Page 245 of Claimed By the Maharaja
It was on her.
For a moment, the view was blocked when the new chief minister eagerly approached him.
After Rahul's incident, Tina was found guilty of providing fake journalist credentials. Bharat had wanted her arrested. It was Yamini who had felt pity towards Tina and asked Bharat not to get Tina arrested. It had taken considerable convincing, and he had agreed only because Tina wasn’t involved in the Dal Lake attack. Tina was in London now. Permanently. And her father had stepped down from the chief minister’s post.
The new chief minister was careful to stay in Bharat's good books.
With a small, curt nod, Bharat dismissed the chief minister. And once again, she had a clear view of her husband.
Her stomach fluttered as his golden-brown eyes met hers across the room.
Pooja followed her gaze and sighed dramatically.
“One year of marriage, and the two of you still can’t take your eyes off each other.”
Yamini’s cheeks heated but she still didn’t look away from Bharat.
Pooja groaned. “I badly need to find myself a man who looks at me the way the Jogra maharaja looks at you.”
Yamini touched the emerald pendant at her throat and smiled. “You will.”
The rest of the afternoon continued with Yamini slipping to her professional mode while a part of her waited in anticipation.
???
It wasn’t until much later that night that Yamini let out a sigh of contentment.
“I’m so happy that the event went well,” she said.
She lay against Bharat’s chest, warm beneath the covers, watching the snow-covered peaks under the moonlight.
“I told you it would,” he said.
Early that morning, when she had been nervous, he had stated in his typical commanding way that the event would go well and she should relax. She had believed him.
One year of being Bharat Jogra’s wife taught her that his assessments would always be right.
She smiled, letting out another happy sigh. Her eyes fell on the wall opposite the bed, where his latest painting of her hung.
In it, she stood in the palace garden, laughing with her camera in one hand and Sheru tucked securely in her other arm. Her hair had slipped loose from its pins, and her face was turned toward something outside the frame.
She hadn’t known Bharat was looking at her from his studio window at that time. That was still his favorite kind. The candid moments where she didn't know he was watching.
She had become a regular visitor to his studio, and he never objected to her sitting there while he painted. Sometimes she posed deliberately, just to make him look at her for longer.
He always let her, even though she didn’t need to pose because he had a photographic memory.
She sighed happily, burrowing deeper against him.
His fingers moved along her shoulder, then paused at the faint scar.
The air shifted slightly then, and she felt the immediate tension in his body.
She lifted her head to see that his jaw had tightened and his golden-brown eyes had gone darker.
She leaned forward and kissed his tightened jaw. “It’s just a small scar,” she murmured.
“It should not be there.”
