Beastmistress

An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication

www.ellorascave.com

Beastmistress ISBN # 1-4199-0652-6 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Beastmistress Copyright© 2006 Virginia Reede Edited by Kelli Kwiatkowski. Cover art by Syneca. Electronic book Publication: June 2006

This book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 443103502. This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.

Warning: The following material contains graphic sexual content meant for mature readers. This story has been rated S-ensuous by a minimum of three independent reviewers. Ellora’s Cave Publishing offers three levels of Romantica™ reading entertainment: S (S-ensuous), E (Erotic), and X (X-treme). S-ensuous love scenes are explicit and leave nothing to the imagination. E-rotic love scenes are explicit, leave nothing to the imagination, and are high in volume per the overall word count. In addition, some E-rated titles might contain fantasy material that some readers find objectionable, such as bondage, submission, same sex encounters, forced seductions, and so forth. E-rated titles are the most graphic titles we carry; it is common, for instance, for an author to use words such as “fucking”, “cock”, “pussy”, and such within their work of literature. X-treme titles differ from E-rated titles only in plot premise and storyline execution. Unlike E-rated titles, stories designated with the letter X tend to contain controversial subject matter not for the faint of heart.

BEASTMISTRESS

Virginia Reede

Virginia Reede

Chapter One The Palace

How did a nice Irish girl end up naked—or nearly so—in the court of an Indian rajah? Leandre contemplated the convoluted path she had traveled to find herself in this predicament. It was better than thinking about what was happening around her. The bright colors, the noise, the very smells of this place made her head swim. Also, the ridiculous bit of transparent cloth she had been given to conceal her nakedness seemed to do precisely the opposite. The tickle of the fabric against her nipples caused them to grow hard and, she was sure, rosy. She tried to ignore the way the eyes of the men and some of the women strayed to her breasts, everyone except the rajah himself, who was making a great show of not noticing her. Sukumar—the name meant “handsome” in Sanskrit, according to Phanishwar— was probably used to receiving lavish gifts. Nevertheless, Leandre would have thought a European woman would have been enough of a novelty to capture his attention for at least a short while. Phanishwar had certainly hoped to impress the powerful rajah when he’d had her bathed, perfumed, bedecked with jewels and dressed like a…like a… Actually, Leandre had never seen anyone dressed this way. The other women in the court—she supposed it was sort of a royal court, bizarre as that seemed—wore garments that she would have considered immodest, had she not her own nakedness to compare them to. And she had thought the dazzling pearls and jewels draped around her to be lavish, until she saw the way Sukumar himself was adorned. If he stood in bright sunlight, it would dazzle the eye, she thought. If Sukumar ignored her, the other men in the court did not. Even if she didn’t understand all the languages being spoken, their hungry eyes and lascivious expressions made their meaning clear. And Leandre had picked up quite a bit of the

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local dialect from Phanishwar, who originated from this area, even if his business travels took him afar. Her childhood and adolescence in her father’s house, where Romans, Celts, Saxons, Gauls and every other manner of traveler in the northern isles eventually passed through, had given her an ear for tongues—and intent. The men hoped Sukumar would not reject his newest gift outright, but accept her as a palace ornament only and not take her into his…zuddhanta, did they call it? The palace women apparently included those who were exclusively for Sukumar’s use, and those who could be claimed by anyone enough in his favor to be welcomed as a guest. One swarthy man caught her eye and moved his hand to his groin, pulling back the loose fabric of his robes so she could see his cock swelling against the silky folds of his trousers. Leandre held his eye for a moment, unwilling to show fear or shame. Instead, she let her gaze travel down to the bulge that was probably supposed to impress her. She made a sharp exhalation of breath through her nostrils, as if what she had seen was hardly worth looking at. The man’s change of expression told her he had received her message, as had several of his friends who, seeing the exchange, erupted in laughter. The object of her ridicule seemed less amused. She tossed her head and looked away. That was probably a bad idea. Her pride had always gotten her into trouble, even as a girl. Her mother had died during Leandre’s infancy, and her father had indulged this reminder of his one true love. He had tried to discipline her but his attempts had been halfhearted. “You must be polite to Utha, my girl. His father is a king,” he had chided gently, when the crybaby had run to complain that the golden-haired devil had pushed him into the pigsty. “I do not like Utha. He is bossy and he smells.” Somewhat worse, actually, after the incident with the pigs. “Besides Father, you are a king as well.”

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Leandre remembered how her father’s eyes had twinkled with amusement before he hid the expression with a frown. “Ah, well yes, my lass, I am indeed. But there are kings and kings, you know. And I am not a very important one.” “You are the most important king in the world.” That time Father had laughed outright, unable to resist the seven-year-old’s naïve notion about her parent. “Far from it, my darling girl. But I am the luckiest king in the world, and that is what counts.” Leandre felt tears fill her eyes at the memory. Her father had done his best for her, and even though the marriage he had arranged was intended to forge a political alliance, he had chosen a man he believed would suit her well. And he had been right. The sounds and the colors of the court faded as her mind drifted back to her wedding night, as it had so many times lately.

***** It had been a day of revelry. Since the hours before dawn, when servants had first drawn Leandre’s bath and laid out her mother’s wedding dress, altered to fit her taller form, the day had whirled by in a maelstrom of music, gifts, laughter and wine. And Leandre had been at the center of it, being congratulated and kissed and petted, showered with gold and flattery. She had danced with tiny children and ancient men, been fed delicacies and had drunk countless toasts. Now, her cheeks flushed with wine and, to some degree, terror, she was finally alone with Duncan. The nightdress given to Leandre by the ladies of her father’s court was doubtless modest enough, but it seemed shameless to a girl accustomed to layers of underskirts and long wool underwear, and she was terribly conscious of her nakedness underneath. Duncan had entered the room wearing a rich robe that ended just below his knees,

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showing bare legs and feet. Was he wearing anything under it? The thought had heightened Leandre’s color. She was sitting in the center of his great bed, where it had been her intention to loll languidly against the heaps of pillows like a wanton. Once Leandre had climbed onto the covers, however, she had caught his scent among the bedclothes and had been unable to sustain the illusion that she was anything other than an eighteen-year-old virgin with little idea of what was in store. Had Leandre’s mother been alive, she would no doubt have told her what to expect. Her maidservant had told her to “be brave” and that it would “not be too bad”. She had even ventured to add that once Leandre got used to it, she might like it well enough. Swallowing convulsively, Leandre looked up into Duncan’s face and tried to smile. He sat down on the edge of the bed and pushed some hair away from her face. “I am a little nervous,” he said, and Leandre’s astonishment must have been obvious because he laughed. “Yes, my darling girl, I am a bit apprehensive about our wedding night.” “But you have been with hundreds of women,” she blurted. “Hundreds?” He raised an eyebrow, smiling. “Perhaps not so many as all that. But it has not been since my first wedding night that I bedded a virgin.” Leandre looked into the kindly face, trusting him completely. “Tell me about your first wedding night.” He laughed. “Not many wives would wish to hear such a story from their new husbands, with their marriage not yet consummated.” His eyes darkened and he caressed her hip through the linen. “And I may not be in a mood to tell it.” She swallowed again, feeling something other than nervousness begin to bloom in her belly. “I just want to know what it is like for a virgin,” she admitted. “Did she…like it?”

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This time his laugh was rueful. “She said so. But I was a virgin myself, you know. Sióban and I were children together, and had known we were to be wed from the time we began to talk. We had learned everything together—to ride, to do our letters, to dance. It was just one more thing to learn, but we didn’t have any tutors. Neither of us really knew how it was supposed to be.” “At least this time one of us knows.” “Yes, my love, one of us knows.” He moved farther onto the bed and took Leandre’s face between his hands. “And I will do everything in my power to make this night a good one for you.” He kissed her then, and although it was not the first time he had done so, tonight was different. Her lips parted and his tongue searched her mouth. She could taste wine and his own special flavor, and she sucked hungrily at it. The heat in her belly grew to something more intense and moved lower, causing a tensing between her legs. Soon his cock will be pushing at this very place. It wasn’t the first time Leandre had had this thought, but it was the first time it had seemed like a good thing. She suddenly wanted to feel his cock in that special place very, very much. Boldly, she reached for it, fumbling at the folds of his robe. He chuckled and pulled his mouth from hers. “Not yet, my dove. I must ready you for what is to come.” He reached for the linen shift and she raised my arms so he could lift it over her head. Naked before him, her self-consciousness returned and she covered her breasts with her hands. “No my love, let me see them. I have wanted to so much for these many months.” He took one breast in each hand and lifted them, weighing them. Leandre watched her nipples harden under his caresses, and he rubbed his thumbs over them. “That feels good.” She wanted him to know she enjoyed his caresses. “I can see that.” He bent his head and took one erect point between his lips and sucked. Leandre had been touching her own breasts for years, squeezing and pinching them, but the sensation that rolled through her as his tongue teased and lapped and 8

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pushed the tender flesh against the edge of his teeth was one for which she was unprepared. She gasped. “Oh! Duncan, that is wonderful.” “I am glad you think so,” he purred, switching to the other nipple and lavishing similar attention on it. The tingling between her legs grew to an ache. He released her breasts for a moment. “There are many places on a woman’s body that can make her soul sing, my love.” “There are?” It was growing difficult to speak. “Yes, my love. And we will find them all tonight.”

***** “Look, she cries!” A female voice spoke in a tongue Leandre understood. Annoyed, she wiped the tears from her face and searched for the person who made the comment. It was one of the women who Phanishwar had identified as being an official consort of the rajah. “Be cautious, Poornima. She may be your new sister.” The consort’s plump companion’s tone was teasing. Poornima’s snort was derisive. “Sukumar would not bed such a cow. She is enormous. Her tardana is probably as big as a cavern.” Leandre was not familiar with the word, but she had a good idea what it meant. She glared at the woman who obviously considered her a rival. She did not want to become a member of Sukumar’s zuddhanta, but would that not be preferable to being available to any man who chose to bed her? Purposely disregarding the gossiping women, Leandre took the opportunity to surreptitiously examine the rajah. Sukumar sat enthroned on a dais much larger than the platform where Leandre stood. His name fit him well enough, but there was a glint of cruelty in his eyes that made Leandre uncomfortable. She tried to imagine his jeweled hands on her white flesh and suppressed a shudder. 9

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A chittering sound startled Leandre and she looked up at the top of the curtained wall behind the platform. One of the ubiquitous monkeys was staring at her, and she smiled at his little-old-man face. “So, come on down and see me if that is what you want,” she said, and the beast scampered down and sat on her shoulder. “Hello, friend. Do you have a name?” Some of the monkeys in the palace were obviously pets, with jeweled collars and even little jackets and turbans, but this one was unadorned. The monkey chattered happily and tugged gently at her hair, and she laughed. “Thank you for giving me something to smile about on this day.” Turning back to the crowd, she noticed another man looking at her. Meeting her gaze, he nodded almost imperceptibly before returning his attention to the elderly man who was speaking to him. Now that was a man she could imagine making love with.

Milk and honey. Bhavesh tried to concentrate on what the old man was saying. He focused on a conveniently placed mole just above the bridge of the man’s nose, in order to prevent his eyes from straying back to the white and gold woman on the platform. Staring at his host’s newest possession would not be a good political move. Particularly since she seemed to be staring back. Who is she? He felt his face color and wondered if she noticed. “Of course it is the tigers he cares most about,” the old man was saying, and Bhavesh realized he had lost the thread of the conversation. “The tigers?” Had he missed something important? Bhavesh’s family had sent him to Sukumar’s court to improve his political skills and gain the rajah’s favor. So far he hadn’t made much progress—he despised the court and the constant posturing of its many inhabitants. His quarters were opulent but confining, and he longed for the freedom of his home to the south. And he had yet to have a personal conversation with Sukumar, who was perpetually surrounded by toadying nobles and tittering women.

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“Oh yes! Sukumar’s family did not always live in the city.” The old man—what was his name?—lowered his voice confidentially. “He may not like to remind people his family is from the Sundarban, but they are.” Bhavesh nodded—Sukumar’s history was well known to him. But the tigers… “Surely Sukumar does not worship them—they are merely palace pets.” Bhavesh’s village was in the Sundarban, but even in that region the worship of tigers had become very rare and was only practiced openly in the most remote sections of the swampy forest. “Perhaps, perhaps.” The old man’s eyes twinkled. “But few pets live so luxuriously, would you not agree?”

