Maharaja's Mistress
Irritated by all the hangers-on, she strode towards him like some warrior queen intent on relieving a siege, but the females currently assaulting Ram’s defences had their radar working too, and perfectly coiffed heads swivelled as she came close—which was where the fantasy scenario faltered. Ram’s glamorous admirers dismissed her with barely a glance—though Ram grinned as she elbowed her way through the scrum.
‘Are you ready, Ram? Or would you like me to leave you here—to sign a few autographs, perhaps?’
His darkly amused gaze held hers for a moment. ‘You’ll have to excuse me,’ he told his adoring fans without once breaking eye contact with Mia. ‘It seems my co-driver needs a little last-minute reassurance.’
‘Ha!’ Mia exclaimed, swinging away.
No wonder Ram had insisted she get a good night’s sleep before the time trials. Pity he hadn’t taken his own advice. She had a good idea of where he’d been last night—clubbing and who knew what else—though, unusually, there had been no mention of him in the newspaper, which had to be a first since Ram had arrived in town. But what did the media know? What did anyone really know about Ram?
What did Mia know?
Nothing.
Except the sight of women slavering round him made her feel sick. Good for him. Lucky for her she wasn’t interested.
She hurried away—not even knowing where she was going—only certain she had to get out of there—
And jumped with shock as Ram grabbed hold of her arm.
‘Time for the technical inspection,’ he said in an altogether far too reasonable voice as he steered her towards the bank of officials.
She shook him off, but went willingly all the same. She was prepared to comply with anything connected to the race, but as soon as the formalities were completed this misguided experiment of hers was over. She needed a boost to her confidence—not someone to sit on it.
The moment she squeezed her rump into the moulded seat formed around Ram’s rangy Danish co-driver’s backside, Mia knew she had made a mistake. Ram in race mode was a powerful, brooding presence. She had not factored into her thinking how it would feel to be confined in such a small space with such a tightly wound mountain of a man. Had she really thought she would be cool with this? She slanted a glance at him—way too hot was closer to the truth.
‘Ready for some real driving?’ Ram demanded, revving the engine until she was sure it would explode.
She glanced at the impossibly complex array of dials and switches on the custom-built super-car and felt instantly at home. The answer to Ram’s question was a positive yes. However she felt about Ram, this was a fabulous opportunity to face her demons by hitching a ride with a true master of the sport.
Dust and exhaust sparks flew as Ram released the brake and slammed his foot down on the accelerator. G-force hit her in the back like a punch. She had always been a speed demon, but Ram liked to break the rules of physics—and for a split second she was in such a state of shock she forgot what she was supposed to do.
‘Instructions,’ Ram barked at her through the intercom, followed swiftly by quite a few words she couldn’t make out. Fortunately for her sensibilities, Mia gathered, judging by the aggressive set of his jaw.
She concentrated fiercely from then on, her gaze flashing between the road and the map as she rapped out directions as buildings flashed by in a silver rush. She couldn’t help remembering her own rallying career when her arms and elbows would have been flying everywhere by now. By contrast Ram sat quite still, calmly driving the car—and not just with his hands, but with his feet too, kicking the brake and hitting the throttle in a fluent rumba of synchronized activity.
At least it seemed she was doing okay now, Mia thought with relief. Ram’s comments were on the brusque side, rather than the rude. He was tough, terse and in control and there was no false veneer of charm. She liked that. She liked him. Far too much…
Ram exuded confidence and his confidence infected Mia until gradually she found herself relaxing into the rhythm of the race. He was totally on top of things and that was cool. He knew exactly what to do under pressure, which was sexy. She watched his hands move this way and that, making all the delicate little movements that made so much difference to their performance. He was the master of the elegant touch, she concluded, wondering how that would translate in the bedroom.
And which of the annoying females had he bedded last night?
Maybe all of them?
She was only too glad to leave these thoughts behind and warn him about a series of hairpin bends, but then she returned to console herself that the other women were too obvious, too compliant, while she, Mia the Magnificent, would be like a lioness taming her mate—should she ever get the chance, that was. ‘One hundred yards ahead—sharp turn to the right,’ she rapped out. She had to forget what was beneath Ram’s fireproof suit and fire off directions well in advance of him needing them. That was not to say a little day-dreaming was forbidden—just so long as she kept her concentration on the race. She was good at this. She hadn’t forgotten what to do—and not even Ram was going to find fault with her technique—
And what about Ram’s technique?
There was race tension—and then there was sexual tension. Her thoughts were operating on two levels, Mia realised. There was the race, and then there was something else sizzling between them. Could Ram feel it too? It was hot and tight—tight enough to unravel in a rush and sweep them both headlong into a situation. It was almost a relief when race excitement took her over when they streaked like a rocket down a rare straight stretch of the track.
