Wild Jasmine

by Yvonne Whittal

  'I'm afraid I don't understand,' she said eventually when the attorney's voice lapsed into silence. 'The will states that I inherit forty-nine per cent of the shares in the Apex Company. May I know what's happened to the rest of the shares, and why is there no mention of my parents' home?'

  The eyes behind the horn-rimmed spectacles darted a glance at Sean before they settled again on Sarika. 'The greater portion of the shares, as well as the house, belongs to Mr O'Connor, and has done so for the past six months.'

  It felt to Sarika as if someone had delivered a vicious blow to her midriff, and she sat there literally gasping for air like a fish out of water. 'No!' she gasped at length, turning in her chair to stare at Sean with a stunned expression in her eyes. 'No, I don't believe it!'

  'Would you leave us alone for a few minutes?' Sean's features were savagely grim when he spoke to the attorney and directed his gaze beyond Sarika. 'Ayah?'

  Mr Webster and Ayah left the office without Sarika actually being aware that they had done so. She was staring at Sean and desperately trying to assimilate the news she had received.

  'I don't believe it!' She shook her head, her hair a deep gold as it danced about her shoulders in the shaft of sunlight that fell across the desk.

  'Your father had been speculating on the stock market, and he suffered some heavy losses a year ago. The house was subsequently heavily mortgaged, but he needed a lot more money, and he needed it fast,' Sean explained, his voice low and harsh in the silent room. 'I was investigating the possibility of starting a business here in Bombay when your father approached me, so I bought myself into your father's company, and took over the majority of the shares. It was your father's intention to retire eventually and buy himself a cottage somewhere along the coast. When he talked of selling the house I bought it as it stands on the understanding that Dave and Cara stayed on until they found something suitable.'

  Was this why her father had refused to finance her boutique? No, she shrugged off the thought, he had always thought only of himself. Sarika rose slowly to her feet, but she had to clutch at the desk the next instant when the floor seemed to heave beneath her. 'Why was I never told?'

  'Your father was going to do that.' Sean got up and walked to the window with that same savagery in his movements which she had witnessed earlier. 'Unfortunately he left it too late.'

  'You could have told me,' she accused, the numbness dispersing to leave her face to face with the humiliating truth.

  'I wanted to tell you last night, but I figured you'd had enough for one day,' he said, turning to face her with his jaw thrust out angrily, and his eyes watchful.

  Sarika stood there staring at him, her hands clutching her handbag so tightly that her knuckles shone white through the skin. Her secure, familiar world had suddenly crumbled about her to leave her in utter chaos. Her mind was grasping frantically for something to cling to, but everything had suddenly disintegrated.

  'What a fool you must think me, accusing you of taking liberties in my father's home, while all the time it was I…' Sarika could not continue as a fiery wave of humiliation engulfed her. All she could hear was her own voice making scathing remarks about Sean's presence in what she had believed to be her home, and shame sent crimson flags into her white face. 'Oh, God!' she groaned and, unable to face Sean a moment longer, she turned and fled from the attorney's office before anyone could stop her.

  Sarika selfishly thought of no one but herself at that moment as she ran out of the building and got into her car. She had to get away; she had to think, but most of all she had to get away from Sean O'Connor.

  She had no idea where she had driven to; she could have gone in circles for all she knew, but she came to her senses two hours later to find herself approaching the shrine to three faiths, and there was one thought firmly lodged in her otherwise chaotic mind. She could not stay in that house knowing that it belonged to Sean!

  The sun was beginning to set when Sarika finally arrived at the house and garaged her car. She walked round to the front of the house and paused for a moment to stare up at the pillared mansion. This had been her home, and she had considered Sean an intruder, but the tables had turned. The house belonged to Sean, and she was the intruder. It was a thought she could not bear to linger on and, brushing it aside, she ran lightly up the steps.

  'Where the hell have you been?' Sean's voice thundered at her when she entered the hall, and she spun round to see him framed in the living-room door.

