, and I realised that I wouldn’t even get a chance to talk to Zarna. My poor sister was waiting for me in our room with that bag of cash.

“I’ve left my phone,” I cried, realising that it was still on Baisa’s dresser.

“I’ll buy you a new one,” my new husband growled as the valet scurried to bring his car around.

“Ranvijay, stop,” cried his mother. “What on earth is going on here? You can’t just carry your wife off like this.”

“Why not?” he demanded.

“Because these aren’t the middle ages,” she said severely. “She has to have a proper bidaai. What her parents must be thinking of us!”

“Those aren’t her parents, Ma. I’ll explain everything later. Just get into your car,” he said shortly.

And sure enough, a huge convoy of cars pulled up outside the palace doors, with the first one gaily decorated for the bridal couple. The guests behind us went mad, hollering at what they thought was a very eager bridegroom carrying his wife off in some obscure royal Rajput tradition.

“What is the boy doing?” demanded his aunt.

“He’s gone mad,” declared that creep, Sangram Singh.

For once, I was forced to agree with him. I pushed my veil back a little to see if I could spot Zarna, but for a change, my sister seemed to have obeyed me blindly. She must still be in our room, I thought with despair.

Diggi Mausi pushed her way to the front of the crowd and stared at me worriedly.

“Tell Zarna,” I mouthed, holding up my veil, and she nodded.

I thought of making a break for it when His Highness set me down in front of the car, but this was clearly not his first kidnapping because he didn’t set me down at all. He threw me into the back seat of the car and got in behind me as his chauffeur looked the other way respectfully before slamming the door shut on us.

The crowd waved gaily, still thinking he was taking Kavya Baisa home in an unorthodox fashion. I threw my veil back and stared at them with despair, knowing they couldn’t see my terrified face behind the heavily tinted glass.

The Mirpur wedding party all got into the cars that stood behind ours in the convoy, and with one final, rousing cheer, the crowd parted to let us drive off.

I wondered if I could jump out of the moving car before we left the palace gates. I just had to time it right. Unlock the door quickly and jump out with a neat tuck and roll. Sure, I’d break a few bones, but it was better than going home with my new husband.

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