Chapter 9

V elvet's days took on a comfortable sameness that suited her for the time being. Sometimes, though, she remembered that it was late September in England now, and she thought back to how a year ago at this very time she had been the queen's Maid of Honor and a darling of the Tudor court. She and Alex had been feuding then prior to his wild abduction of her. Such memories usually brought tears, or at the very least a deep sadness that would sweep over her, casting her into such dark depths that it was all Akbar could do to cheer her again.

That the Grand Mughal was a man in love was apparent to everyone at his court, a fact that amused his two younger sons who were both older than Velvet, and for some reason increased the bitter feeling of Prince Salim toward his father. Akbar, thought Salim, was at a time in his life when he should behave in a more circumspect manner. Was he not a grandfather? Was he not about to become one again? Instead his father played the fool with a beautiful young woman. Why had he not given the foreign beauty to Salim, as Sultan Selim of the Ottoman empire had given his heir, who had now come into his inheritance as Sultan Suleiman, a beautiful young princess sent to him from Baghdad as tribute? At twenty Salim was much closer in age to Velvet than was his father, who was in his late forties, and having seen Velvet riding with Akbar the young prince truly envied his sire. No one, Salim included, was aware that the union of Akbar and his English Rose had yet to be consummated.

Each day toward sunset they rode together, and sometimes he would take along his hunting cats, two sleek, spotted animals who loped by their sides, occasionally streaking ahead to bring down a rabbit or plump game bird, then returning with it to the emperor who more often than not allowed them to keep their prey.

One day he arranged for her to see an elephant fight, and Velvet was both fascinated and repulsed by the barbarity of it all. Akbar was very proud of his fighting elephants. In his stables were the most prime examples of elephant flesh to be found in all of India. There were also elephants used for breeding, for traveling, and for other work within the stables of the emperor. One day Akbar ordered that a conveyance he called a howdah be placed upon one of the great beasts so that he might take her for a ride.

Velvet was as excited as a child and her delight knew no bounds when the elephant arrived, for the beast had been decked out in the most incredible finery. It was a young male, she was told, for the male elephants native to India sported long ivory tusks. Upon the animal's tusks, however, long golden fitted sheaths studded with rubies had been placed. A magnificent red satin coverlet decorated with gold bangles and diamonds was drawn over the great beast's head. It had openings where his eyes were, and upon the two bumps that the elephant had high up on its forehead were gold shields. The coverlet narrowed between the tusks to cover the trunk and was fringed with gold on either side. Even the elephant's small ears were encased in satin, and a matching coverlet was spread across his back and fell down his sides in two strips over his chest.

Strapped atop the animal's swayed back was an octagonal-shaped golden howdah with a domed top and fitted with silk cushions. As Velvet settled herself inside it, Akbar told her that the driver would ride before them where the elephant's neck joined its head.

She enjoyed the rolling gait of the beast as they moved through the city. His back was a wonderful vantage point from which to see the countryside about them, but unfortunately height did nothing to improve the flat, monotonous landscape surrounding Fatehpur-Sikri. For miles and miles it seemed that everything was dun-colored and dull.

"I miss my green hills," she said one day to Akbar.

"Is all of your land green?" he asked her.

"Yes," she answered. "Is all of your land brown?"

He laughed at her quick retort. "No, not all, but a good part. We have our forests, and toward the north is Kashmir, a lovely land of lakes and mountains that I will soon make completely mine."

"Then that is where I would live," she said.

"We will soon journey to Lahore, my capital," was his reply.

"Is it green?" she begged him.

"Greener," he promised, "and I shall give you your own palace there with gardens and fountains, and you will never complain to me again about your England." He smiled at her, and Velvet smiled back.

He loves me, she thought. He has never even kissed me, and still he loves me. It was strange and wonderful and frightening all at once. This was no boy but a man well versed in passion. He had said he would be patient, and he certainly had been true to his word.

"Will you play chess with me again tonight?" he asked her.

"Oh, yes, my lord! I shall beat you this time, too!" she threatened, and he laughed delightedly. Those of his other women with whom he had occasionally played the game had never beaten him. Even had they been skillful enough, he doubted they would have dared. This adorable creature, however, not only dared, but on two occasions she actually had bested him, clapping her hands and shamelessly crowing with glee at her victory. Tonight, though, he had a rather interesting surprise for her.

He ordered the elephant driver to return them to the palace housing the zenana, and there she left him, to bathe, eat, and rest.

When he rejoined her several hours later she was attired in a deep blue silk skirt decorated with golden dots the size of coins that had a wide hem of gold. Her dark silk blouse with its low, scooped neckline was short-sleeved and molded her figure to its best advantage. About her neck Velvet wore a long double strand of pearls, the outside strand being decorated with pure gold rounds edged in tiny sapphires. Each ear sported a round sapphire to which was attached a cluster of pearls. She wore arm bands of gold that were decorated with colored stones or raised gold work, and rings on every finger but her thumbs. Her hair was loose and wavy and very full about her shoulders, and atop her head was a circlet of pearls and sapphires. Rohana had taught her how to outline her eyes in kohl, but neither her cheeks nor her lips needed further color.

"I have the chessboard already set up for us, my lord," she greeted him.

"No," Akbar said. "I have a surprise for you. Adali, attend your mistress and follow me."

He led them from her chamber to a small balcony overlooking a wide, square courtyard. "This, my Rose, is how we shall play chess tonight!" he said with a wave of his hand over the courtyard.

With a gasp of delight Velvet looked out to discover that the square below her was in actuality a giant playing board. Standing upon the board were live female chess figures: the pawns nude maidens with long dark hair and ropes of pearls about their waists; the knights naked but for cloth of gold turbans each adorned with a good-sized diamond from which sprouted a gold aigrette and white feather. Each of the "pieces" was unclothed for the most part but for the costly jewelry, with the exception of the king and the queen "pieces," who were positively resplendent in silk garments sewn over every inch of their surface with pearls and rubies, their golden crowns studded with emeralds.

"Beat me," Akbar challenged, "and you may keep the jewels from the pieces you win."

"And if I lose," she demanded, "then what will you have in forfeit?"

"A kiss," he said quietly.

Velvet looked at him, her face serious. "A kiss?" she repeated. "Do you agree, my Rose?"

For a moment she hysterically contemplated the possibility of answering him with a no. Then she simply nodded her head.

"I will allow you to begin the play," he said.

It was a serious game they played that night; Akbar calling out his moves to be carried out by the bejeweled players below, and Adali translating Velvet's commands to the human pieces. Velvet did not really care that she might keep the gems adorning the playing pieces if she won. She sought to win for the joy of knowing that she could outwit him if she was skillful enough in her strategy. Akbar quickly understood that. Another woman would have played recklessly and rashly in order to gain the jewels, but not his Rose. She pleased him greatly, and he thought about the kiss that she would give him when he won their game because he knew he would triumph. She was an excellent opponent, better than some men he knew, but he was still the better player. What would her lips be like? He knew from his vast experience that each woman's mouth was different.

"Ha!" She took his rook, watching the glittering player, her shoulders drooping, walk from the board, then laughed into his face with her small victory.

A smile touched his lips at Velvet's enthusiasm, and he mentally chided himself for thinking of other things and not concentrating on the game at hand. It was a mistake he did not make again, and after an hour's play, Velvet was forced to concede defeat, doing so reluctantly as she carefully studied the great board below her in hopes of finding another move she might make that would prolong the game.

