‘It’s the code of conduct,’ he said. He made a swiping gesture, as though pushing away the old hurts out of his mind. ‘The elders decided so everyone had to accept it.’
‘But how could your parents accept that?’
‘My father—’ even he could hear the bitter note in his voice ‘—was one of the decision makers.’
That had been perhaps the hardest to take. That his father had placed more weight on his own word than any feeling he had for his son.
‘And your mother?’ Her voice was soft. ‘Surely she would have wanted to maintain some communication with you? Moms can’t rest without knowing their kids are okay. Even my mom used to call me every day when the divorce was going on, despite Papa not being well and being disapproving of me and everything.’
‘Then my mother is different from yours.’ What more could he offer?
Damn it, he wasn’t a kid any more, needing his mother’s apron strings to hang on. But yes, maybe he’d missed her most of all.
‘Was she the one who used to make jaggery rice? Do you make it to remember her?’
He froze. Saira’s artless question sent lightning skimming along his veins. ‘How do you know I make—hell, I told you.’
He couldn’t believe this seemingly blithe girl could have that insight. Yet hadn’t he sensed it again and again? The quick empathy she developed with people, the compassion pooling even now in her dark gaze.
He didn’t want compassion. He made a dismissive gesture. ‘That’s just a coincidence.’
‘You miss her, don’t you?’
His glance locked with hers in a silent tussle as he refused to answer.
She said softly, ‘You know, when my father married Vishakha’s mom, he threw out all the photos he had of my birth mother. I asked him about her and he told me he would have nothing to do with the memories from then on and I shouldn’t either. But memories are sometimes like reflexes, aren’t they? Coming automatic and fast, too fast to be controlled…’
She was right, so right. You couldn’t control the onslaught of memories; sometimes they rushed back with explosive force, jarring the well-constructed present like a house of cards disintegrated by a gust of wind.
At last he nodded slowly, feeling a weight ease off his heart as he drew the words through a blocked throat. ‘Yes, I miss her. I miss the scent in the kitchen when she made sweets for us. The way the payal around her ankles made music when she walked. The scent of jasmine when she’d do worship and make us wait for prasad as a punishment because we were late to come for pooja.’
His fist hit the table. ‘I missed them. Missed everything. I missed going to sleep staring outside at the lake at night, waking up to the sound of aarti bells. Or, if you were unlucky, to the loud croaks of peacocks landing on marble steps.’ A trace of a smile came and went on his mouth. ‘We used to go on horse treks to explore the distant villages in the shadow of the Aravillis. Once we got terribly lost…’ A memory of reaching near starvation when he and his cousins had taken off on one such ill-advised expedition made him smile in amusement. Before cold reality came back.
‘They didn’t get in touch with you, any one of your relatives?’
He swallowed as his muscles began to freeze, the feelings that always overpowered him when he began to go down that line of thinking rushing up for a few seconds. ‘Not one. Ever.’
He had obviously gone overboard. God! Had the one glass of champagne he’d drunk this morning gone to his head that badly? So badly that he was laying open these babyish confessions in front of her?
‘It doesn’t matter,’ he tried to dismiss. ‘I have a new life now and it’s a life I enjoy. I don’t intend going back there again.’
‘But what Viren said…’ she objected. ‘You two disappeared for quite some time and I’m sure he had something important to tell you. What did he say, exactly?’
Excitement pumped in her to remember the words Viren had first uttered and their implication—so much more meaningful—in the face of what Rihaan had just told her. There had been a confidence, an inevitability in Viren’s tone as he had said, ‘Yuvraj saheb.’ The crown prince.
‘He’s mad. How can you call someone yuvraj who isn’t even a prince? Anyway, I have interest in neither titles nor the royal family. I understood duty, heritage… tradition but I’ll never understand the lengths to which they carried it.’
‘But what did he say? Humour me,’ she requested when he directed a glower at her.
