**This chapter is rated M. Please skip the first section if you are uncomfortable with scenes of intimate nature. Readers discretion advised.**

Secrets

Summary : Nobody will see. Except me.

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"No," his voice tilts just so, as he strokes her palm with circular motions of his thumb. "Turn around."

Amrit blinks. With a tug on the codes hanging by his side Veer pulls the curtains closed and motions for her to twirl with his fingers.

"What are you up to?" Amrit wonders aloud, complying all the same by turning around.

Since she turned her back on him she misses the flash of his smile in reply. With careful hands Veer gathers her hair on the top of her head into a messy yet secure enough bun.

"Think of it like this," he says his fingers admiring the curve where her throat meets her shoulder. "I'm an artist and you are my canvas."

Slowly Amrit feels him undoing the knot of her dori at the nape of her neck, the neckline of her blouse begins to slip. She clutches a hand between her collarbones and inhales sharply.

"What are you doing?"

"Making amends," his voice is a soft caress against her bare shoulder where he places a kiss rather reverently.

Breath that she takes leaves her in a hiss through her teeth when she feels the cool touch of henna on that exposed skin.

"Veer..."

And his ideas!

The thought that he was drawing on her skin, with henna that would leave its mark behind makes something burn inside her. Amrit shifts and he holds her still, his hand running the length of her arm. He says nothing. Suddenly feeling parched Amrit's tongue swipes at her bottom lip before she speaks.

"Koi dekhenge toh kya sochenge?" She protests softly.

"Nobody will see," Veer whispers, his breath tickles against her nape. "Except me."

His mouth presses against her nape and she exhales a tattered breath.

"And I promise I shall see, as long as these lines remain." He murmurs against her ear words that heat her blood. "Har raat. Har subah."

Amrit hums allowing the hand that she clutched at her bosom to drop.

"And when they fade away?" She asks.

"Naya banalenge."

"Tell me what you are making -"

"See for yourself," he turns her only a fragment.

So that she could see the angled view of herself in the mirror opposite. In dark lines of henna Veer had drawn a complex interwoven lotus flower blooming on her shoulder. As she watches he extends the design along her shoulder blade as well.

He marvels at how her skin breaks into goosebumps at the slightest touch. His hand smoothes down the expense of soft skin exposed to him, while he nuzzles at her throat.

"Why are you so responsive?" He mumbles, tracing the trob of her pulse along her throat, all the while his hand trails down her spine and curves around her ribs, stroking tantalisingly closer to her heaving bosom. "God, you are driving me crazy."

Amrit meets his eye, her face which is turned sideways to judge his work in the mirror tilts suggestively.

Their mouths brush together briefly before she smiles.

"Maybe because I like it?" She suggests, watching appreciatively how his eyes darkens, and his grip tightens. The words slip from her lips, in a spark of rebellious courage. "Maybe even because I've missed you and your effect on me."

"You like it?" Veer repeats slowly, finishing the lotus with a flourish.

His eyes trail along her frame, a heated gaze that makes his intent apparent.

He sets aside the mehendi cone and unclasps her pallu from her shoulder. She holds his gaze as it slips. This Amrit, bolder as she was willing makes him push the line further.

"Take it off." Veer tells her, without breaking the eye contact. "Show me where you'd like to have mehendi."

Her fingers tremble a bit, yet they never falter. Those wine rimmed eyes had taken such an intoxicating shade of darkness that Veer could barely draw his gaze away from them.

Equals, that had been the promise - and here now - in all her feminine power Amrit was indeed his equal.

She unclasps the necklace next, leisurely allowing the pearls to pool between her breasts before removing it. A blush had crept along her unblemished skin making her glow in an ethereal light. Veer could no longer breathe as he watches her unhurriedly removing two of her heavy bangles leaving the chooriyaan as she always did.

Her gaze flickers to his and holds, waiting, wanting - a challenge of sorts - to break this thrall between them, to win her, claim her.

He had made her yearn for him long enough, she was taking her rightful retribution on that. Making him atone in the like, by stirring and burning.

"You missed me?" He asks, his voice thick with barely suppressed passion. "Did you think about me?"

"Har pal. Har saans." She answers him with his own words.

Veer draws close enough to breath down on her throat, her face arches to his, offering that soft column of her throat in all its glory.

"Sach?" He breathes in her ear.

"Sach." She sighs. "Aap itne qareeb aagaye the ke ab door rahi nahi jaati. I thought about you every minute." Her eyes fill with tears of yearning, they burn his very blood that Veer could barely hold on.

"Touch yourself," he tells her, Amrit's exhale shatters and her eyes widens. His dark gaze never wavers. "The way I would and think about me the way you did."

Her face flushes.

"How did you -"

"I wish to see," he nips at her ear. "Where you wanted to be touched."

Her fingers trail along her collarbones rather hesitantly, tracing their shape as her touch drops lower. Her eyes remains on him, neither of them exhales the breath they had taken in. Amrit stops just above her breast, fingers digging into supple skin.
"Here," she says her voice clear despite the hazy gleam in her eyes. "Yahaan Laga dijiye Mehendi."

Veer hums his assent and the cold tip of his mehendi cone, traces a pointed blossom of many petals along the gentle swell of her bosom. Amrit hisses her back arching, her head thrown back in a sigh of pleasure.

Veer suckles on her collarbone and speaks against her skin.

"I didn't tell you to stop."

Curiously her hands return to their pursuit, her breath quickening as she kneeds at her own soft flesh.

Her eyes flutters shut and her lips part in a gasp. Veer's mouth fits against hers, swallowing that inviting moan, his hands covering her own, pressing them further into that supple, responsive flesh.
He invades her mouth, drinking her plentiful sighs and exploring its cavern - his tongue swipes at the plumpness of her lips and slides against her tongue.