"Checkmate!" he said. "I win!"

"Indeed you do, my lord," she admitted.

"Are you ready to pay your wager?" he asked her.

She turned to face him, and, closing her eyes, she lifted her face slightly and in childlike fashion puckered her lips at him. For a brief moment Akbar studied her, knowing that she fully expected him to give her a brief kiss. He had, however, waited too long for this opportunity, and, slipping an arm about her waist, he drew her close to him. For a moment his fingers caressed her cheek, and then, taking her chin between his thumb and his forefinger, his lips descended upon hers.

Strange thoughts flitted through her consciousness as she felt his fleshy mouth upon hers. I haven't been kissed in seven months. Not since Alex died. Akbar does not kiss me like Alex kissed me. I didn't realize that men kissed differently. Alex possessed me like a wild and wonderful storm. This man kisses me with tenderness. It is almost as if he is trying to please me.

The gentleness in Akbar's caress induced Velvet to relax. He sought not to open her lips at this time, instead savoring the firmness of her lovely mouth. Then, unable to restrain himself, his hand crept to her breast, and he fondled her. She murmured softly against his lips, the little nipple of her breast suddenly hardening and pushing itself forward. Taking that little point between his fingers, he pinched it firmly.

A stab of pure desire shot through her body from deep within the core of her very being. With a small gasp she steadied herself, placing her palms against his chest. His skin was like fire, but for a moment she could not draw away. He kissed the corners of her mouth slowly and sweetly with lingering regret as their embrace came to an end.

Velvet opened her eyes to find him looking at her with open desire. She knew what it was he asked her so silently. Tears sprang to her eyes. "I cannot!" she whispered desperately, and then she fled him.

With a groan Akbar placed his head in his hands. He wanted her! And he had every right to take her! Had he not done her the honor of making her his wife, knowing her European sensibilities? And yet despite it all she still denied him! He groaned again for he knew he could not force her. That would be an admission of defeat, and he would not be defeated in any battle, let alone a battle of love, by a mere girl!

"My lord!" Adali had remained at his side. "My lord, she is yet tied to her old life. She will come around soon. I know it!"

With a snort of impatience Akbar stamped from the balcony. He needed to speak with someone who could give him sound advice on how to handle this skittish young mare. His steps led him to the lavish apartments of Jodh Bai, the Amber Princess, one of his favorite consorts. He found her having tea and cakes with the first of his wives, his cousin, Rugaiya Begum. Both women rose to greet him, bowing politely.

Rugaiya Begum was plump and big-boned with marvelous smooth skin and bright black eyes. Her once dark hair was now silvered, and he thought her still most handsome. Beside her was the petite Jodh Bai, doll-like in comparison to her companion. He was enormously fond of them both. They were loving, good women and neither had ever given him a moment's unrest. He valued their judgment in domestic matters above all others.

They settled him comfortably amid the soft cushions and pressed refreshments on him. He had come for a purpose, they both knew, but they would wait for him to broach the matter that concerned him. Akbar breathed a momentary sigh of contentment and sipped the smoky, dark tea from Assam that they had given him. Jodh Bai held out a plate of tiny cakes made from ground nuts, honey, and sesame seeds. Akbar took one and chewed it slowly, enjoying the lingering sweetness of the honey. When he had finished, a slave woman handed him a moistened towel to cleanse his sticky hands. Calm now, he sat back and looked at his wives.

"I need your guidance in a rather delicate matter," he began.

"How may we aid you, my lord?" questioned Jodh Bai.

"It is my new wife, the English girl. She is a charming companion, but she is reluctant to come to my bed. I do not want to force her, but I grow irritable in my desire for her."

"I had heard that she was a widow," remarked Rugaiya Begum. "Since she is not a virgin I cannot understand this demurring."

"Does she still mourn her last husband, my lord?" said Jodh Bai.

"Yes, I believe so."

"Then you must turn her thoughts from him to you, else you'll never possess her."

"But how can I?" he demanded of her.

"I shall help you, my lord. I will send your English Rose a Pillow Book. I have just had one made that I intended to give to my brother's daughter who is to be married next year, but there is time yet for another Pillow Book to be done for my niece. Tomorrow I shall send the one I now possess to your Rose. When you visit her tomorrow evening, you will tell her that you learned I sent it and wish to view it with her. Once she is reminded of the love between a man and a woman I am certain that her shyness will vanish."

"Unless she is cold by nature," put in Rugaiya Begum. "These Europeans are very different from us."

"She isn't cold," he said. "She is warm and sweet, but her marriage lasted less than three months before her husband was killed. She had been most sheltered by her parents, and although she has never said it, I believe that she was never even kissed until he married her."

"Her parents were good people to protect her virtue," approved Rugaiya Begum. "She is an interesting-looking creature, not at all like us. I have seen her in the baths several times. Her skin is like heavy cream."

He smiled. "I know," he said, and Jodh Bai smiled behind her hands.

"I will inform you when the book has been delivered," she said.

He left them feeling the situation was now once again under control.

After he was gone Rugaiya Begum and Jodh Bai signaled to a slave woman to freshen their teacups.

"He is as eager as a youth," remarked the older Rugaiya Begum.

"He was eager once with all of us. Remember when he desired Almira?" Jodh Bai sipped her tea delicately.

Rugaiya Begum chortled. "What I remember is the look upon the face of her first husband, the old shaikh, when Akbar told him he must divorce Almira." She cackled lewdly. "The old devil had watched Almira from childhood planning on the day when he would pierce her tender young yoni with his lusty old lingam. He had nurtured her like a gardener nurtures his favorite rosebush, and then to discover he'd nurtured her for someone else! It broke his heart, and he died before he could divorce her. What irony! He had even married her when she was still a child in order to see that no one else possessed her!" She popped a pastry into her mouth and chewed it vigorously.

"It is different this time," Jodh Bai said. "This time I think he is in love. Some he has lusted after, others he has lain with out of sense of duty, some like ourselves he is even genuinely fond of, but never do I believe that Akbar has been in love. Never until now."

"Do you fear she will have a son who will supplant yours?" Rugaiya Begum inquired slyly. She herself had had no children.

"No," replied Jodh Bai. "The old Moslem saint who predicted Salim's birth also predicted that Akbar would only have three living sons. So it has been. First my Salim, then Almira's Murad, and finally Roopmati's Daniyal. Daniyal was born over seventeen years ago. Since then there have been no more sons, only daughters. I don't fear for Salim especially since he already has one son of his own."

"Perhaps then it is for yourself that you fear, Jodh Bai. Perhaps you fear that Akbar's new love will supplant you in his affections."

Jodh Bai smiled ruefully. She and Rugaiya Begum were good friends of long standing; if anyone knew her as well as she knew herself it was Rugaiya Begum. "Perhaps I am jealous," she admitted.

"Then you must do what I did in my youth to overcome the jealousy I felt each time Akbar took a new wife—particularly you."

"Me?" Jodh Bai was surprised. "You were jealous of me?" She had been Akbar's wife for twenty-seven years, and she had never even suspected such a thing.

