'This is only the beginning.'
'You're wasting your time,' she argued stiffly, trying feebly to pull away from him, but he seemed to anticipate her actions, and a heavy arm was clamped about her waist like a vice.
'Time is never wasted when it's spent like this,' murmured Sean, his deep, gravelly voice acting like a soothing caress to her quivering nerves as he drew her inexorably closer until her body came into contact with his tall, hard frame.
It was a shattering experience to feel the contours of his male body against her own. To make matters worse it felt as if she belonged there, and a strange weakness invaded her limbs when he took her hand and pushed it inside his shirt until the hair-roughened warmth of his chest was against her palm. He was encouraging an intimacy between them which should have made her want to pull her hand away, but instead her fingers seemed to take a delight in exploring the texture of his skin.
This was madness! She hardly knew this man, and he was making her do things which were quite contrary to her usual behaviour. 'Ayah may come out and—'
'You know Ayah's routine even better than I do,' he interrupted her weak protestation as he lifted the heavy strands of hair away from her heated face and curled his fingers into its silky weight at the base of her skull to tilt her head back. 'Ayah will remain in the kitchen until the servants have left it spotless, and then she'll retire to her room for an hour to say her prayers, or whatever it is she does there.'
He lowered his head, his lips seeking her exposed throat, and the touch of his tongue was like fire against her responsive skin as he blazed a trail of searing, exploratory kisses down to that sensitive hollow at the base of her throat where her pulse was throbbing wildly. His hand was warm through the silk of her dress as he slid it up along the hollow of her spine and down again to draw her hips closer into the curve of his hard body. He was arousing electrifying sensations that seemed to heat her blood and make it flow at a swifter pace through her veins, and her resistance began to crumble dangerously.
'Please stop it!' she begged in a husky, unfamiliar voice, her fingers curling into a fist against his broad chest in a futile attempt to push him away.
'You're trembling,' he said, his lips brushing against her ear, 'and you can't attribute that to the weather.'
'I think I hate you!' she cried out in protest against his mockery and his obvious expertise as a lover.
'Hate is a positive emotion I have no objection to.'
'Sean…' She was sounding horribly weak, and she hated him all the more when she realised that she was in danger of betraying herself. 'Let me go!'
'I haven't completed the experiment yet,' he admonished her lightly.
As far as Sarika was concerned, the experiment had gone beyond all sense of decency. She had met Sean O'Connor for the first time that morning, but somehow he had succeeded in weaving a spell about her which filled her with the strange desire to surrender herself to the fiery emotions he was arousing so expertly. His lips were trailing along the edge of her jaw to linger for a tantalising moment at the corner of her mouth. He teased and aroused her, and his hands slid coaxingly over her body until the last fragment of her resistance crumbled.
She wanted him to kiss her. She wanted it so badly at that moment that her hands slid up over his chest to become locked in his hair which she found surprisingly soft to the touch, and a choked cry of surrender escaped her as she drew his head down to hers.
His sensuous mouth closed over her parted lips, and Sarika lost her final grip on sanity. She had never before encountered such a searing passion which excited her and lifted her almost beyond herself. It unleashed a wildness in her which was totally alien to her nature, and her body was yielding and pliant in his arms as he drew her closer still to his hard, muscular frame until she was aware of his own burning desire for her. His hands roamed in a slow, sensual caress down her back and up again to cup her breasts through the silky bodice of her dress, and the aching sweetness of his touch sent a wave of pleasure storming through her that made her wish it would never end. She was allowing this man intimacies which she had never allowed anyone before, but her mind was no longer in control of her body, and she was aware only of clinging weakly to his broad shoulders to steady herself in this dizzy, ecstatic world she had been plunged into.
Sarika was trembling like a fragile reed in the breeze when Sean finally released her. Her heart was racing and her breath came fast over her parted lips as she stood swaying in front of him. She felt strangely disembodied as she groped for the pillar behind her and leaned against it for support while she stared up into Sean's shadowed face. What was he thinking? Was he also experiencing this feeling of incredulous awe at the fierce emotions which had erupted between them?
'Well, that was quite something, wasn't it?' he drawled. 'The ice-maiden has fire in her veins after all!'
The mockery in his voice stabbed into the very essence of her being like a heated blade, and she came to her senses with a sickening jolt that made her react in a manner which was totally out of character. Her hand flew up and caught him a stinging blow across the cheek that made his head jerk slightly. The silence that followed was almost deafening, but it was broken seconds later by the low rumble of his mocking laughter.
'Does that make you feel better after discovering that you have desires just like any other woman?' he taunted her.
'You're disgusting!' she hissed, and fled indoors with his mocking laughter following her as she ran across the hall and up the stairs to her room.
She slammed the door shut behind her, but his laughter still echoed tormentingly in her mind, and a low cry of fury escaped Sarika's quivering, swollen lips as she flung herself across her bed. He had been playing with her; he had been testing her, and the result had proved him right. She was a woman who had been crying out for the right man to come along and awaken those slumbering emotions inside her, but… oh, God, she had not wanted it to be someone like Sean O'Connor! She wished she would never have to face him again, but she knew that was impossible. They were living in the same house, eating at the same table, and God only knew what her father had had in mind when he had taken this man into their home.