Leandre could not take her eyes off the tall man who had stared at her. He was not dressed as richly as most others, nor bejeweled so ostentatiously, but this did not have the effect of making him appear poorer or subordinate to the others—quite the opposite. Even though Leandre’s understanding of dress came from a different world, she could sense that his garments were understated rather than simple, and of fine quality. He listened politely to the elderly man who clutched his arm and tilted his head in the mock-confidential pose of the perpetual gossip. Yet, Leandre could feel his awareness of her gaze. His eyes flickered toward her again and she felt her lips curve in a tiny smile. Had he seen it before he turned away? She hoped so, although it was probably a dangerous thing to be flirting in her already precarious situation. Or maybe not. If Sukumar did not choose to make her part of his zuddhanta, she would be available to his guests. Perhaps she would have some choice in the matter of her…clients? Visitors? Probably not. Thinking of the disgusting man who had shown her his swelling erection, she shuddered. Yet she wanted to feel a man’s touch again, needed to. Duncan had given her the gift of a healthy woman’s lust that first night, and she had never again been without it. 11

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***** “Pay attention, darling girl, for here is the secret to a woman’s desire.” They were both naked now, Leandre reclining on the bed, but Duncan had not yet let her take his cock in her hand. He said he did not want to be finished too soon. He had kissed the back of Leandre’s neck, run his tongue along the contours of her ears, and lavished kisses and nips on the curve of her belly and thighs. The place between her legs had first begun to throb and then to grow wet, but still Duncan had not touched her there. As his lips touched the line where the inside of her thigh met her belly, Leandre shuddered with need. “Duncan, you must…you must…” Leandre realized she did not know how to finish the sentence. She did not know what he must do, only that it must happen soon. He looked up at her and smiled. “Give me your hand, my love.” “My hand?” Leandre felt her brow wrinkle with confusion, but she reached down to place her fingers into the palm he extended. He folded her fingers, except for the first, and pulled her hand to the cleft between her legs. “I am wetting your finger,” he told her, and Leandre felt him place it between the swollen lips that ached to be touched. She felt the silky wetness as he directed her to stroke along the opening between them. She shivered and would have rubbed harder, but his hand prevented her. “Now, I want you to run your finger very slowly and gently toward the front until you feel the place where the lips join. Slowly,” he directed, and although he loosened his grip enough so that Leandre could move at her own pace, his gentle hand still led her. She did as he bade and felt the tip of her finger reach the place of union. She started and made a light gasp. This spot was more sensitive even than the silky folds surrounding it. Leandre had touched herself here before, rubbing vigorously, but Duncan restrained her from more forceful attention. 12

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“Ah, yes, that is the place. Now, pull against it every so gently.” He watched her face as he guided her. “Do you feel the bud?” Leandre tugged lightly and felt her hand tremble as the tiny nub of flesh responded. “Oh! Yes, Duncan. It is moving of its own accord!” He chuckled. “It is thanking you for the attention. Now, rub your finger over it— tease it.” Again she followed his instruction, resisting the compulsion to massage more vigorously. Her patience was rewarded by a spasm of heat that began at the point of flesh and spread upward—and inward. She felt all her interior muscles squeeze and was suddenly aware these were the very muscles that would squeeze against his cock once it was inside her. Oh, how Leandre wanted to know what that would feel like. “Duncan, I—” He interrupted, his voice now husky. “Now take the bud between your thumb and forefinger and squeeze it.” She obeyed. This time the strength of the spasm lifted her bottom from the bed and caused her limbs to stiffen. “O-ooh!” she gasped, pulling her hand away in surprise. Duncan pulled it back. “Again my love. Do not stop until…” He did not finish his sentence, but he did not have to. As Leandre squeezed and pinched the throbbing point her body bucked and trembled, and she heard inarticulate sounds issue forth from her own throat. She stopped, panting. “Why…why did no one tell me? The castle women…” She trailed off, enjoying a belated shudder that coursed through her even though she no longer touched the point. “Are probably under some foolish notion that such pleasure is sinful,” Duncan finished. “Do not ever believe it. It helps a woman remain a maiden as long as she wishes, and a faithful wife when her husband is not with her. But, my love,” he said, taking her hand again, “we are not quite finished with the lesson.” 13

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Again, he placed the point of Leandre’s finger along the slick cleft of flesh, now more swollen that ever. “Push it inside a little bit.” “Oh, yes!” Leandre had longed to have something inside her from the first time those muscles had clenched. She eagerly pushed her finger into the beginning of the opening. “Slide it in and out,” he instructed, and she readily complied. The muscles spasmed and she felt a sudden urge to have something deeper within her, but the finger met a soft barrier. “Do you feel your maidenhead?” She nodded, having heard the word before and vaguely aware it was something that marked a virgin. “It is in the way.” Duncan laughed, removing her hand. “Indeed it is.” To Leandre’s surprise, his own larger finger slid into the slickness and rubbed against the obstacle. While she shuddered, he asked, “You wish to feel something deeper within you, do you not?” “Oh, yes.” The movement of his finger was driving her mad. “And I wish to be within you as well. That is why I will have to breach this wall tonight.” “With your cock?” she managed to gasp. “Yes, that is generally how it is done.” His tone was sardonic. “And it will hurt a bit, Leandre. But I promise I will be swift and it will not hurt for long, or ever again. Once the gate has been opened, your husband can come all the way inside as he was meant to do.” “Then put your cock in me now, Duncan,” she said boldly. “I want you to come all the way into my…” She realized she did not know the word.

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“Your cunt,” he supplied. “Yes, I will do that soon enough. But I have only yet showed you how a woman can pleasure herself. I am not quite done demonstrating how a man can pleasure a woman.” So saying, he lifted her up against the pillows and spread her thighs with strong hands. Grinning wickedly, he parted her curls and winked. “Excuse me, my sweet. I shall be rather too busy to speak for the next few minutes.” As his mouth closed over her throbbing clit, Leandre had one last coherent thought. I think I am going to like being married.

***** Leandre was pulled from her fond musings as a sudden movement and soft swishing sound behind her caused all heads to turn. The monkey, still sitting on her shoulder, made an indignant squawk and scampered away as an expectant hush fell over the crowd. She turned to see what had captured their attention. The curtains behind her were being drawn back. When Leandre saw what they revealed, she gasped.

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Chapter Two The Tigers

They were the most beautiful creatures Leandre had ever beheld. She had seen paintings of course, and likenesses on everything from tapestries to pottery since coming to this land. But nothing had prepared her for their sheer magnificence. Her near-nakedness forgotten, she stared openmouthed. The curving curtain— Leandre had erroneously supposed it hid a wall—had been drawn back to reveal an enclosure of iron filigree. Behind it was an enormous open area, partially within the walls of the palace, but also encompassing an expanse of the garden beyond. An enormous tiger stood on the marble floor no more than ten feet from Leandre. Behind him, another lay stretched at the foot of a short stair leading to a cushioned bed, partially obscured by a potted palm. “You are beautiful,” breathed Leandre. Both animals seemed to stare directly into her eyes. The larger cat closest to her moved his head slightly, as if acknowledging the compliment. She felt no hostility in his steady gaze, only curiosity. A voice behind her reminded Leandre she was not alone with the tigers. She turned to see that Sukumar had left his dais and stood at the opposite end of the platform where she herself had been told to stand. “Please, my guests, you are in for a special treat. Akhilesh and Hiranmayi have something to show you.” Sukumar gestured grandly in the direction of the reclining tiger and the crowd moved in unison, faces shifting and some guests rising to their toes to see what he indicated. A collective gasp arose, and Leandre followed their gazes and saw what had arrested their interest. Two fuzzy creatures, hardly larger than housecats, tumbled from behind the greenery. Leandre fell to her knees in delight and wonder. “Oh, the darlings!” She

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stretched her arms out in the direction of the cubs who, sensing the reaction of the crowd, had frozen and turned to stare in apprehension. A thunderous roar shook the chamber. The tiger in the front—had Sukumar called him Akhilesh?—moved to stand between his offspring and the people who stared too intently. The two cubs scampered behind the reclining tiger and peered over a flank. Sukumar laughed. “Do not concern yourself, Akhilesh. My guests mean you no harm.” This assurance did not seem to soothe the great beast, which began to pace in front of the bars as the watchers drew slightly back. Leandre had not moved—the tiger’s golden eyes did not seem to be focused on her, but on those behind her. But another set of eyes was indeed watching her. It seemed that Sukumar had finally deigned to look at his latest acquisition. And from the expression in his dark eyes, he was less than pleased. Leandre felt a chill and an involuntary tightening of her jaw. No doubt Sukumar was used to women fawning—or cringing—under his regard. She met his gaze evenly. My father was a king, she reminded herself. My husband… Another deafening roar sounded, this time much closer, and Leandre jumped. While she had been busy looking at Sukumar, the tiger had come to the bars and now stood only inches away. He roared again and she could feel the heat of his breath. “Do not fret, he is not harming me.” Leandre spoke without thinking. For some reason she could not explain, she believed that Akhilesh’s cry of displeasure had not been directed at her, but at Sukumar. She looked back at the rajah, whose eyes had narrowed most unpleasantly. She had spoken in Gaelic—he could not have understood—but perhaps he had discerned her meaning. Sukumar whirled and shouted something and a group of his lackeys scurried forward as he stepped down from the platform and away from Leandre. He strode off briskly, saying something to one of the underlings, who ran off as if on an errand. Leandre felt a frisson of fear. Sukumar had spoken too quickly for her to understand, but she was sure she had heard the name “Phanishwar” in the rajah’s instructions. If he 17

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was indeed sending for the man who had brought her here, she doubted it was to thank him for his gift.

Bhavesh gaped in surprise. “I do not believe it,” he said, almost in a whisper. “Yes, it is most astonishing. She stared directly at Sukumar with no shame. I suspect his highness will not be too happy about that.” Bhavesh had forgotten about the elderly man—he still could not remember his name—who now seemed like a buzzing insect. The old man had misunderstood. It was not the woman’s boldness that had surprised him, but what she had said to the tigers. Bhavesh was probably the only person in the palace who understood the words. When his father was alive, he had done some business with the raiders from the north. Trading with such barbarous people had been dangerous, and had ultimately been his undoing. But after one trip to the northern villages where the invaders had become more or less settled, he had returned with a slave. According to Bhavesh’s father, the man was from a place called “Eriu,” and was not of the race of the marauders, although he looked much the same to the eyes of the people of the Sundarban. The man called himself Donal, and his irrepressible good humor, even in the face of slavery, had made him a favorite with the village children. “He does not speak our tongue,” Bhavesh’s father told him, “and it will annoy your mother if he does not understand her orders. You had better teach him what you can.” He had done as his father bade and Donal had returned the favor. By the time Bhavesh was approaching manhood, the two often spoke in what had felt like their own secret language. “So the same invaders that tried to destroy us went all the way to Eriu?” Bhavesh always had difficulty trying to imagine the impossible distance to Donal’s homeland. Donal had laughed. “I do not think so. I was passed from hand to hand, you see.” When Bhavesh had shaken his head, the man had continued. “I was born a slave in the

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service of a monastery, where I was treated well enough. Then the Dhub-galls came on a ship and took us all away.” “What were they like?” Donal shuddered exaggeratedly. Over the years he told the story many times, and with each telling the marauders became taller, more fearsome and greater in number. But the gist remained the same. Donal and the other slaves had been taken away from the monks, who had not put up much resistance, and taken on ships to the land of the Dhub-galls, where they had lived and worked for a time before being acquired by a trader who sold them off piecemeal in various settlements as he traveled south. Donal had been among the last in the party when the trader was attacked in a mountain pass by Huns. All but the slaves had been killed, and Donal had found himself in the hands of his fourth master. Then his fifth, sixth and seventh, as he was passed among the mostly nomadic Huns, until he finally came to be traded to Bhavesh’s father. “On the luckiest day of my life,” Donal had usually added. It seemed strange to Bhavesh that a slave could find anything good about being sold, and as a boy he had said so. Donal had only shrugged. “I know no other life.” This woman, who had skin the same color as Donal’s and spoke the same tongue, although differently accented, was also a slave. But Bhavesh would have wagered his family’s honor that she had not been born such. Even Donal, who was treated more like a family member, had lowered his eyes when Bhavesh’s mother became impatient with him. This woman had stared directly into a rajah’s eyes, almost a challenge. She had held one of the shy wild monkeys on her shoulder, spoken to a tiger and, he would swear, been understood. And now, she was looking at Bhavesh. There was a tug at his sleeve and he again focused on the elderly man who was, if nothing else, a font of information.

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“Look, Sukumar has summoned that fat man who brought the foreign woman. What do you think he will do with her?” Following Gupta’s gaze—was his name Gupta?—Bhavesh saw that Sukumar had returned to his cushioned dais, where a gaudily robed man of enormous girth was pleading or cajoling. Bhavesh recognized Phanishwar, a trader of slaves and anything else that could turn a profit. “That toad,” he said aloud, his revulsion for the oily creature making him forget to be discreet. His companion chuckled. “Oh, so you have met him? You are right—he does look like a toad. Let’s move closer. I want to see what is going on.” “You go ahead. You can tell me what you overhear.” Bhavesh was interested in the conversation as well, but he could feel the woman’s golden eyes on him and was reluctant to move farther away from her. “Of course—it will be less obvious that way. You can count on Gupta for a full report.” The old gossip winked and made his way closer to the dais. Bhavesh watched him for a moment then returned his attention to the woman. As he had been sure he would find her, she still regarded him. I must speak with her. Is she from Eriu? How did she come to be here? Bhavesh could think of no way to approach her without risking Sukumar’s wrath. She lifted her chin a little, as if she knew what he was thinking. Afraid to walk over here? her gaze seemed to ask. Well, why not? Bhavesh looked around to see who watched. Most of the court’s attention seemed to be either on the tiger cubs or the conversation between the now wildly gesturing Phanishwar and the rajah. I may be noticed, but I must speak to her. Bhavesh moved toward the woman, whose eyebrows raised slightly, as if surprised at his boldness. Just wait until she hears the tongue of Eriu come from my lips.

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Chapter Three The Rajah

Leandre knew she was now the primary topic of discussion in the court. And all I did was look at him. She should probably be worried about the consequences of her rashness, but at the moment all she could think about was the tall man approaching from across the crowded room. He is perfect. Leandre had fantasized all her life about the man who would sweep her from her feet. In her imaginings, this was precisely what he looked like. Dark, tall, dangerous but contained. And those eyes—she didn’t know people in India could have eyes any color but brown or black. These were green, and they almost glowed in his dark face. Leandre wet her lips involuntarily and knew he had seen her do it. Her breath quickened. She heard the tigers behind her and felt as if she was being pulled in two directions. She was drawn to them and itched to touch them, especially the babies. But Leandre could no more have pulled her gaze away from those green eyes than she could have flown across the room. As he drew closer, she felt the pulse in her neck. And a familiar tingle between her legs. It felt wonderful. She had not lain with a man since her husband, and theirs had been a lusty marriage. Her muscles tightened on emptiness as they had often squeezed his cock, and Leandre imagined what it would be like to again feel a hard shaft sliding into her. Oh, it had been such a long time! She wanted to close her eyes, throw back her head and sigh aloud, but too many people watched. He came to a stop in front of her, his gaze never wavering. Would he not speak? Perhaps he would use a dialect Leandre did not understand, but she still wanted to hear his voice. Would it be deep and velvety or as keen as his gaze?