Rugaiya Begum laughed. "I was indeed. Remember that I am Akbar's first wife. I was married to him when I was just nine years old. He was the cousin that I adored, and has been the only man I have ever known. When I was fifteen he married another of our cousins, Zada Begum, and when neither of us produced children he wed with Salima Begum, Bairam Khan's widow. She was already the mother of a son, but she could only give Akbar his eldest daughter, Shahzad-Khanim Begum.

"Then you, Princess of Amber, were wed to our lord. Zada and Salima were outraged for you were a Rajput and not a Moslem. Remember how they shunned you when you first entered our zenana?"

Jodh Bai nodded, her dark eyes remembering the hurt of their rejection. She had been so young and so very frightened, marrying a powerful man who was of a different culture than hers. "You were kind to me, Rugaiya."

"I was the senior wife. It was my duty, but do not think because I was kind that I was not jealous. I am big and plain and have always been so. Neither Zada nor Salima are beauties; pretty enough, but not beauties, and both were tall. The difference between us seemed little. You, however, were different. You were tiny and exotic and so lovely. It was clear to us all that Akbar was drawn to you in a way he had not been drawn to any of us. I lay awake during the nights that Akbar visited you and finally decided that I would rather be your friend if Akbar cared for you than be your enemy. I was glad afterwards for I shared in the joy of your first pregnancy with you."

"And you shared my sorrow when my twin sons, Hasan and Husein, died at only a month old," remembered Jodh Bai. "What you are saying to me, Rugaiya, is that I can conquer my fears of this English girl by making friends with her. How can I, though? She does not speak our language."

"She will learn," said Rugaiya Begum. "She will eventually have no choice but to learn, and we will help her because she will need our friendship. How fortunate we are in comparison to this girl, Jodh Bai. This is our land. We have our families about us; you have your son, Salim. What has this girl? She is virtually alone but for her servantwoman. She is in a strange land, and it is unlikely she will ever see her own people again. How hard it must be for her."

"You are so good, Rugaiya!" said Jodh Bai. "You can always see the other person's side of an issue. I can't. Yours is a rare virtue. No wonder all our children love you!" She smiled at her friend. "Very well, we shall make friends with the foreigner. I only hope she will want to be friends with us."

"The women servants have brought us reports of how loving and attentive she is to her serving woman, and of how that young woman loves her mistress," Rugaiya Begum reminded Jodh Bai. "She has been polite to us both whenever we have chanced to pass her in the zenana. Her character, I can tell, is a good one. This last year has been a bad time for Akbar. He has not been well, and there have been other problems. This girl is the first thing I have seen him take a deep interest in for many months. He is happy again."

"But for his inability to bed her," Jodh Bai giggled.

Rugaiya Begum chuckled richly. "A little chase and tussle does not hurt a love match. She unknowingly whets his appetite by her reluctance. The Pillow Book you plan to send will do the trick, I have not a doubt!" She chuckled again. "Poor girl! I imagine she has never seen a Pillow Book before. Remember how shocked the holy fathers of the Christians were when Prince Murad purloined Shahazad Khanim's Pillow Book after her wedding and showed it to them? I cannot understand why the Europeans do not accept what is natural between a man and a woman."

Jodh Bai joined her friend in laughter. "The holy fathers were not so upset that they did not look long at that Pillow Book. Remember how their robes thrust forward with the rising of their lingams as they turned each page?"

Rugaiya Begum was now laughing so hard that the tears were flowing freely down her face. "And Akbar said that seeing it he saw that they were like other men, and he was relieved to find that they, too, had unruly lingams! Ah ha ha ha ha!"

"Perhaps the English girl will not want to be our friend when she learns what a Pillow Book contains," said Jodh Bai, sobering.

"More than likely she will thank us when she learns how magnificent is our lord's passion," said the more practical Rugaiya Begum. "I have never known another man, but I am certain that no other could be the lover that Akbar is."

Jodh Bai nodded her agreement, and the two women began to gossip on another topic of interest to them: Prince Salim's soon-to-be-born second child. Both were certain that it would be another prince.

They also looked forward to returning home to Lahore. Fatehpur-Sikri depressed them with its dusty landscape, and they longed for the gardens and fountains of the royal palace farther to the north. They both wanted to be there for the birth, which would take place before the year's end.

While Akbar's favorite wives chatted amicably, the subject of their previous conversation tossed restlessly upon her silken mattress. Velvet could not sleep. She was in a quandary once more about her position in this strange world. What should she do? Was there any chance at all of her leaving India? She pondered the question for some time, finally deciding there was no hope at all. She would spend the rest of her days in this land. There was simply no choice.

Akbar was in love with her. Even Velvet with her small experience knew that. He was not unkind, but he was not going to be patient forever. Her only chance of happiness and of survival—hers, Pansy's, and that of Pansy's unborn child—lay in her accepting the inevitable. He had even married her according to the laws and a religion of this land. She was the Grand Mughal's wife. If she was to have any life at all she must build it around that certain fact.

He wanted to make love to her. Velvet trembled at the thought. No one had ever made love to her but Alex. Alex. She tried desperately to remember his face and found to her horror that it was difficult to recall. Not because she loved him any the less in death, but because it had been so long since she had last seen him and she had no miniature to remind her. Silent tears ran down the sides of her face. This sudden realization made her feel disloyal and guilty. Rising from her bed, she wrapped the silk coverlet about her body and, softly opening her chamber door, stepped over the sleeping Adali and slipped down the hall to Pansy's small cubicle.

"M'lady!" Pansy whispered as Velvet entered the room.

"Can you not sleep either?"

Velvet shook her head, and then said as she settled herself on the floor next to her tiring woman, "Can you remember what Dugald looked like, Pansy? I mean really remember?"

Pansy looked unhappy. "Nay," she answered her mistress. "I cannot, m'lady, not his features—just the fact that he had a mop of red hair, blue eyes, and was as freckled as I am. The rest is gone, but perhaps if me baby is a lad he'll look like his pa, and I'll remember then."

"I cannot remember Alex," Velvet said sadly. "Like you I remember that his face was a strong one, his hair black, and his eyes amber. The rest is gone!"

"Maybe it's better for us that way," Pansy said wisely. "Maybe it's best that we not remember. We ain't going home neither of us, m'lady. You ain't said it to me, I know, for fear of harming my child, but I know it to be true. We're going to have to make our lives here, or we ain't going to have no lives at all." She struggled to sit up on her pallet, and as her gown tightened across her stomach Velvet could see the movement of the child so near to its birth. "Lord Akbar, the emperor of this land, now he loves you; even I can see it when you come to visit me each morning. I don't think he'd be an unhappy man if you made your life with him."

"He has already made me his legal wife," Velvet said softly, "though the marriage had not been consummated yet."

"And he wants to, but you don't?" Pansy questioned her outright.

"Yes."

"I think in the end, m'lady, if you'll not be angry with me for being so bold, you really haven't any other choice. Besides, it appears to me that you could have done worse than to have the ruler of such a rich land fall in love with you and make you his wife. I always remember me mum saying that her Mistress Skye survived by facing the situation honestly.

What's past is past, m'lady. 'Tis here and now, and we've got to go on. I'm not happy about never seeing me Dugald again, but I've had time to think about that these last few weeks, and I've faced it. I'm going to have me bairn, raise it, and maybe even find me another husband! I don't hold no illusions that Dugald ain't going to find another woman for hisself."