  Sarika glared at him. Anger was her only defence against the hurt and humiliation she had suffered, and his overbearing, autocratic manner did nothing at that moment to ease the situation.

  'You may own this house and fifty-one per cent of the Apex Company, but that doesn't mean that you own me, Sean O'Connor!' she hissed at him furiously.

  'Sarika—'

  'Don't you dare touch me!' she snapped when he took a pace towards her and raised his hand as if to grip her shoulder.

  'Don't be an idiot, Sarika,' he frowned, dropping his hand to his side. 'I can understand that you're upset and even a little angry, but don't you realise that both Ayah and I have been nearly out of our minds worrying about you?'

  'I'm old enough to take care of myself, thank you.'

  'Dammit, woman, I'll make you see sense if it's the last thing I do on this earth!' he barked at her, whipping her into the living-room and closing the door before she had time to guess his intentions.

  'I said don't touch me!' she shouted at him, trying to wrench her arm from the grip of those steely fingers, and sheer desperation to get away from him made her react like a wild animal.

  Her fingernails raked his cheek, and she was released at once to stare in horror at the raised weals against his tanned skin. Oh, God, what had she done? she wondered frantically when his hand went up to his cheek and came away with tiny drops of blood on his fingers. She wanted to apologise, but the fury in the eyes that blazed down into hers trapped the words in her throat.

  'You little vixen, you're going to pay for this!' he muttered through his teeth, and pay for it she did.

  She was clamped against his big, hard body with her arms trapped helplessly at her sides, and his mouth swooped down on to hers with a brutal force that crushed her lips against her teeth. She tried to cry out in protest, but her head was forced back with the pressure of his mouth until it felt as if her neck would snap, and she could neither move, nor make a sound while he continued the savage punishment. The physical pain was nothing compared to the pain which began to stir in the hidden depths of her soul. It confused and bewildered her, but from somewhere came the knowledge that this was not what she wanted from this man.

  Sarika was released at last with a suddenness that made her stagger and clutch at the back of a chair to steady herself. She felt as if she had taken a mental and physical battering, and resentment kindled her anger once again into a blazing fury.

  'I hate you, Sean O'Connor!' she hissed up at him. 'And I shall hate you until the day I die!'

  She fled from the living-room, slamming the door behind her, and did not stop until she reached the safety of her bedroom, where she stood panting with angry tears in her eyes. 'Damn!' she muttered to herself as she dabbed at her eyes with her fingers. In the scuffle with Sean she had dropped her handbag in the living-room, and nothing on earth would make her return there now to fetch it.

  Her lips felt bruised, and they were visibly swollen when she caught a glimpse of herself in the dressing-table mirror. She turned away, and a distasteful thought occurred to her when she glanced about the room. If Ayah and her parents had gone to the trouble of redecorating her room after Sean had bought the house, then who had paid for it? Sean? Dear God, was there no end to this torture?

  A knock on her door sent a wave of panic flooding through her, but it was Ayah who walked into her room a moment later.

  'You left your handbag downstairs and Sean asked me to bring it to you.' A quizzical expression mingled with concern in her eyes as the bag
exchanged hands. 'Sarika, pyaari, we have been so worried about you.'

  'I'm sorry I rushed out and left you behind, but I've decided that I can't stay here,' Sarika informed the older woman. 'I'll get myself a flat somewhere, and I want you to come with me.'

  'I can't do that,' stated Ayah firmly. 'I trained most of the staff in this house, and they work well under my supervision. I also promised that I would serve Sean as loyally as I served your parents in the past.'

  Sarika stared at Ayah incredulously, then she was struck by yet another shattering discovery. 'You knew that this house belonged to Sean?'

  'I knew,' Ayah admitted readily.

  'Why didn't you tell me, Ayah?' Sarika cried out in anguish. 'Why?'

  'Sean swore me to secrecy,' Ayah explained quietly, her eyes apologetic. 'He was afraid you would feel discomforted by the knowledge that he had bought the house, and he felt it would be easier for you to accept it once your parents were here with you, but things did not quite work out .that way.'

