AkDha FF - An Interlude of Passion (Update- PG 11) - Page 8

It was too hot, was her first thought as she turned in her sleep, coming near wakefulness. She pushed the coverlet off her, scrunching her face against the harsh rays of the afternoon sun that fell directly on the bed now. Groaning she burrowed herself deeper, wincing at the unfamiliar protest from her body. God, she was aching all over!

That thought jolted her fully awake. She opened her eyes, expecting to see Jalal sprawled beside her. His side of the bed was empty. She realized she was naked, and pulled the coverlet towards her modesty, her eyes searching the room for a sign of him. It was empty.

Clutching the covers to her body, she got up slowly, feeling a definite soreness in all kinds of muscles she hadn't known existed till now. She blushed as she remembered the hours of loving Jalal had insisted on, with her more than willing participation. That man was insatiable! A secret smile lit her lips as she picked up her fallen odhni from where it had fallen. She stared at herself in the mirror. She looked so radiant! Her hands lifted to her swollen lips, touching them lightly, remembering his hot searing kisses. A tingle raised up her spine at the memory, and she turned away from her reflection. She bent to pick up the fallen clothes, seeing Jalal's were missing. Apparently, he had dressed and left without waking her.. Where had he gone?

An inexplicable eagerness to see him again spurring her on, she ran towards her armoire, scanning the collection of lehengas. Deciding on a lovely pale orange one with gold embroidery, she hurriedly put it on, searching for its accompanying jewellery. It was only after she was dressed, and was scanning her features for flaws in the mirror, that she realized she had subconsciously been dressing for him.. He had better appreciate her effort, she thought grimly, putting her fiery orange odhni over her head.

Her payal chinked merrily, as she walked from the entrance of her chamber to the corridor, resplendent in the grandeur befitting a Queen. She smiled again. Jalal's Queen.

And not the only one. She halted in her steps, the unpleasant reminder of her status as one among many coming in the form of Salima, Jalal's second wife. Dressed entirely in green, her face radiating serenity and composure, she smiled warmly at Jodha. Had this woman known his searing caresses too? She tried to shake such demeaning thoughts, and returned Salima's smile hesitantly.

Somehow, unlike Ruqaiya, she did not seem a threat to her. Stopping in front of her, Salima's dark eyes travelled up her attire. "Are you going somewhere, Jodha?" she asked, pleasantly. "Mashallah! You're looking lovely!"

Jodha blushed, embarassed over her efforts to dress up so much for Jalal. How could she tell Salima that? "No.. " she trailed off, wondering what to say. "I was just wondering where the Shahenshah is.."

A knowing look came in Salima's eyes, discomfiting her further. Did this woman guess she had surrendered herself to her husband finally this morning? Jodha lowered her eyes, flushing.

"You just missed him, Jodha," came Salima's gentle voice. Raising her eyes again, Jodha gave her a quizzical look. "He left for hunting with Ruqaiya Begum a while back. I saw them go."

The world tilted sickeningly for her. She stared at Salima in disbelief, unable to believe her ears. He couldn't have! Not after.. this morning. She realized her face was giving her away at the look of dismay on Salima's. Lowering her eyes to hide the hurt pooling there, she bent her head and raised her hand in the customary salaam. She caught a glimpse of similar movement on the part of Salima, and turned away hastily. Trying not to run towards her chamber, she walked stiffly, her soreness angering her instead of thrilling her now.

Once in the confines of her room, she savagely removed her odhni from her head, letting it trail on the floor in a shimmering orange heap. She pulled her earrings from her ears, banged her heavy choker on the dressing table and picked up the comb. Angrily, she brushed her hair, staring at her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were glittering with an inner fire. She did not remember feeling so betrayed, so mad in her life! Her scalp protested as she tugged too hard at a knot in her hair. Painful tears came in her eyes as she tugged it harder, her scalp hurting painfully. This was another reminder of Jalal's brutality. Not that she had minded then, she thought bitterly. In fact, she was sure she had left him with a good deal of reminders himself. Ruqaiya would have a nice surprise when she saw his chest.