Sean had torn down her carefully erected barriers with the ease of a man who had obviously had plenty of experience with women, and her lack of resistance nauseated her when she recalled every humiliating detail of the incidents which had occurred out on the terrace. She felt embarrassed and deeply ashamed of the way she had behaved, and she cringed inwardly when she remembered how she had encouraged him to kiss her.
Sarika groaned and buried her hot face deeper into the pillow. Was she ever going to live this down? Would he ever let her forget? The memory of his mocking laughter still tormented her, and she knew she would have to stay out of his way as much as possible in future.
There was an element of danger in associating with a man like Sean O'Connor, and she had sensed this the moment their eyes had met at the airport. He had aroused a physical reaction which she had never encountered with any other man, and it should have acted as a warning to stay away from him. What, she wondered, had prompted his actions this evening? He had made it clear that he disliked her, but he had also shown her that she was capable of making him want her. Why? And why had she responded to him in a way she had not done before with any man… not even Gary? Sean had awakened wild, alien emotions which frightened her, and she was infinitely wary of something so powerful that it could make her lose control in the shameful way she had done that evening.
Sarika had succeeded to some extent in regaining her composure when Ayah came to her room for a few minutes later that evening. Sarika had wanted to question Ayah about Sean, but she was not thinking rationally. Her mind was still in a nervous turmoil, and it kept her awake for some hours on that disastrous first night at home.
CHAPTER THREE
Sarika awoke the following morning with the premonition that something unpleasant was going to happen. She had never experienced anything like
this before, and it left her feeling disturbed and uneasy long after she had washed and changed into a white cheesecloth top that hugged her body, and blue denim shorts that accentuated the attractive length of her smooth, shapely legs.
She walked barefoot to the window, and was just in time to catch a glimpse of Sean striding out of the house towards a Land Rover parked in the long, decorative driveway. He was dressed casually in blue, his powerful shoulders swinging slightly as he moved, and when he climbed into the Land Rover she could not help but think that the vehicle suited the man. They were both rugged and strong and… dependable?
He glanced up unexpectedly as if he suspected he was being observed, and Sarika leapt angrily away from the window with a pounding heart. It would be the last straw if he had seen her! 'Damn the man!' she muttered to herself, her hand against her breast where her heart would not cease its wild tempo. 'Did he have to be here to spoil what little joy there was left in my homecoming?'
Sarika calmed herself sufficiently to comb her hair back into a ponytail, and she pushed her feet into low-heeled sandals before she went downstairs. Ayah was in the kitchen discussing the luncheon and dinner menu with the Indian chef, but, despite the lightness of Sarika's step, Ayah turned at once to face her.
'Good morning, pyaari,' she smiled welcomingly. 'I hope you have slept well?'
'Very well, thank you,' Sarika assured her, and that was not entirely a lie. It had taken her several hours to settle down, but she had eventually drifted into a dreamless sleep.
'What will you have for breakfast?'
'A cup of tea will do, Ayah.'
'A cup of tea!' Ayah exclaimed, flinging her hands into the air in a gesture of despair as she turned to the chef for support. 'Look at her, Prakash. She has become as thin as a rake since her last visit, and all she wants for breakfast is a cup of tea!'
Prakash nodded in serious agreement, but there was a smile in the eyes that met Sarika's as Ayah pulled out a chair at the kitchen table.
'Sit down!' she ordered sharply, pointing an authoritative finger at the chair, and Sarika found that old habits die hard.
She obeyed the command and sat down meekly while Ayah snapped out orders to the chef. With a swiftness that never failed to amaze Sarika, she was served with fried eggs, bacon, toast and marmalade, and one glance at Ayah's stony features made her eat her breakfast without uttering a word of protest.
Ayah's smile of satisfaction followed Sarika when she finally left the kitchen, and Sarika had to admit to herself that the substantial breakfast had dispensed with that hollow feeling at the pit of her stomach.
She wandered listlessly through the house, touching this, touching that as if to renew old acquaintances, but she lingered for some considerable time in the master bedroom. She had done that often as a child. It had, in some strange way, made her feel close to her parents when she stood surrounded by their personal possessions, and she felt that way now. On the dressing-table stood a white porcelain bowl decorated with tiny blue flowers in which her mother always kept some of her inexpensive trinkets, and on a low table between two high-backed chairs was a box of her father's favourite cigars. Sarika felt her throat tighten with a mixture of resentment and longing, and she left the room hastily without having disturbed anything.
Down the passage to her left was the white panelled door of the suite in the east wing. A stab of curiosity made her walk towards it, but she changed her mind abruptly when her fingers touched the brass handle, and she quickened her pace as she retraced her steps. Invading that suite might have given her an insight into Sean O'Connor's true character. But did she really want to know that much about him? she asked herself as she went downstairs.
Sarika had not yet found an answer to that query when she encountered Ayah in the cupboard-sized room which had been turned into an office. 'I'm going for a long walk, but I'll be back for lunch.'
