Chapter 15

Warm golden sunlight filtered through the timber louvers of the upper storehouse suite, painting lines of light across the wide wooden daybed. Outside, the afternoon quiet of the village settled over the estate, broken only by the gentle rustle of jamun leaves and the coo of doves nesting under the eaves.

Harleen’s fingers tightened around his wrist, her bare feet moving without sound over the cool floor tiles. She pulled him toward the heavy wooden door, her hazel eyes dancing with clear intent.

Reaching out, her palm pressed against the thick teak panel, pushing the door shut before sliding the solid brass latch into its iron keeper. A soft, metallic thud echoed through the room, sealing the secluded upper space off from the main house below.

“Hah! Hun koi nahi aayega ethe!” (Hah! Now no one will come here!)

Turning back into his space, her peach cotton salwar kameez rustled as she closed the distance. Her dark hair tumbled past her shoulders, spilling over the front placket of his olive-green kurta as she stepped onto his feet, using his leather juttis as a platform to match his height.

His arms swept around her waist, holding her frame against his torso.

“Tu te poori planning karke bethi si, Harleen.” (You were sitting here with full planning done, Harleen.)

“Aaho! Main te kine dina ton wait kar rahi si!” (Yes! I was waiting for so many days!)

Her small hands reached up, her fingers sliding underneath the rear folds of his navy blue dastaar. With gentle, measured movements, she unraveled the starched cotton fabric layer by layer, letting the long blue cloth fall over the wooden chair beside the bed. Her fingers unknotted his black parna, letting his dark hair drop over his shoulders and neck.

A hum rumbled in his chest. He lifted her by the hips, setting her feet down onto the edge of the wide daybed mattress.

Harleen dropped onto her knees over the white cotton sheets, her hands reaching out to unbutton the fasteners of his olive-green kurta. She pulled the kurta over his head, tossing it over the wooden headboard, leaving his chest and wide shoulders exposed in the warm sunlight. Her palms pressed flat against his skin, her thumbs tracing the contours of his chest with unhurried devotion.

“Kitne sohne lagde ho tussi ... har wele mera dil karda ae tuhade kol rehn nu.” (How handsome you look ... every moment my heart wants to stay close to you.)

“Te main kithay jaana ae, meri jaan? Main te hamesha ethe hi aa.” (And where am I going to go, my life? I am always right here.)

Leaning back against the stacked cotton bolsters, he stretched his legs out over the daybed, his shoulders settling comfortably against the headboard.

Harleen shifted forward over her knees, her peach kameez sliding up around her thighs. Her dark eyes held his gaze with complete warmth and uninhibited familiarity built over years of private moments. Crawling over the mattress, she reached for the drawstring of his cotton pyjama, her fingers untying the knot with a slow, deliberate rhythm.