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“You obviously have something to say.” She was surprised to hear her own voice— she had not meant to speak aloud. “Why do you not go ahead and say it?” His slow smile showed he had caught the intent, if not the meaning, of her words. But before he could reply—she was sure he was just about to—two men pushed past him and reached up to the platform to take Leandre’s arms. She just had time to see a frown crease his brow and his mouth open as if to protest when she was propelled from her perch and pulled across the room in the direction of Sukumar. Leandre did not even have time to struggle against her captors when she came to an abrupt halt in front of the couch where Sukumar lounged. Phanishwar stood to one side, his face sweaty. The woman who had spoken so disdainfully to her, Poornima, sat on a cushioned chair behind the chaise. Her expression was gloating. Phanishwar smiled expansively, but when he turned toward Leandre his eyes were hard. “Ah, my most exotic flower. I am sure you are pleased to be honored by our most noble host’s attentions.” This was not a question. He was reminding her to mind her manners. It made her angry. Phanishwar had constantly told Leandre how lucky she was to have come into his possession. Any other master would have used her to satisfy his own sexual needs—or perversions as the case may be. He was saving her for a higher purpose. A great honor. It had not taken Leandre long to realize Phanishwar’s reasons for not dragging her to his bed had nothing to do with prudence. He simply preferred a different brand of partner—one who was too young and weak to protest. Oh, and with a cock. The boys who had been in his possession during Leandre’s tenure said he shaved his entire body, hid his own member between his legs and spoke in a girlish voice during their visits. They were supposed to pretend he was a young virgin. Pathetic. He had not lied, however, about having a specific purpose in mind for Leandre.

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Leandre had told herself she would not do anything to worsen her already tenuous position, but looking at the greed in Phanishwar’s beady eyes—like currants stuffed into the dough of his bloated face—made her blood rise. “He may be your host, but he is my master,” she said with sudden fluency, surprising both herself and the listeners. “And he will be my master whether or not I am pleased about it, I expect.” It seemed that anger easily knocked away the last bonds of unfamiliarity with Leandre’s most newly acquired language. “You are not pleased to be in my possession?” Sukumar voice was dangerously low. She met his eyes and shivered. His look was almost deadly enough to cool her anger and remind her how precarious her position. Almost. “I am not pleased to be any man’s possession. I am the daughter of a…a,” she searched for the Sanskrit word for king, “of a great leader. And my husband—” “Your husband is dead,” broke in Sukumar. “Or so Phanishwar tells me.” “It is true, my rajah. I have seen the body with my own eyes.” Phanishwar stepped forward and slapped Leandre smartly across the face. “Do not speak insolently to your master, girl. You are no longer a princess.” The slap had been unexpected and unnecessary. Mentioning her husband’s body— that beloved body—as he had seen it, hanging from a gibbet in a barbarian’s camp, had frozen Leandre before the blow had fallen. She stared at him, tears of fury and hatred filling her eyes. She heard a snort and a titter, and flushed. Poornima was enjoying the show. “As she, herself, just pointed out,” Sukumar said, “this woman belongs to me. You may not strike her without my leave.” “A thousand pardons, my lord. I could not bear for her to speak to you with such disrespect. She was my gift to you, and I had hoped you would be well pleased.” He

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turned to Leandre, shaking with barely controlled rage. “If her presence offends you, I will be happy to exchange her for a more suitable gift.” “Oh, I think perhaps we can find some way to make use of her.” Sukumar’s brow furrowed. “Lower your eyes, woman. You may claim to have been a princess in your own land, but here you are of less value to me than my pets.” She had to set her jaw but managed to pull her gaze toward the floor. Less value than his pets. If it was his intention to humble her, he was failing. First she wanted to kick Phanishwar in his hairless balls, then she would slap that smirk off Poornima’s smug face. And as for Sukumar… She ground her teeth. It infuriated Leandre to recognize she was just a little afraid of him. He had the power to decide her fate and she had resented having her future decided by men—even men as loving as her father and husband—for as long as she could remember. Sukumar made a quick gesture and a servant released a curtain that had been swagged in order to reveal the dais. It fell, and they were no longer in full view of the crowd. Leandre thought she could hear a collective sigh of disappointment, although most of them had probably been pretending not to watch. Now only Sukumar, Phanishwar, Poornima and a manservant stood on this side of the curtain. Leandre glanced up at a rustle of fabric and saw that Sukumar was getting to his feet. She reminded herself to breathe. Would he strike her? Rape her? Send her to be the whore of any man who wanted her? She knew better than to look at his face, so she moved her eyes to the left. Phanishwar was watching the rajah in nervous anticipation. Ugh. She shifted her focus to the right and saw Poornima. She was also watching Sukumar, but seemed less sure. Clearly she was hoping he would do Leandre some kind of harm, but could not know his intentions. Leandre felt a finger under her chin, and her head was lifted and moved to the side. She bit back a squawk of protest—Sukumar was examining her like a piece of livestock.

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“Her skin is very white,” he said, addressing his remarks to Phanishwar. “I can see the veins under her skin.” “She is probably sickly. Send her away Suku, before she gives you some hideous disease.” Poornima caught Leandre’s eye. “Or kill her before she infects the entire palace.” Leandre expected Sukumar to silence her, but apparently Poornima was allowed to speak with familiarity once the curtain was closed. Phanishwar hurried to defend his gift. “It is a sign of her high station and upbringing. It shows she has been protected from the rays of the sun. I assure you, she is very healthy.” Sukumar nodded his understanding and dropped Leandre’s chin. She saw from Poornima’s sour expression she did not care for this explanation. Then her eyes widened in alarm and Leandre soon saw why. Or rather—she felt why. Warm hands cradled her breasts, weighing them like fruit through the insubstantial garment. She looked down and saw Sukumar’s jeweled fingers supporting her breasts and his thumbs reach up to stroke the nipples. Already rosy from the hours of teasing by the silky fabric, they hardened instantly. Leandre told herself she should be repulsed by his touch, but her neglected body betrayed her. The nipples hardened further, thickening and pushing against the pressure of his thumbs. He laughed quietly and pulled the fabric aside, now grasping her without even the subtle barrier of the silk. “So very white, like milk,” he said, squeezing less gently. “Will they bruise easily, I wonder?” No! cried her mind, but between Leandre’s legs a responding quiver said yes more urgently. He grasped one nipple between thumb and forefinger and she made a small sound. It was answered by a sharp exhalation of breath to her right, and she looked up to see Poornima sending her a look that would have killed had it been a dagger. 25

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She must not be very confident of her position if this distresses her so. She felt some sympathy for Poornima, despite the fact that only moments ago the woman had suggested that Leandre be killed. If Sukumar routinely fondled other women in front of her, a favorite, then he did not treat his zuddhanta with much respect. Leandre’s focus snapped back to the matter at hand when one of Sukumar’s hands slid down her belly. He pulled away the belt that held up what passed for trousers and the last of her garments landed on the floor. She wore nothing but jewels and sandals, and Sukumar laughed again. “Look Poornima, you were wrong. The color of her hair does not come from the juice of lemons.” His fingers stroked the silky curls and Leandre felt a wetness start between her legs. She hoped she held them tightly enough together that moisture would not drip out onto her thighs. “Maybe she dyes the hair of her tardana as well,” was the tart reply, and before Leandre had time to think better of it, she spoke. “I do not need to resort to tricks to keep a man happy.” She was gratified to see Poornima’s flush of rage. She must have stumbled onto a sore point. She wondered if Sukumar would punish her for speaking, but he only chuckled. “I am happy to hear it,” he said. The hand stroking Leandre’s pubis moved lower and she watched as one finger, bearing a ruby as large as a pigeon’s egg, reached down to almost touch the quivering bud at the opening she was so desperately trying to keep closed. It was torture standing so still while his hands roved over her body. For Leandre, lovemaking had always been a very mutual act, with her fingers and mouth and lips and tongue exploring every part of her husband’s body as his did the same for her. Keeping her hands against her sides, she flexed her fingers. What would Sukumar’s body be like under all those flowing robes? Would it be soft and pampered or hard and muscular? Would there be hair on his chest? How big was his cock?

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Sukumar must have seen her hands move, because he said, “I see you like to be touched. I like a lusty woman. One advantage of widows, as Phanishwar was just telling me.” She almost stiffened at the reminder of her widowhood, but at that moment Sukumar’s index finger found what it had been seeking and pressed against her clit. Another burst of moisture erupted from deep within her, and as his finger moved in a small circle, another slid into the slit between her labia. “Ah, I was right.” He removed his now wet fingers and raised them slowly to his lips. Leandre forgot she was not supposed to look directly into his face and watched as he slipped them into his mouth. “Ummmm. I am trying to decide if you taste different than women here.” He turned to Poornima. “Perhaps I will place you side by side and taste first one and then the other. Then I will see which is more to my liking.” Leandre’s body protested at the abrupt withdrawal of his caresses, but she felt relieved when he returned to his dais and sat down. Remembering to lower her eyes, she waited to see what would come next.

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Chapter Four The Mistake

Two men, bristling with weapons, stood in front of the curtain to the dais. Bhavesh wanted to push them aside and throw back the curtain, but he knew the daggers were more than ceremonial. Even if they had not been armed, he had no business interfering in the rajah’s business. He chafed under his invisible bonds. When his father had been betrayed and killed by the same barbarian traders who had made him so wealthy, he had left his fortune to Bhavesh’s uncle, knowing his wife and children would be cared for. But the uncle, good man though he was, was credulous and timid, and easily led into business dealings that were less than profitable. Although her family would never starve, Bhavesh’s mother had come to expect more than simple comforts. The daughter of a poor but noble family, she had married a wealthy man and had believed she would always live in luxury. Her daughters would marry rajahs and her sons would be important noblemen. Bhavesh had learned a great deal about trading from his father, but he lacked the ability to turn a blind eye to the evils of many of those he had to deal with. And he could not bear to return to the trade routes of the north, wondering whether each person with whom he dealt was the one who put a knife in his father’s back. So here he was at Sukumar’s palace, among the poseurs and sycophants who, like Bhavesh, hoped to gain the rajah’s favor. If he was not willing to ply the northern trade routes, the best way to improve his family’s fortunes was to take control of one of the rajah’s many business dealings in the city or to run one of his agricultural holdings to the south.

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Which was not going to happen if Bhavesh stormed into his private chamber and demanded to have a word with the bewitching woman who had eyes like a tiger’s and spoke the tongue of Eriu. Frustrated, he strode to one side of the room and examined the curtained enclosure. It was not really a private room—surely if Sukumar had intended to bed his newest acquisition, he would have taken her off to wherever he housed his zuddhanta or to his sleeping chamber. From what Bhavesh had seen in the past few weeks, the curtain was occasionally drawn when the rajah wished to have a quick, private conversation without retiring to another part of the palace, and usually reopened promptly. Open, open, open, he silently willed the fabric. Had it just moved? Was something pushing it from behind? His eyes scanned the edges of the fabric and he saw that it was separated from the wall by a very small opening. Big enough to see through, surely. But Bhavesh could hardly walk up in plain view of the court and peer through a crack in the curtain like a curious child. He spied the old man Gupta settling onto a cushion near the wall. A plump young woman was offering him dates and he was peering down her sari while pretending to consider which fruit to pick from the bowl. If Bhavesh sat down next to him and then leaned back against the wall as if stretching, would he be able to see behind the curtain? If so, it was probably the reason the old busybody had chosen his vantage point. He really did not want to start another endless conversation with Gupta, but he had to know what was happening on the dais. Resigning himself to another stream of idle talk, Bhavesh joined him. “Ah, my young friend! I was just telling Jayanthi here,” he gestured toward the blushing young woman, “that I hoped Sukumar did not have anything too drastic planned for his newest consort.” The wicked expression on the old face belied this statement—clearly, whatever action caused the most scandal would best please him.

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“Did you arrive soon enough to get any hint of what he had in mind?” Bhavesh’s own question disgusted him. He sounded like a true member of the court and did not much care for it. Gupta shook his head. “Alas, no. They were speaking too quietly and I had to move closer. I had no more than found a comfortable seat when they pulled the curtain closed.” He leaned forward conspiratorially. “She said something that made that fat man angry, though. He slapped her and for a moment I thought she was actually going to hit him back. But by the time I was close enough to hear…” He shrugged. “Phanishwar struck her?” Anger surged through Bhavesh and he struggled to keep his face composed. There was nothing unusual about striking a slave, but the thought of that oily man laying his hands on the woman made his blood boil. “Oh, yes. And you should have seen her face. By the look she gave him, it would have been wiser to poke a cobra. Or a tiger.” Gupta nodded toward the enclosure, where a few members of the court tried to catch a glimpse of the cubs, now mostly hidden behind their mother. “Well, that is…interesting.” Shaking his head to indicate he did not want one of the dates Jayanthi offered, Bhavesh affected what he hoped was a convincing yawn. “I suppose that is as much excitement as we can hope for in one day.” He leaned back against a cushion that was propped against the wall and tilted his head back as if resting. Gupta was looking right at him, his back to the curtain, but Bhavesh had deliberately chosen a position that would force the old man to turn his neck to face him. He imagined Gupta’s aging joints would tire of this before long and he would turn back toward the dais. “We shall see, we shall see,” he replied, selecting another date. “Could you send one of your sisters over with some wine, my dear?” He watched the plump ass with appreciation as Jayanthi went to meet his request. As Bhavesh had hoped, Gupta moved his head as if to relax stiff neck muscles and settled into a position facing slightly away. Maybe he’ll take a nap. 30

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“I do not think the matter is yet settled,” said Gupta, apparently picking up where he had left off. “You know Sukumar likes to toy with those who try to gain his favor. He will probably make Phanishwar suffer a little bit before announcing whether or not his gift pleases him.” I would not mind making Phanishwar suffer a little bit, Bhavesh thought sourly. Keeping his eyes on the back of Gupta’s head and one hairy ear, he tilted his head slightly toward the curtain. He moved his eyes in the same direction but could only see one of Sukumar’s wives, the one with the small mouth and dangerous eyes, staring at something beyond his line of vision. Returning his regard to Gupta, Bhavesh shifted his shoulders slightly and tilted his head even farther. This position could not possibly look natural. The old man prattled on and again Bhavesh looked toward the curtain. He cursed under his breath—now a potted plant was in his way. But through its leaves he could make out Sukumar on his dais, or at least the back of his head. The front of his body was obscured by the curtain. “Did you say something?” Bhavesh realized Gupta had heard him swearing, and quickly replied, “I was just yawning. Not that I am not interested in what you speak of, but these afternoons can be tiresome.” To Bhavesh’s relief, Gupta did not turn his head. He thought he must look ridiculous, leaning against the wall at this unnatural angle. He would have to move before someone else took note. He lowered one shoulder and tried to peer again through the curtain, just in time to see Sukumar lean back against his cushions. “Will you have some wine, sir?” Jayanthi’s voice startled Bhavesh and he nearly fell over in his awkward position. “What? No, no, I think I will take a walk.” He struggled to his feet. “You will excuse me, Gupta, I am going to get some air before I start snoring in the middle of the hall.” Bhavesh rapidly walked around to where the tiger enclosure extended from the shelter

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of the building into the gardens beyond, breathing deeply of the air that was less filled with the stench of perfumes, incense, wines and oils than that of the room. What’s going on behind that curtain? Why had Poornima seemed so tense? And what is Sukumar doing with the woman?