That thought brought her up short, her heart twisting painfully. That man! That..perverted.. rutting beast! How could he bear to jump from her bed to Ruqaiya's in the space of a few hours! She banged her hand on the table, making it shake in her fury. Her fragile bangles broke, shards of golden glass piercing her flesh. She hissed in pain and anger at her stupidity. What good would it be to hurt herself?

She gingerly picked at the pieces of glass cutting into her arm, droplets of blood running down. Oh, this was so hopeless. She got up and picked the odhni off the floor, feeling only a momentary sense of regret at soiling the lovely piece of fabric. Pressing it to her arm, she sat on the bed she had left a while back with such dreams shining in her eyes. What had she expected? That Jalal would drop down on one knee the moment he saw her and declare his love for her? That he would give her some indication, any indication, that he felt for her something deeper than lust? Maybe she had hoped he would drag her to bed again, wanton that she was, she thought in self disgust.

Why had she bared her soul to him? What had it got her except humiliation and pain? She closed her eyes. If only she hadn't fallen in love with him.. If only he hadn't been so considerate and sweet and human on their wedding night. He had chosen to walk away after her angry protest at sleeping with him. If only he hadn't stayed considerate and kind, though maddening at times, throughout their marriage. If only he hadn't teased away her sullens, excited her with his nearness and challenged her with his wit. If only his eyes weren't so dark, his face so compelling, his body so exciting..

She pressed her forehead with her fingers, a dull pounding starting in her head. Would it always be this confusing? Would she always want to kill him and kiss him with equal measure? Even now the memory of his hands on her made her hot and bothered. Was she so without pride then that she could want someone who didn't love her with the same intensity as she did?

JODHA'S POV

"Jodha!"

She woke up with a start, glancing around bleary eyed. Apparently she had fallen asleep again. The light in the room was dimmer. Was it evening already? Her stomach rumbled, a testimony to the fact that she had hardly eaten anything since morning.

"What is the meaning of this?" a voice demanded imperiously. Turning her head, she saw him standing beside the bed, glowering down. What had him so piqued? "I leave you for few hours and you end up hurting yourself?! Your temper will be the death of me, woman!"

Oh! Her eyes narrowed at the rage on his face, as he stared at the blood soaked odhni tied to her arm. So he wanted to show his concern for her well being after romping with another woman a few hours after sleeping with her? Well, she would soon show him what she thought of that!

A calm rage settled over her heart. He sat down beside her, searching her eyes. "Does it hurt much?" he asked, his tone softer now. He gently held her arm, removing the odhni. He sucked in a breath at the marks the broken bangles had made against her skin. "Allah! Why didn't you call a dasi and have her tend to this? What if it gets infected?"

He was glowering at her again. She kept her face impassive, coldly controlling her fury. He got up from the bed, walked towards the entrance and barked an order at a passing servant. She heard the scuttling of feet as she ran to do his bidding. A moment later, the terrified woman was back. Her shaking hands betrayed her fear as she handed a bowl and a cloth to Jalal, frantically doing the salaam before disappearing.

Jodha sat up straighter. So he wanted to play her nursemaid, and expect her to forgive him? Oh, the pleasure she would have dispelling such thoughts from his mind! Gritting her teeth, she saw him walking warily towards her. "I'm going to do your marhampatti, Jodha. You better behave yourself," he warned her.

She added treating her as an errant child to her list of grievances against him. He sat down beside her, glaring at the nasty bloodied cuts on her arm. "So'" Jalal looked into her rebellious eyes, his expression softening. "This is what you do to have revenge against me?" His voice was soft, so soft. It reminded her of the whispered words he can spoken to her when he was deep inside her.

