His Runaway Royal Bride

But no more! He would rectify his mistake now. He would make sure that Meethi paid for her heartless betrayal. He would enjoy making her fulfil her duties as his lawfully wedded wife.

He turned to ride back.

CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_1de82788-06ff-5572-8515-73423dfb62f1)

MEANWHILE, MEETHI HAD showered and dressed, and she felt better and stronger. She was no longer the nervous nineteen-year-old bride or the sad, broken, twenty-two-year-old wife who had fled. She was almost twenty-five and the past three years away from Samogpur had matured her.

She would make Veer understand that he couldn’t hold her against her will. He would rail at her because, according to him, it was improper and against tradition, but she knew there was no future in their marriage. And though her heart skipped a beat at the thought, she would try to leave as soon as possible.

Deciding to figure out how things lay, she left her suite of rooms, refusing Simran’s escort.

She had to find a way to escape, though she knew it would be very difficult. There was a high level of security and round-the-clock bodyguards; no member of the royal family could take a step out of sight of them. But she was determined to leave. She had managed it once before and she would manage it again.

Descending the stairs, she went out, and immediately the major-domo appeared. She hadn’t seen him before; he was new. Meethi decided to try her luck.

‘Has Maharaj Saheb returned?’ she asked, trying not to betray her nervousness.

‘Nahin, Maharani Saheba! He hasn’t returned yet,’ the major-domo answered deferentially.

Heaving a silent sigh of relief, she said with forced calm, ‘Is there a driver outside? Please ask for the car to be brought around.’

The major-domo bowed his head and went outside. Meethi wanted to run after him and hurry up the proceedings but she knew that to do so would be dangerous. She began pacing impatiently in the vast hall.

Suddenly, she heard a commotion and her heart sank. Had Veer returned? She stood welded to the spot as a tall lanky figure came in. It was Harshvardhan, her husband’s cousin.

‘Pranam, Bhabhi Saheb!’ he greeted her ecstatically, touching her feet and hugging her. Though he was two years older than her, custom dictated that, because Meethi was his elder cousin’s wife, he would touch her feet in greeting.

Meethi gave him a glimmer of a smile.

Harshvardhan had been the only friend that she’d had in the dark days of her marriage. He had been witness to the nasty criticism and public put-downs she’d been subjected to by the family members and, though she hadn’t confided in him, he had sensed her unhappiness and had always been around, trying to cheer her up.

‘Your accident was such a terrible thing to happen! But I always knew in my heart of hearts that you were alive. Bhaiya Maharaj told us how you lost your memory and ended up in Kolkata. Thank God he found you,’ Harsh went on.

Meethi gazed at him in amazement. Was that what Veer had told them?

‘Bhaiya Maharaj was devastated when the news of your accident came. Totally distraught, he kept insisting that you would be found and wouldn’t leave the site of the river where your car was found. It was only when the divers gave up that he came home. The past three years have been terrible for him, but now that you are back he will be fine,’ he added emotionally.

Meethi couldn’t believe it. Veer was the most cool and collected man in the universe. Nothing could shake him or disturb his impassive demeanour. He was used to people depending upon him, looking up to him, idolising him, and he discharged all his duties and responsibilities with effortless ease and imperturbable control.

His life had been turned topsy-turvy when he married her and he would’ve been relieved to have got rid of her.