Leandre rubbed her arms nervously. Only moments ago she had been straining against Sukumar’s caresses, her body blossoming under his touch. How could she be so weak-minded as to respond to this man who seemed so callous and cruel? He was enjoying embarrassing Phanishwar and taunting Poornima, that was plain enough. He looks ridiculous, covered in God only knows how many layers of silk and studded with jewels like a sparkling peacock. Leaning back on his cushions and gesturing grandly as if he owns the world. But he does own me, she reminded herself. And this palace and everything and everyone in it, from the way everyone sidled up to him and fawned over him. “You said you know how to please a man.” Again, Leandre forgot not to look directly into his face, so startled was she by this statement. She had certainly said no such thing—or had she? What had she allowed her annoyance with Poornima to goad her into saying? In any case, there was no point contradicting him. He was her lord and master and, like it or not, he could demand that Leandre please him any time he chose. She quickly lowered her eyes. “Are you suddenly modest, then?” This time his laugh was unpleasant. “I know you desire me, I felt it. Tasted it, in fact.” Again, he touched his fingers to his tongue as if savoring the remaining drops of the fluids Leandre had left on them. “I think you should show me what you mean about pleasing a man.” He gestured for her to approach and she took a few tentative steps toward the couch. What will he want me to do? As if she did not know. “Poornima, help me with my robes.”

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Leandre glanced at his wife or courtesan or whatever she was, and felt another pang of sympathy for her. Sukumar was going to make her help him undress for another woman. She could see her jaw tighten but Poornima did not argue. To Leandre’s surprise, she did not remove any of his clothing but merely rearranged his belt and some of the elaborately draped folds of cloth to expose his breeches. They were loose and Leandre could see his cock swelling against the fabric. It did not make a very large lump, she noticed. Not that she had a lot of experience with men, but her husband had been more impressively endowed and had assured her that he was of normal size when, as a virgin, Leandre had expressed some doubts that his hard shaft would fit into the tightness of what he called her belle chose. Perhaps the fabric hides some of it, she thought, and waited for Poornima to expose his flesh. She, however, apparently decided she had been helpful enough, and returned sullenly to her place behind the chaise. Leandre did not blame her. She wanted to scream, to run, to slap him. How dare he humiliate both of us in this manner? But both her logical mind and her mutinous body betrayed her. If you please him, he will at least keep you safe from becoming a whore, said the former. And perhaps he will please you in turn, added the latter. How terrible could it be? He was not repulsive—he was handsome, at least from the neck up. His hands had been soft but did not feel weak and he was not old. He was clean and smelled of scented soaps and perfumed oils. Some of the men in the court beyond the curtain had not looked especially clean. Pleasing this man was surely better than being sport for all and sundry. “Well?” Sukumar’s tone was impatient. Leandre took a deep breath and reached forward to unfasten the breeches. She had to lean close to see how they worked and she heard his breathing quicken as her head came close to his lap. She finally figured out that one button would release the flap of fabric that covered him from neckline to groin, and she tugged it free.

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She stared down past his chest—softer than it had appeared under the robes—to his cock, which twitched in anticipation. At least I will have no problem fitting it all into my mouth. Surrendering to the inevitable, she sank to her knees. This is something I know how to do. Leandre and her husband had spent many hours exploring the most minute details and nuances of the pleasures their tongues, lips, teeth and fingers could bring to one another. If you are going to do something, you may as well do it right. If Sukumar wanted proof that Leandre knew how to give a man pleasure, he would get it. Even if I have never before had to perform in front of an audience. She put Phanishwar and Poornima from her mind. Settling into a comfortable position, she cupped one hand around his balls, gathering them into a gentle grasp. She looked up at his face—he watched her with great concentration—and dipped her thumb and index finger into her mouth, sucking them for a moment before pulling them out, now glistening with moisture. She put them around his shaft, teasing the head with her forefinger while she slowly moved her thumb up the line on the underside. She felt an answering pulse from beneath the smooth skin and Sukumar’s breathing grew ragged. I’ll wager this will not take too long. She squeezed him gently as she extended her tongue and lowered her head toward his cock, preparing to encircle the tip and rapidly flick the head while her hands kept up their pressure on the shaft and balls. He is about to burst already. The moment her mouth met his flesh, Sukumar groaned aloud. “Ah, my foreign whore. Who taught you such things? Did the men who killed your husband line up and impale you as well? Did you suck their shafts while your husband jerked and danced at the end of their rope? When they fucked you, did your screams drown out his death cries?” Her body went rigid. All of it. Sukumar’s groan turned into a scream. Leandre tasted blood and realized what she had done. Stumbling back, she stared at him with

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hatred. “You should know better than to insult a woman who has your cock between her teeth,” she snarled, forgetting where she was. “Get her out of here,” shrieked Sukumar. Poornima reached for his damaged groin, probably trying to comfort him, but he slapped her hands away. The curtain was pulled abruptly aside and Leandre caught a glimpse of the startled faces of the court beyond before the fabric fell back into place. The confused guards pointed their swords first at Phanishwar, then at Leandre, then at Poornima, who screamed in terror. Sukumar was frantically trying to examine his now-shriveled member to see how badly she had bitten him and yelping like a dog when his fingers met the wound. “I should have bitten it off,” Leandre snarled. “How dare you speak of my husband’s death! You are not fit to clean his slop pot!” Thankfully she had spoken in her own tongue or the two guards probably would have beheaded her on the spot. As it was, her tone was sufficient to relieve their confusion over the identity of the villain in this situation, and both sword points were soon aimed between her naked breasts. “I said take her out of here! Why do you stand like statues?” “Where shall we take her?” one of the guards managed to stammer. “Is she to be killed?” “Yes!” thundered the rajah who, apparently satisfied that his cock would not fall off, was rearranging his robes while the fluttering hands of Poornima tried to soothe him and ended up doing the opposite. “Take her to the garden and cut off her head.” The two men started to pull Leandre toward the curtain, and she thought her knees would buckle when Sukumar spoke again, more calmly but still loud enough that she was sure everyone on the other side could hear. “Stop. I have a better idea.” Roughly pushing Poornima away, he came to stand in front of Leandre. He panted and his eyes shone with a dark light. “Since you seem to like the tigers so well, you can be their next meal. They like a little sport now and then.” He addressed one of the 35

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guards. “Prepare her. Go!” He turned and strode from the back of the dais, going out through a door Leandre had not previously noticed. Crying, Poornima stumbled after him. Phanishwar stood, wringing his hands and sputtering. “What have you done, you stupid girl? I will lose everything. I will be cast into a pit!” Well, at least that is something, Leandre thought as the two guards pulled the curtain aside and dragged her through.

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Chapter Five The Sacrifice

A few breaths of the evening air made Bhavesh feel better. Perhaps he would have an opportunity to speak to the woman later. It was hard to predict what would happen in the palace. As if to confirm his thoughts, the sounds of an uproar filtered through the tiger enclosure from the great room. Bhavesh hurried around the cage and back into the room to see what was going on. All eyes were turned to the curtained dais, where the fabric swung crazily as if a fight were going on behind. He started pushing through the crowd, heedless of who he might be casting aside, when the curtain swung open and two guards came through, dragging the woman of Eriu between them. She was naked, and her honey-colored eyes were as wild as a spitting cat’s. She looked around at the crowd in fury, trying to kick the guards and a few onlookers that pressed too near. Her hair flew around her wildly, like the mane of a great beast made from golden threads. Was that blood on her lips? The crowd drew back in delighted horror as the guards pulled her toward the opposite side of the tiger enclosure into the far part of the garden. Bhavesh tried to fight his way closer, but they were out of sight within moments. Everyone chattered at once, their eyes bright with excitement at the unusual spectacle. He tried to make sense of what they were saying but their excited babble defeated him. He caught sight of Gupta. “Ah, my young friend. Did I not tell you the matter was not—” “What has happened?” Bhavesh cut him off, not wanting to hear his gloating. “Where are they taking her?”

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“To be prepared for sacrifice.” Gupta whispered the last word in feigned horror. He was obviously as delighted as the rest of the crowd at the unexpected turn of events. “Sukumar is going to feed her to the tigers!” “He will not really do such a thing!” Bhavesh was torn between disbelief and horror. “Even in the places where tiger worship is still practiced, no one really sacrifices humans to them.” “Ah, but these are true Bengals of the Sundarban. It is said they prefer the flesh of men and women to all other foods.” The old man lowered his voice. “This will not be the first time Sukumar has disposed of someone who displeased him in this manner, you know. Although I do not think he has previously done it in front of the entire court.” “Surely they will not want to watch?” Revulsion roiled through Bhavesh’s stomach. “Look at them. What do you think?” He looked around at the bright eyes and faces and listened to the excited whispers. With a sinking feeling, he realized Gupta was right. These vultures would eat any offal Sukumar laid before them. And Bhavesh was one of them. “Well, I do not plan to watch this disgusting…uncivilized…” Words failed him. “Oh, I would not watch it either, but our host might be displeased if he arranges a special entertainment and we decline to enjoy it. I would excuse myself on the basis of age, but that might not be a good idea. So I suppose I must swallow my misgivings and attend for the sake of his hospitality.” I’ll just bet you will, you old buzzard. You will be swallowing your misgivings from the front row, if I am any judge of men. “I think I have had just about enough of Sukumar’s hospitality,” Bhavesh growled, and fled to his rooms. Bhavesh had not arrived at Sukumar’s court with his own servants, but his family connections had rated a room in the “good” part of the palace, where the slaves of Sukumar’s household saw to his needs. They had unpacked his belongings and placed them in the elaborately carved cupboards that came with the chamber, and he had no 38

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idea what had happened to his baggage. Any of the servants would probably be happy to pack for him, but not without the potential that word would get back to his host. Bhavesh could probably come up with some other reason for needing his bags, however, and he hunted for a servant to tell him where they were kept. The halls, usually bustling with activity, were empty and silent. It appeared that everyone had gathered somewhere to discuss the coming spectacle. He looked behind doors and curtains, becoming increasingly more agitated and no closer to his goal. Of course, with slaves available to lift and carry, there was no reason such things should be kept close at hand. His bags could be in the stables or in one of the farthest out buildings, for all Bhavesh knew. He returned to his room, temporarily defeated. He noticed the ewer of wine that had been delivered the night before, which he had not gotten around to drinking. He poured himself a cup and set it on the floor next to the bed, then lay down for a moment and massaged his throbbing temples. When had this cursed headache come upon him? He just wanted to get out of this foul place and did not need any roadblocks. He had a sudden vision of standing before his mother’s door. Bhavesh, why have you returned so soon? Has Sukumar given you a title already? Mother would just have to understand. There were some things a man could not do and keep his honor. Even if Sukumar planned to make him heir to the throne, Bhavesh would still not watch him feed some helpless woman to tigers. Then stop him. Bhavesh snorted. Just how was he supposed to do that? Appeal to the rajah’s better self? Bhavesh had yet to see evidence he possessed one. And even if he did, Bhavesh had barely done more than pass the minimum courtesies of hospitality with the rajah. Bhavesh had a feeling tonight would not be a good bet for their first private conversation. Get someone else to speak to him? Who would that be? From what Bhavesh had observed Sukumar had no close advisors, only wheedling toadies who agreed with his 39

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every whim. None of them would ever deign to suggest that slaughtering a human being in front of a crowd of women, children, old men and everyone else might be a bad idea. Maybe the tigers will not be interested. Unfortunately, Bhavesh knew better. Gupta was right—the Bengal tigers of the Sundarban had acquired a taste for human flesh centuries ago, if the stories were to be believed. Bhavesh’s father, not a superstitious man, had said it was because the tidal waves that washed up the rivers and into the marshy jungle every few years during typhoon season left so many bodies behind that the tigers had no reason to hunt for months. And if Sukumar had fed them in this manner before… Bhavesh shuddered. No, he did not want to see anyone fed to tigers—and most especially not this woman. From the moment he had seen her, he had wanted to speak to her, to touch her, to be alone with her. That was why he had to go back. Even if he could do nothing to help her—he supposed he still hoped for some miracle allowing him to do so—Bhavesh could not leave knowing she had died alone in front of a crowd of people who took only pleasure from her suffering. At least one person would care about her death. He swallowed the wine in one gulp, refilled the cup and drank it down again. Thus fortified, Bhavesh headed down the corridor and back toward the hated hall and the dreaded events scheduled to take place there.

It was far too late to regret her rash behavior, but Leandre tried. Maybe if I apologize, he will spare me. She barked out a short laugh, drawing a curious glance from the old woman who was draping her in a white robe under the watchful eyes of the armed guards. Even with her life at stake, Leandre knew she could not look at Sukumar and apologize with enough sincerity to convince him.

