Page 82 of Trapped By the Maharaja
And then, without warning, he reached for her hand. “Sanjana,” Rishan said urgently. “There are a lot of things you don’t know. Ram didn’t marry you for love. He married you for an important reason—”
Before she could yank her hand away, a deep, low growl cut through the air.
“Don’t. Touch. My wife.”
The voice was unmistakable.
Ram.
???
Ram emerged from the shadows, the low garden lights catching the hard lines of his face. Every step he took was deliberate and predatory with controlled fury wrapped in regal precision.
“Don’t. Touch. Her.”
The words were low and guttural.
Rishan released her hand, lifting his palms in mock surrender. “Easy, cousin. I was only welcoming the newest member of the Devara family.” His gaze slid to her and lingered a moment too long. “And, of course, reacquainting myself with an old friend from university.”
Her throat tightened. She knew better than to take the bait, but the air between them vibrated with dangerous tension.
Ram’s jaw hardened. “Stay away from her.”
Rishan tilted his head, feigning innocence. “What’s the matter, cousin? Afraid she might decide to choose me again… like last time?”
Sanjana caught her breath.
The next moment was a blur.
Ram’s fist connected with Rishan’s nose in a crack that split the air. The sickening sound was followed by a cry of pain as Rishan staggered back, clutching his face. Blood streamed between his fingers, dark and fast.
“You—” Rishan choked, voice breaking into a pained yell. “You broke my nose!”
A shocked gasp escaped Sanjana.
“Ram!” Sanjana’s voice was urgent, as she shoved herself between them. Her palms pressed against the hard wall of his chest, feeling the powerful rhythm of his heartbeat. “Stop it!”
His eyes were locked on Rishan over her shoulder, jaw clenched so tight she thought it might crack.
“Ram, no,” she said, voice low but firm. “This is an important event. Think of your mother—”
His hands were fists at his sides, his entire body radiating heat and fury. For a moment, she thought he wouldn’t hear her at all.
His eyes flicked to her at last, dark and unreadable. After a long, charged pause, his fists unclenched. He reached instead for her hand, his grip tight, possessive.
“Come.”
The single word was a command, not a request.
His grip was unyielding as he led her away, guiding her back toward the glittering center of the gardens.
Beneath the formal civility he projected to the crowd, his dark anger still burned alongside something else that made her pulse race in ways she didn’t want to name.
After some time, she saw Rishan joining the party. His nose was swollen, bruising already visible beneath the skin despite the hurried attempts to clean the blood.
A few guests approached him with concerned murmurs. “What happened, Rishan?” a young, pretty royal in violet silk asked.
Rishan gave a lopsided, charming smile, though the effect was undercut by the dried blood at the corner of his lip. “A small mishap during my morning ride. My horse and I had a difference of opinion.”
