Butterfly Island

by Corina Bomann

  She opened a drawer and looked at the palm leaf she had hidden there. Stockton’s words thundered through her mind. She was fully aware of the consequences of her plan, but she had no other choice. She had to make Stockton lose interest in her, either as a potential wife or daughter-in-law. Listen to your heart. The old man’s voice echoed through her mind. At that moment her heart was saying one thing and one thing only, completely at odds with her head . . .

  That night she didn’t creep out of the house. Her knees drawn up to her chest, she sat in front of the window and tried to shake off the sickening feeling of revulsion that had gripped her. She still imagined she could feel Stockton’s hands pawing at her. Could Vikrama ever touch her again without summoning up the lustful face of that swine?

  A soft scratching caused her to raise her head. Vikrama was standing outside the window, in his ceremonial white clothing.

  Grace looked across at Victoria, who was sleeping soundly. She opened the window and Vikrama beamed at her.

  “I’d like to take you with me,” he whispered. “You’ve always said you wanted to see me fight.”

  It was indeed what she had wanted, but now was not the time. She was unable to feel the delight she should at this gesture of trust, of love.

  “What’s the matter?” Vikrama asked, his face full of concern at her silence. “Don’t you want to come? Is it your time of the month?”

  The way he spoke so freely about certain subjects made her smile.

  “No, everything’s fine. I was just feeling a little unwell, but it’s passed now you’re here.” She leaned forward and gave him a kiss. “I’ll be with you shortly.”

  She quickly slipped into her afternoon dress, which was still hanging over the chair, and having reassured herself that Victoria was sound asleep, she climbed outside with Vikrama’s help. She stumbled against him, and for an electrifying moment her hand brushed against his naked breast. Shocked at first, then wondering, she stared at him. She knew the skin of his hands and arms, she knew his lips, but she had never expected the skin of his chest to be so soft and velvety against her own. A flame, ignited in her own breast, shot to her loins, causing a throbbing sensation.

  Vikrama seemed to sense the feelings raging in her at that moment; he drew her close and kissed her more passionately than ever, before quickly regaining his self-control.

  “We have to go,” he gasped. “They’re waiting for us. And you don’t want your sister to see us.”

  Grace shook her head and allowed him to lead her through the gap in the hedge.

  On the way, they talked in whispers about how each couldn’t stop thinking about the other, and how that could have fatal consequences if he was distracted and took a wrong step somewhere on the plantation and tumbled down a precipitous slope. “But at least I’d have you on my mind at the moment of my death,” he added with a smile.

  “It’s not something to laugh about,” said Grace indignantly, then reached out and ran her fingers through his soft hair. “But I’m happy that you’ve fallen for me in every other way.”

  Vikrama laughed briefly and gave her a kiss.

  At that moment Stockton’s assault was forgotten. In any case, Grace couldn’t have brought herself to tell him about it, because she knew he would go straight to him and demand some kind of retribution. She was firmly committed to her plan, which would mean she could finally be with the man she loved.

  Once they arrived at the hut, which was dimly lit by flickering torches, the scene took her breath away. Two dozen young men of varying ages were sitting on the veranda looking at a wooden stage on the ground in front of them, where a number of objects had been set out.

  “What is this place?” she whispered to Vikrama.

  “Our martial arts school.”

  “You have a martial arts school behind our house?”

  Vikrama kissed her. “Yes, we have. And I’m relying on you to keep our secret safe.”

  “I will. But how do you manage to keep all this from my father? Did my uncle allow you to fight here?”

  Vikrama nodded. “He did. Under the condition that we would never attack one of his people using our skills—it’s very dangerous for the uninitiated. Because everyone liked your uncle, we swore that we would only use our martial art if our life was in danger.”

  “And the same applies to my family.”