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“The robe is white so the blood will show,” said a voice from behind her. Leandre did not have to turn her head to recognize its source. Apparently Poornima’s efforts to calm Sukumar had been rebuffed, and she had come to taunt her would-be rival instead. Leandre wanted to make a scathing retort, but both her glibness and her command of Poornima’s language seemed to have temporarily fled. She came around so Leandre could see her in what was no doubt her richest attire. Perhaps she had chosen red to ensure that Sukumar did not lose his temper and toss her into the cage too. No thrills for the crowd if the gore didn’t stand out. Poornima addressed the old woman, who was now pulling Leandre’s hair tighter into an elaborate headdress of pearls. “That is good enough. Do not waste too much time on her appearance—the tigers will not be put off their appetites by a few loose strands of hair.” The old woman bowed her head and stepped away from Leandre. The two guards came forward to take her arms, but she stepped back and shook her head. “I will walk by myself,” Leandre said in their language. “You will not have to drag me.” “Keep your swords pointed at her back,” cautioned Poornima shrilly. “She may try to run.” Run where? she wanted to ask, but a sharp point at her buttocks reminded Leandre not to pause. She took a deep breath and, willing her knees not to buckle, strode with as much dignity as possible through the door. Duncan did not faint when he approached his executioner. She would not dishonor her husband’s memory by behaving less bravely than he had when faced with his own death. They strode down the short hallway and back to the court hall, where Sukumar stood on the platform. If Leandre had thought him ostentatiously dressed and bedecked before, she had underestimated his taste for self-ornamentation. His robes were black, his trousers and turban gold, and he wore so many jewels that he must have needed help mounting the platform.

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It does not matter if I stare at you now. Leandre looked at him as coldly and evenly as she could manage. She hoped her trembling was too slight for him to discern. It was the real reason she had not wanted the guards to touch her—she did not want them to be able to report afterward that she had been quaking with fear. The room was silent except for a soft rustling sound which came from the tiger cage. Akhilesh must have resumed his pacing. As much as Leandre had enjoyed staring at them before, she could not bear to turn her gaze in that direction now. Sukumar had not yet deigned to look directly at Leandre. So much for my icy stare. He stepped to the edge of the platform and she wondered if he was planning to give a speech. If so, she was not sure if she wanted it to be a long or short one. Instead, he stood and looked around the room, moving his gaze as if he would stare at each inhabitant until they were forced to look away. Leandre watched as eyes shifted nervously from Sukumar to her. It seemed that no one wanted to look directly at either one of them. She started doing the same thing as Sukumar—meeting their gazes one by one to see how quickly they would falter. Look at me! she wanted to scream. This bastard is about to feed me to his pets and you stand there and will not even meet my eyes. As each glance fell away, she felt less afraid. You are the cowards, she thought. In a few minutes I will be with my husband in paradise, and you will still be stuck here with this devil. Each stare fell until she came to a familiar set of greenish eyes. These did not drop. They bore into Leandre’s with an intensity that took her breath away. I see you, they seemed to say. I see you and I understand. An earsplitting roar came from the cage and Leandre reluctantly pulled her eyes away from the handsome stranger’s stare to look at Akhilesh, who had come to stand close to the walls of the iron enclosure. Sukumar’s laugh mingled with the echoes, and the crowd tittered nervously. “My pets are hungry. It is past their feeding time. Shall we make them wait?” he shouted to the court. 42

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“No!” shouted the crowd. “No, no, no!” Cowards. They could not look me in the eye and now they shout for my execution. Leandre lifted her chin higher and tried to find the stranger’s face in the crowd again, but the others had raised their hands and were being led in a chant by Sukumar. “Feed them! Feed them! Feed them!” Leandre looked at the faces, ugly in their combined bloodlust. Sukumar stepped down from the platform and came to stand next to her. With an exaggerated gesture, as if letting an elder statesman pass before him, he bowed and directed her toward the enclosure, where two guards stood ready to lift the lock and open the heavy barred door. Akhilesh crouched a little way back, his ears turned back as if the noise of the chanting crowd hurt them. Hiranmayi peered from behind a plant and the cubs were nowhere in sight. “Feed them! Feed them! Feed them!” Keeping one eye on Akhilesh, the guard closest to the cage cautiously opened the door, prepared to slam it shut if the great cat charged. Leandre tried to move her leaden feet in its direction, but she could not feel them. It was as if her body had frozen at the waist and could not propel itself forward. “Feed them! Feed them! Feed them!” Before Leandre could gather her will to move on her own, a great shove caught her in the back and she stumbled into the enclosure. The door clanged behind her and the chanting of the crowd coalesced into a scream before they grew quiet. She was in the cage with the tigers. Akhilesh was no more than ten feet from her, crouched as if about to spring. His rumbling growl grew louder and his golden eyes looked into Leandre’s. “Be quick, my friend,” she said aloud, and closed her eyes as the muscles in the great legs bunched and he launched himself through the air in her direction.

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Chapter Six Beastmistress

Bhavesh had never seen such dignity. Even as the crowd around him jeered like baboons, the woman stood her ground. Sukumar, posturing and posing for the excited crowd, looked like a court jester next to a queen, with his glittering finery and crude chanting. Bhavesh could see no trace of fear in her eyes as she scanned the crowd. Look at me, he breathed. Look at me—see my face. I am not like these others. Please, see me! When her eyes finally locked with his, he almost lost his breath. Such fierceness! What had this woman ever seen to make her so brave, so fearless? Had they stared at one another for a second? A minute? Had she understood what he was trying to tell her? The tiger roared and she pulled her eyes away. When she turned back to the crowd, Bhavesh knew she was searching for him—felt it with a certainty that defied explanation—but the increasingly agitated crowd blocked her face from his view and then Sukumar put his hands on her back and shoved her into the waiting maw of the cage door. Along with all the others, Bhavesh held his breath as the tiger crouched and prepared to spring upon her. When the beast launched himself through the air, he thought his heart had stopped as the crowd around him screamed in combined horror and delight. Then Bhavesh joined the collective gasp as together they realized what had happened. Akhilesh had not leapt upon the woman. He had thrown himself against the bars of the cage where the guard was attempting to re-secure the lock, landing only inches from where the woman stood with her back to the door, her eyes closed. A claw must

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have made it through the grillwork and snagged the guard’s sleeve, for he screamed and jumped away from the cage, the sound of tearing fabric clearly audible. The crowd broke into nervous laughter. Bhavesh saw the woman’s eyes fly open as she gaped openmouthed at the cat. Ignoring her, Akhilesh ran past her to another section of the cage where he again flung himself against the iron, snarling and snapping at the other guard and, if Bhavesh wasn’t mistaken, Sukumar. The rajah jumped back, nearly stumbling before recovering his footing. He made a small bow to the crowd as if it was all just part of the show, but swiftly moved across the room to the dais. The tiger’s enormous head finally swung toward the woman. He stalked toward her with the sensuous rhythm that punctuated most of his movements. She stood very still, but her eyes did not close this time. Akhilesh stopped only inches from her and lifted his chin to sniff her hand delicately. He walked to her other side and sniffed the length of her leg. Showing his huge pink tongue, he licked her sandaled foot. “Do you find her tasty?” shouted Sukumar, but the crowd’s responding laughter sounded more nervous than appreciative. The cat’s head swung toward the noise as if in annoyance, and they quieted. As he turned back toward Leandre, he sniffed her again, then leaned forward and butted his big head against her stomach. The woman’s eyes opened very wide and her hands rose ever-so slowly from her side. You could have heard a leaf fall in the hall as she placed them, one by one, on the back of Akhilesh’s neck and, very cautiously, curled her fingers and began to move them in a scratching motion. An unusual rumbling sound filled the room and Bhavesh laughed aloud when he realized what it was. The tiger was purring! His laughter was contagious and soon the court was ringing with guffaws. The same voices raised only moments before in bloodthirsty calls for death now took on a hysterical edge. Was it relief?

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One person was obviously not amused. Sukumar’s face darkened and he leapt from the dais, running across the floor and onto the viewing platform in front of the tiger enclosure. “Akhilesh! What are you doing? Kill her! Hiranmayi!” He slammed his hands noisily against the iron grillwork, his frustration tangible. Instead of obeying, the great beast turned from the woman and charged toward Sukumar, clawing and roaring at the cage. The rajah nearly fell off the platform and the closest onlookers screamed in surprise and delight. With a parting snarl, Akhilesh returned to the woman, making a turn so that he leaned against her while still facing the platform, a warning growl rumbling as he faced his ostensible master. The woman placed a hand on the tiger’s head and smiled. “It appears that your pets,” the sarcasm was clear in her tone, “do not care for your choice of meals this evening.” Then she spoke to the animal in words that Bhavesh alone among the listeners could understand—unless one considered Akhilesh himself. “Thank you, Akhilesh. Now, let us get out of sight of these people. I am tired of having them stare at me, and I wager you are too.” With a final snarl in Sukumar’s direction, Akhilesh turned and stalked toward the unlit regions of the enclosure that reached out toward the gardens beyond. The woman followed, and as she reached the marble steps, Hiranmayi stood up and walked beside her. Two small shapes coalesced from the shadows and followed—the cubs. The woman and the tigers disappeared into the darkness like smoke. Sukumar turned to face the room. Bhavesh expected to see fury, but the rajah’s face was still and very pale. “The company is commanded to go to their rooms,” he announced just loud enough to be heard, but clearly. “There will be no further…entertainments tonight.” He turned and practically fled the platform, leaping across the dais and out the rear door without a look behind him, leaving a trail of astonished murmurs. After a moment’s indecision the guards began shouting. “You heard the rajah! Return to your rooms! Clear the hall!” The crowd, obviously disgruntled, began to 46

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reluctantly follow these orders, crowding into the exits and moving slowly to the corridors that led to the inner courtyards and chambers of the guest quarters. Bhavesh tried to hold his ground—he wanted to keep staring at the point in the darkness where he had seen the last flash of white robes as the woman of Eriu vanished with the tigers. But it was like trying to stand against the tide, and he found himself being pulled into the stream of retreating revelers. He managed to step into an alcove that allowed him to at least move no farther from the chamber, and tried to clear his head. What had he just seen? What did it mean? He felt as if he should be doing something, taking some action, but he didn’t know what it should be. “My young friend!” Gupta slid into the alcove next to him, panting. “These people do not move slowly enough for an old man. I need to get out of the way and let them pass.” He mopped his brow then peered up at Bhavesh in the semidarkness. “Why are you hiding here?” “I am not hiding,” Bhavesh protested. “I am just not ready to go back to my rooms.” Gupta nodded. “None of us are. After today’s events, I doubt many of these people are planning to go to their own beds! They will gather in small groups and discuss it until dawn. No need for you to sit alone if you do not wish it—join me. The man in the next chamber is from the same village as Sukumar’s uncle and his wife—” Bhavesh cut him off. “No, Gupta, I do not wish to stay up and gossip. I must go back to the tiger enclosure.” He regretted his words immediately. The old man would tell the next person he spoke with about his intentions. To Bhavesh’s surprise, Gupta remained silent. A servant passed by amid the nowthinning throng, and the torch he was carrying shed a sudden flash of light across the wizened features. He was eyeing Bhavesh with a seriousness he had not previously shown.

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“I see.” He paused for a long time then spoke again. “I know you think I am a garrulous old fool who cannot be trusted.” His words shocked and embarrassed Bhavesh with their accuracy, and he started to protest, but Gupta interrupted. “No, no, my friend, do not apologize. For garrulous I am. What else do I have to amuse me in my old age, childless and widower that I am? But I was not always as you see.” He straightened and for a moment Bhavesh could see a younger, more vital man in his silhouette. “I have been a soldier, a husband and, if you can believe it, a lover. I am not blind. I saw how you looked at the foreign woman, even before she did that extraordinary thing with the tigers. Is there something between you?” “Yes. I mean, no, I have never even spoken to her. But there is something. I do not know…” Bhavesh trailed off, at a loss for an explanation. Surprisingly, Gupta nodded. “I understand. It is sometimes that way between a man and a woman.” He was quiet for a moment, then grasped Bhavesh’s arm. “How far are we from your rooms? Mine are on the opposite side of the courtyard with the fountain, despite the fact I have told them it is too far for my old legs. We need to figure out how you can reach your purpose.” Bhavesh’s rooms were farther down the corridor than he would have liked, but they were closer than Gupta’s so he led him there. A lamp was burning and tea and sweetmeats were arranged on a small table, which meant the servant assigned to this corridor had already been here and the two would not be disturbed unless they rang for service. After settling himself and selecting some sweetmeats, Gupta surprised Bhavesh by asking for writing materials. “I have been here longer than you, and no one pays attention to an old man. I can draw you a diagram of the tigers’ quarters.” “You know that much about them?” He smiled. “You will not believe it, but I was once in charge of the fortifications at Rajasthan. They were very challenging, due to the terrain, and I had to work with architects and engineers to make sure they could be defended on all sides.” Noticing 48

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Bhavesh’s astonished expression, he shrugged. “So last year, when Sukumar decided to enlarge the enclosure, I had many talks with his builders. The man in charge did not speak Sanskrit very well, and in the evenings he preferred to relax with someone who spoke his dialect. So he walked me around the site and showed me everything.” He began making surprisingly graceful strokes on the dried palm leaves Bhavesh had provided. “The enclosure has several sections, each of which can be closed off so the landscapers and cleaners can come in safely. There are entrances here, here and here.” He made three marks then pointed to one of them. “This is the gate that lies within the court hall. The one we saw opened tonight.” He drew a line across one end of the drawing. “This is where the roof ends, so as you can see, the majority of the enclosure is in the gardens. The back part is against the outer wall, and there they have not cut down the vegetation—it is as thick as a jungle. This is where they usually enclose the tigers when they need to get in to make repairs on the rest of the quarters.” “How do they get them in there?” “They lure them with food, which they bring in through this door.” He indicated another of the marks and grinned. “No one likes that job, because the bushes are so thick no one can be sure tigers are not lying in wait. Oh, they try to do it right after Akhilesh and Hiranmayi have been seen in another part of the enclosure, but once she became pregnant, she often kept herself hidden all day and they could not always be sure where she was.” “Do you think that section of the cage is where the woman of Eriu went?” “What did you call her?” Gupta’s eyes were bright. “Oh, I…I just call her that. I do not really know where she is from.” “I see.” He obviously did not. “Bhavesh, I cannot pretend to know whether the tigers would take the woman to this section of the enclosure. For all I know, they have come out of their strange trance and eaten her.” This had not occurred to Bhavesh, and he felt a wave of nausea at the thought. His horror must have shown on his face, for Gupta quickly reassured him, “Peace, my 49