His hands lead hers along the expense of her own smooth skin, ghosting at times, insistent at others, maping a land conquered- reaffirming a claim already made.

One of his hands splays on her back, holding her upright so that she doesn't smudge the design made on her shoulder blade as he bows to lavish his attention on her bosoms.

"Hilna matt," he murmurs. "Mehendi karaab hojayengi."

Her fingers had already mused her nipples, hardening them into fine points of pleasure, she shudders when he blows on them, a keening cry tearing from her throat.

Veer's mouth closes over one and her fingers knot in his hair, tugging at them. He presses his forehead against her and suckles on her, a twisted kind of worship that robs her of her senses. Her fists clench and loosen on his hair following with the rhythm that he ravishes upon her. Veer takes time with her bosom until she is a writhing mess of desires.

He lays her down on her side, making sure the design on her shoulder remains unharmed and Amrit gasps when the heat of his mouth is replaced by the cool sensation of henna.

The sound that leaves her is wonton and broken. In that moment she envies Veer of his control, of those sure hands that even at the zenith of passion remains steady and productive. He makes flowers bloom on her sensitive flesh, holds her with a hand on her belly when she writhes at the sensation.

"Exquisite," he tells her nipping at her waist. "Thand toh nahi lag rahi?"

His fingers dig into her hip and trail along her thigh. He folds one of her knees and places an open mouthed kiss on the arch of her foot. Amrit fists at the silk covers of that windowsill divan beneath her, trying to contain a moan. Veer begins to apply henna on her feet.

He returns to her like a panther, pressing a kiss between her brows.

"Kya soch rahi ho?" His voice is warm silk, as it pours in her ear. He takes her hands and kisses her palms.

"You do realize that I will avenge this?" She asks him, her voice breathy and creased with need, her wine coloured eyes open lazily, glazed with passion. "This isn't finished."

"Hmm?" He says wickedly making her gasp as his hand strokes her intimately.

Her mouth turns to him offered in a kiss and he takes it with a groan of satisfaction. Those wicked fingers builds a fire within her, one that is fueled by his heated kisses on her passion swollen mouth.

The pressure builds and builds and Veer pulls away to suckle at her throat.

"I want to hear you," he mutters, his fingers finding a particularly sensitive spot. He presses there and everything explodes into white hot flames of ecstasy.

"That's it..." he sighs against her ear as the pounding of her pulse eases. She feels drunk, boneless and satiated. Her limbs heavy with pleasure. Veer kisses her sweaty temple and nips at her jaw. She purrs in response. He takes her palms and finishes what he had started. The last of his exquisite design and the only of it which anyone would see.

*

Echoing ring of a telephone wakes her. Amrit lies in a little longer, wondering how she had ended up on the bed, wearing embroidered silk robes that belonged to Veer.

Mehendi on her palms comes off in dry flakes that fall when she rubs her hands together and her face flushes in recollections.

Beside her Veer is fast sleep one of his arms tucked beneath her pillow and the other wound around her waist.

His hair is mused with a few locks fallen over his face and he looks - after a long time - endearingly at peace. Her heart brims at the sight and she reaches out to stroke his jaw. He is hers to protect and cherish, at his best and his worst; her Veer.

The telephone is still ringing.

"Why isn't anybody picking up..." Amrit wonders off handedly. It is Veer who answers sleepily.

"That's our extension - in the outer chamber...." he turns and buries his head against the pillows, already lost to the world.

Brushing a hand through his hair one last time Amrit untangles herself and makes way to the parlour room. Indeed the telephone there is ringing - rather shrilly when you consider the hour.

Amrit picks up the receiver.

"Hello?"

"Good evening your highness - I believe I'm speaking to the Kuwar Rani?"

A British accented woman speaks from the other end. Amrit frowns.

"This is Anita Chauhan - are you there Your highness?"

"Yes, I'm sorry I don't recognise you."

"Well yes, I've been trying to get in touch with your husband his royal highness - but he seems to be ignoring my correspondence. I tried to get hold of him at Delhi and Shrigar both but apparently you two are on honeymoon travels I presume? Thankfully I got hold of your highness today."

"I - uh," Amrit wonders why Veer was avoiding this woman. Or if he received her letters at all, considering the company they had at Delhi and Shrigar. "What is the matter Anita ji?"

"Ji Kuwar Rani sahiba I'm not sure if you are aware - my father was the family solicitor of your late father in law. We are based in England right now, where he fell ill. He has little time to live and insisted on dying on his home soil. Issi silsile mein hum India aaye hue hai. My father wants to meet his royal highness. Apparently it is a matter of utmost importance. Will you be able to pass on the message? Dekhiye - I don't wish to impose upon you but we are currently at Delhi - planning to shift to the outskirts in a week or two. Will there be a chance to arrange a meeting at Daulatabadh?"

Veer snatches the receiver from her hand abruptly and it is he who hears the last of her words.

"Miss Chauhan I don't wish to see your father. He knows very well why. Please don't bother my wife again."

He slams the receiver down and breathes heavily. Amrit opens her mouth just as he holds out a hand.
"Humein uss insaan ka naam bhi nahi sunna."

"Veer..."

He turns to her with cold eyes of Kuwar Veer Pratap Singh that Amrit hasn't encountered in a while. The rage bottled up and old ripples around him. For a moment Amrit stares, taken aback and intimidated.

"Kehediya na? Toh bas kehediya."

**
Oh Veer, you will have to meet that man.
While I persuade him to do so, tell me what you think of this week's opening instalment. I'm always open to your thoughts, in fact waiting for them.
Thanks for reading, please vote if you liked the chapter!