‘Let me try and help,’ Vikram said, coming into the room to sit on the other side of the L-shaped sofa. ‘Tell me what it looked like.’ He didn’t miss the look of alarm Tara shot him, but he ignored it—it was about time they stopped tiptoeing around each other and got back to the semblance of a normal relationship. He picked up the first magazine in the heap. ‘Crochet bag?’ he asked.
‘Patchwork, with bits of crochet and bits of cloth and patent leather,’ Tara said. ‘It was towards the end of the magazine. It’s a small picture at the bottom of the page, and the bag’s in different shades of beige and brown.’
Vikram started leafing through the pages, putting each magazine aside as he finished with it.
‘I’ll be travelling next month,’ he said after a brief silence. ‘First to Mumbai, and then to Madrid and London.’
‘OK,’ Tara said. ‘How long will you be away?’
‘Almost two weeks,’ Vikram replied, and then said, hesitating a little, ‘Now that you’ve got your passport I was wondering—would you like to come with me? We could take a few days off and go to Scotland. Or we can stay on a bit longer in Madrid.’
Tara gave him a startled look. Vikram had been travelling at least ten days a month since the day they’d got married, but till now he’d never suggested she accompany him. Of course her passport had just arrived. Perhaps he thought it made sense for her to come along on an overseas trip.
‘I’m not sure,’ she said slowly. ‘I’m at a fairly critical stage of my project. I don’t know if I should be travelling now.’
‘Ask Dr Shanta,’ he suggested. ‘A break might actually be good for you. You’ve been working really hard of late. Even my mum’s being worrying about you.’
‘I’ll ask,’ Tara said, knowing that Dr Shanta would agree with Vikram, but wanting to stave off the discussion.
There was a warm light in Vikram’s eyes that was disturbing. If he didn’t love her, the least he could do was not look at her like that, she thought resentfully. She watched him from under her eyelashes as he went back to leafing through the magazines. Even looked at objectively he was gorgeous. He was still in his office clothes, though he’d loosened his tie and opened the top button of his shirt. His hair was slightly rumpled, falling carelessly across his forehead, and he looked good enough to eat. Tara imagined getting up and crossing the short distance between them, brushing his hair back and taking his tie off completely, leaning down and pressing teasing kisses to his firm mouth …
‘Is this the one?’ Vikram asked, his voice cutting across her fantasy just as it was reaching an interesting phase.
Tara jumped slightly and tried to look at the magazine he’d turned towards her.
‘Come here,’ he said.
She got up and went to him. ‘Yes, it is,’ she said, not protesting as he pulled her gently down onto his knee.
‘You’re sure you don’t want me to buy it for you?’ he asked, nuzzling her neck.
‘I like making stuff,’ Tara replied, proud that her voice was still steady in spite of the havoc his hands and lips were creating. ‘And I value handmade things a lot more than store-bought stuff.’
‘Hmm,’ he said, turning her a little so that he got better access to the buttons on her dress.
‘Vikram …’ Tara said, struck by sudden qualms. It was one thing to pretend to be unaffected by him when he was safely across the room, and a completely different thing when she was in his arms. Also, she hadn’t made any headway as far as falling out of love with him was concerned, and the feel of his body against hers was driving her crazy. She was at serious risk of losing control and deciding to confess her love all over again.
‘You haven’t had dinner yet,’ she said wildly, snatching at the first excuse she could think of to put some distance between them.
Vikram raised his head and gave her a quizzical look. ‘I’m not hungry,’ he said, and turned his attention back to the last fastening on her dress. Having disposed of it to his satisfaction, he proceeded to slide the dress off her shoulders.
He lowered his head again, and Tara gave a despairing little groan and surrendered to the tide of sensation that swept over her. The last coherent thought she had was that he only had himself to blame if she wasn’t falling out of love with him as fast as he’d wanted.
‘Let’s take the day off,’ Vikram said the next morning.
They were still in bed and Tara stretched languorously, memories of the previous night still lingering in every part of her body.
‘The day off?’ she repeated. ‘You never take the day off. I didn’t think you knew what a day off was.’