Ram’s hands on the wheel, the firm set of his jaw, the steady beam of his eyes—
Race excitement quickly gave way to something else entirely, though she yelped in panic when he took the next hairpin at outrageous speed.
‘All right?’ he rapped, placing his hand on her knee when she gasped.
Ram’s brief touch was far more of a shock to her than his driving. ‘Okay,’ she rapped, not trusting herself to say more.
She pulled herself together as he accelerated out of the turn. Hairpin bends could come and go, but where Ram was concerned arousal was for ever. He was so good at this—the best. He had everything it took to be a top-class driver—power, strength and certainty, and there was no doubt that his timing was flawless. Lucky for her she had every excuse during the race to gasp and moan freely, as she imagined Ram’s technique being transferred to a very different set of skills. With the roar of the highly tuned engine blotting out all extraneous noise she could really let herself go. Ram was everything she had ever looked for in bed—
In a driver, Mia corrected herself as they screeched round the final corner and Ram powered up to the chequered flag.
She exclaimed with relief as they crossed the finish line and Ram brought the monster machine to a screeching halt. Lifting off her helmet, she threw herself back in her seat, laughing with relief and happiness. The whole experience had been incredible—and quite an education. And the race had been good too, Mia conceded dryly as Ram removed his helmet and ruffled his thick black hair.
‘You’re still alive, then?’ he said, turning to look at her.
Alive? She felt properly alive for the first time since…for ever. ‘Did you see our time? According to my calculations we just knocked a good three seconds off last year’s record.’
‘Not bad,’ Ram agreed. ‘And good to see you did your homework,’ he added wryly.
Would he expect anything less of her? Slanting a glance at him, Mia guessed not.
But then he started laughing.
‘What’s so funny?’ she demanded.
‘I think you must have forgotten that I can hear every sound you make through the headphones—’
‘Every—’ Mia’s cheeks fired up.
‘Every sigh and gasp—every sexy little groan you make,’ Ram confirmed, staring at her with unbearable male smugness.
‘Well, I can see why that might amuse you,’ Mia agreed. ‘Though…sexy little groan? I don’t recognise that. I can only conclude you’re going deaf and need to turn your microphone up.’
‘And I’m equally sure you need your heat control turned down.’
Chapter Five
THE podium was bathed in sunshine. The crowd had gathered. The jeroboam of champagne that had been waiting on ice all day was ready to be uncorked and the winners were lining up. But Mia and Ram were still standing in the crowd. ‘Ram, you should be up there—what happened?’
‘Penalty points.’
‘For what?’ Mia demanded with outrage.
‘Taking you on at such short notice. It was a wonder they let me race at all. My powers of persuasion,’ he said to Mia’s unspoken question. ‘But these are time trials, so I lost out in the final calculation.’
‘That’s so unfair.’
‘That’s just how it is.’
‘Ram, I’m really sorry.’
‘Don’t be. I wouldn’t have been able to enter the race at all if you hadn’t stepped forward.’
‘Someone else would have.’
Ram shrugged, and it thrilled her to see his dark eyes glowing with amusement as he stared down at her. ‘But I wouldn’t have had half so much fun.’
‘Hmm. So you don’t mind our not winning?’
‘I’ll settle for a hug.’
The breath shot out of her lungs as Ram dragged her close, but then right on cue his glossy cheerleaders found them. ‘Shall I leave you to your fan club?’
Ram laughed. ‘You dare.’ He steered her away from the squawking women.
‘Are you using me to put those women off?’
He groaned. ‘Am I so obvious?’
‘Yep.’
‘Can you bear to leave the trophy behind?’ he teased her as they walked past the podium.
‘Silverware needs such a lot of cleaning—but I still think you should have received some sort of prize. Your time was way faster than the rest.’
‘I did receive some sort of prize,’ Ram informed her.
How had she allowed herself to be talked into this? Racing with Ram was one thing, but now she was going out to dinner with him? Just the usual celebration after the race, Ram had assured her—and it had seemed rude to say no. There was nothing special about it—all the teams would be out tonight and it would look odd if she and Ram weren’t seen about town—
Oh, really?
Frustrated? Her libido was pinging off the walls, which, admittedly, should have been all the warning she needed to turn down Ram’s invitation, but he was so decisive and she was so…Maybe there were stronger women than her around—sensible, level-headed women, who would…
Who would definitely trample each other in the rush for the chance of a date with Ram.