  'My God!' exclaimed Sarika sarcastically. 'The man is so thoughtful and considerate it makes me sick!'

  'Sean is a wonderful man, pyaari,' Ayah rubbed salt into the wound. 'He was good to your parents, and he has been good to me.'

  In Sarika's unhappy state of mind it seemed as if Ayah had turned traitor and, to make matters worse, a part of Sarika agreed with everything Ayah had said about Sean. He was a good man, and he was, in her own words, thoughtful and considerate, but knowing this filled Sarika with resentment, and made her all the more determined to go ahead with her plans.

  'I've got to get away from here and find a place of my own.'

  'In England that may be the accepted thing, Sarika, but this is India, and I will not allow you to go and live somewhere on your own.' Ayah's expression softened, and the liquid warmth of her dark eyes washed over Sarika. 'You are also the daughter I never had, and . what mother would allow her daughter to go out and live on her own where she cannot care for her?'

  Sarika could not argue against that. She did not want to go and leave Ayah behind, but to stay was going to take a great deal of courage, and she was not so sure that she would be able to cope.

  Ayah left the room, and Sarika bathed and changed into something a little more colourful than the grey suit. She did not look forward to going down to dinner and having to face Sean, but she would have to take each embarrassing hurdle as it came, or brand herself a coward.

  The atmosphere around the dinner table that evening was frozen. Ayah tried to encourage conversation, but she relinquished the effort in the end and concentrated on her food. Sarika could not eat. The red scars on Sean's cheek were a reminder of her humiliating loss of control, and the tenderness of her lips was an equally humiliating reminder of the painful punishment he had dished out. How had he explained those scratch marks to Ayah? she wondered frantically. She felt his eyes resting on her from time to time, but she did not dare look at him for fear of what she might see. Would it be anger, or mockery, or both? Sarika did not attempt to find out. She pushed the food around in her plate a while longer, settled for a cup of coffee, and finally excused herself to go up to her room.

  She did not sleep very well that night; her mind was in a turmoil as it replayed everything that had happened since her return to Bombay, and it had all the proportions of a nightmare. Her decision to leave this house had been thwarted, and she was left with resentment and logic fighting a desperate battle for supremacy. Her mind had never before been in such a chaotic mess, and in order to bring about a certain amount of order she asked herself a few deeply probing questions. Did she resent the fact that Sean had taken charge of the Apex Company with the majority of shares? No! Did she resent the fact that he had bought the house from her father when her father had, in fact, considered selling it to help him out of his financial difficulties? Not really, she decided after a great deal of soul-searching. She could not blame anyone but herself for her humiliation, but it was nevertheless an uncomfortable feeling knowing that her home now belonged to Sean, and that, thanks to his kindness, she was allowed to stay on. Did she hate him? The answer to that question was negative, but she did not dare delve too deeply into the reason for it.

  She awoke the following morning with a pounding headache which would not subside until she had swallowed down a couple of aspirins. How, she wondered desperately, was she going to get through the entire day without bumping into Sean?

  Jaishree's telephone call after breakfast could not have come at a better time. She invited Sarika to accompany her to the home of friends for the day, and Sarika jumped at the opportunity to get out of the house and away from the man whose presence she was beginning to feel in every room.

  'I'll pick you up in half an hour,' warned Jaishree, and Sarika did not keep her waiting. She was standing on the front steps when Jaishree's blue MG sped up the drive.

  It was quite a journey down to Poona, which had long since been established as a major educational centre in India, but Sarika and Jaishree had a lot of news to catch up on.

  'Tell me about the man you're going to marry,' Sarika prompted her friend after they had skirted over the subject of her parents' death. 'What is he like?'

  'He is wonderful!' Jaishree sighed with a dreamy look in her eyes when she glanced briefly at Sarika. 'He works for a textile company, and we met five months ago at a party. Since then we have been seeing each other regularly, and we are going to be married in two weeks' time. It's going to be the longest two weeks in my life because, as you know, we are not allowed to see each other from the time the invitations go out until the day of our marriage.'