‘I do now,’ Vikram said, leaning down and kissing her. ‘So what do you think? Sound like a plan?’
‘What would we do on this day off?’ Tara enquired. ‘Laze around at home? Go out?’
‘Whatever you like.’
He smiled down at her and Tara felt her heart turn over. It was so unfair, she thought. A simple smile from him was enough to set her hormones raging, and it was evident she didn’t have nearly the same kind of effect on him. And why did he want to spend time with her now? Wouldn’t it make more sense to keep some distance until their marriage fell into the kind of superficially stable pattern he seemed to want?
The questions trembled on the tip of her tongue, but Tara resolutely kept her mouth shut. Blurting out what she was thinking had brought their relationship almost to breaking point once, and the quicker she learnt to curb the impulse the better.
‘Well?’ Vikram said, trailing a hand gently down her arm. ‘Stay in or go out?’
Go out! her brain screamed at her, but she found herself saying, ‘Stay in.’ She was snatching at every crumb he threw her, she knew that, but the temptation of spending an entire day alone with him was too strong to resist.
‘Right,’ he said, and slid out of bed.
He was bare-chested, wearing only a pair of shorts, and Tara had a strong impulse to pull him back into bed as she looked up at his superbly muscled torso.
‘Put on some clothes,’ she muttered, rolling over and pulling a pillow over her head. ‘You’re a temptation to a good girl, you are.’
He laughed, and leaned across to pull the pillow away. ‘Would you like breakfast in bed?’ he asked. ‘I messaged the cook a little earlier and told her not to come in today.’
‘So who’s going to cook breakfast?’ she asked, tugging the pillow back. ‘Or are you suggesting I get up and make it and then get back into bed to eat it?’
‘I resent the slur on my cooking skills,’ he said as he pulled on a T-shirt. ‘Give me ten minutes and I guarantee you’ll be surprised.’
She was surprised, she thought as she watched him leave the room. Not by the fact that he could cook—he’d lived alone for so many years he’d have to have picked up the basics—but by the way he was behaving. A cosy day at home together was so not his thing. If she hadn’t known better she’d have thought he was trying to woo her—as it was, she wasn’t clear about his motives.
Sighing, she got up to brush her teeth. It was probably better to take each day as it came rather than trying to over-analyse everything that Vikram did.
Ten minutes later Vikram carried up a tray with a little rack of toast, a bowl of fruit, and a perfectly cooked omelette. There was a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice for Tara, and some coffee for him, and the arrangement of the tray would have been a credit to the room service team of a five-star hotel.
‘Nice,’ Tara announced as she tasted the omelette. ‘Can I assume you’ll make lunch as well?’
Vikram shook his head, laughing. ‘I’ll need some help there. Unless you’re OK with boiled vegetables and rice?’
She’d have been OK with eating vegetables burnt to cinders if Vikram was around to eat them with her, but she didn’t say so. ‘We’ll figure something out,’ she said, wishing yet again that she didn’t love him quite so much.
The morning seemed to fly by. Vikram helped Tara rearrange the f
urniture on the ground floor—she’d always wanted to move some of the heavier pieces around, but hadn’t been strong enough to shift them without help. With Vikram around all she had to do was point to where she wanted each piece moved and then she was free to stand and ogle at the muscles rippling in his shoulders and arms as he hefted the solid wood furniture around.
‘You just asked me to move it out from this very spot,’ Vikram said suspiciously after a while.
‘Yes …’ Tara said, not daring to admit that she’d completely lost track of the furniture as she watched him. ‘I think it looks better where it was.’ He still looked a little suspicious, and Tara glanced quickly at her watch. ‘Oooh, look at the time,’ she exclaimed. ‘I’ll start on lunch while you straighten everything up.’
She was halfway out of the door when Vikram caught up with her, moving across the large room as lithely as a panther. He grabbed her to pull her back against him.
‘Why do I get the feeling I was conned into doing a bunch of unnecessary stuff there?’ he asked, his voice husky against her ear.