"Another husband! Oh, Pansy, you are so much wiser than I am, and you are right. We cannot wish away what is. I thought it was so awful of me not to be able to recall Alex's face, and I grew frightened. Now I had better return to my chamber lest Adali awake and rouse the watch looking for me." She stood up. "I shall ask my lord Akbar to move you to my chamber as quickly as possible. I miss you!" She smiled at Pansy and then slipped from the room to return to her own.

Laying back down upon her bed, she thought of all Pansy had said. The tiring woman was only a few months older than she was, and her experience hadn't been any greater than Velvet's. Still, she had her mother's practical nature, and Velvet was glad that she did, for Pansy's words had comforted and reassured her. She had to admit that she was a little afraid of Akbar's making love to her, but it was, she thought, only because she was not particularly experienced. She had to admit when he had kissed her and fondled her this evening she had not found it unpleasant. Her distress had mainly stemmed from her guilt. All she had been able to think of was that she was Alex's wife. Now she was ready to face the fact that she was Alex Gordon's widow and the Grand Mughal Akbar's bride.

These things now clear in her mind, Velvet slept. She did not hear, nor had she heard in all the nights she had lain in this room, Akbar's entry into the chamber. Bare-footed, he came across the floor to stand by her bed and gaze down upon her, his face alive with the love and the passion he felt for her. Reaching out his hand, he gently drew the coverlet aside so that he might look upon her nude beauty. For some time he drank in her loveliness, aching with his desperate need to possess her. Then with a deep sigh he turned and left the room. Behind him, she stirred slightly as the door clicked shut, but she did not awaken until the morning.

Adali had been briefed by Akbar himself that this night would be the night that the Mughal would consummate his marriage to the English Rose. Since she needed coaxing, the lady Jodh Bai was sending her a Pillow Book, which would arrive sometime that day. The bride was not to be forewarned lest the anticipation distress or frighten her. Her day would be as usual.

Velvet awoke at midmorning and, after her usual meal of yogurt, fruit, and tea, went off to the baths, which she very much enjoyed. It was there that Jodh Bai and Rugaiya Begum made their first overtures of friendship. Having been bathed, Velvet was swimming about the pool happily relaxed when the two other women joined her.

"What is your name, eunuch?" Rugaiya Begum demanded of Adali.

"I am called Adali, gracious lady," he answered her.

"Tell your mistress that we bid her good day," said Rugaiya Begum.

Adali was almost beside himself with joy. Recognition by the Mughal's first wife and his most favored wife was an incredible social step forward in the tight little world of the zenana. "My princess," he called to Velvet, who swam to the pool's edge.

"Yes, Adali?" She smiled at the two women.

"My princess, Rugaiya Begum bids you good day!"

Realizing the importance of the situation, Velvet replied, "Tell the lady Rugaiya Begum that I return her salutation and am honored that she has deigned to notice me."

Adali translated, and Velvet could see the great approval in the older woman's eyes as he spoke.

Then Jodh Bai said to Adali, "Greet the Rose Princess for me also, Adali, and offer my felicitations to her upon her marriage to our lord Akbar."

The eunuch was quivering with excitement. As he spoke in his improving French to Velvet, he knew that the bath mistress and her attendants were already spreading word about the baths that these two senior wives of the lord Akbar were in conversation with the youngest and least important of his women. Velvet's stature would now rise a thousandfold.

"Greet the Amber Princess for me, Adali, and tell her that her kindness and that of Rugaiya Begum mean much to me, a stranger in what is for me an unknown land. Would it be impolite for me to invite them to tea one day, Adali?"

"No, my princess, it would not. I must first ask the Mughal's permission and tender your invitation based on his approval. I shall invite them for several days from now." He then turned to the two older women and repeated Velvet's message. Rugaiya Begum spoke back to him, and then Adali returned to his mistress. "They will come!" He tried to keep the excitement from his voice, but his eyes were dancing and his smile was broad.

Rugaiya Begum and Jodh Bai nodded politely to Velvet, who nodded back with a smile, and then the two women left the baths.

Velvet stepped from the pool, and two bath attendants hurried up to pat her dry. She was lotioned and massaged, and with Adali chattering nonstop in her ear she returned to her own chamber to rest in the midday heat.

Toward sunset she and Akbar rode out from the city, and he told her then that they would soon be leaving for his capital of Lahore.

"But Pansy has not yet borne her child, my lord. I do not like to leave her alone as she has not even the advantage of speaking French as I do. She would be very frightened."

"It is strange that a mistress and servant would be so close, my Rose. You seem to care for her as you would a sister."

"Her mother has been in my mother's service for over thirty years, and her father is one of my mother's captains. She is a bit older than I am, but we were raised on the same estate."

"Is she the only child of her parents?"

"No." Velvet laughed. "She is one of ten. Each time her father came home from a voyage he got her mother with child until Daisy finally put a stop to it. Please do not make me leave Pansy my lord. She is a strong girl, and as soon as her child has come she will be able to travel."

"If it pleases you," he answered her, "then I shall wait for your Pansy, should her child not come before my planned departure."

She smiled her thanks at him, and as the sun dipped lower with each moment they turned their horses back to the city, where Velvet left Akbar at the foot of the steps that led to her chamber's terrace. She bathed once more as she did every day after her ride, and then Adali and her two handmaidens brought her a supper of baby lamb and rice with fruit. A small carafe of sweet and heady wine was placed by her elbow.

Velvet ate slowly, enjoying the well-prepared meal and wondering if Akbar would play chess with her again this evening. Would they play here in her chamber or would it be on the balcony above the great playing board? She had not quite finished her supper when Adali answered a knock at her door. Velvet heard him murmuring in his soft voice to someone outside that she could not see, and then the door was shut and the eunuch came to her side bearing a box in his hands.

"What is it, Adali?" she asked.

"It is a gift to you from Her Highness, Jodh Bai, my princess." He couldn't conceal his delight as he handed it to her.

Velvet accepted the beautiful sandalwood box, its edges bound with gold-filigreed corners. There was a matching filigreed lock, but it was only decorative. Lifting the lock, she raised the lid to reveal the contents. The interior of the box was lined in beaten gold and held a scarlet satin pillow upon which rested a book.

"She has sent you a Pillow Book!" exclaimed Adali.

Velvet lifted the volume from the box. It was beautifully bound in peacock blue silk, its edges of pure gold studded with tiny pearls and diamonds. "What is a Pillow Book?" she asked him, opening it to reveal the first ivory-vellum page with words written in gold upon it. "What does that say, Adali?"

"A Pillow Book, my princess, is a book of paintings revealing the postures of love. It is believed among our people that such books aid a bride in overcoming her natural fears. As for the writing upon this page it is a saying from our most famous book of love, the Kama Sutra. It says: ‘Once the Wheel of Love has been set in motion, there is no absolute rule.' "

"And the lady Jodh Bai sent this to me?"

"Yes, my princess. It is very good luck to receive one. You are most fortunate to have gained the favor of Jodh Bai. She is the mother of the heir, and one day when our lord Akbar heeds Allah's call and steps aside for his son, it will not hurt to be his mother's friend. Particularly if you have children of your own then."