‘The Maharaj isn’t well. He has had two heart attacks in the last three years which made him very weak and the medical people have advised taking things lightly. According to Viren, he is regretting sending me away and wants me back to take up my previous status.’
‘He does?’ she practically squealed. ‘But that’s great. That’s fabulous, isn’t it? At least after all this time he has realised what he did was wrong…’
Saira could see her enthusiasm found no response as his expression assumed a closed look. ‘It’s just what Viren thinks. It might well be wrong. In any case, all that has nothing to do with me now.’
‘But if your father’s ill…’
The swiftness with which Rihaan countered it gave away his feelings… and his fear? ‘He isn’t. Not that ill. Viren admitted that himself. He’s got excellent medical facilities. Besides, I have been out of things for too long to make any difference. It’s pretty obvious Viren more or less handles things now.’ He gave a short laugh. ‘Hukum never used to send his prized Lancia to the rallies before.’
Privately Saira wondered if the prince had used that as an excuse to reach out to Rihaan.
‘But if there’s a chance things can be patched up with your father, shouldn’t you take it, Rihaan? Someone has to make the first move.’
‘For what? To go back to the place I was shoved out of without a second thought?’ He stirred the spoon in the ice cream that was a puddle now. ‘The doors are closed too tightly to be opened, Saira.’
‘But they have cracks,’ she insisted. ‘Look at you, Rihaan, you aren’t the happy chirpy bird that you insist you are.’ The look he gave her would have frozen boiling oil but she continued, uncaring. ‘Inside you, there’s still a deep desire to go back. Don’t tell me there isn’t.’ She had seen the way he had looked. He might say six years had gone by but she could see the wound was still fresh. Why, she couldn’t unravel, but she could feel his pain and her words tumbled out in a need to make it disappear.
‘I won’t,’ he snapped. ‘If it will make you shut the hell up.’
‘Well it won’t, so please save yourself the bother.’
What a rude, stubborn man! She took a deep breath, trying to quieten the seething turmoil inside. Telling herself she needn’t get so hot and bothered. Let him do what he wanted.
It was useless. She couldn’t just stand by and let him do what was obviously, patently wrong.
She took a deep breath. ‘You have to go back, Rihaan. Surely you see that you want to.’
He sighed. ‘Saira—’
‘You are holding onto the past so tightly it still has the power to hurt you.’ She didn’t want to say the words, biting her lip as his face closed up again. But now she knew it only meant she was getting to him, so she went on. ‘You cook the dessert your mom made for you. You hold sand at the beach as though it’s some precious metal. Have you noticed that?’ His eyes became the colour of dark chocolate as he stared back at her. ‘I have. And I can tell you, you haven’t broken free. You’re only suppressing the feelings you have for them. You haven’t gotten past them. How would you? The only ice cream you ever eat is vanilla.’ She shook her head at the irrelevant sounding statement. ‘Well, almost always.’ She leaned across, earnestly making her point. ‘What I mean is, you stick to one thing. At the moment you’re sticking to the past. Maybe you need to go back to see if you have got free of it. And, if you haven’t, you will have made an effort to make up with those people you can’t put out of your life.’
She
stopped to catch her breath. Her heart was pounding. It was a long speech she had made. And the decision, while it was actually his life it would affect, seemed to be too imperative to her as well.
With finality he shook his head. ‘It’s too late to breathe fire onto old embers, Saira. What I need is to sweep them out of my life, not waste time trying to rekindle the might-have-beens of my life.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE MOOD BETWEEN them turned—and remained—mostly sombre after that altercation.
He was so stubborn, Saira thought for the umpteenth time. A man who let no one truly inside his heart and mind. Her small attempt only made her feel more estranged from him than ever.
On the drive back, she fell to thinking over all that had passed. He had claimed he had been in love. And he had been hurt. But if he’d refused to marry Nadira, then obviously it couldn’t have been her.
Her gaze stole to him as he drove silently. Who was the girl who had broken his heart? Broken it so badly that he didn’t want love again. How deeply had he loved her?