Tara leaned against him, shamelessly enjoying the feel of his warm, hard, slightly sweaty body against hers.
‘Because you were,’ she whispered back. ‘I get really turned on watching a man lift heavy stuff.’
After that it was no wonder that all thought of making lunch flew out of their heads—they didn’t even make it to the bedroom this time, collapsing in a tangle of limbs on the nearest sofa.
Afterwards Tara lay quietly next to Vikram, her head on his chest so that she could hear the steady thump of his heart. The euphoria of the morning had passed and she was beginning to feel very, very depressed. The more time she spent with Vikram, the more deeply she fell in love with him—and the pain in her heart was rapidly becoming unbearable. She could have dealt with him not returning her love, but the fact that he didn’t even want to acknowledge it was what really hurt.
Vikram’s breath stirred her hair as he spoke. ‘Taking a day off has its advantages,’ he said. ‘I wonder we didn’t think of doing this earlier.’
Tara felt like telling him that he’d been too busy trying to keep away from her earlier, but she held the words back.
‘Are you hungry?’ she asked instead. ‘I think it’s almost four o’clock.’
‘So it is,’ Vikram said, propping himself up to look at the nearest clock. ‘And we’ve had more than enough exercise to work up an appetite.’
‘I’ll rustle something up, then,’ Tara said, trying to get up.
Vikram pulled her back into his arms. ‘Don’t bother. We’ll order in,’ he said. ‘Pass me my phone—it’s nearer you.’
He pulled her into his arms as he dialled the number of a nearby Chinese restaurant, absently stroking her hair as he placed the order. Somehow the casual caress had the power to upset her more than the most passionate embrace—it suggested a degree of affection that she didn’t think Vikram would ever have towards her. Biting her lip, she straightened and picked up the TV remote from a side table. She flicked the TV on, tuning into a completely mindless action flick.
Vikram frowned. ‘Do you like that kind of movie?’ he asked.
His own tastes in movies ran to the very serious, and she remembered a conversation a long while ago when she’d told him she liked Hollywood romantic comedies.
‘There’s nothing better on,’ she said, shrugging and hoping her voice sounded casual enough.
‘Switch it off, then.’ He took the remote from her. ‘I want to talk to you. I was thinking a little more about my trip next month.’
‘The Spain one?’ Tara said.
‘That’s right. I was thinking I could take a couple of weeks off and we could spend some time in Andalusia and then go to Madrid.’
‘Sounds interesting,’ Tara said, keeping her face averted.
‘It would be like a second honeymoon,’ Vikram said, bending down to kiss her lightly. ‘Spain’s a lovely country. Say yes, Tara. I’ll square it with Dr Shanta if you want. You need a break from microscopes and Petri dishes.’
‘I don’t use Petri dishes much,’ Tara said, pulling away from him and standing up. ‘Or microscopes, for that matter. I’ll speak to Dr Shanta tomorrow.’
She turned towards the stairs and Vikram asked, ‘Where are you going?’
‘I need a shower,’ she called back over her shoulder. ‘Anyway, it’ll be some time before the food arrives.’
Vikram frowned. Something wasn’t quite right, but he didn’t want to push the issue. Tara had suffered enough at his hands in the past, and now that he was clearer about his own feelings all he wanted was a chance to make things up to her.
He flicked the TV on again, tuning into the same action movie that Tara had been watching until the delivery man from the restaurant rang the bell. He took the food in and paid the man, tipping him generously before he closed the door and called out to Tara.
There was no response. The water had stopped running in the bathroom some time ago and he’d not heard a sound from the first floor since then. Maybe Tara had fallen asleep—she had good reason to be tired.
He stacked the takeaway cartons on the dining table and took the stairs two at a time.
‘The food’s here,’ he said, opening the door of their bedroom, half expecting to see her curled up in bed.
Tara looked up from the suitcase she was packing. A heap of jeans, dresses and books lay on the bed in an unorganised pile, evidently having been pulled out from one of the cupboards in a hurry. A second empty suitcase lay on the bed, next to the one she was cramming clothes into. Vikram stopped at the threshold, completely flabbergasted.