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friend, I was just trying to illustrate that since the tigers have not been behaving in a fashion that could be called normal, there is no way to predict where they are. The reason I was pointing out this door is because it is near the servants’ entrance to the corridor where my room lies. And I doubt it is guarded. If you wanted to get near the enclosure, you could start here and work your way back toward the main hall.” “Will there be guards?” Bhavesh did not think Sukumar would be too happy about someone prowling around the edge of the tigers’ domain, after his orders that all members of the court return to their rooms. Gupta shrugged. “Yes, there are always some guards. But after tonight’s uproar, they will probably be gossiping too. You said you had to return to the enclosure. This seems the most discreet way of doing so.” “Yes, of course.” Bhavesh grasped his shoulder. “I thank you, my friend. For helping me and for…for understanding that I must do this thing.” Gupta’s lips stretched in a broad smile. “I will expect payment, of course. A full accounting of your adventure.” Bhavesh must have looked dubious, because he hastened to add, “Not so I can tell it to others! But so that I can savor the details and remember what it was like to be young and caught up in passion for a woman.” Bhavesh smiled back. Perhaps Gupta did understand. They went to Gupta’s room so that he could show Bhavesh the door he had mentioned. He was prepared to tell any guards they encountered he was helping an elderly gentleman, slightly the worse for drink, back to his quarters. They did not, however, encounter anyone in the halls but a few servants—apparently the palace guards were not taking Sukumar’s edict so seriously that they felt the need to patrol the corridors. He bid Gupta good night and slipped out into the warm evening. In the dim light of moon and stars Bhavesh could make out the latticework of the iron enclosure, heavily interspersed with the leaves of the thicker foliage at this end of the gardens. A thrill of

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anticipation filled his belly. After waiting a few moments in the shadows of the building to make sure no guards were near, he stepped quickly to the bars of the cage.

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Chapter Seven Fate

The humid darkness swirled with heady scents. Tropical flowers, the names of which Leandre did not know, wet grass and the tigers themselves. The cats smelled wild and rich but not unpleasant. It added to the dreamlike quality of moving through the elaborately manicured gardens with its fountains and sculptures into the wilder, thicker foliage of the regions farthest from the torchlight of Sukumar’s great hall. Even among the jungle-like growth they encountered marble seats and roofed enclosures, all apparently designed for the comfort of Sukumar’s prized pets. Akhilesh nosed through an especially thick stand of large-leafed trees from which hung a heavy bunch of the yellow fruit called kadalii. Leandre followed, lifting the branches aside to step through. On the other side was another of the “rooms” that dotted the enclosure. Columns supported a low roof with graceful arches, and the marble floor had been built in two levels. Cushions were scattered on the floor but from the look of them, it had been months since anyone had pushed through the denser foliage to clean or replace them. Akhilesh stalked to the upper level and lay down, his golden eyes staring. He made a noise that was somewhere between a grunt and a growl, but held no menace. Leandre smiled. “Yes, here we are,” she replied. “This must be home.” As if to confirm her statement, Hiranmayi dropped heavily against one of the cushions and the cubs scuttled to her side and began pushing against her teats. Dinnertime. Leandre selected a cushion that leaned against the two stairs separating the levels and sat down. She pulled her knees up to her chest and encircled them with her arms,

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so that she could put her chin on her knees and watch the cubs feed. Hiranmayi watched her placidly. “Your children are very beautiful,” Leandre told her. “It makes me feel peaceful to look at them.” Hiranmayi blinked her eyes but remained silent. With a sureness that defied reason, Leandre knew the tiger understood her. She turned to Akhilesh. “So, you have chosen to protect me. Do you know why, I wonder?” Again, he made a noise as if answering her. I do as I choose, he seemed to say. “And yet here you are, in a cage. Like me.” He grunted, assenting, and laid his big head on his paws. She sighed and returned her gaze to the kittens. The full moon peeked over the tops of the kadalii trees and below the roof of the pergola, and Hiranmayi and her cubs were bathed in a swath of its light. Just a very few hours ago, Leandre had thought being the half-nude gift to a rajah the most unusual position in which an Irish noblewoman could ever hope to find herself. Now she was the houseguest of a family of man-eating wild beasts. She tried to imagine telling the tale to her father and almost laughed aloud. One of the cubs, done with his meal, nosed against Hiranmayi’s chin and made one of those babyish grunting sounds. She began to bathe him, her tongue wider than Leandre’s hand. He bleated and backed away. She did laugh aloud this time. To the question she was sure she could see in Hiranmayi’s eyes, she said, “All children are the same, I suppose. He is not ready for his bath, as he knows well it will only lead to bedtime.” At the sound of Leandre’s voice, the cub turned and looked at her. He ducked his head and made a small noise, as if he had just noticed this strange creature in his house and did not know whether it was something he should fear or not. She held out her hand, fingers dangling.

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“Fear nothing, little one. I would never hurt you, and your parents would never let me.” Leandre looked at Hiranmayi, feeling she should ask the mother’s permission before summoning her child. “May I touch him? I want so very much to feel his fur.” Hiranmayi gave a little growl that held no hostility and the cub seemed to take it as consent. He took a few tentative steps toward Leandre then crouched again, uncertain. “Yes, my darling. It is quite safe. Come to me.” She made her voice low and coaxing, and he crawled on his belly to a distance that just allowed him to stretch his neck forward and sniff her fingers. She wiggled them, and he made a squeak of fear and scrambled rapidly back to the safety of his mother. By this time, the other cub had finished eating and had been watching with interest. When his brother—or her sister, Leandre had no idea of their sex—returned to hide behind his mother’s paws, the second cub got to his feet and strolled toward her, tail high. “Oh, ho, so you are the brave one!” She wiggled the dangling fingers again and the cub hurried the last few steps to jump upon her hand and bite them. “Ouch!” She pulled her hand back and the cub blinked but did not retreat. “You must be gentle! I do not have thick tiger skin.” Leandre returned her hand and the cub took it in his teeth again, but did not bite down. Instead, he rolled over and wrapped his paws around her arm and kicked with his back feet, emitting playful snarls. “Oh, I see. You are a ferocious jungle animal and you have captured the family meal. We will just see about that.” She removed her fingers from his mouth and scratched his belly, while he still held the captured wrist between his paws. The snarls increased in volume—Leandre had apparently stumbled on a pleasing form of play. Actually, it was a she, Leandre observed in the moonlight. Presumably, the rule that applied to Irish barn kittens would work with Indian tiger cubs. Look under the tail— two buttons means female, one means male. “Oh, you are fierce,” she teased, enlisting her other hand to the assault on the round belly. Her fur was soft, but more fuzzy than silky, and she could feel strong muscles already forming under baby fat. 54

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Not to be shown up by a mere sister, the other cub came over, snagged the hem of Leandre’s robe and tugged. She laughed and pretended to fall over, conquered. Akhilesh made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a grunt of disgust and turned his head the other direction, as if he could not be bothered with the foolishness of females and children. They played like that for a while and although Leandre’s mind tried to whisper about the direness of her predicament and the need to plan, she hushed it and absorbed herself in the moment. As the lateness of the hour and the fullness of bellies caused the playful cubs to begin to yawn and flag, a heaviness began to steal over her eyes as well. Hiranmayi had moved closer to keep an eye on her children, and Leandre soon found herself lying on her side while she lazily stroked a small sleeping form. Hiranmayi stretched out behind her, almost touching her back. What of tomorrow? A final thought tried to crowd in before sleep took Leandre. She responded in the words of her father. “That is a question that always answers itself,” she mumbled aloud, then drifted into oblivion. She was awakened with a jolt when Akhilesh let out a fierce snarl. He was on his feet, and Leandre could feel Hiranmayi’s muscles taut behind her. The female tiger made a warning noise, and Leandre sat up, scooped up the blinking cubs and put them behind her back, between their mother’s paws. Are they coming to get me? People must enter this enclosure sometime—Leandre had seen too much evidence of cleaning and gardening to think otherwise—but would they actually try to take her away with both tigers alert to protect her? She envisioned snares and spears, and shuddered. While Akhilesh kept up a low rumble, she listened for feet crashing through the heavy growth, but heard nothing. “Hello?” A voice, not too close, called softly. Leandre could not make out the direction, shrouded as they were by the thick vegetation. Akhilesh’s growling increased in volume. 55

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“Hello…my lady, are you there?” The growling increased to a snarl when Leandre was struck with a realization—the words were Gaelic! “Akhilesh, it is all right.” She spoke reassuringly and the tiger looked at her. “I…I do not think he means me…means us harm.” She got to her feet. “Where is the voice coming from?” The big head tilted as if trying to fathom the question then he gave another of those explosive snorts and walked toward the wall of foliage. He pushed through the curtain of greenery, and Leandre followed.

When the enormous head emerged from the shadows of the greenery, Bhavesh could not prevent himself from leaping back from the bars of the cage. Although he had seen the tiger many times during his short tenure at the palace, the sheer power of the beast still struck awe. If these bars were not between us, the eyes seemed to say, I could kill you more easily than you could swat a fly. Bhavesh swallowed convulsively, but spoke again. If Akhilesh was near—surely this was the male tiger—then the woman might be as well. “Hello? I…I have come to speak with you.” She materialized from the dense shrubbery like a ghost in her diaphanous white robes. “So speak.” He was taken aback. He realized that even though he had come with the purpose of finding her, he had not really expected to succeed. As she glided into the moonlight, her strangely colored hair falling in disarray from the pearl headdress, Bhavesh almost lost his breath. She is so beautiful. “Well?” He had been staring openmouthed and hoped she could not see his flush of embarrassment in the gloom. “I am sorry, I just did not expect to find you so quickly.”

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“You have found me now. Tell me,” she said, sliding closer to the iron grillwork that separated them, “how do you come to speak my tongue?” “There is a slave in my family’s household from your land. He taught it to me when I was a boy.” She took a moment to digest that. “Why have you come?” “I had to.” It would have been difficult to explain further but she did not seem to require it. “I see.” The big cat made a grumbling sound and she turned to him and spoke as if to a man. “Thank you, Akhilesh, but I am quite sure he means us no harm.” The tiger retreated a few steps but sat down facing Bhavesh. He made a noise as if to say, “We shall see about that.” “Does he understand you?” She shrugged and smiled. “He seems to. I know he is protecting me, but I could not say he has actually told me that.” It was wondrous. Bhavesh was speaking to the most enchanting creature he had ever seen, under the watch of a beast many of his people worshipped. She sat down and drew up her knees as if it was the most normal thing in the world. Bhavesh glanced around, worried that someone would come upon them. “I am Bhavesh. May I know your name?” “Leandre.” “Leandre.” He repeated the name, trying it on his tongue. It sent a frisson down his spine. “Leandre, there are guards to prevent people from interfering with the tiger enclosure, and I have seen their torches. One of them will probably check this section of the gardens before too long. I do not know how long we will be able to speak.” She nodded. “Is there something urgent you must tell me?” He blinked at that. He had not really considered the topic of their conversation, only that they must have one. “I do not know. It was just that I could not stay away.”

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Her slow smile caused an immediate response in every nerve in his body. “Yes,” she said, and he could not help but notice that her lips were full and her mouth wide and generous. “There was something between us tonight, was there not? Before I got…rather caught up in events, I was imagining what it would be like to make love to you.” Bhavesh could not believe she had spoken so directly. The tingling in his nerves coalesced to a surge of desire and his cock hardened instantly. He managed to keep his voice even when he responded. “Will you not come out of the cage? There is a door right there. I have looked at the locks and I can open it easily. We can go to my rooms.” Was it amusement he saw quirk her lips or a trick of the moonlight? “I said I had thought about making love to you. I did not mean I would do it. I do not generally make it a practice to make love to strangers.” “But you are a—” He cut himself off. He had been about to say she was a slave. He had assumed she would have been passed from hand to hand—or bed to bed—before Phanishwar had brought her to the palace. She laughed, but it was a bitter sound. “I am a slave, yes. But I have not been one for long. And the men who have…have owned me thus far had their own reasons not to take me to their beds.” She must have seen his eyebrows rise, because she added, “No, I am not claiming to be a virgin. I am a widow, and my husband was something of a sensualist. Do you know the word?” He did not, but he had a good idea what she meant, so he nodded rather than interrupt her story. “He was older than I, and had learned a great deal at the hands of skilled women before I came to him. He taught me to enjoy the pleasures of the flesh, and I have missed them.” Bhavesh wet his lips. He did not intend to end the night separated from this woman. “Leandre, I did not mean to offend you. But, as you said, there was something

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between us tonight. And then when you spoke to the tiger…” He struggled to make himself understood. “I am the only other person in the palace—in this region, probably, who speaks your tongue. And I am from the Sundarban. My ancestors worshipped tigers and some of the villagers still do so today. There is a legend about a tiger who turned into a woman, and who had hair the color of honey and skin the color of milk. She brought the gifts of milk and honey to our people and took a human husband. He became a great leader and his name came to symbolize strength and power.” “You think I am this woman?” This time her amusement was real, not bitter. “No, of course not. I do not believe the old legends, but I respect their symbolism and what they have taught our people. And I believe in fate. You see… You see, Leandre, the man’s name was Bhavesh. And the woman’s name was Prahleandra.” Just telling her this brought on the return of the frisson, and Bhavesh saw her shiver in response. “I see,” she said slowly. “And you believe fate has brought us together.” “I know it has,” he said, and was certain he was telling the truth. Bhavesh held his breath, not wanting to prod her further, even though he ached for her and his cock had lost none of its rigidity. She must draw the same conclusion on her own. Suddenly Akhilesh got to his feet with a snarl. Bhavesh heard voices and saw torches off to his left, coming from the direction of the main hall. “I must go!” He whirled, intending to run back toward the door from which he had come, but another torch approached from that direction. He swore viciously. Leandre may not have known the words he used but she understood the sentiment. “You cannot let them find you here. With Sukumar so angry, I do not know what he will do.” “But there is nowhere to run!”

