Simon argued and grabbed her hand, but Palak explained that they were to start the preparations for the festival. That Simon still seemed reluctant to let her go made Georgiana’s skin tingle. She chanced a glance over her shoulder as the women led her away and felt her lips curl into a shy smile when she saw that he was watching her.
Something had changed between them, she noted. It was like having a locked door suddenly open, though no one had turned the key. The thought of what might lay just beyond was both unsettling and enticing.
The women led her to the river, and she was handed another cup of kallu before being stripped down. Georgiana normally would have been mortified to be standing bare in front of other people, but as she had already endured this treatment once, and with her mind slightly foggy from the kallu, she allowed herself to be bathed.
There were a dozen other women in the water, all washing. Most, if not all, were younger than her. Georgiana scrubbed herself with a soap that smelled faintly like sandalwood then allowed an older woman to wash her hair with a concoction that was no doubt made from jasmine.
She was guided out of the river to dry off, her hair vigorously rubbed with coarse material to dry it faster. The older woman helping her chattered soothingly as she combed through Georgiana’s damp tresses, then smoothed the thick mass over her shoulders. Something black—kohl, Georgiana supposed—was lined underneath her eyes.
Two different women dressed her in a fabric of luscious deep purple. She took another sip of kallu and smiled cheerfully as the women wrapped the cloth around her body. Georgiana tried to pay attention to their technique, but they worked so deftly that she couldn’t keep up. When they were through with her, the plum-colored cloth left one shoulder bare and draped elegantly across her bosom and over her opposite arm. It skimmed the tops of her knees and rather than feeling immodest—as she should considering how much of her body was showing—Georgiana loved the effect. She wished she had a mirror so she could see herself decked out in such attire.
Georgiana, walking at the back of the line of young ladies being herded back to the village, noticed in her kallu-induced haze that all thirteen of them were dressed in similar manner. The women all seemed to be chirping with excitement, and Georgiana had to stifle her own giggle.
They entered the village and their little envoy was presented to the rest of the Dongari. Georgiana searched the crowd for Simon. He was lined up with a dozen other young men, at the end of the line as she was. He looked sinfully handsome, dressed in clean Moghul breeches and a khurta, with the buttons at the top of the tunic left open as before.
Palak was saying something that sounded very official, but Simon was staring at her with that unreadable expression that bothered her to no end. Georgiana nearly pulled a face at him just to alleviate her own tension.
The two groups were brought to face one another, putting Georgiana across from Simon. Again she had to stop herself from giggling. When a tribesman handed him something and whispered to him in Oriya, Simon nodded. He reached for her hand, taking it gently in his and causing a quickening of Georgiana’s pulse.
She watched, fascinated, as he tied a cord of cotton around her wrist and murmured a few words in the tribal dialect. He looked up at her, tracing a small circle on her hand. The gesture was supposed to be comforting, she supposed, yet she found his touch disquieting. It felt as though he had branded her.
She was handed a second cotton cord, identical to the one around her wrist, and Georgiana peeked to see what the other young women were doing. Following their lead, she reached for Simon’s hand and tied the cord around his wrist, just as he had done to her. Looking up, what she saw in his green gaze stole the breath from her lips. Palak directed them to watch as one of the couples walked around a small fire. They repeated this six times, and when they were done, the next couple followed suit. Finally it was Georgiana and Simon’s turn. Simon took her hand in his, interlacing their fingers, and led her around the fire.
When they were through, Palak said something in Dongari as he tapped each couple on the tops of their heads. He then made an announcement that had all the villagers cheering. A lively tune started up and the couples were goaded to dance.
Once again, Georgiana tried to follow what the other young ladies were doing, which looked easy enough. She stepped out her foot, pointing her toes at the ground close to Simon, then behind her, hopping slightly. Simon seemed to be doing a fair approximation himself, grinning as he did.
The woman closest to her nodded her encouragement, demonstrating to Georgiana how she should move her hips. When she had mastered the move, the girl showed her how to turn from front to side, then back to front. She gestured for her to do so in a circle around Simon, who had gone still as he watched. Georgiana danced around Simon, laughing in delight. The girl pushed Georgiana backwards into Simon, lacing their hands together and showing them how to do the moves in unison. She gestured for Simon to drop Georgiana’s hands and indicated they should both turn in a circle in the same direction. Simon took her hands again to repeat the sequence, and Georgiana tried to ignore the sensation of her backside swiveling against Simon’s hips. Their tutor smiled in approval, urging them to do it again.
This time, Simon gripped her forearms rather than her hands. Whether he did so intentionally or not didn’t matter—the position drew her closer to him, making her intimately aware of the heat and hardness of his body. When finally the dance ended, Georgiana pulled back to catch her breath. She refused to look at Simon for fear he would know her thoughts.
Palak came over to them with a cup of kallu. “For our guests to share,” he said.
He offered it to Simon first, then to Georgiana. Once they had both sipped, Palak poured the rest on the ground and clapped his hands together happily. “Congratulations, Simon Ashford,” he said in English. He then spoke in Oriya and Simon suddenly looked as though he’d been doused with cold water. “Thank you, Palak,” he said haltingly.