She blushed, turning her gaze away from his. "Far be it for me to think that anything that happens to me would matter to you, Shahenshah," she retorted stiffly, staring into the mirror in the distance. She saw him looking at her with a burning intensity in his gaze, dipping his hand into the bowl. He was silent, as he looked at the wounds on her arm. Tears came to her eyes as she saw regret cross his features in the mirror. She blinked them away furiously. This man would not make her cry again!

A moment later, she felt a cool paste being applied to her wounds. It felt good on the throbbing pain of the cuts. He was slowly rubbing it on her skin, his touch gentle. She peeked at him from below her lashes. He was concentrating on applying the salve, his brows furrowed. Wasn't he going to reply?

Jalal wrapped the cloth deftly over the wounded area, putting the bowl on a nearby table. He went over to where a utensil containing water for their daily needs was kept, washing his hands and wiping the salve off with a cloth. He wasn't looking at her, she thought in disappointment. He stood looking out of the glass windows now. Her stomach rumbled again, reminding her of her neglect of it.

Jodha made as if to get up. "What are you doing?" Ah, so now he was going to talk to her?

"I'm hungry and I'm going to have food. Not that its any of your concern," she replied, irritably. Was he going to object to this as well?

"No, you're not." Oh yes, he would.

Her brows lifted in a challenge, anger shooting through her. "Is it your intention to deprive me of food now?"

"Jodha," he said, a chilling look in his eyes. "I have had enough of your tantrums. And I have found a very delightful way of curbing them. If you are wise, you would not tempt me any further today."

JALAL'S POV

Jalal had known she would be piqued, when he had chosen to go hunting with Ruqaiya. He had known he would be coming back to a tornado waiting to be unleashed and carry him off to hell. He, however, had not expected to walk in and find broken bangles on the table and droplets of blood on the floor. He had frozen on the spot, terror in his heart as his eyes frantically searched for his wife.

He had found her sleeping peacefully, her lovely hair touching the floor. He had felt such relief! He had walked over to stand beside her, gazing down at her sleeping form. She had looked this peaceful earlier in the day. He had woken up with his head on her chest, her arm holding him protectively. He had smiled in amusement then, at the contrary scene they presented - the wife shielding the husband. He had brushed a lock of her hair off her face, gazing down at her tenderly. He was her only one, she had said. What was he going to do about that? She had only one husband, he had many wives. True, he hadn't touched any except her since he married her. But how could he neglect his responsibilities towards the others?

He had sat up then, glancing at his naked chest. He smirked as he saw the marks her nails had left. She was such a hellcat, both in and out of bed. His hellcat, he thought possessively, touching the marks in reminiscence. He had got out of bed then, pulling on his clothes. He needed to think. He needed Ruqaiya.

He couldn't say he regretted his decision now, Jalal thought, ignoring his bristling wife on the bed as he waited for her food to arrive. He stared out of the window, pondering the events of the day. It had been invigorating to walk into the sunshine, race his horse against Ruqaiya's. She was not his heartmate, but she was the closest friend he had. It was the easiest being with her. She drew him out like no other. He could forget his troubles for sometime in her company. He knew Jodha resented her for the hold Ruqaiya had on him. But it was a hold he cherished.

Ruqaiya was born to be a Queen. She was astute, decisive and dignified. Her intelligence shined in her hazel eyes, as she had regarded him coolly over the top of the crossbow, trained at a small deer. She was uncomplicated and efficient. "You have a lot on your mind, Jalal," she had remarked, seemingly casual. Nothing escaped her wily mind.

"Why do you say that?" he had feigned ignorance, not wanting to mention Jodha. Ruqaiya disapproved of her almost as much as Jodha disliked her.

"No reason," she let her arrow lose, hitting the target. He felt a momentary regret for the hapless creature. Maybe he should find her a better diversion. His Queen would have his head anyway when she realized he had gone hunting again. His Queen. He realized Ruqaiya was the Queen in his mind, while Jodha was his Queen. He had smiled wryly at that. "You seem happier. I'm glad."

He had looked sharply at Ruqaiya, who gazed impassively back at him. "What do you mean?"