  Vikrama nodded almost reverently. “I have to admit that my fingers have been itching to punish Petersen in our way for whipping Naala, but I’m able to keep myself under control. In any case, I’m sure your father wouldn’t treat us with the same tolerance as your uncle. That’s why we only meet here in the night-time and leave the place looking as though it’s been long since abandoned. Anyone who comes across it in the daytime won’t see anything more than a rickety, neglected hut.”

  He led her on, until they were standing in front of the veranda that ran the length of the hut. The men seemed to be as surprised by her appearance as Grace was about the fact that this building was so close to the plantation. Vikrama briefly explained to them, and to the old man who Grace assumed must be their teacher, why she was here.

  Grace was sorry she couldn’t understand everything Vikrama said, and resolved to ask him to give her a few more lessons when they met.

  “The teacher agrees,” Vikrama said, turning back to her at last. “I explained to him that you’re trustworthy and won’t give anything away.”

  “And did you also tell him—”

  Vikrama shook his head. “I told him you were merely a friend—and the woman who rescued Naala.”

  “And that was enough?”

  “For our teacher, yes. Sit down here, on one of the rocks, to watch.”

  She obeyed and he returned to his teacher. If she was not mistaken, Vikrama seemed to be his right-hand man. Since the old man could no longer fight himself, it was Vikrama who demonstrated the complicated movements to the young men.

  At first they fought one another, which was breathtaking enough in itself. But when Vikrama stepped forward to face one of the older pupils, Grace was completely astonished. She would never have believed that it was possible for people’s movements to be so fast and lithe. Like cats they sprang together and attacked each other with short practice swords. Occasionally their limbs seemed to melt into one another, making them look like the dancing Shiva from the picture in the hallway.

  When the bout was over, Vikrama and his opponent bowed respectfully to one another, then to the teacher.

  This was repeated a few times with different opponents. Whenever Vikrama was not on the fighting platform she watched him as he sat next to the teacher with a solemn, reverential expression. Not a single sound of encouragement passed the lips of the pupils, with only the clacking of the weapons breaking the silence. Grace wondered how she had failed to hear it before.

  When the practice had come to an end and the pupils had gone their separate ways into the night, Vikrama accompanied her back to the house. There were rustlings in the undergrowth all around, and a bird cried out high above the mountain slope, which was bathed in soft moonlight.

  “Would you marry me?” she asked suddenly, surprising herself with her boldness, which was undoubtedly stoked by her fear of Stockton.

  Vikrama froze momentarily. “Marry you? I’m sure your father would be against it.”

  “He may well be, but wouldn’t it be possible to marry without his blessing? Before your gods, perhaps. Especially since they were on my side when Victoria was ill.”

  The bewilderment in Vikrama’s eyes caused Grace’s heart to contract. Didn’t he want her?

  “It would bring misfortune,” he said eventually. “I’d bring misfortune down on your family. I’m only a half-caste. I don’t belong either to your world or that of the Tamils.”

  “But you love me anyway?” Grace looked into his eyes, searching for the truth, and found it in the moist gleam that reflected the moonlight.

  “I love you,” he replied. “More than my o
wn life. More than anything or anyone I’ve ever loved before.”

  He took her in his arms and drew her aside between the bushes.

  Kissing passionately, they lowered themselves to the ground, on to the soft grass. Vikrama ran his hand over her body, down to her thigh, and Grace was not surprised to find that his touch brought her pleasure. She allowed his hand to slide beneath her skirt and stroke the sensitive insides of her legs. He didn’t dare move any further. As though hit by an ice-cold wave, he withdrew, shaking his head.

  “No,” he whispered, although he knew it was already far too late.

  “Please come to me,” she implored, reaching her hands out to him. “I have no idea what will happen next, but at this moment I want you.”

  “It will hurt,” he warned breathlessly, still wrestling to keep control.

  “I know,” Grace said. She felt as though she would burst like a glass bowl with boiling water poured into it.

  Vikrama seemed to be weighing up whether to give in to his desire. Then he pulled down his trousers and lowered himself on to her.