Children of her own! She had barely begun to accustom herself to the fact that she was Akbar's wife! Velvet turned to the next page of the book and stared at the picture. Upon a marble terrace, its balcony edged in colorful foliage, were two people on a piece of silk-upholstered furniture similar to the one on Velvet's own terrace. Beside them on the floor was a tray with two decanters and two goblets. The beautifully dressed woman sat on the man's lap, her back to him, her head back so that she might gaze lovingly up into his eyes, her arms about his neck. He, in turn, gazed down into her liquid eyes, his hands cupping her round breasts.

"Oh!" Velvet blushed and shut the book. She took a long sip of her wine and handed the volume to Adali. "Perhaps I shall look later," she said.

"Yes, my princess," he said quietly, taking the book from her and returning it to its box, which he placed upon a nearby table.

What on earth is the matter with me? Velvet wondered. I'm no virgin. I'm not totally inexperienced.

Still, she had never seen anyone making love before. One made love. One did not view it. She was curious, however, about what the rest of the book contained. She would view it later when Rohana and Toramalli had gone to their quarters and Adali slept across her doorsill. She wanted to be alone before she opened Jodh Bai's gift again.

The remnants of her meal were cleared away, and a basin was brought to her so that she might wash her face and hands and rinse her mouth with rosewater. A tray containing a decanter of wine and two goblets was placed by her bed, but Velvet didn't notice. She was too busy setting up the chessboard that Akbar had given her. The board was fashioned from small squares of mother-of-pearl and red marble. The figures were carved from ivory and dark green jade. Carefully she placed each piece on its place, never noticing Adali as he directed her two maidservants by means of hand signals. A bowl of fruit with a knife was placed by the tray; the bed neatly remade, its coverlet smoothed, its pillows fluffed.

"Let Rohana brush your hair, my princess," said Adali. "The lord Akbar will soon be here."

Velvet sat upon a stool while the little maid carefully brushed her auburn curls until they shone with elusive golden lights. She was looking particularly beautiful this night, Adali thought. Her silken blouse was mauve pink, and her skirt, which was edged in silver, was a pale purple.

At the knock upon the door Toramalli hurried to allow Akbar entrance into the room. Rohana gave her mistress's hair a final pat, and then the two girls hurried from the room followed by Adali.

"How lovely you look this evening," Akbar complimented Velvet, and he held out to her a dainty golden chain that was sprinkled with small pink diamonds. "For you, my Rose."

"Why do you always call me your Rose?" asked Velvet. "You know my name."

"You remind me of the roses in my gardens at the palace in Lahore. Your skin is like the white roses that grow by the spraying fountains, your lips like the red roses that bloom along the pathway to my chamber, and your beautiful eyes are the green of their leaves. I have never known a woman like you. Still, you are correct. You should have a more suitable name. I will think on it."

"What a lovely thing to say, my lord. You are indeed kind to me." She slipped the chain about her neck. "And generous, too."

"It pleases me to be kind and generous to you," he said. "I should like it if one day you would also be kind and generous to me."

Velvet lowered her eyes as she felt her cheeks grow warm. His meaning was very clear. "Will you play chess with me tonight, my lord?" she asked him, attempting to change the subject.

He laughed softly. "Of course, if that is what you wish." He turned toward the chessboard when suddenly his eyes lit upon the sandalwood box that Adali had placed so that his master would see it. "What is this, my Rose?" Akbar said.

She answered without thinking. "It is a gift from the Lady Jodh Bai."

"What is it?"

"A … book, my lord."

"A book? Let me see it, my pet. I greatly fancy books and have an enormous library of them at Lahore."

"My lord, it is a book for a woman, not a man," Velvet replied, her cheeks turning pink again.

"Has Jodh Bai sent you a Pillow Book, perchance?"

Velvet nodded blindly, not daring to look at him.

"A Pillow Book, my Rose, is for both the bride and the bridegroom. It is believed that by viewing paintings of the postures of love together they will be reassured." Akbar opened the box and lifted the book out. "Come," he said to her. "Let us sit outside upon the terrace and view the book together. Bring a lamp so that we may fully enjoy the artwork, for much care and talent goes into the making of such a book."

It was impossible to refuse him, and so with a sinking heart Velvet followed him onto the terrace. The night was warm, the slate-black sky sprinkled with bright stars. Akbar settled himself with his back against the cushions. He wore a white silk gown that was belted about his middle with a cloth of gold sash and his customary white turban, but his feet were bare as they usually were within the privacy of the zenana.

"Sit next to me, my Rose," he invited, patting the cushions at his side.

Reluctantly she sat by him, and, placing the book where they both might see it, he opened to the first of the paintings.

On second glance it is not so shocking, Velvet thought. "The colors are very fresh, aren't they?" she noted.

"Yes," he answered her seriously. "Note that the prince portrayed wears a lotus crown. That would indicate that he has reached a high level of spiritual attainment." He turned the page, and Velvet sucked her breath in sharply. The beautiful consort was now bare-breasted, and the prince's crown was gone. Akbar chuckled. "I do not believe the prince now thinks of the advancement of his soul, but rather the sweet flesh of his consort." He turned to the next page.

The prince firmly clasped one of his lady's breasts in his hand while his other hand roamed her bare belly. Velvet trembled, and Akbar's hand closed over hers while he moved on to the next page. Here the prince and his consort were both unclothed, and she lay in his arms as he gazed lovingly down at her, his masculinity fully engorged and thrusting forward in anticipation. Velvet's breath caught in her throat, and then she began to breathe rather quickly. Feeling Akbar's fingers gently undoing the ribbons that held her blouse together, she tensed.

"No, my Rose," he breathed warmly in her ear, "don't be afraid of me. I have sworn not to force you, and I will keep my promise. I only wish to caress you. Surely you will not deny me that?"

"N-no, my lord," she whispered, her throat tight as she forced the words out.

The ribbon ties undone, he pushed the silk blouse off her shoulders and then with swift fingers removed it completely, laying it to one side on the couch. His breath hissed softly. "Allah! Allah!" he murmured, "your breasts are like twin moons." Reaching out, he began to stroke her with a light and gentle touch.

His caress sent a small shiver of pleasure racing through Velvet's veins, and she was unable to restrain the small "ohhh" that slipped forth from between her lips.

Akbar moved her from her position at his side so that she sat between his legs. Drawing her back against his chest, he cupped both her breasts in his hands, his thumbs softly but insistently rubbing against her nipples. "Turn the page, my Rose," he commanded her, and Velvet obeyed him.

The picture before her both shocked and excited her, for now the beautiful woman lay upon her back, the prince between her legs, his tongue gently probing at her deepest secret. She stared, fascinated, at the little painting. The woman wore a look of pure ecstasy, her eyes half-closed in her passion. Velvet shivered uncontrollably.

"Did your first husband do that to you, my Rose?" came Akbar's deep voice. "Are you remembering your own pleasure?"

"Alex never d-did that to m-me," she whispered. "I did not know that a man did such things to a woman." She was still shivering.

"It is a way to give a woman sweetness, my love. A woman's pleasure only adds to a man's pleasure. I want to love you like that, my Rose. I want to give you joy."

Velvet quickly turned the page, unable to bear it any longer. The paintings were frankly exciting her. If she could just get through the Pillow Book, then everything would be all right. But the next painting showed the woman between the man's legs, her mouth caressing his sex. With a cry of despair she turned the page once more to discover the two lovers now joined in a conjugal embrace, his mighty shaft plunging deep into the beautiful consort, who was quite openly encouraging his efforts. "Oh, God," she sobbed, closing the book with a slam.