‘What are you doing?’ he asked slowly, a heavy weight settling in the region of his heart.
‘I’m leaving,’ she said, closing the suitcase with a very final-sounding thud. ‘I’m sorry, I can’t take it any more.’
‘Take what?’ he asked. When she didn’t answer he crossed the room in a few quick strides and took her shoulders in his hands, almost shaking her. ‘What’s happened to you, Tara? I thought we were doing fine.’
He had thought that—he’d almost convinced himself that they were over the worst and could look forward to a happy life together. Evidently he’d been deluding himself.
She didn’t answer for a few seconds, and then she burst out, her eyes swimming with tears, ‘That’s the whole point! Today was perfect, only I know you don’t mean any of it. You’re just trying to make me feel better. I’ve tried so hard to stop loving you, but it’s no use. I’m still just as much in love with you as I was the day of Lisa’s wedding. More, if anything. You’ve no idea how much it hurts. And then you come up with the idea of a second honeymoon—I can’t bear it. It’s like constant torture.’
The weight lifted from Vikram’s heart, and he asked gently, ‘Would you still go if you thought I loved you?’
‘I’d be all kinds of fool if I thought so, wouldn’t I?’ Tara said, jerking away from his hands. ‘Stop winding me up, Vikram. I’ve made up my mind, and it’d be more dignified for both of us if you just let me go rather than trying to make me think you care.’
‘But I do care, damn it!’ he said, his voice fierce. As she flinched back, he continued in softer tones, ‘I haven’t said the words, but I thought you knew.’
‘The words are important,’ Tara said, not looking at him. ‘All this while I thought you were going out of your way to be nice to me because you were just so relieved I wasn’t all over you, begging you to love me back.’
Vikram had begun to shake his head even before she’d finished speaking. ‘I think I’ve been in love with you since the night we had that office party. But I was too much of a coward to admit it then, even to myself. All the time I told myself that you weren’t really in love with me—it was just a temporary infatuation, and you’d soon realise that I wasn’t worth it anyway. But you left instead, and when you came back you told me you were going to teach yourself to fall out of love with me. For a while it fel
t like we were back to the way we’d been when we’d just got married. I knew by then that I was in love with you. I’d known since the day you stormed out of the house. But I wasn’t sure any longer of how you felt. I didn’t want to rock the boat—especially after the way I’d handled things earlier.’
‘Why would you think you weren’t worth it?’ Tara asked indignantly, latching onto the one part of his speech that she took objection to. ‘Of course you’re worth it. I wouldn’t have fallen in love with you if you weren’t, and even if I had I wouldn’t have stayed in love with you. You have some really weird ideas in your head about yourself.’
Vikram laughed, bending his head to kiss her tenderly, his lips lingering against hers for a long, long while. Tara clung to him as he finally moved his head away.
‘I love you,’ he said softly, taking her face between his hands. ‘I’ve been an unspeakable idiot, not telling you the minute I realised it, but I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.’
‘I love you, too,’ Tara said, her eyes filling with tears. She’d been so careful, hiding her feelings from him for so long, and the relief of being able to say the words out loud was overwhelming. ‘I love you so much.’ The tears spilt over, and she buried her face in Vikram’s chest. ‘I’ve loved you since the honeymoon. Only I was so confused—you were so aloof sometimes. I didn’t know what to think.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Vikram said. ‘My only excuse is that my feelings for you are so strong it took me a long while to come to terms with them. But I do love you, and I know that I’ll love you till the day I die.’
Tara nodded, grabbing at a slack part of his T-shirt to scrub the tears off her face. ‘I’ll have that in writing, please,’ she said. ‘And you can add in something about being my slave for life. And obeying my every whim and command.’
‘Anything you want,’ he said.
And as Tara looked into his eyes she saw so much love in them that she forgot about being snippy and put her arms around him.
‘All I want is you,’ she said softly, reaching up to brush his hair off his forehead. ‘For ever.’
Take One Arranged Marriage… Page 15