Page 50 of Claimed By the Maharaja
She recalled Pooja’s words.
“Marrying him solves everything. Your inheritance. Your social position. Your family drama.”
If she did marry him, she would no longer be the disgraced princess. Her parents would accept her back. She would also get her grandmother’s inheritance. She would have children that she wanted.
But you won’t have love.
The words crept into her mind. She knew with certainty Bharat Jogra would never love her.
But did love really matter in a marriage?
She was no longer foolish to believe in such things. Practicalities mattered more in a marriage than foolish dreams. She had learned that lesson the hard way.
The Jogra maharaja was wealthy, duty-bound, and stable.
She knew she hadn’t thought through entirely what marriage to him would mean. But right then, she saw him as an opportunity she couldn’t afford to let go.
“Fine,” she said. “Let’s get married.”
He remained still for a moment. Then without a word, he turned and walked toward the temple entrance.
He didn’t look back or offer his hand. He simply walked as though he knew she would follow.
Inhaling a deep breath, she followed him.
???
The inside of the temple was warmer than she expected.
The air sat heavy with incense, the smoke rich and fragrant, curling upward in slow threads toward the carved stone ceiling. The low, steady sound of chanting filled the space.
Yamini removed her coat and set it down in the corner along with her boots.
Without it, the full weight of the bridal attire settled over her all at once.
Her legs trembled slightly beneath the layers of the heavy lehenga.
She told herself it was the cold.
Bharat Jogra removed his sunglasses and set them aside. He did not look at her. His gaze moved toward the priests waiting inside.
Taking a deep breath, she followed him to the fire, her heavy anklets making a tinkling sound.
The priests greeted them with joined hands and indicated where to sit. Yamini returned the greeting and lowered herself carefully, the heavy lehenga pooling around her. She became aware immediately of how close Bharat Jogra was beside her. Close enough that she could see the fine gold threadwork at his collar. Close enough to catch the faint scent of sandalwood and cold mountain air that clung to him.
She had no idea why she noticed.
The ceremony began.
The first instructions were given, the head priest’s voice steady and unhurried as he guided them through the opening rituals. Offerings to be placed. Prayers to be repeated. Yamini followed each direction as it was given, her voice steady even when her thoughts were not.
“Place your hand in the maharaja’s.”
Yamini’s heart leaped at the priest’s instruction.
She looked at Bharat Jogra's hand held open in front of her, waiting. The heavy gold signet ring on his finger caught the firelight.
She slowly placed her hand over his.