Releasing his hold upon her breasts, Akbar pulled Velvet into his arms, and his mouth crushed bruisingly against hers. Unable to restrain her inflamed emotions, she wrapped her arms about him and returned the kiss as passionately. For some time they kissed hungrily and without ceasing, one deep kiss blending into another. His tongue made its first penetration of her, plunging between her lips and into her mouth to meet with her tongue, which leaped with shock at his touch and fled, only to be pursued until the two were entwining together with ever-mounting ardor.

Finally their lips parted, and he gazed down upon her with burning eyes. "I want to make love to you," he said in his deep voice. "I want to plunge my lingam deep within your sweet yoni! Can you honestly tell me that you do not want me, too, my beautiful Rose? Can you honestly deny us the bliss that our bodies so desperately crave?"

"No," came her reply, "I cannot, for I want you even as you want me!"

"Is this then to be our night of nights, my love?"

"Yes," she said softly, sitting up so that she could loosen his golden sash and open his robe. Her hands trembled as she worked, but she was soon successful and the sash fell away. Velvet knelt and gently pushed away the white silk of his long robe, drawing it over his shoulders until it fell about his waist. Beneath it he was naked, his golden body smooth and hairless.

He watched her, charmed by the mixture of shyness and passion that seemed to control her. When she had worked his robe free, he reached out and undid the waistband of her sheer silk skirt, slipping it down over her slender hips. Then his lips brushed her belly with sweet fire, and she gasped with delight as his hot mouth worked over her satiny skin. Swinging himself off the couch, Akbar lifted Velvet into his arms and, walking into her chamber, gently placed her upon the bed.

Velvet opened her arms to him. Her heart was hammering wildly, but she was no longer controlled by any common sense. All that mattered to her now was that he love her, love her as Alex had once loved her.

No! He was nothing like Alex! God! She didn't want to think of Alex now. It was her wedding night with this man who was now her husband. Her mother had lived through six such nights and survived. Had she thought of the others? Velvet wondered. Had she ever thought of her old husbands as her new husband roused her to passion? I'll never know, Velvet realized.

Akbar stood for a long moment gazing down at the beautiful young woman on the bed. Her skin seemed even whiter against the sky blue silk. She was offering herself to him, and he relished the sight, for he had waited so patiently for it. If age had taught him one thing it was patience. How long her legs were, and how shapely. Kneeling, he took her slim foot in his hand and tenderly kissed each pink toe. His lips traveled slowly up the warm length of first one leg and then the other. Her skin was soft and fragrant with jasmine. He sighed.

"How absolutely perfect you are in both face and form," he said in his wonderful, rich voice. "I never knew that such pure beauty existed, but you, my Rose, surpass all others." Then he joined her on the bed, removing his white turban as he did so, and Velvet was surprised to find that he had shoulder-length hair. She had assumed that his hair would be short as was that of the other turbanless men she had seen. He spread her thighs and then, lowering his dark head, pressed a soft kiss upon her quivering flesh. Opening her tenderly with his two thumbs, he gazed upon her tiny jewel and then with a low cry of desire began to love it with his tongue.

Her body leaped with shock at the sensation, and for a moment she grew dizzy. Reaching out, she touched his head and was amazed at the softness of his hair, which spread like a black stain across her white thighs. The touch of his tongue against that most hidden part of her offered her a feeling she likened to boiling wine flowing through her veins. At first she couldn't breathe, and then when she was finally able to she gasped the air in great gulpfuls as she felt his tongue darting over her hot moistness, touching her here, touching her there with tantalizing madness. A tiny tingle began within her very core, and it grew until it was almost unbearable. Velvet felt herself sliding into a wonderful, whirling pit of pure passion. In a brief second of sanity she tried to fight it back, but then with a soft cry she gave in to it, feeling herself soaring for what seemed a long moment, and then she floated back to earth with a long sigh.

Akbar moved upward on her body now, kissing and stroking as he went until he had reached her breasts. There he stopped and loved her again with exquisite skill and tender caring. His fingers caressed and molded her flesh until it grew taut and firm within his hands. His lips found her nipples, and he tongued them with vigor until finally her little, mewling cries told him that she needed a release of sorts. He took one of the hard, little spear points into his warm mouth and suckled upon it.

"My lord! My lord!" she whispered frantically, her slim fingers threading themselves through the silken length of his dark hair with growing desperation. The need within her for him was growing with each passing minute. Would he never take her? Would he continue this divine foreplay until she died from the very wanting?

He positioned himself so that she was caught between his muscular thighs. Taking her face in his hand, he bent, kissing her, and then commanded, "Look at me, my Rose."

Velvet raised her eyes to him, blushing as she did so, for she knew her desire was as plain to him as his was to her.

"Are you willing, my beloved Rose? Do you hunger for me as I do for you? Would you have me consummate this marriage between us?"

"Oh, yes!" she whispered.

"Say my name!" he demanded. "I have never heard my name upon your sweet lips."

"Take me and make me yours, my lord Akbar," she murmured, "I long for you, my darling! Oh, Akbar! I can wait no longer!" She sobbed, and with bold hands she caught at the length of him and guided him to her throbbing body.

The touch of her hot, little hands upon his pulsing lingam caught him by surprise and almost caused him to spill his seed. He groaned, wanting to encase himself in her then and there, but age had taught him the wisdom of patience, and even in the midst of his passion Akbar knew that Velvet would be tight from her abstinence and lack of marital experience. Gently he pushed her hands away and carefully guided himself to the portal of paradise, inserting his swollen manhood just a tiny amount. She sobbed with a sound that sounded almost like relief to him. Already her green eyes had closed, and her lashes were quivering against her cheeks.

"Please," she almost sobbed against his lips, "please!"

"Shh," he whispered back. "Shh, my sweet love. I don't want to hurt you."

Frantically she thrust herself up at him, trying to drive him deeper, and he realized that she was too caught up in the throes of her own rapture to care any longer. A groan of delight escaped him that she was so very ardent in her nature and he shoved himself deep within her waiting yoni. With rhythmic motions he drove himself in and out of her again and again and again until he, too, was engulfed in the fiery ardor. He could not, it seemed, satisfy his intense desire for her even now that she lay beneath him giving him her body and her soul. Her own passion peaked several times before he finally could no longer contain himself, and he spilled his seed into her burning womb, falling across her breasts with a cry of fierce pleasure.

This first passionate encounter exhausted them both, and without a word they fell into a peaceful sleep, his dark hair mingling with her auburn curls upon the pillows.

Awakening several hours later, Velvet lay quietly for several long minutes. Comparisons were inevitable, she thought. Alex had been a wonderful lover, quick, passionate, and demanding; but Akbar was every bit as proficient. Not only that but he had been so very patient, so careful that she obtain her portion of pleasure, too. Instinctively Velvet knew that she was very fortunate in both of her husbands. Within her heart there would always be that secret, special place that would be inhabited by Alex Gordon, her first love, but if she continued to think of him, refused to let him go from her life, she would spend her days in misery. She had been given a good and loving man to care for her now, and she was grateful for it.