The question caused a pang in her heart. She admonished herself. There was nothing of that nature between them. They were just thrown together through their tie to two people they cared a lot about. What was she doing wondering what it would be like to be loved by this kind of man? A man who took loyalty so seriously, a proud man who’d forged his way past the tumble life had dealt him. A tumble from having everything to nothing.
Being ditched by your own family was extremely hurtful. She could empathize with that. How many times when things went wrong had she felt the memory of her birth mother creep up? As though reminding her that she deserved bad things happening to her because, hell, her own mother hadn’t loved her so why would anyone else? Sanity pushed the thoughts away but the lingering pain, the deep uncertainty… sometimes you couldn’t get rid of that.
But it wasn’t just one or two people who had turned their backs on him; Rihaan had had to swallow the whole clan’s rejection.
She couldn’t even imagine what it would be like to be suddenly bereft of everything life gave you as your birthright. And what a birthright. A regal heritage. The hurt would be immense. It needed courage to rise past it. Yet Rihaan had done it. Not just made a life but made a name for himself as well.
He turned the car onto the driveway. Bathed in the evening light, the cottage looked welcoming. Feeling mentally drained by the emotional wrestling dealt by the day, she heaved a sigh of relief to be back. But the rush of pleasure that stepping inside evoked had danger bells tolling in her mind. She wasn’t supposed to like being here. She wasn’t supposed to feel so at home. Even in a few days the place had grown on her.
Oh God, she had forgotten that Rihaan had stipulated today as the last day she would be here.
The knowledge drummed a warning in her head. Yet she took the coward’s way out and desisted from reminding him. He was upset, she told herself, though a voice in her mind chanted, ‘Cheat cheat’.
Rihaan had insisted on getting dinner delivered so she didn’t have anything left to do either. He’d gone and locked himself in his study.
He did appear for dinner later and she let out a sigh of relief she hadn’t been aware she’d been holding in. The impending parting of their ways, as necessary as she told herself it was, weighed heavily on her mind.
The fare, paneer khurchan, shabnam curry and sweet and sour prawns, was excellent but her heart wasn’t in eating. Rihaan was as quiet as her. Was he regretting he had talked to her? Was he perhaps feeling concerned about his father? Or perhaps not. As callously as the man had treated him, maybe in Rihaan’s shoes she would think he deserved to be ignored too but again she couldn’t help feeling he wasn’t doing the right thing by letting things stay the way they were.
He glanced at her when she refused the mushroom and peas curry.
‘What happened to the wildcat? Lion got your tongue?’ he kidded her, reminding her of their past exchange. ‘You’ve been unusually quiet… for you.’
‘So have you,’ she came back.
‘I have things on my mind. Meeting Viren after all these years…’ He shrugged.
‘I have things on my mind too.’ She took a deep breath. All afternoon she had been avoiding bringing up the question of her leaving. Not wise to ignore the matter any longer, she told herself and plunged in. ‘I guess I had better pack.’ His gaze immediately narrowed in disapproval and she rushed on, ‘That’s what we decided on. For me to leave after the rally, so…’
She hated being so diffident and wishy-washy. But even thinking of leaving him was strangely repugnant to her. Must be her tendency to take an unnecessary interest in people. She was just interested in the resolution of his problems, that was all.
When she should be concerned about her own. Her life wasn’t so hunky dory she had the leisure to worry about the whole world. She shouldn’t be fretting over anyone’s troubles. Least of all his.
She was going to stop thinking of him. Shut the door and forget about it.
Case closed.
So why did she find her gaze hooking to him as he leaned back in the chair? He stretched slightly, probably trying to ease the strain of working at his story, making his chest muscles bunch—and causing her circulation to gather speed.
‘I contacted my father.’ His words dropped in the silence like ice cubes clunking into a glass. ‘I did it finally. After I thought it all through, I felt I owed myself that at least. The right to ease my conscience and do the filial duty.’