She was silent for sometime, while an inexplicable sadness reflected in her eyes. "You are a fine man, Jalal. One can rule umpteen kingdoms, but it's the one who rules you that makes one feel victorious. I'm happy you found your heartmate."

As he reflected on that conversation with Ruqaiya, he smiled to himself. She would always be omniscient. It was why she made such an exemplary Queen. If she could see what was in his heart so well, could he not do the same?

"You are a fine Queen, Ruqaiya Begum," he had told her, affectionately. She had snorted at that.

"I was born and trained to be one," she gave him another of her mysterious glances. "But I have always aspired to be a wife."

Shaking his head, Jalal turned away from his perusal of the grounds and the past. His wife was sitting and staring off into the distance. He was quite mad at Jodha for hurting himself. It was all he could do to not pull her into his arms and tell her how contrite he was for all the pain he had inadvertently caused her. She could not understand. She could not begin to understand the bond he shared with Ruqaiya. Yet, he had not made any effort to make her understand, nor had he told her the truth about his hunting jaunts.

A timid knock sounded on the door, and at his command a servant walked in bearing a platter of food. She placed it on the bed in front of an immobile and uncharacteristically docile Jodha, and left bowing, closing the door.

JODHA'S POV

In a flash, she had rolled over to the other side of the bed, a flurry of orange silk. She stood quickly, noting that Jalal was standing where he was, his face devoid of expression. Unnerved, she waited for him to move towards her again, prepared to bolt towards the door. Instead, he sat down on the bed, his face betraying no emotion, as he continued his perusal of her features.

What game was he playing now? She shifted uneasily on her feet, not taking her eyes off him. He had to be mad at her for throwing the platter at him. She knew she had gone too far. Seeing him walk away after ignoring her for so long had just made her wild enough to do it.

"Jodha," his deep voice made her jump. "Take that bowl and cloth from the washstand."

He was still sitting there, calmly regarding her. His tone was implacable. It was an order. She wondered what he would do if she refused to obey.

"Whatever it is, you won't like it. Believe me," he told her, reading her mind. He lifted his hand, rubbing his finger over his lower lip. She found herself staring at those delectable lips of his, so sensuous.. They called to her from a core of darkness hidden deep within her. She had kissed and bitten those same lips this morning. She raised her eyes to find his hooded gaze on her. He remembered too, she could tell, feeling her cheeks heat up.

"I don't follow orders," she whispered bravely. Her heart beat erratically as he sat up, the intensity of his look scorching her insides. Oh, she was putty in his hands!

Jalal smiled, a slow sinful smile. She backed into the wall suddenly, as he got up, his eyes never leaving hers. He started opening the top buttons of his tunic, his movements rough. Unwillingly, Jodha found herself staring at his hands, those same hands that had touched and caressed her intimately. She pressed her legs together, trying to control her instinctive reaction to the erotic memories. He smirked, his eyes knowing.

"What are you doing?" she asked haughtily, trying to find refuge in anger. If he expected her to.. If he thought that after today.. well, she would prove him wrong!

"Once more'" He removed his top article of clothing. Her eyes widened. "You address me in that tone just once more, Jodha, I swear in Allah's name I would take you across my knees and beat all the rebellion out of you!"

She sucked in her breath. He was furious, he was more than furious. Furious enough to hurt her? She tried to shift sideways towards the door. "Don't," came his softly worded warning. She stopped, unsure of this new forbidding Jalal. Had she pushed him beyond the threshold of tolerance?

His muscles rippled, as he ran his hand through his hair, his imperious gaze still pinning her where she stood. God, he was magnificent! It was distracting to watch the perfection of his body, all hard lines and sinewy muscles. Not an ounce of fat to spare anywhere. He must be a wonder to watch on the battlefield, she thought, feeling proud despite her resentment towards him.

He stepped towards her, making her instinctively move sideways towards the door. She recoiled from the warning in his eyes, trying to stand her ground as he came in front of her. "Jalal'" she uttered, her voice shaking slightly.