Propping herself up on an elbow, she gazed down at Akbar. He was handsome in a much different way than Alex had been. She did not know his age, but she did know that his sons were all older than she was, as were two of his three daughters who were already married. Only little Aram-Banu Begum was still a child. Akbar could be her father, and yet the feelings that were growing inside her for him were not those of a daughter for a father.

Reaching out, she gently touched his cheek. His golden skin seemed so dark next to her fairness, and his silky hair was so very black end straight. His eyes, she saw now, slanted a tiny bit upward, yet he had not the look of an Oriental about him. He had a good body. It was sturdy and well formed, though he was not really any taller than she was in his bare feet. Well, perhaps an inch, but certainly no more. She could look him right in the eye when they spoke. Jodh Bai could not be any higher than his heart, and Rugaiya Begum came only to his shoulder, Velvet thought. Beneath his left nostril just above his lip was a mole the size of a pea. It gave him a rather distinguished look.

Unable to resist, Velvet bent and kissed that mole, and Akbar, who had merely pretended to be asleep during her careful inspection of him, surprised her by wrapping his arms about her tightly.

"Oh! You are awake, my lord Akbar."

"Awake and hungry for you, my adorable sweetmeat!" he growled at her.

Mischievously she escaped his hold and, slipping from the bed, knelt to pour them some wine. "First you must drink to our love," she teased him, handing him a cup.

"Only if you drink with me," he answered, knowing that this particular wine had certain herbs and spices added to it that would not only stimulate their desires once more but aid him in retaining his prowess with his young and passionate wife.

"A man should never drink alone," she agreed with him, and filled her own cup.

"I have made you happy," he said with simplicity.

"Yes," she answered, rejoining him upon the tumbled bed. "You have made me happy, Akbar. I have been so frightened and lonely. I never expected my life to take the direction that it has." She smiled. "None of my fine friends at the queen's court would believe that, as they follow Her Majesty upon her annual progress this autumn, thousands of miles to the south in the land of the Grand Mughal, Velvet Gordon now resides as the monarch's new consort."

"Does it make you unhappy that you shall never see your land again, my Rose?"

"Of course it does!" she answered without hesitation. "You must understand that everything I have held dear my whole life is in England. Perhaps in time I shall accept India as my land, but I cannot say it now."

"You will give me a child, and then it will be better for you," he said.

Velvet laughed. That reminded her of Alex. "Why is it," she asked him, "that you men seem to think that all we women need is babes to make us happy? Is there no more to life than just that?"

"What is it you want?" he asked her.

"I don't know yet," she said with complete candor. "I have not lived long enough to be sure. Perhaps had I remained in England I should have wanted to be like my mother, who has built an enormous trading empire. Or perhaps I would be happy living like my sisters, Willow and Deirdre, who are content with their houses and children. Until a year ago I had seen very little of life, sequestered as I was upon my family's estates in England and France. I have not the experience to be certain what it is I want."

Her answer astounded him. He had been intrigued by her because of the fact that she was different from the other women he had known, and yet he had mentally attempted to place her in the same position as Jodh Bai and the others, to enclose her world with the walls of the zenana. He realized that he didn't want such a thing to happen to his beautiful Rose. Releasing her from his embrace, he sat up and Velvet sat cross-legged facing him.

"I will give orders that whatever questions you have should be answered, and when we return to Lahore my library will be yours. Whatever you desire I will give you if it is in my power," he promised.

"I will have to learn your language, or at least one of your languages for I can see there are many here in India."

"I shall teach you your first two words," he said. "Look by the side of the bed and see if Adali has left a basin of perfumed water and soft cloths." Leaning over the edge of the bed, Velvet found the items, and he said, "Wring one of the cloths out, my love, and give it to me." She complied, and taking the cloth, he began gently to wipe her free of the evidence of their recent lovemaking. "This, my Rose, is called the yoni," he murmured, rubbing her secret softness with tantalizing and delicate strokes. Velvet began to quiver with his loving touch. When he had finished, he said as he handed her the cloth. "Discard it, and take a fresh one, my love. You must now serve me as I have served you."

She obeyed him, and as she began to sponge him her soft touch roused his manhood, which until then had been sleeping peacefully.

"This randy fellow," he said with a mischievous smile, "is called the lingam, and it is already very fond of your sweet yoni that just a short while ago made it so very welcome."

The love cloth fell from her hand, and Akbar picked it up and deposited it with the other one. Then he reached out and touched her yoni with delicate fingers while his other hand began to tease one of her breasts. Following his lead, Velvet, sitting opposite her husband, began to stroke his mighty lingam, which grew greater and longer with her honeyed touch. She took her cue from him, feeling no shame or shyness in what they were doing. She wanted to do to him what he had done before to her, and suddenly she was kneeling before him to take the ruby head of his manhood into her mouth.

"Use your tongue, my Rose," he said softly.

Slowly she encircled the knob of him with her tongue, and then she grew bolder, taking more of him into her mouth and licking at the shaft with sure and bold strokes. He groaned, and she felt his hand on her head.

"Stop, my love," he begged her, and Velvet, having no experience in these matters, obeyed him. "I want you to kneel, resting upon your forearms, with your adorable bottom facing toward me," he commanded. "I will not hurt you, my Rose."

Trusting him, she followed his instructions and felt him as, clasping her hips in his hands, he entered her burning yoni with his lingam from behind her. She gasped as he plunged deep inside her, thrusting farther than he had before. Again and again he drove himself within the warmth of her quivering body. His passion began to build to an incredible crest. He had never before felt this way with any woman, and he fought to control the shout of exultation that struggled to burst from his throat.

It has never been like this for me, Velvet thought, as he pounded against her. Dearest God, I shall burst with the desire that rages through me for this man. She made a low animal sound, for he seemed to swell and grow within her, filling her so full that she did not think she could bear much more of the incredible pleasure. Then one of his hands reached out to tease her little jewel, and Velvet cried out as her passion crested wildly.

He could wait no longer and flooded her with his essence as together they collapsed onto the bed. For a moment he lay atop her, and then, fearing that he might crush her delicate bones, he rolled off her and gathered her into his arms. "I love you," he said. "I love you!"

She heard his passionate declaration through the haze of her own receding passion and sighed deeply. He loved her! For a moment the knowledge that this powerful man loved her was too intoxicating. She was beloved of a king! Then she remembered that she was his fortieth legal wife, and there was a zenana full of lovely women, some of whom had even borne him children. Once they, even as she, had held his favor, but the favor of a king was often a fleeting thing. She had best remember that, she thought. Rolling onto her back, she reached up and caressed his face with her hand.

"I love you," he repeated.

She smiled up at him. "You are so good to me, Akbar, but my experience is so little. I will never lie to you, and therefore I will not now say that I love you. Perhaps in time I will. What I do know is that I like you and am fond of you. I am grateful for your kindness to me."

"Had you told me you loved me, my Rose, I should have been very disappointed in you. It would have shown me a lack of sincerity."

"Yet you claim to love me," she challenged him.

"I do love you, my darling! My experience is as great as yours is little. I know quickly my feelings for a woman, and you have utterly bewitched me with not only your beauty but your intelligence."

Velvet had to laugh. "You," she declared, "have a very quick tongue, my Akbar, which matches your quick mind! I do not know that I should not be afraid of you."