‘You called him?’ She almost shot out of her chair.
‘Relax. It’s nothing to write home about. He’s fine, as I suspected. Just… older.’ A grimness edged his mouth.
‘How can you be so cool? You talked to your father after six years! More than six,’ she corrected herself. ‘That’s bloody great! You did fabulous, you know it, right? You did absolutely super-fantastic.’ She hit the table with her fists in excitement.
He smiled a little. ‘Hold on, you’ll smother me with all that excitement.’
‘This is a momentous occurrence in your life!’ She thought of what he’d said: ‘to ease my conscience’. Whatever. That was rubbish. He’d been worried about the state of his father’s health and he’d wanted to know. That was so sweet of him. Oh God, she couldn’t even give the poor dear a hug.
‘The poor dear’ wasn’t a lost lamb or someone you could hug and just put the memory of it away, never to be thought of again.
And if you mentioned hugs…
Untimely as ever her mind went back to their embrace on the beach. The way he had held her. The protected feeling surging through her at the contact.
She thought of the hug Nadira had given him… Nadira, whom he didn’t want to marry.
Who had he wanted to marry? Or love?
Her gaze veered to him as she tried to unravel the mystery surrounding him. His glance touched hers.
‘He has invited me to come back.’
The words dropped like icicles on her enthusiasm, causing her face to freeze.
‘That means Viren was right—’
He shook his head. ‘It’s a huge step from being banished to being made the crown prince. As of now, I’m the prodigal son. But he definitely wants to see me, have me stay for some days if I can make the time. His words, not mine. He wants me to attend the Holi celebrations.’
‘So you will—’
‘I’ll be taking your advice.’ He smiled thinly. ‘Are you pleased?’
‘Of course,’ she lied. She wasn’t. Hope was plummeting. What if he went… and stayed? In Mumbai there might be some hope of bumping into him at the odd occasion, but if he was as far away as that…
Which only went to show that her stupidity had no limits. She gave herself an impatient mental shake.
‘When are you leaving?’ She tried to keep her voice nonchalant.
‘In two or three days. My work on the current film is almost finished and the rest I can handle online. Of course the new scr
ipt is still too fresh to be pitched yet. But the benefit of writing is that you can do it anywhere.’
‘Sounds great. What a get-together you’ll have.’ She tried to inject enthusiasm into her voice. Feeling guilty that she couldn’t feel a bit of it.
He had his own plans. For a brief moment in time their lives had touched. It wasn’t even an affair, though for odd moments it had felt like more than simply a passing friendship. Now she needed to put her thinking cap on and get packing. She just wished her throat didn’t feel quite so tight at the thought.
‘So that’s settled then.’ Where was the bright smile she needed to lighten the moment?
He gave a negative head shake. ‘Actually, no.’
‘No?’ she echoed. Her curiosity made her forget her troubles temporarily.
‘There’s a caveat attached. A sharat. You’re to accompany me for the length of the time I visit Prabhatgarh.’
‘Are you kidding?’ The impulsive exclamation was curbed by her good sense and she said more temperately, ‘What I mean is, it’s a great offer but obviously not possible. You must thank your family and please do convey my excuses.’
‘You didn’t hear right. The condition must be fulfilled. It means if you don’t go, I don’t either. It’s attached by me. Not the family.’
‘Why would you do that?’ What exactly was he talking about? He wanted her with him. To stay in an awesome honest-to-God real life palace! Her heartbeat began to thrum in her ears.
‘It was your idea to go back and try to confront the past,’ he reminded her.
‘My idea was to lay your ghosts to rest. But this is better. You’re having a reconciliation. But I’d only be in the way. It would be a family affair.’
He shook his head, getting up and taking their plates to the sink. ‘It isn’t as easy as that.’
‘Why not?’ Just when she became curious, he presented his back to her. Was she supposed to talk to his back? Oh, he was the most difficult man to unravel.
You Can't Fight a Royal Attraction Page 11