She loved her flatmates, Mia realised when they greeted her at the door with squeals of excitement. ‘We saw you on TV—You were great! So cool—The car was hot! The Maharaja was hotter than hell—’
She laughed as they dragged her inside, all talking at once. Mia had never been a girly girl, but her new friends had adopted her and treated her as one of them. They despaired of her refusal to follow trends, but lapped up her energy, just as they had lapped up Mia’s emergency call demanding they find her a hot dress fast.
‘We’re going to clean up your act and send you out looking like a princess,’ a pretty, dark-haired eastern European called Xheni who had recently been scouted by one of the top model agencies assured her.
‘Princess Patch?’ Mia suggested.
‘Start with a shower,’ Xheni insisted, ignoring Mia’s comment as she bundled her towards the bathroom. ‘You smell of engine oil.’
‘Don’t stint on the compliments.’ Mia was still laughing when the other girls overruled this and, catching hold of her, dragged her the other way into their tiny, cluttered sitting room.
‘You have to talk before you shower,’ they insisted. ‘And make sure you leave nothing out.’
Xheni was happy to concede defeat. ‘I suppose you can sit and chat for a while. If it gets too bad we can always light a scented candle.’
Shrieks of unladylike laughter greeted this comment as they all collapsed in a heap on the sofa with Mia in the middle of the group.
‘All right. I give up,’ Mia announced. ‘What do you want to know?’
‘You can’t just ring us and say you need a hot dress in a hurry without expecting us to conduct our own investigations,’ Xheni explained, holding Mia down when she made a sly bid to escape. ‘So stop acting cool and pretending like there’s nothing special happening tonight when we all know you’re meeting the Maharaja—’
‘Who told you I was meeting Ram?’
‘Ah, Ram,’ Xheni said triumphantly, seizing on Mia’s use of the notorious royal’s first name. ‘Guilty as charged,’ she exclaimed, exchanging glances with their friends. ‘Monsieur Michel told us, of course. Who do you think? He’s so excited for you.’
Mia huffed dismissively. ‘Well, he needn’t be.’
‘Come on—give us the juice,’ Xheni insisted, ignoring Mia’s protests.
The juice…Mia spared a moment for a wistful smile. If she had to go back to the beginning there were things she would rather forget—like Ram saying he would never forget her, when he clearly had for all those years. And now it seemed she was determined to throw herself back in his path again—and not like a naive schoolgirl with a crush, but like a deerhound on the trail of some juicy prey. Seeing Ram again had fired all her latent lust and directed it towards him like a heat-seeking missile.
Not that Ram was interested. Asking her out for dinner was just him being nice—
Ram nice?
Okay. To be honest, that didn’t sound much like Ram.
‘Have you known him for long?” Xheni demanded, breaking into Mia’s thoughts.
‘Long enough,’ Mia responded dryly. Before the accident she would have been thrilled at the thought of tonight, but the loss of her sight had changed all that, reducing her to a shambling, petrified wreck who was frightened of her own shadow—or who would have been, if she could have seen it—
‘Coffee, anyone?’ Xheni said as one of the girls carried a tray in. ‘I don’t know about you lot, but I’m settling in for a very long and tasty session…’
Mia stared at the steaming mugs, remembering that after the accident even silly little things like learning to carry a tray again had become a mountain she’d had to climb in terror. But like the girls Ram had taken her injuries in his stride. He didn’t appear to find them repulsive. He didn’t pity her either. In fact, he gave no quarter, which was why she was so comfortable with him—
Comfortable? Did that explain a rocketing heartbeat when she thought about him?
‘Have you collected your thoughts?’ Xheni prompted.
Her thoughts had been in disarray since the rally. She could never have predicted that one phone call to Ram could change her life, forcing her to ask herself all sorts of questions.
‘Don’t look so worried,’ one of the girls said, putting her arm around her. ‘We promise to fire questions at you only until we run out of them.’
Mia had to laugh. ‘And that’s likely to happen.’
She should stop worrying and take this as a sign of how far she’d come. The girls had been part of her recovery and she was grateful to them. She’d lost her confidence along with her sight and had asked everyone, including her family, to leave her alone while she worked out how to go forward. How could an interior designer face the world blind? How could she face the world blind? When the sight in one eye returned she should have been grateful. She should have been down on her knees thanking God for his mercy. She had her life, her health, and the sight in one eye. Wasn’t that enough when she could so easily have been killed? But she hadn’t felt grateful. She had felt bitter and depressed, and had only wanted to spare those who loved her from the fallout, and so she’d left home. Her dream of leaving her mark on the world had felt as if it was over. And as for her dream of sailing into the sunset with a man like Ram Varindha—
Well, he’d hardly want her now, Mia reflected, checking her eyepatch was in place.
‘Well, come on, then,’ Xheni prompted. ‘Tell us about the Maharaja.’