"Perhaps you should," he said with a gentle smile. It was not good to ever let one person become too sure of another, he thought.

They made love twice more that night, and Akbar was frankly astounded by his own prowess. He had not performed so vigorously in at least ten years. This beautiful English consort he had taken into his bed and his heart seemed to have renewed him physically. He found that a very flattering thought as he finally fell into a satisfied sleep.

When Velvet awoke she found that her husband had left her side. The day was already hot, and she stretched in a leisurely fashion, flexing her feet and wiggling her toes. She felt, she realized, better than she had in months! She smiled, suddenly comprehending that women had certain needs even as men did. Why was it that they never talked of them?

A light rap came upon her door. "Come in," she called, and Adali entered the room.

"I have come to tell you that your serving woman is at this very moment attempting to give birth to her child, my princess."

"Fetch my clothing," Velvet commanded. "I will go to her."

Dressing quickly, she pondered the fact that she knew little about the act of birthing a child. She had been considered too young by both her parents to attend Deirdre, the closest of her sisters, when Deirdre had borne the first of her babies. Still, Pansy would need a friendly and familiar face to cheer her along. Her tiring woman herself had seen many a birth, being one of Daisy's older children.

Hurrying down the corridor, Velvet could hear Pansy's groans as she neared her tiring woman's small cubicle. Within the little chamber a midwife sat waiting for nature to take its course. Pansy was a big, healthy girl and should have no problems.

"Come inside with me, Adali. If the midwife tries to give Pansy some direction, we will need you to translate," Velvet said.

"I will remain, my princess."

Velvet knelt by her friend's side. "Adali will stay nearby in case the midwife needs to communicate with us."

Pansy smiled and said wryly, "I'd hate to disobey the old crone. She looks like a tough one. Lord, Mistress Velvet, I ain't ever felt such pain before. I remember me ma yelling plenty each time she had one of me brothers or sisters. It ain't easy birthin' a babe, but I ain't afraid."

"I know you're not," said Velvet, and she took Pansy's hand in her own.

"It does get a bit messy though, m'lady," Pansy grunted. "I'm not sure you want to be around me right now."

"Pansy, unlike most girls my age I have never seen a baby born. What if I have one of my own? Do you think it should come as a surprise to me?"

Pansy was forced to chuckle although it was uncomfortable for her to do so. "Are you planning on having a baby soon, m'lady?" she teased her mistress.

"My lord Akbar says he wishes to have a child by me, Pansy. I think I should like children of my own."

In the brief minutes between her labor pains Pansy looked closely at her mistress. Velvet had lost that guarded look she had worn these many weeks. There was a glow about her this morning, and Pansy immediately knew the reason. Her mistress's marriage to the Grand Mughal had been consummated at last. Pansy breathed a sigh of relief. She had frankly been frightened that Velvet's long resistance would finally pall on the lord of this land, and then they would be lost. What would have happened to her and her about-to-be-born child if Velvet had lost the master's favor? Pansy's thoughts were interrupted by another pain that seared through her straining body.

The midwife shuffled to her feet and motioned Pansy to rise as well, cackling words at her that neither of the young women could understand.

"She says your servant is ready to give birth and must squat down over the birthing cloth she has set out," said Adali.

Velvet translated Adali's French into her own native tongue for Pansy, then helped the girl to her feet. "I hope she knows what she's doing," Velvet fretted.

Pansy gave one of her many impudent grins to her mistress. "I don't have no other choice, m'lady do I? 'Twill be all right, I'm sure." Clumsily she got to her feet and, walking slowly across the room, squatted over the brightly colored cloth the old woman had spread out.

With Adali translating, Velvet relayed the midwife's instructions to her tiring woman and friend. "She says you must push as hard as you can, Pansy."

Pansy gritted her teeth with the next pain and then bore down with all of her might. The effort almost tore her in two, and large beads of moisture stood out upon her forehead. "Gawdalmighty!" She groaned. "That was the worst."

"Again!" Velvet ordered.

Pansy repeated her labor, remarking, "The little bugger had better be born soon. I'm growing tired with all of this." Her lower regions felt stretched beyond their limit.

"Once more, Pansy, 'tis almost over, dear one!" Velvet encouraged.

Pansy obeyed a third time, pushing as hard as she could, and suddenly she felt something slide from her body, and the pressure was gone. A mighty howl broke the hot stillness of the morning, and she strained around in her awkward position to see the child.

" 'Tis a boy, Pansy! You've given Dugald a fine son!" Velvet cried happily.

Pansy expelled the afterbirth from her body with a matter-of-fact nonchalance and said, "He'll never know it, m'lady. 'Tis a pity, but that's the way of it. At least I'm a proven breeder of sons, and maybe I'll catch some lusty soldier's eye."

The midwife cleaned first the infant and then his mother, finally tucking them both back upon the low pallet bed. She smiled broadly, saying a few words they could not comprehend, and then with a final cackle of laughter exited the little room.

"She said your servant was made for birthing, and that both mother and son are in excellent shape and should live to be a hundred. She wishes your Pansy many more such fine sons," Adali translated.

"But not too soon," Pansy said wryly, and then she turned to get the first good look at her son. The sight brought quick tears to her eyes. "Lord, don't he look just like his father," she said, her voice somewhat quavery. "I only wish Dugald was here to see him, m'lady."

"So do I, Pansy!" replied Velvet. "Oh, Pansy, I will try to get you home! I will!"

"Don't break your heart, m'lady. Your family don't know where we are. If I was allowed to return home I would tell them, and then they would want you back, and there would be all kinds of an unholy trouble. Be honest with yourself. Do you think the lord Akbar would really release me?"

Velvet didn't even need to consider the matter seriously. She knew the answer and it was no. Akbar would certainly never let Pansy or her go, and frankly, after the passion she herself had experienced in his arms last night, she did not believe she wanted to leave. Eventually after she had had children she would get him to allow her to communicate with her family. If they knew that she was well, and loved, and happy with a husband and babes there would be no problems. That, however, would not be for at least several years. It pained her to think of their agony and heartbreak over her disappearance in the meantime, but what else could she do? Someday she would be able to explain it to them, and they would understand. Till then there was nothing she could do to relieve their unhappiness, and it was up to her to see that she, Pansy, and Pansy's son survived.

"What are you going to call the lad?" she asked Pansy, who was beginning to nod upon her pillows.

"Dugald, after his pa," came her friend's sleepy reply. "Maybe someday he'll be able to go home even if we cannot." Pansy's eyes closed.

Velvet bent down and kissed the girl's forehead and that of the baby's. With his fuzzy crown of carroty hair and very pronounced little nose, he did look very much like his father, she thought as she quietly left the room.

"It is a fine boy," Adali noted. "She is a good strong girl, your Pansy."

"Yes," Velvet said. "She is very strong."

"What did you talk about?" he asked her. "You both looked as if you would cry at one point."

"We just thought it sad that Pansy's husband could not know that he had such a beautiful son. She did not realize she was with child until we were several weeks into our voyage. Dugald did not even know he was to become a father."

"Then he will feel no loss," replied Adali wisely.

"No," said Velvet sadly. "He will feel no loss."

"Then all will be well with you." Adali beamed with his approval.

Velvet could not resist a small smile, for she could not stay unhappy long. "Yes, Adali, all will be well with us from now on!"