  As he carefully penetrated her, Grace closed her eyes. She believed she could overcome the pain, but it was terrible. As his hips pressed against her thighs, he paused. The burning passion in his eyes was a little dampened by concern.

  “I hope I haven’t—”

  Grace kissed him. Although she was burning, at that moment she couldn’t think of anything more wonderful.

  They stayed motionless like that for a while, skin on skin, then the pain receded and gave way to a gentle trace of desire, the likes of which she had never felt before. He began to move, and this time she didn’t close her eyes. She wanted to see what was going on in his mind, wanted to watch his desire as she was completely overcome by her own.

  When he felt she had reached her climax, he withdrew with a sigh. A few moments later something sticky spurted on to her knee. Vikrama sank down on her, moaning softly.

  Still floating on a cloud of joy, she realised that her plan had not worked, as even she understood enough about what happened between a man and a woman to know that the man had to release himself inside her. Vikrama clearly had not, out of consideration for her.

  For a while they lay side by side in silence, each listening to the other’s breathing.

  “Tell me, what’s your first name?” Grace asked, her head nestling on his breast. Her whole body was still tingling from her outburst of passion. The fact that her plan had not fully worked was of secondary importance.

  “My name is Vikrama. I don’t have another. It’s not our custom to have surnames.”

  “So what does the R stand for?”

  “For my mother’s name. It should be my father’s initial, but my mother kept his name a secret. Since she was called Rani, she gave me her R, as is the custom.”

  “So the only reference to your family is the first initial of one of your parents?”

  “Yes, that’s the tradition here.”

  “Isn’t it a bit confusing?”

  “A little, but most people take care to ensure that their children don’t have the same names as others who might have a similar combination.”

  They fell silent again, and Grace knew she had to get back soon.

  “Shall we do this again?” With a gentle smile he stroked her hair and her cheeks.

  “Yes,” she replied hotly. “I can’t imagine ever wanting another man.”

  They kissed passionately, then he said, “I’ll ask Kisah if she can give you some of her herbs.”

  “Why?” Grace asked.

  Vikrama stroked her belly. “Because I want to stay inside you the whole time, without making you pregnant.”

  Grace blushed and the next moment felt terribly naïve. Of course she could get pregnant if she slept with a man! The fact that Vikrama had withdrawn, that he was now suggesting the herbs to her, only showed that he didn’t want her to get into trouble. He couldn’t possibly imagine that she actually wanted his seed to fall on fertile ground.

  “And you think these herbs will help?”

  “None of our women get pregnant if they don’t want to. As long as they’re not married, they take the herbs and nothing happens. After the wedding, they stop taking them and they can have babies.”

  As he spoke, he kept stroking her, reawakening her desire.

  “I’ll hold back until the herbs take effect.”

  “And how long will that be?”

  “A few days. Then there’ll be no more risk.”

  16

  Vannattuppūcci Tea Company, 2008

  Midnight had come upon them. As Jonathan pored over the commercial books, Diana leaned back, rubbing her eyes. Her head was spinning, and her body was gripped by a strange excitement. Her find was simply wonderful, but it had a terrible power to hold her and never let her go.

  No romance novel could have such strength of feeling as Grace’s descriptions of her burgeoning passion and the disaster that Daniel Stockton threatened to bring down upon her.

  Diana should have been shocked by her ancestor’s confession, but enough dark years lay between them that she could see her as nothing other than a young woman who had fallen hopelessly in love and wanted to live that love to the full—an unthinkable wish in those times.

  “You ought to go to bed,” Jonathan said, looking rather bleary-eyed and reminding Diana how late it was. “The notebook will still be here tomorrow.”

  “I doubt I’ll be able to sleep after what I’ve read here.”

  “Is it that bad?”

  “No, not bad, but surprising. And certainly scandalous for those times. At least it’s made a few things clear for me. But at the same time it’s raised plenty of questions.”