'Don't go too far, and take care,' Ayah warned as she had always done, and a warmth stole about Sarika's heart.
'Don't worry,' she smiled, leaning over to kiss the rounded cheek of the older woman before she walked out of the house and into the sunshine.
She had been away for so long that everything looked different somehow, or perhaps she was looking at everything with renewed interest after her lengthy stay in England. In Bombay everyone drove on the right side of the road, but that appeared to be the only fragment of organisation among the general chaos. The roads were thronged with cars of all makes, and each one was crammed with people going about their business, or sightseeing. Bullock carts, loaded with fruit and vegetables, moved slowly in among the speeding traffic. Horns blared at the obstruction they caused, but neither the vendor with his cart nor the pedestrians took much notice. The vendor would take his time moving his cart out of the way, and the drivers would curse and wave their fists in frustration. This was Bombay, Sarika smiled to herself as she strolled through the gates of the Hanging Gardens which were no more than a block away from her home.
She walked around for some time, drinking in the beauty of her surroundings before she sought out the circular marble pavilion in the centre of the garden. The scent of jasmine was cloying the air as she entered the pavilion, and she inhaled the sweet fragrance while she drank in the peaceful atmosphere. Pigeons fluttered around the fountain which had been built specially for them, and Sarika felt herself relax completely while she stood watching their antics. This was her favourite spot in the Hanging Gardens, and this was where she had always sought refuge in the past when she was troubled, or disturbed about something. The peace and tranquillity had never failed to calm her, and it did not fail on this occasion.
'Sarika!' She swung round at the sound of her name to find herself confronted by a young Indian woman who stood at the entrance of the pavilion smiling at her rather reproachfully. 'I have been trying for some time to attract your attention, but you were lost in thought,' she complained.
'Jaishree!' Sarika exclaimed with delight as she stepped forward to embrace her friend.
'It is so good to see you again, Sarika,' Jaishree smiled at her. 'When did you arrive?'
'Yesterday morning.'
'Too late to see your parents.'
It was a statement, not a query, and Sarika's expression sobered. 'Unfortunately, yes.'
'I have so much to tell you,' Jaishree changed the subject hastily. 'I am going to be married.'
'Oh, but that's wonderful!' smiled Sarika.
'I am going to be very busy this weekend, but you and I must get together next weekend for lunch, or something, and I will tell you everything then.'
'That would be nice,' Sarika agreed.
'I will call you next week to make a definite arrangement, but now I must rush,' Jaishree excused herself.
'I shall look forward to hearing from you,' Sarika assured her, and moments later she was standing alone in the pavilion while her friend walked hurriedly towards the exit of the Hanging Gardens.
It had been good to see Jaishree again. She was the daughter of a friend of Ayah's, but, much to the older generation's annoyance, Jaishree was modern in her thinking and in her way of dress. Sarika had known Jaishree since they were children, and she would not be surprised to learn that Jaishree was marrying a man she loved rather than someone her parents had selected for her.
Sarika's mood had lightened considerably when she eventually left the gardens and walked back to the house. She glanced at her watch and realised that she had been gone from home for more than two hours. Ayah might be concerned about her, but Sarika did not let this thought disturb her. It felt as if she was taking with her some of the peace and tranquillity she had encountered in the gardens, and she did not quicken her pace.
If Ayah was concerned about her, then she did not show it, but she did frown disapprovingly when Sarika told her of her meeting with Jaishree.
'Jaishree is still as stubborn as always,' announced Ayah crossly. 'The husband her parents chose for her is not good enough for that young lady, an
d she has insisted on marrying a man whose parents her family have no knowledge of.'
'It's old-fashioned not to let a girl choose her own husband,' Sarika laughed at the discovery that her suspicions had been correct. 'I've always known that Jaishree would never marry a man unless she loved him, and was sure that he loved her.'
'Love!' snorted Ayah. 'It is important that a girl marries a man she can respect, and a man who will take good care of her. Love will come later.'
A slight frown appeared on Sarika's smooth brow. 'Is there something wrong with the man Jaishree has chosen?'
'He comes from a wealthy home, but no one seems to know anything about his family,' Ayah complained, 'and they will be meeting this weekend for the first time.'
So that was why Jaishree had said that she would be busy this weekend. Her parents were going to meet the parents of her future husband, and Sarika had no doubt it was going to be a rather tense meeting until they had succeeded in summing each other up successfully.
After a light lunch Sarika went up to her room to rest for a while, and she actually slept for an hour. She was restless and hot when she got up, and she changed quickly into her green bikini before going down to the pool for a swim.
The water looked cool and inviting and, leaving her towelling robe draped over a chair, she dived into the crystal clear water and swam with long, easy strokes to the opposite side. The coolness of the water against her body was refreshing, and she lingered in the pool for some time before she swam to the side and got out. She wrung the water out of her hair with a twisting motion and flicked it back over her shoulder before she sat down on the recliner and allowed the sun to dry her body. Her skin had paled during those long months in England, but she tanned easily, and she was going to make good use of the sunny weather in India before the monsoon period started.
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