  'Are your parents happy about it?'

  'They weren't at first,' Jaishree confessed with a grimace, 'but they met Vinod's parents last weekend, and I think they are at last convinced that I made the right choice.'

  'Am I going to be invited to the wedding?'

  'Of course!' came the almost indignant reply. 'Your invitation will be delivered within the next few days, and so will Ayah's. We have also decided to invite that nice Mr O'Connor.'

  Sarika's eyes widened in startled surprise. 'You know him?'

  'Oh, yes!' Jaishree smiled. 'Ayah brought him to our home one evening, and we were all most impressed. He is so easy to talk to, and he had so many interesting stories to tell about the different countries he has visited.'

  'Easy to talk to?' snorted Sarika cynically. 'He's overbearing, autocratic, egotistical, arrogant and insufferable!'

  'My goodness, what a long list of adjectives!' Jaishree laughed teasingly, and the quick glance she darted at Sarika was speculative. 'He has most certainly made quite an impression on you, and no man has succeeded in doing that before… not even Gary.'

  Not even Gary. Gary now reminded her of a worm. He had wriggled his way into her life, and she had fallen like an idiot for his handsome features and suave manner. For the first time in her life she had trusted a man, and he had let her down. She would never trust a man again. Gary had hoped for financial gain like everyone else. Sean was… what? He most certainly did not need her money. There was no reason at all, in fact, why he should want to strike up a closer relationship with her.

  Sarika felt extraordinarily shattered at the thought. Sean did not need her in any way. There was nothing she could give him that he did not have already, and more. He had all the ingredients of a man who could be trusted, and yet she shied away from placing too much trust in him. Why?

  'You're afraid of being hurt again, and I can understand that,' Jaishree resumed the conversation as if she had read Sarika's thoughts. 'You are shutting men out of your life by enlarging their faults to the extent that you are obliterating their good points, but you can't spend the rest of your life doing that, Sarika.'

  'Giving your heart to someone and trusting them is like placing a whip in their hands, and I consider I've been hurt enough.'

  'And you have allowed yourself to become cynical because of it.'

  'Perhaps I have,' Sarika agre
ed thoughtfully. 'Perhaps I've simply become more cautious.'

  'Caution is not always the parent of safety, if you will forgive me misquoting that old proverb,' argued Jaishree. 'Too much caution, where the heart is concerned, could make you lonely and embittered, and I would hate that to happen to you, my friend.'

  Sarika smiled cynically, but during the ensuing silence she found her thoughts lingering on Jaishree's warning. Lonely and embittered! She knew what it was to be lonely, and perhaps she had already become embittered. She did not need anyone other than Ayah, but there was always that intense loneliness deep down inside her which she found so difficult to cope with, and it was increasing instead of dwindling.

  You are afraid of being hurt again, and you are shutting men out of your life by enlarging their faults. Was that what she was doing?

  Sean's rugged features leapt into her mind, and his dark eyes challenged her. A spark had ignited between them at their very first meeting, and Sarika would be lying to herself if she denied that she was dangerously attracted to him. He had made it clear from the start that he considered her a spoiled little girl, and yet, to prevent her discomfiture, he had withheld from her certain vital information concerning his true status. While she had been incapacitated with shock and grief, Sean had made the necessary arrangements for her parents' funeral, and she realised now that she had never thanked him. When she had needed support, he had given it without waiting for her to ask, and it was on his shoulder that she had shed the most tears. When, for the first time yesterday, he had shown visible concern for her safety, she had repaid him by raking his face like a wildcat, and thinking about it now made her cringe inwardly with shame.

  That nice Mr O'Connor, Jaishree had called him. Nice was not exactly the adjective Sarika would have chosen for him. Interesting was a more applicable word. Interesting, vital, and very male. She did not need to be told what he thought of her. He considered her beautiful, but spoiled and too accustomed to having her own way. She was certain that, if her name had to appear on a list of possibilities, he would cross it off without a second thought.