"I am Jalal again then?" he asked her mockingly, keeping his arms on either side of her, blocking her way. "I love the way you say my name."

"You are insufferable!" she muttered, unable to meet his gaze. Unfortunately, that brought her eyes to his chest, making her feel hot and bothered. He had a fuzz of hair in the centre of his chest, trailing down towards the concealed part of him. She had a sudden urge to nuzzle his chest, making her almost groan. She was supposed to take him to task over his callousness, not make a spectacle of herself in front of him!

"You suffered me well enough this morning, little one," he murmured, his voice almost a whisper. Hesitantly, she raised her eyes to his smoldering ones.

"Jalal, don't," she warned, halfheartedly, liquid heat running through her veins. She felt both dizzy and elated as he moved closer to her.

"Jodha..my Jodha'" He kissed her forehead, cupping her face in his hands. "You are the most precious treasure of mine." His eyes were boring into hers, their depths conveying the sincerity of his words.

She froze, her mouth agape. He chuckled at her expression, rubbing his cheek against hers. His stubble deliciously tickled her, making her squirm with need. "You beautiful infuriating little fool," he growled, nipping her earlobe. She moaned softly, her eyes closing. She placed her palms on his chest, as he bent to nuzzle her neck. He trailed his stubble over the sensitive area, making her hands shift to his arms to steady her weakening limbs. His arms went around her waist, holding her up, as he placed hot kisses down her neck. She purred in her throat, digging her nails into his arms.

Suddenly, he stopped, lifting his head from her chest. "Look at me, Jodha."

She did. Amber met black, both reflecting burning desires and heightening passions. Both trying to see deep into the others' soul, knowing instinctively what they were going to find. They stared at each other for long moments, hearing a song only they could hear. It spoke of war and violence, of trust and betrayal, love and sacrifice, destiny and fate.. It left them bereft, and it made them whole. They travelled centuries in that moment, finding each other again and again. Knowing they would find each other everytime they parted. And in that moment, words lost their meaning. The jealousy burning her heart died a cold death.

Jodha threw her arms around him, kissing his forehead, his eyes, his cheeks fiercely. Jalal sought her lips, opening them to mate with her tongue. Their breaths intermingled, the air thick with the force of their desire. Her hand was caressing his chest, touching the hard planes, revelling in his possession of her. Clothes were shed swiftly, their hands clumsy in their eagerness to complete this union of their love.

He lifted his mouth from hers, trailing deliciously wet kisses down her throat. Jodha threaded her fingers in his hair, pushing her hips against his arousal, wanting to be filled by him.

"Jalal.. Please!" she begged, pulling his hair back. "No more."

Acquiescing to her demand, he loomed over her, his body covering hers. He ran his nose down hers, her hands shifting to clutch his back. "I love you," he spoke softly. Jodha opened her eyes, her gaze tender as she looked upon the husband she had resisted for so long and fallen so deeply for.

Tenderly placing a hand on his jaw, she looked unashamedly into his eyes, "As I love you. Ah'" She cried, as he sank into her. His face was harsh with passion, his gaze fixed on her face. "I love you so much.."

He groaned loudly as she kissed his chest feverishly, unable to control the torrid passion searing through her. Her body shook, and pulsed around him. "Reach for it, Jodha. I want to give it to you," he told her fiercely, clutching her tighter to him.

She flowed around him, again and again, as pleasure ripped through her like wildfire, consuming everything. She was not Jodha anymore, the Princess of Amer. Neither was she Mallika-E-Hind, Jodha Bai. All that defined who she had been till this point flowed away from her, leaving her bereft. She was just his. This powerful man groaning her name, holding her tightly. He poured his life into her, giving her everything he was..everything he had been. Filling her again.

Two halves of one soul. He was Jallauddin Muhammed, the conqueror of Hindustan. She was Jodha, his wife, the one who made him feel victorious.