How could she begin to tell them about Ram when he had flashed across her world like the brightest of comets leaving her to clutch in vain at his sparkling dust? When Ram had left England she’d known she would never get over it. There would be no more ridiculous birthday cards, or phone calls requesting a taxi for a maharajah and his elephant—no one twanging her old lute, or whistling ‘My Girl’ ever again—
‘Start with how you came to be driving in the rally with him,’ one of the girls insisted.
‘Or how you came to know Ram would be driving in it,’ Xheni interrupted, wide-eyed, nudging her friend. ‘Well, we’re waiting,’ she said as one by one the girls settled down. ‘We want to know everything about Ram. And you can leave out all the boring bits like what he likes to eat—unless that’s you.’
The girls had completely thrown her out of the past and into the present, and as they laughed their agreement she spluttered, pulling a face. ‘I’m hardly his type.’ Putting it mildly.
‘Who says?’ Xheni demanded. ‘Have you ever put him to the test?’ Resting her chin on the heel of her hand, the pretty young model leaned forward.
‘And how am I supposed to do that?’
‘Hold his gaze…Moisten your lips…’
The girls cheered as Xheni gave a practical example.
‘That would have worked well if I’d tried it out on a hairpin bend—’ And was easy enough for Xheni to say. Like all the girls Mia shared an apartment with, Xheni was stunning and accepted male attention as her due. ‘Anyway, I’m sure he’s got better things to do—’
‘Which is why he asked you out on a date,’ Xheni interrupted.
‘It’s hardly a date,’ Mia argued. ‘It’s more of a debriefing session.’
‘Excellent!’ Xheni screamed to filthy laughter from the other girls.
‘Believe what you will—’
‘Oh, we will,’ the girls assured her, exchanging glances. When Ram was in town there was a buzz of sexual excitement in the air; they’d all felt it.
‘I still want to know how you came to fall for Ram—because you have,’ Xheni insisted, looking to the other girls for agreement.
‘We all have,’ they chorused, hugging themselves as their vivid imaginations got to work.
‘What about the rally?’ Xheni prompted. ‘What did that feel like—pressed up close to him in such a highly charged and dangerous situation?’
Mia pretended bewilderment. ‘We were professional,’ she protested, blushing. ‘How either of us felt about the other had nothing to do with the rally—we just got on with it—’
‘Yeah, yeah,’ the girls chorused.
Mia wasn’t ready to admit how she’d felt—or that she was still coming to terms with how deeply Ram had affected her.
‘A professional situation, huh?’ Xheni teased her. ‘Okay, so let’s start at the beginning and work up to that boring old professional bit.’
Mia shrugged. What could she tell them?
All the bits she didn’t allow herself to dwell on—like filling in the gaps of Tom’s engagement party? When selecting an appropriate look for the evening hadn’t involved finding a suitable eyepatch to wear with her going-out dress…
‘Ram was my brother’s school friend, and things really came to a head on the night of Tom’s engagement party—’
‘Sex was in the air,’ Xheni advised the other girls.
Mia shook her head firmly. ‘We’re talking about my brother and his wife. Love was in the air—’
‘Even better,’ Xheni approved.
The other girls sighed theatrically, but their mischievous glances weren’t lost on Mia, who sat up. ‘If you won’t be serious,’ she warned, pretending stern, ‘I won’t tell you anything.’ She waited for silence, realising just how long she had shut out the details of that night. ‘I was all dressed up in my party frock—’
‘White lace and silk ribbons,’ one of the girls supplied dreamily.
‘We were scholarship kids, remember? My parents lived on the breadline, and even if they did keep up appearances in the crumbling family pile the best they could do for me was a hand-me-down with a rip beneath one arm that my mother stitched up for me. The dress was faded blue and the only thread my mother had was red, but she assured me no one would notice.’
‘Except Ram did,’ Xheni guessed.
‘Because he couldn’t stop looking at you,’ another girl suggested with a sigh.
‘Only to check I wasn’t chewing gum. Anyway, who’s telling this story?’ Mia demanded.
‘Go on,’ the girls begged her, thoroughly enthralled now.
‘Okay,’ Mia agreed, sighing as she remembered. ‘When Ram arrived I was surprised when he took me to one side.’
‘But you quickly adapted to this new development,’ Xheni said hopefully.
‘Of course. I explained I couldn’t leave the entrance hall,’ Mia continued, refusing to be sidetracked.
‘What?’ the girls demanded to Xheni’s moan of despair.
‘My job was to greet my parents’ guests and show everyone where to go.’
There was a chorus of groans, which Xheni quickly shushed.
‘Ram insisted on seeing me in private—and so I showed him into the library.’
‘The library?’ Xheni exclaimed with despair, but when something wistful came into Mia’s face all the girls fell silent.
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