Page 41 of Trapped By the Maharaja
She wasn’t sure if it was annoyance, amusement, or something else.
Feeling flustered, she looked away from him.
“I have to get ready for work,” she muttered.
She didn’t wait for his reply.
She got out of bed and nearly ran across the room. The sound of her bare feet against the marble was embarrassingly loud in the silence. She went into the bathroom and shut the door with a sharp click, leaning back against it as her breath came fast.
Her reflection in the mirror stared back at her, cheeks burning, eyes wide. She pressed her palms to the cool marble counter, trying to steady herself.
It was ridiculous.
It was just an accidental touch that meant nothing. She had been exhausted and needed rest. That was all.
But what if Ram thought she was throwing herself at him?
It wasn’t the first time she had thrown herself at him. Even in the past, she had thrown herself at him over and over, nearly begging for his kisses and touch.
Her face burned brighter as she recalled the past.
“Why can’t we kiss or do things that other couples do?” she demanded.
Ram looked at her, his eyes burning with heat and desire. “Because you are going to be my queen.”
She frowned, not understanding. “Queen?”
“Yes, queen of my heart. Until I make you my queen, I can’t touch you.”
She hadn’t understood until much later that it was a royal decree that the Devara queen is to give herself to the maharaja only after taking the sacred vows. For a long while, she hadn’t even known that Ram was the Devara maharaja. To her, he had been Ram, the handsome boy with a rusty jeep she had fallen madly in love with.
Pushing away the past memories, she stepped into the shower. She turned on the water, and deliberately showered with cold water. But the memory of the hard, muscled chest beneath her cheek, the steady beat of his heart, and the dark flash in his gaze when she looked up flashed behind her eyes, making her body throb with heat.
Stop it!
Taking a deep breath, she stepped out and dried herself before dressing hurriedly. She wore a comfortable cotton dress from her previous wardrobe that she usually wore to the hospital. Then, tying her long hair into a ponytail, she looked into the mirror. Her face was still flushed, and her heart was still racing from the brief encounter that morning.
She stepped into the bedroom cautiously, only to see that Ram wasn’t in the bed. He had left the master suite.
Relief at his absence was followed quickly by anger at his cold indifference.
If he can’t bear to touch me or even be around me, why did he force me to marry him?
CHAPTER 19
Rewa Palace
The final pearl earring clicked into place as Suchitra Devi stood before the full-length mirror, her reflection polished and regal. She wore an elegant cream saree threaded with pale gold, subtle and ceremonial, perfectly suited for the evening’s charity gala.
Her assistant, Mira stood beside her, tablet in hand, reading from the meticulously curated schedule.
“At 6:30, the car will take you to the Lata Foundation Center. The press is expected at the venue by 7. Opening remarks are at 7:15, and the photo op with the NGO trustees has been moved to 8:10. You’ll be joined by Minister Suri’s wife and the education committee—”
A light knock interrupted them.
A palace maid entered, head bowed low. “Your Highness,” she said, voice hesitant, “forgive the intrusion… but the Rani Vasundara Devi has requested your immediate presence.”
Devi paused. The clasp of her necklace rested loosely between her fingers, suddenly forgotten.