He kissed Georgiana’s cheek and patted Simon on the back before he left. Simon frowned as he watched Palak go.
“Simon?” Georgiana asked, wondering at the change in his demeanor. “Whatever is the matter? They aren’t going to cook us after all, are they?”
Simon shook his head and met her gaze, his mouth slightly ajar. “Princess,” he said slowly. “We just got married.”
Georgiana tried to comprehend the situation through her haze of kallu. She had just married Simon Ashford in a Dongari tribal ceremony? Absurd! They stood staring at each other, completely silent.
Simon started to say something, but unable to hold back any longer, Georgiana burst into an uncontrollable fit of the giggles. Her new husband looked at her as though she were utterly mad, causing Georgiana to laugh even harder. A moment later, Simon started chuckling too.
All the stress and fear of the day melted away, and Georgiana let herself relax. She felt wonderful. The Dongari musicians were playing a new melody and Georgiana thrilled with the delights of the evening. The group of brides gestured her in for another dance, which she happily joined—twirling and giggling and waving at her husband.
* * *
Georgiana wasn’t laughing several hours later. In fact, she was fuming. The kallu was wearing off, thank goodness, so she was at least capable of coherent thought. Semi-sobriety was likely why she found her current predicament rather less than amusing.
Granted, it was mostly her fault that she was stuck in the jungles of Orissa in the middle of the night with only a single, thin flame from the diya—a small clay lamp filled with oil—to break up the oppressive darkness. After all, she had trekked willingly into the wilds. But it had been Simon who’d insisted they stay in the village for the celebration. If it had been up to her, they’d have hiked to civilization by now.
She shouldn’t be so annoyed, she mused. This wasn’t the first night she’d spent in the middle of nowhe
re. There had been an evening in the Egyptian desert when they’d slept in a Bedouin tent woven from goat’s hair. The people had been wonderfully hospitable, but her bed had been little more than a blanket on top of the sand. And then there was one particularly difficult night in the frigid loneliness of Barnaul, Siberia, where howling winds threatened to knock over the small cottage they’d acquired as a temporary residence for the bitter winter.
She shifted a bit on the thick reed mat, which she had to admit was shockingly comfortable, and considered what to do about the current situation. Simon had yet to make an appearance. Apparently Dongari men stayed with the party later than Dongari women. She wasn’t complaining, of course. She needed time to sort out the knot of emotions she’d had when Simon explained their accidental nuptials.
They weren’t really married, she reminded herself. First, Simon hadn’t proposed. In fact, he’d been more shocked than she upon hearing the news. Secondly, Dongari marriage ceremonies likely didn’t count if you weren’t Dongari. There was nothing legal about their union. Whether the marriage was legitimate or not was actually irrelevant. What concerned her was the fact that she and Simon would be spending the night—alone, together—in a small hut in the middle of nowhere. She wasn’t quite sure how she felt about that.
Watching Maahir throw Simon around as though he were little more than a sack of grain had been horrifying. She’d had to actually bite her tongue when Maahir slammed his fist into the ground, just missing Simon’s face. She had been so terrified for him today. If he had been hurt—
She couldn’t really bear to finish that thought, so she didn’t.
Almost more confusing were her feelings as she watched Simon pummel Maahir into submission. It hadn’t scared her, not exactly, but it was a side of Simon she didn’t know. He was always rational, always self-possessed. To see him lose control, to realize there was a wildness behind his amiable, civilized demeanor, aroused in her something strange—something deep and raw and primitive.
She’d felt it again when they had danced. The feel of him pressed intimately against her made her blood race and her body quiver. She certainly didn’t understand it; in truth she barely recognized herself. It had been similar to the sensation she felt when they had kissed and he’d touched her...down there. It left her restless, unable to think clearly.
Even now, the memory of his hand brushing against her womanhood left her light-headed.
It was indecent, Georgiana scolded herself, thinking of Simon in such a fashion. He was intelligent and honorable and entirely decent—not primitive. He’d likely be beyond offended to hear that she was thinking of him as a wild thing. Still, a thread of anticipation hummed through her. Simon stumbled through the door of the hut, as though he’d known she was thinking about him. The thread of light flickered defiantly as he entered, its soft glow struggling to illuminate the blackness. Georgiana swallowed the lump in her throat. He caught himself before he tripped over her and managed to right himself, but not without swaying a bit.
“Hello, wife,” he giggled.
“Are you drunk?” Georgiana studied him, feeling suddenly peevish. The last thing she wanted on her wedding night, real or not, was to take care of another sot.
“Yes I am,” Simon said, flopping down next to her on the mat. It was dark enough that he’d misjudged his landing and toppled right on top of her. He looked down at her in surprise and blinked. Then he pushed himself up and grumbled, “Though not nearly drunk enough.”
Georgiana sniffed indignantly. “Where have you been?”
“Toasting the bride, er, brides,” he said, letting his legs sprawl carelessly. He was large enough that she’d have to sleep in the corner if she wanted her own space. “Apparently it’s tradition for the bridegrooms to get a bit stewed before the wedding night.”