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“Then come in here with me.” Leandre’s eyes flew to the door. “You said you could get it open, do it now!” He hesitated. “But the tigers—” “Will not hurt you if I bid them so. Hurry!” Bhavesh was not so certain, but the torches were drawing nearer. He ran to the gate and grabbed the latch. When he had looked at it before, it had seemed simple. Now he fumbled with the mechanism, willing his hands to be agile. The lock clicked and he flung the door open. Akhilesh growled and Bhavesh froze, but Leandre whispered sharply, “He just wants you to hurry! Quickly, follow me.” She lifted a curtain of leaves and disappeared into the shadows beyond. With a last glance at Akhilesh, who seemed to be waiting, Bhavesh followed.

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Chapter Eight Paradise

They stood still inside the wall of green and listened to the voices of the men. “Did you refasten the lock?” Leandre whispered. “I…I am not sure.” Bhavesh was looking at Akhilesh, who was watching him just as suspiciously. The rumbling growl, however, was temporarily silent. She could not quite make out the words, but the guards did not sound agitated. A little more animated than one would normally expect from those on a late-night patrol, perhaps—probably gossiping about her—but if Bhavesh had failed to relock the gate, they must not have noticed. “Can you hear what they are saying?” Leandre kept her voice to the barest whisper. “A little.” He listened for a few more moments. “It sounds like they are planning to play cards. They probably meet back here because they are unlikely to be caught.” “Then they will be here for a while. Come—let us go to where we cannot be heard.” She took his hand, feeling a little awkward, and led him back toward the tigers’ hidden pergola. Hiranmayi was lying down with her head and shoulders up, alert, but the cubs were sleeping. She made an interrogative noise when they came through the trees, but Akhilesh gave a grunting answer as if to say, “I do not know what she is up to but this man does not seem to be dangerous.” Leandre looked at Bhavesh. Perhaps not to a tiger. But I suspect this man could be very dangerous indeed. Hiranmayi must have agreed with her mate on the subject of Bhavesh’s potential to be a threat, because she put her head back down on her paws, although her eyes

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remained open and watchful. Akhilesh settled himself next to her, and two pairs of honey-colored eyes watched them. Leandre was still holding Bhavesh’s hand and she could feel his tension. “Let us go up here, so we do not disturb them while we talk.” She led him up the short stair to the higher level of the pergola, and took him to a bench that was shielded from the lower level by a stone railing and some empty pots that must have once held plants. She sat on the bench and he joined her. “So, Bhavesh, it seems you are alone with Prahleandra.” He smiled. “And I am not even dreaming.” She must have looked quizzical, because he went on, “The story of Prahleandra and Bhavesh was my boyhood fantasy. I wanted to be the hero.” Leandre could see his eyes shining in the moonlight. “The nature of my fantasies changed when I became a man, but by then Prahleandra was part of my dreams and came to visit me on many nights.” He reached out with one hand to touch her cheek then stroke her hair. “Milk and honey.” His touch was gentle, but his hand was not smooth and free of calluses like Sukumar’s had been. She shuddered, but it was out of need that flooded her limbs the moment he touched her. She was still holding his other hand, and she lifted and kissed it. “And you…strength and power, is that what your name means?” He nodded, and she pulled his hand to her breast and pressed it against the silky robes. “Show me your strength, Bhavesh. Let me feel your power.” “But the tigers…” “They will not disturb us.” She was sure this was true. “Bhavesh, this may be our only night together. For now, the tigers protect me. But eventually Sukumar will think of a way to get me away from them, and then he will kill me.” “I will not let that happen,” he said, pulling her closer to him. She felt the hard muscles in his arms and placed a hand against his chest. She felt steel through his dark robes. “I will find a way to get us away from this place.” 62

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Leandre nestled against him. He seemed so sure of himself, and it was nice to pretend what he said was true. She had not felt safe since being ripped away from her husband’s bleeding form almost a year ago. The clean and masculine smell of Bhavesh, the strength of his body, the brush of his chin, now rough with the day’s growth of beard—all of it combined to make her feel almost secure. He gathered her closer, pulling her onto his lap. She felt the hard pressure of his cock pushing against the underside of her leg, and her innermost places clenched with anticipation. She lifted her chin to see his face and her mouth was instantly covered by his. His tongue thrust into Leandre’s mouth and she captured it and sucked, savoring the taste and feel. It had been so long since she had been kissed, and she was sure she had never been kissed like this. She grasped Bhavesh’s shoulder and the back of his head, as if she could pull his mouth closer to hers. She ran her own tongue along his, over his teeth, inside his lips. She forgot to breathe. He must have forgotten as well, because he pulled back, gasping. They stared at one another for a moment then his mouth was busy again, tasting the underside of her jaw, her neck, the skin above her breasts. “Milk and honey,” he breathed. “I must see you!” she gasped. The dark robes had not hidden his size, and she had felt strength in his body. She pulled at the silky fabric and he guided her hand to the place at his belt where the elaborate folds of cloth were held together. In a moment, Leandre had the robes free and pulled them from his shoulders. She froze, her breath caught in her throat. The play of moonlight across the rippling muscles of his chest, arms and belly was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. Lean and hard and, if the moonlight could be trusted, bronzed. A light pattern of hair spread across his chest, narrowing as it reached his belly, where a small line ran downward to the top of his breeches. “You are magnificent,” she breathed, and Bhavesh’s slow smile answered. “Now you must do the same for me,” he said. “I wish to see your milky skin.” 63

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“You have already seen it, along with the entire court.” She blushed at the memory of being dragged naked from Sukumar’s dais. “Only for a moment,” Bhavesh’s hand reached for the shoulders of her robe and pulled them aside, so that they fell and left her naked to the waist. “And not in the moonlight.” His head dipped and he took a nipple between his lips. “Ummmm,” he almost hummed, and the vibrations from his mouth sent waves of pleasure through her. She felt moisture building behind the lips of her cunt and knew a single squeeze of her muscles would send it cascading down her legs. She did not care. Let him feel what he was doing to her. She shifted her weight and felt the hard throb of his cock against her bottom. She wriggled against it, eliciting a groan from the mouth that was devouring her breast. He bit down lightly in response and this time Leandre was the one who groaned. Her muscles spasmed and the wetness burst from her in a warm torrent. Bhavesh fumbled to discover how the robes still draped at her waist parted. His hand slid through and between her legs until the tips of his fingers found the moist cleft. He smiled. “Are you making milk and honey for me, Leandre? I must taste of it.” In one smooth pull he had the rest of her robes flung aside before lifting her in his arms as he stood, as if she were no more than a child. He glanced to where some of the cushions lay scattered on the marble floor and carried her to them. “Wait here.” He set her on her feet then picked up her robe and spread it over the cushions. He lifted her again and lowered himself, laying her upon the pillows, now covered in white silk. “Now I will feed on the gifts of the tiger woman,” he said, and, spreading the curls between her legs aside with his fingers, plunged his tongue into the depths beneath. Leandre’s response was instant and almost violent in its strength. Her back arched all the way to her neck, so that she was lifted from the cushions from the base of her spine to the top of her head. Bhavesh chuckled, shifted his position so he was crouched 64

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between her legs, and took one of the cheeks of her buttocks in each of his strong hands. He lapped, teased and nibbled at the clit that quaked and spasmed like a thing possessed. No thoughts could reach Leandre’s mind but this unbelievable, unrelenting pleasure. Bhavesh had control of the very core of her womanhood and showed no signs of relinquishing the tiniest bit of his advantage. As she shuddered and moaned, he began to slide his fingers into her, still keeping up the pressure of his lips and tongue and teeth as her cunt squeezed against the movement, trying to draw him farther inside. Through the haze of pleasure she felt one of his moisture-slicked fingers find her anus and begin to tease that tight opening. Her eyes flew wide. She had always enjoyed the pleasures of the flesh but had never thought of— “Ooooooh,” she sighed as the tip of a smooth finger slid into the previously unyielding opening. She started to say “stop” but suddenly her body ceased treating this unfamiliar penetration as an invasion and opened itself as he slid the finger all the way inside. A climax rocked her body as the combination of sensations—her bud between his teeth, his thick thumb in her cunt and his probing finger in her anus—plummeted her over the edge of a precipice. She stifled a scream, biting the pillow through the silk. The climax went on and on, and she tried to speak. “Must…have…you…in…” she gasped, trying to get the words out between ragged breaths. “Me!” she finished, and the pressure on her clit ceased, although the relentless working of the fingers, both fore and aft, did not. She opened her eyes to see Bhavesh grinning up at her, moisture glistening on his face. “I am in you, Leandre.” She moaned, frustrated by his deliberate misunderstanding. “No…you…all of you,” she gasped. “Your cock!” She squinted down at him. “Damn you, Bhavesh, you still have your breeks on! You must remove them at once!”

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The pleasuring fingers abruptly withdrew, making her shiver in response to her sudden emptiness. Bhavesh moved to her side on his knees. He drew her hands to his waist. “Here, help me take them off. Free me, my mistress of the beasts.” “You are a beast,” she replied, but did as he bade. In moments he was indeed free, and it was again time for Leandre to gasp. His cock was huge, thick and harder than the jewels in Sukumar’s rings. Mesmerized, she reached to stroke it. It felt like velvet stretched over iron. A drop of moisture gleamed at the tip and she smoothed it into the soft skin. She felt his responding shiver and saw gooseflesh on his arms in the moonlight. Leandre wrapped a hand around the shaft and squeezed. It is a good thing I have long fingers. She leaned forward and touched the tip with the end of her tongue. He moaned. “Will you torture me now, Leandre?” “No, I will pleasure you. But not for long, Bhavesh. My body cries out to be filled and will not wait forever.” So saying, she opened her mouth wide and plunged it over his cock, seeing how low on the shaft she could place her lips. She felt the head resting against the entrance of her throat and felt him shudder. Leandre pulled at the backs of his knees, indicating he must straddle her. Once his legs were on either side of her head, she tilted her head back and felt the tip of his cock slide into her throat. At the feel of his shudder, she grasped his buttocks—the muscles were like steel—and dug her fingers in as she drew him deeper into her throat. Leandre swallowed, letting the muscles in her throat squeeze him once, then twice. She had to draw back to get a breath then pulled him in a second time. “Leandre,” he said hoarsely when she again pulled back to breathe as she sucked and teased. “If you do that a third time you will have to wait a while before I can fill any other part of your body.”

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She teasingly worked her way to the tip of his cock, giving the head a parting kiss as she pulled her mouth free. “Then I will stop,” she replied, “for I will wait no longer.” Bhavesh stood, rapidly freeing his legs of the last of the breeches, and placed his body above hers. The head of his cock teased the lips of her cunt and she convulsed in anticipation. She had barely been able to fit it in her mouth. What would it feel like inside her? She drew her legs up and grasped the backs of her thighs, pulling herself open like a blooming flower. “Now!” she gasped, but he needed no urging. He plunged into her like a knife into hot butter, and the night exploded into a million glittering stars. His long, long strokes seemed to go on forever and his length slid from where her clit throbbed with bursts and pulses to the very opening of her womb. Again and again he stroked forward and back, and Leandre wrapped her legs around his back to free her hands and pull him against her more urgently. “Harder,” she cried, unmindful of who might hear or whether the dense foliage muffled her cries. “Oh, please, harder.” Their bodies collided with audible slaps which came faster and faster as Bhavesh increased his pace. A heat like nothing Leandre had ever felt before began to rise from the lowest part of her belly and spread through all her limbs as the urgent pace continued, impossibly, to quicken. Every bone, every organ, every drop of her blood began to tingle and dance and she felt as if she was lifting from the ground and rising into the air, held aloft only by the spear which impaled her and the body to which she clung. Faster, harder, deeper. She lost track of time, of the enclosure, of the danger, of even her name. Then Bhavesh reminded her who she was, where she was, as a strong spasm throbbed through his cock and he exploded into her like a fountain. “Leandre!” he cried. “Aaaaaaah, Prahleandra!” Their bodies stiffened and clenched in mutual ecstasy, and his weight collapsed against her.

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As her breath returned, Leandre stroked his hair, his back, the side of his face. “Bhavesh,” she whispered, just to hear his name. “My Bhavesh.” They readjusted themselves on the cushions so that her head rested against his shoulder. Leandre wished reality would never return to steal this moment. As her awareness of her surroundings increased, she heard the night sounds of insects and frogs and a nearby rustling that might have been one of the tigers. I wonder if they watched us. She blushed at the thought. “Why are you here?” she asked Bhavesh. He tensed at the question. “Because I wanted to be with you. Are you not…” “No, you misunderstand. Why are you in Sukumar’s court? You are not like these others, who seem to fawn over him as if they are trying to get something.” He was momentarily silent then spoke quietly. “But I am like the others, Leandre. I have been trying to get something from Sukumar as well.” “And have you succeeded?” He snorted in response, without much humor, but she felt his muscles relax again. “No. I thought I could play the game, become his friend—do what I needed to do. It was important to my family.” He shifted on the cushions, pulling one that lay to the side behind his shoulders and lifting both of them slightly. “As this may be our only night of peace, I would tell you why I came to Sukumar’s palace.”