  “How about a little night-time walk?” Jonathan suggested, pointing to the little window through which the façade of the neighbouring building gleamed in the moonlight. “The mild evening air might help you get your thoughts in order.”

  That was something Diana desperately needed to do, since her temples were throbbing, a sure sign of an overtaxed brain.

  The movement sensor was triggered by them leaving the house, and the front steps were suddenly bathed in light. In the purple sky, with the palm trees standing out against it like silhouettes, a silver crescent moon hung against a backdrop of innumerable stars. A soft rustling filled the air.

  “Come with me,” Diana said, taking Jonathan by the hand. She led him to the pergola in which Stockton had waylaid Grace. How would the whole story have turned out if he had not threatened her?

  “My great-great-grandmother had a relationship with the estate manager,” Diana said as they entered the dark tunnel.

  “With that man Cahill?” Jonathan asked. “I found his name in the documents.”

  “No, with a man called R. Vikrama. A mixed-race Tamil.”

  Jonathan’s eyes widened. “Now, that is a surprise.”

  “And I’m gradually beginning to suspect the reason for the quarrel, the reason for the scandal. Henry didn’t want to save her from Stockton. She and Vikrama must have fled somehow.”

  “Maybe someone found the notebook. Otherwise it wouldn’t have been tucked away in that accounts book. Maybe someone had the perverse pleasure of reading what it contains.”

  “But how would that someone have got their hands on it? Grace must have hidden it well. And she also threatened to burn it. If she’d had the opportunity I’m sure she would have done so. The Tremaynes were very thorough when they wanted something hidden . . .”

  She suddenly realised their faces were closer together than they ever had been before. The scent of Jonathan’s skin and the lingering scent of his aftershave enfolded her, and she found herself wondering how it had been back then, when Grace and Vikrama stood facing one another and kissed for the first time. It was as though she was whisked back in time, into another life. The next thing she felt was warm lips against hers. It felt is if that was where they belonged.

  When she opened her eyes, Jonathan
was standing in front of her, looking a little surprised.

  “What’s the matter? Was I such a bad kisser?”

  Diana shook her head with a smile. “It was as though I’d gone back in time. As though I were Grace.”

  Jonathan grinned broadly. “Well I hope you kissed me for myself, not because you believed it was Vikrama there with you.”

  “Of course I kissed you for yourself,” she replied, laying her hands gently on his cheeks. “But you should know by now that I’m quite a complicated person. And I still have a husband, from whom I need to get a divorce.”

  “You’re not already thinking about marrying again, are you?” Jonathan laughed, making Diana blush.

  “You’re right. We have no idea whether we could live together. But for my part, I can say that I’ve fallen a little in love with you.”

  “Only a little?” he asked light-heartedly, taking her hand.

  She saw in his eyes the same wish as the one burning inside her. Her conscience reminded her that she was still a married woman and she shouldn’t do this merely to pay Philipp back. I’m not doing it for that reason, but because right at this moment there’s nothing I want more.

  Sleeping with Jonathan was completely different from anything she had experienced with Philipp. Although her husband had been neither rough nor inconsiderate, and during the happier days of their marriage, she couldn’t have imagined a better lover, Jonathan was now showing her otherwise. His kisses, his movements, were so gentle and sensual that when she was in his arms she forgot about Philipp completely and felt as if she were floating. The dismissive thought that it was no wonder because he was from the land of the Kama Sutra, was swept away by a wave of intense sensations that peaked in a breathtaking climax.

  Afterwards, she lay in his arms and looked up at the ceiling, where bright flecks of light were dancing.

  “I think this moment is perfect,” Diana whispered as she snuggled up against his breast.

  “Really?” Jonathan said with a smile, as he stroked her hair. “But I haven’t shown you everything yet.”

  “Maybe we should keep something back for the days to come. I don’t want you arriving back in Colombo completely exhausted.”