“Lovely,” Georgiana bit out. “I’m sure that’s what most wives want for their first night of marriage—a jug-bitten spouse to pass out next to them.”
“I imagine a little palm wine has some merit,” Simon said, studiously examining his hands in the faint light. “And Palak is cagey. He made sure everyone had enough, without over-indulging. Believe me, I tried.”
Georgiana snorted in disgust. “Well, while you were out getting snockered,” she fumed, “I was robbed.”
Simon looked up from his hands. “What?”
She nodded. “The older women took my clothes without so much as a by-your-leave. They left me here without a stitch under this blanket.”
Simon stared at her for a long moment, the muscles in his jaw working furiously. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, seeming unable to speak. “That was a rather dirty trick,” he said at last, his voice sounding thick.
“Yes it was,” Georgiana agreed. “I can’t spend the night like this. It’s indecent.”
“Hmm,” was all he said.
“That’s it?” Georgian asked in frustration. “Just hmm? Aren’t you going to do something about it?”
It took him a long time to answer. When he finally did, his voice sounded as though he were far away rather than sitting a foot from her in a tiny mud and grass hut. “I’m going to sit here on the edge of this mat like a proper British gentleman and close my eyes and pray that I’ve had enough kallu that I may pass out now.”
He lay down and rolled to his side—away from her—evidently finished with their discussion.
Georgiana humphed at him. “Well this wasn’t how I pictured my wedding night.”
Simon didn’t answer.
“You’re not going to ask me how I did picture it?” Georgiana asked.
“No,” he grumped. “Good night.”
Georgiana sighed. “Are you angry with me about Maahir?”
Simon shook his head. “I’m not angry.”
“I find that rather hard to believe, since you won’t even look at me,” Georgiana sniffed.
Simon gave something that sounded like a strangled growl before sitting up. He turned to face her and she could feel the tension radiating from him, a hint of the wildness that she seemed to crave. His green eyes were nearly black, and his jaw was tense.
“What I am is frustrated, Princess,” he seethed. “It’s been a rather long day, and my patience is wearing a bit thin. I survived a mudslide. I was kidnapped and beaten by Dongari tribesmen. I had to bathe under public scrutiny, and oh yes, I was unexpectedly married.”
Simon moved closer into her, and she could feel his breath hot on her cheek. “But what I find most taxing is that I’m sitting alone with you in the middle of the night with a blanket and my own conscience as the only things separating us. I’m fairly drunk, I’m utterly exhausted and I’m very short on control. Now, unless you’d like to know exactly how I pictured my wedding night, I suggest you roll over and go to sleep.”
Georgiana swallowed hard. His words, the rawness of his tone, made her slightly breathless. With sudden, absolute clarity, Georgiana knew exactly what she wanted.
She wanted him.
So even though her heart was pounding, she bolstered her courage. “I suppose my clothes can wait until morning. It actually feels rather agreeable to be naked under the covers,” she said, wriggling a little bit. “I’ve never done so before. Have you?”
Simon looked predatory. He was breathing hard, as though the mere act of controlling himself was a physical exertion. “Don’t play with me, Princess. I’m really in no condition to stop myself tonight.”
“I’m not playing. And I don’t believe we worked out the details of your compensation for besting Maahir,” she said lightly. “I seem to remember something about you seeing me naked. Of course, it’s rather dark in here, so you may not see much.”
She slowly began dragging the blanket from her body.
“Georgie,” Simon warned hoarsely. “Please.”
Despite his protest, he
was watching her eagerly, greedily, entirely enthralled. Feeling reckless, she pulled the blanket a little farther, and shivered at the pulse of excitement that shot through her. Simon’s eyes glittered with anticipation, and his chest rose and fell heavily. His obvious desire heightened her own excitement.
She swallowed hard as she pulled the blanket free. Simon’s breath caught and her body burned as his eyes raked over her naked flesh. A slow ache began to build inside her as his gaze slowly, intently devoured her. Her heart caught in her throat and she couldn’t seem to stop trembling.
For the first time in her life Georgiana Phillips wished she had lived up to her reputation as a seductress.
Because she had no idea what to do. Simon hadn’t made the slightest attempt to move toward her. In fact, he appeared to have gone completely still—except for his eyes, which still roved over her body from head to toe. She shifted uncomfortably and debated asking him for a little guidance. Georgiana bit her lip nervously as a horrifying thought struck. Perhaps her body wasn’t desirable to him. She wasn’t soft like ladies were supposed to be. She knew her legs were lean and muscled from all the walking she did. That probably wasn’t very feminine. And her stomach was worse than flat—her hipbones and ribs actually poked out a bit when she lay like this. Despite her lack of softness her chest was overly fleshy, which only exaggerated how spare the rest of her was. Since most men seemed interested in her ample chest, she’d always assumed it was a good thing for bedroom matters.
But maybe it wasn’t.
Maybe Simon was disappointed.
Unable to bear the suspense any longer, Georgiana cleared her throat. “Simon?” she asked shyly. “Is everything all right?”
An Inconvenient Kiss Page 19