Maharaja's Mistress

Ram’s doing, she suspected immediately.

She stretched, revelling in the scent of clean sheets overlaid with Ram’s delicious scent. The extraordinary events of the previous day came back to her like the most wonderful dream, but when she turned to look for Ram there was no sign of him.

He’d let her sleep. So she’d take a shower and then place a call…

The receptionist on board put Mia straight through to Ram. ‘Hey, bad boy,’ she said, feeling all warm inside. ‘What am I supposed to wear? I only have one dress with me—and that’s looking a bit…shall we say, manhandled.’ The coral slip dress was still lying where Ram had tossed it.

‘Only one dress?’ he said in surprise.

‘This isn’t a joke, Ram. I can’t wear a towel round the ship.’

‘But I might like that.’

‘Seriously,’ she warned.

‘Okay,’ he murmured, speaking in an intimate tone, ‘I’ll set you a challenge. How many wardrobes can you find in the dressing room?’

‘I don’t know,’ Mia said impatiently, already wriggling off the bed.

‘It’s not like you to be so slow off the mark.’

She was already at the door. ‘You are in so much trouble, Ram Varindha.’

‘I like the sound of that.’

‘You did plan this,’ she said, flinging back door after wardrobe door. They were packed with the most delectable clothes.

‘I never know when I’m going to have guests,’ Ram told her.

‘Enough,’ she yelled back. ‘If you think I want to hear about the women who pass through here—’

‘It’s a brand-new yacht, Mia.’

‘So the fact that I’m the first of many is supposed to make me feel better?’

‘You’d be doing me a favour if you’d sample the selection.’

Ram was laughing as he cut the line.

Her intention had been to take a moment to calm down—but what actually happened was that she conducted a thorough search of every drawer and cupboard, and she wasn’t disappointed. Whatever she might think of the interior design on board Ram’s yacht, whoever had stocked the dressing room knew exactly what they were doing—but there were more outfits here than she could possibly wear…

Sinking down onto the sofa, she tried to get her head around what she’d found, and it was then her attention was drawn to the artwork on the walls. It was a series of paintings that told a story—a love story—an erotic love story—

The shrill chirrup of the phone jerked her out of her contemplations. ‘Did you find something to wear?’ Ram demanded.

‘Yes,’ she said distractedly, her gaze still fixed on the pictures on the walls.

‘Well, are you coming to show me?’

‘Yes,’ she said briefly, putting the phone down. The first painting showed two lovers reclining on silken cushions as they fed each other grapes. The colours were glorious, and like the others the painting had the most beautiful brushwork, but as she looked along the row she realised there was a hidden meaning in each of them. The message came over loud and clear—eating was just one sensory pleasure, but there were many more. In fact, there were quite a few she had never heard of before—

The next image showed the same two lovers, but now their clothes were sliding off their polished shoulders as they gazed into each other’s eyes beneath a purple sky. The lovers were beautifully drawn and their clothes were ravishing—flowing silks in vibrant orange and brightest pink, with turquoise-blue and gold decoration. The girl was kneeling with her arms resting loosely on the man’s shoulders—

Understanding trickled into Mia’s brain with all the speed of congealed honey forcing its way through the opening of a pipette. This wasn’t simply a stateroom, it was a collecting pen for a harem—and Ram was no longer simply her extremely accomplished lover, but a collector of living, breathing artefacts, which he kept alongside his inanimate collectables. And while this might intrigue and even arouse her in some dark and forbidden way, she had no intention of signing up for a team.

But she was here. And this was a fairy-tale set-up. Perhaps if she kept her head she could keep her pride too and experience something very special And there were the most breathtaking outfits in the wardrobes—a rainbow assortment of floating chiffon, clingy tissue-crêpe and lightweight silk.

Temptation overwhelmed her. The fact that they were traditional Ramprakeshi clothes only made the dress-up urge that much stronger.

She’d keep it plain, Mia decided, choosing the simplest outfit she could find. Modest, with a twist, was how she would describe it. She was going to start the way she meant to go on, which meant most decidedly not as one of the Maharajah’s many concubines.