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Chapter Nine Singbaba’s Debt

After Leandre had listened to the tale of Bhavesh’s father’s death, his uncle’s financial ineptitude and his mother’s ambitions, she was quiet for a moment. “So you have risked the welfare of your family for me?” Bhavesh shook his head. “Do not blame yourself. Seeing the way Sukumar treated you may have been the straw that broke the camel’s back, but I was already failing at my quest. I was so tired of the palace, the court, the politics…I would have gone home soon in any case.” “Would you come back to try again?” “My mother used what little influence her family’s name still carries to secure an invitation, and it was my job to gain first the ear and then the respect of his highness, and to convince him to give me a powerful position. In the weeks since I arrived, I have made little or no progress. Sukumar and I are not to each other’s taste, and if I have not outright offended him, I certainly have not made a favorable impression. Nor is it likely I ever would. No, I will not be invited to come again, I am sure.” She snuggled against him and he felt a stirring in his cock. Peace, he told it. Bhavesh wanted to make love to Leandre again, and soon. But he felt it was important that they learn something about each other first. “Tell me about your husband. Do you feel guilty about being with me, so soon after his death?” The question stilled her but her body did not tense. “No,” she said slowly. “No, he would want me to be happy. To feel passion again.”

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It was a pleasing answer but Bhavesh felt a rush of unreasonable jealousy toward this man who had her first, and taught her such lusty ways. Do not be a child, Bhavesh. The man was her husband. He made himself go on. “You loved him.” “Yes, I loved him. I love him still.” Her voice was low. “But…” She pulled herself back a little, in order to face him. The moon was low now, but still cast enough light in the clear night sky to see her tender expression. “Bhavesh, I was a girl when I went to Duncan. My marriage was an alliance between kingdoms, and although my father would never have sent me to a man he thought would make me unhappy, it was not a choice that was given to me.” “An alliance between kingdoms?” Now it was Bhavesh’s turn to pull back. “Your father was a king?” “Yes,” she said simply. “And my husband a domhan, which for the Irish is much the same thing.” He was silent for a moment then laughed. “So I have been making love not only to a legendary tiger goddess, but a queen also?” “I know I am not a goddess, and I am no longer a queen,” she said tartly, but her smile belied her tone. “My husband was killed when barbarians from the south attacked. He had traveled to the southernmost village under his control to aid in its defense.” Her lips quirked with irony. “And I was too pigheaded to remain at home as he wished. So I was there when they killed him.” She shuddered, and Bhavesh pulled her back into his arms. “They did not rape or kill me because they seemed to have some notion that if I were to marry their leader, he could claim legitimate right to both my husband’s and my father’s holdings. So they were taking me off to his camp as a prize of war. But there was squabbling among factions, and a small group of men took off with me. I am sure they would have gotten around to my ravishment eventually, especially when word

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came the leader was dead. But they were in a hurry to rejoin their allies, and when they came across Phanishwar, they were happy enough to be rid of me.” “And you are hardly to Phanishwar’s taste,” Bhavesh added. The slave trader’s proclivities were well known in the palace. “And because he was planning to give you to Sukumar, he did not peddle your wares to any of his customers.” She nodded. “So, you see, Bhavesh, I have only been with two men—my husband and you. I greatly enjoyed making love with my husband, but I have had nothing to compare him to. Until now.” “I see.” Bhavesh asked the obvious question, although he was not sure he wanted to hear the answer. “And how do we compare?” “You do not.” He was puzzled by this answer. “I do not understand.” She sighed. “Bhavesh, Duncan was a good man, a great leader, and an imaginative and considerate lover. And fifteen years my senior. When a spoiled young girl dreams of the man who will sweep her into his arms and fill her with forbidden desires, it is not an elder statesman whom she is envisioning.” “And what did you envision?” “A tall, dark man with a touch of danger. With steely eyes and hard muscles.” She ran her fingers down the expanse of Bhavesh’s stomach, causing another stirring in his cock. “If I had known to wish he had a tongue that could move like a viper and a cock as big as…well, as big as yours, I would have wanted those things as well. And that he would be brave enough to risk a rajah’s wrath and enter a cage of tigers to be with me…” She leaned forward and kissed him deeply, and his stirring turned into a more urgent throb. “You are the man of my dreams, Bhavesh,” she whispered into his lips. “And you are real, and here, and we have tonight.” Her hand moved down and grasped his throbbing cock. “We must make the most of it.”

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Groaning, Bhavesh lifted her so that she sat astride him. “We will, my Prahleandra, we will.” Leandre leaned forward onto her knees in order to position her still-wet cunt over the tip of Bhavesh’s cock, then settled her weight back gradually. He was amazed at the tightness of her muscles so soon after their lovemaking. He felt her body’s shudder as she squeezed tightly around his shaft. He gasped, still sensitive but wanting more. He encouraged her to lift her perfect buttocks and slide up and down, rising just high enough to catch the head of his cock with her swollen lips before she plunged down to take in his full length. It was exquisite. He was making love to a queen and a goddess and a real, earthly woman all at the same time. “Leandre! My Prahleandra!” Bhavesh could barely breathe enough to get the words out. “Bhavesh. Oh, my love!” Her words sounded as labored as his. Did she call me her love? A deafening roar shattered the moment and they froze. A second set of snarls joined the first, followed by human screams. Leandre rolled off Bhavesh and climbed to her feet. Be the time he arose, she was already running toward the steps to the lower level of the pergola. Rounding the stone railing and a thick kadalii tree that had obscured their view, she skidded to a top and screamed. He reached her side and saw what had so horrified her. A group of guards—Bhavesh didn’t have time to count but it appeared to be more than ten—moved frantically around the lower chamber. Several pairs of men were holding long poles, to which were affixed loops of rope. Some of these loops had already been secured around Hiranmayi’s neck, and she was struggling mightily against six men who clung to the poles. Another group of guards was having less luck with Akhilesh. One loop hung loosely from his neck, the attached pole dangling unmanned. Two men tried vainly to get hold of the pole, while another clung doggedly to the one rod that had been secured 72

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while trying to remain out of the reach of claws that slashed almost too quickly for the human eye to follow. Bhavesh searched for the source of the screams amid the chaos and found that another guard lay on his side, vainly attempting to hold his rent abdomen closed while the other guards, ignoring his distress, slipped and slid in the pool of blood and viscera that surrounded him. Another thunderous roar pulled Bhavesh’s attention back to Akhilesh. Somehow, two of the men had managed to gain control of the loose pole, and another had jumped in to aid the third. Although the tiger struggled tremendously, the men were able to use the length of the rods to stay out of reach of his claws. “The cubs!” Leandre’s voice was shrill and she attempted to dart toward where the two small creatures cowered, just beyond the feet of their mother’s captors. Bhavesh tried to restrain her, but she squirmed out of his grasp and launched herself toward the huddled forms. Before she could reach them, one of the guards stepped into her path, put his arms around her waist and lifted her naked, struggling form from her feet. Bhavesh threw himself at the guard but something tripped him and he fell, barely managing to get his hands up before his head struck the marble. Winded, he flipped quickly, ready to spring back to his feet and kill his attacker. Four men Bhavesh had not previously seen stood over him, the blades of their swords inches from his neck. He froze. A second man joined Leandre’s captor and they soon had her under control as well. Despite the chaos of the roaring and snarling Akhilesh and the struggling Hiranmayi, the guards got a final loop secured around the big tiger’s neck. Now both tigers could neither loose themselves nor reach the guards with tooth or claw. “Stand up.” The swords moved away just enough to allow Bhavesh to regain his feet, and he did as he was told. One of the guards, a captain, stood back and surveyed the prisoners. “Where are your clothes?” he asked. 73

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Bhavesh was surprised, expecting him to ask what he was doing here, but he pointed. “Up there.” He had forgotten his own nakedness in the mêlée. “Get them,” the captain said to one of the guards, and the order was swiftly obeyed. Bhavesh’s robes were thrust into his hands. “Put them on.” The guard handed Leandre her robes as well, and she must have calmed down enough to assess the situation, because she donned them without comment while Bhavesh did the same. At the captain’s order the party started to move off the platform, but Leandre spoke. “Wait, you cannot leave the cubs alone! They are too young.” Bhavesh winced, expecting the guards to strike her for insolence, but the captain nodded and gestured to two of the guards, each of whom picked up a squirming cub and returned to the group. “That man is badly injured.” Again, Bhavesh marveled at Leandre’s fearlessness. “Are you going to leave him there?” “He is already dead, or soon will be. We must go,” was the curt answer. “What are you doing with us?” Bhavesh asked the captain, not really expecting an answer. “Taking you to the court,” he replied. He spoke with one of the men. “Run ahead and tell Sukumar we have found them. And—is your name Bhavesh?—tell him we found this one as well, and we are bringing them.” A guard sprinted through the foliage and the rest followed more slowly. Once they emerged from the denser part of the gardens, Bhavesh saw they were but a short way from where the enclosure entered the building. Nevertheless, they moved slowly as the adult tigers struggled mightily against their bonds. Finally, the captain realized that if the men carrying the cubs moved ahead, Hiranmayi would go behind without protest. Even Akhilesh followed with reluctance.

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A blaze of torches greeted them at the front of the enclosure and Bhavesh realized they were looking out into the main hall of the court, seeing it from the aspect usually only known by the tigers. Sukumar stood on the platform, dressed as he had been when he had fled the stage hours earlier. He faced them, his expression unreadable, his eyes veiled. The guard who had been sent ahead spoke into his ear, pointing at Bhavesh. Sukumar’s careful expression slipped for a moment, registering surprise, but the neutral veil returned quickly. They were directed to the gate and it was opened for them. Bhavesh and Leandre stepped through, followed by all the guards except those holding the tigers. As soon as they drew even with the row of torches, Bhavesh saw the hall was full. Every member of the court stood facing them, their faces bright with anticipation. “Bhavesh,” whispered Leandre, who had been pulled up to stand next to him. He inclined his head and she asked, “Will Sukumar know the story of Prahleandra and Bhavesh?” “Why?” he asked stupidly, too busy trying to figure out what was happening to understand what she wanted. “Answer me!” she hissed, and her golden eyes looked at him sharply. “Yes, of course,” Bhavesh answered. “Everyone knows it—it is a legend of our people.” She nodded, and Sukumar turned and raised his hands for silence. The buzz of whispered conversation in the hall stilled. “My guests,” he said, and his voice was clear in the silent hall. “You know of the events that took place last night.” Is it morning? Leandre thought. The sky was still dark. How many hours have passed since Sukumar dismissed his company? “You also know I am a man of the Sundarban.” A surprised murmur arose in the hall. Sukumar’s pedigree was well known, but he never spoke of it openly. “What you may not know is that I can trace my ancestry to Singbaba.” 75

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This time the muttering was louder and carried a note of excitement. Singbaba was a legendary hero who had been raised by a tigress when his father abandoned him. “There is another part of the story, kept secret for generations in my family. Singbaba’s tiger mother would return one day, and make herself known. When this happened, the debt of saving Singbaba’s life would come due, and the family must repay it or suffer catastrophe.” Sukumar turned to Leandre and, to Bhavesh’s great astonishment, fell at her feet. The murmuring in the hall rose to a babble then hushed so that all could hear Sukumar’s words. “What will you have of me, Mother?” The babble rose to a roar. Leandre, her white robes floating in the soft breeze and her disheveled hair falling around her shoulders, looked down at the kneeling rajah in astonishment. Chaos reigned in the great hall. Gradually, her eyes rose to meet Bhavesh’s. It was as if a bolt of lightning ran between them as he stared back. Then, after an almost imperceptible nod, she looked out over the room and raised her hands, palms out, toward the sea of agitated faces. The din lessened then faded entirely. She spoke carefully in her oddly accented Sanskrit, but the words were perfect. “First, you must release the tigers.” “At once.” Sukumar gestured to the guards in the enclosure, who looked to the tigers then to one another, terrified. “They will not harm you,” she said, then spoke in her own tongue. “Akhilesh, Hiranmayi. The men are going to let you go. Do not harm them.” The big cats held still as if obeying her but the men remaining in the enclosure did not move. “Free them!” shouted Sukumar from his knees, and the two men holding the cubs dropped them and backed toward the closed gate. The rest of the guards hesitantly

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loosened their ropes and lifted the loops away from the tigers, who snarled but did not move. The captain of the guard opened the gate and all the men shot through. The crowd began to speak again but Leandre snapped her head around and glared at them, and they were silent. “That was an excellent start, Sukumar. But I meant free them entirely. Send them back to the forests where they belong.” Sukumar swallowed then nodded. “It shall be as you wish.” “Next, you must give this man,” she gestured toward Bhavesh, “a…a property and position near his home, for himself and his family.” Sukumar looked toward Bhavesh, puzzled. “This man? Of course, if you wish. But why…” He stammered to a stop, apparently realizing it was inappropriate to question the embodiment of a legend. “Why?” echoed Leandre. “I am surprised you must ask, Sukumar. Must not Prahleandra have her Bhavesh?” At the pairing of the two names, an uproar rose among the crowd that could not be stilled. Leandre looked at Bhavesh with shining eyes and extended her hand. Realizing that swords no longer pointed at either one of them, he took it. Sukumar looked up at the two of them in wonder. “You will go together then? To…to the place I provide for you in the south?” Bhavesh spoke. “I too am of the Sundarban. From where else would Bhavesh spring?” He smiled and looked at Leandre. “We will go with the tigers,” she said decisively. “All of us together.” Bowing, Sukumar rose to his feet and turned to the crowd. He looked a little relieved. Perhaps he was glad Leandre had not asked for his head. He raised his voice and the crowd hushed enough to listen.

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“Arrangements will be made. Bhavesh and…and Prahleandra will go to my family’s old home on the edges of the Sundarban. It will be restored to its ancient glory, and Akhilesh and Hiranmayi will raise their families in the forests of their ancestors.” The crowd cheered and the tigers raised their voices as well, seeming to roar their approval. A chattering monkey climbed down from the top of the enclosure and landed on Bhavesh’s shoulder, and Leandre laughed. “Tell me,” she said, her words audible only to Bhavesh in the din of excitement that surrounded them. “Will your mother be upset when you bring home a foreign woman?” He laughed heartily. “Even for a woman as ambitious as my mother, a queen and a goddess ought to be good enough to bear her grandchildren.” He stopped, realizing he had spoken without thinking. “You are going to marry me, are you not?” Her laugh was music and her eyes fiercer than those of the tigers. “Of course I am. You are, after all, the man of my dreams.”

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About the Author

Virginia welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email address on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.

Also by Virginia Reede Witch’s Knight

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