Guessing she might need some help arranging a sari correctly for the first time, she chose to wear a salwar-kameez suit. The kameez was a loose shirt with long sleeves, and the lightweight salwar pants were flattering. She started out choosing a pale peach outfit trimmed with pearls—it was exquisite. But then she changed her mind and gravitated towards a strong cobalt blue that picked up the colour of her good eye. Jewelled beads in a deeper shade of blue decorated the deeply slashed neckline as well as the edges of the cuffs, and there was a matching scarf with beaded tassel fringing that glittered seductively in the subdued lighting as she arranged it around her neck. There was nothing subtle about it, but if she was going to take up Ram’s challenge to stay on board and keep hold of her pride there could be no half measures—

As if there ever could be such a thing as half measures with Ram.

But should she be going to quite so much trouble with her appearance if she was only one of a crowd?

Yes, Mia argued with her boringly sensible inner voice. Ram would take any sloppiness on her part as a sign of weakness, and she was going to leave this floating pleasure palace with her head held high.

This was a very different look for her, Mia conceded, examining her reflection in the mirror. With her hair freshly washed and curling softly together with the flattering clothes, she looked quite feminine. For the first time since the accident she opened her make-up bag and lined both her eyes with kohl. The effect was startling. Even her damaged eye looked reasonably okay.

She was almost prepared to go commando in that respect and had left her eyepatch on the shelf. She was feeling positive right up to the moment when she slipped on a pair of jewelled sandals that had clearly been handmade to tone with the suit. She was perched on the edge of the bed admiring them…admiring the fit—

Springing up, she quickly realised that this wasn’t a variety of clothes for a variety of guests young and old—or even for a selection of women of all sizes, as she had first suspected—but a very particular collection to suit and fit a particular woman. Every single piece of clothing and pair of shoes was in her size.

A thrill of triumph and relief rushed through her at the thought of all those phantom women—defeated without a blow being struck—and another that Ram had done this for her. But that didn’t let him off the hook. He’d made some pretty nifty moves to get all this in place in the short span of time from their first meeting at Monsieur Michel’s salon to his boat slipping out of the harbour. And yes, money could buy most things and have them delivered to your door—but not her.

Stormy weather? Mia secured her eyepatch in place. Ram had better batten down the hatches; there was a hurricane on the way.

She looked like a fallen angel swooping down on him. When Mia stormed into the saloon to confront him he knew exactly what was on her mind. That was the trouble—they knew each other instinctively, but they had yet to get to know each other on a more everyday level.

He guessed Mia had been working up this tantrum out on deck—she was windswept. Her eyes were dark with passion, and her hair framed her angry face like a thunder cloud.

She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw him comfortably seated on the sofa. ‘Come in,’ he said as if all was well with the world. ‘Sit down,’ he invited politely, indicati

ng the sofa facing his. ‘You look—’

‘Nice?’ she interrupted.

‘I was about to say—a little tense—’

‘A little tense?’ she roared at him. ‘I know you planned this, Ram—so don’t you dare try to deny it. Not long in the planning?’ she flung at him with a bark of triumph. ‘These clothes are all in my size.’ Her tiny hand swept dismissively down the exquisite suit she had selected to wear, with its priceless trimming of rare, cornflower-blue sapphires. ‘How long would it take to put a collection like this together?’ she demanded. ‘You must have been planning this for ages.’

‘You do look fabulous,’ he said, refusing to be drawn. ‘I’m guessing each piece will suit you equally well.’

‘I have no idea about that,’ she said. ‘I wouldn’t be wearing any of it if I had my own clothes to wear.’

‘But, happily, you don’t,’ he said, and as he raised a brow he knew they were both thinking about her pirate queen getup.

‘This had better be the last surprise you spring on me, Ram.’

‘Think twice before you say that,’ he warned.

Ram was curbing a smile while she was scowling—at the thought that he was right. He had surprised her, and she wasn’t used to gifts on this scale. She had no idea how to deal with presents from Ram any more than she had known how to react when he’d given her that dress all those years ago. And now her emotions were all over the place. Everything was happening so fast. Ram should have warned her they were sailing—but she was glad she was here. She felt so close to him—and yet she didn’t know him at all, and all this made her feel vulnerable. ‘You can’t lavish gifts on me for no good reason.’

‘I can’t expect you to walk round in a towel either,’ Ram pointed out. ‘So, why don’t we call it quits and go and have lunch?’

‘What happened to breakfast?’