by Lynne Graham
Jai frowned. ‘Of course, she did attempt to come back from that very low point. Shortly afterwards, she came to my London home in an attempt to see me, but I had her turned away. In fact, there were several attempts, but I have no desire to either see or speak to her. She sent letters as well, which I returned unopened. At this stage in my life and with my father dead, I see no reason to waste time on her.’
Willow, however, saw with great clarity that Jai had been cruelly hurt by his mother’s twin rejections and that, no matter what he said in that measured and cool voice of his, he was still scarred by the damage his mother’s abandonment had inflicted. And so stubborn too, so set in his views that he had completely rejected the olive branch and the explanations that the woman had tried to offer. Of course, in such circumstances that was his right, she accepted ruefully, resolving in that moment not to interfere on behalf of a woman who, it seemed, was a most undeserving cause. She herself would sooner have cut off her arm than walk away from Hari.
‘I’m sorry I asked,’ she told him truthfully. ‘I can’t blame you for feeling the way you do about her.’
And she decided not to mention the personal approach that had been made to her by his mother, which would undoubtedly only annoy Jai and where was the point in that? It would be yet another wounding reminder of the wretched woman that he didn’t need. No, she would stay safely uninvolved in a matter that was none of her business and ignore that email.
Jai strolled round the courtyard garden with her after dinner, but Willow was quiet and withdrawn in receipt of that unexpected attention. After all, she really didn’t know where she stood with Jai any more. Her first week with him had been magical and then he had virtually vanished, and with that vanishing act all her insecurities had been revived. Why would he want to spend time with her when he had never really wanted to marry her in the first place? How could she feel neglected when she had known beforehand that she was entering a marriage without love? How could she even complain?
‘I screwed up this week,’ Jai declared, in a driven undertone.
In silence, Willow shrugged a stiff shoulder and hovered below the ancient banyan tree in the centre of the garden, which sheltered a sacred shrine much revered by the staff. ‘I didn’t complain about anything,’ she reminded him with pride, studying him with clear green eyes.
Her problem, though, was that Jai was gorgeous, in whatever light and in whatever clothing. Nothing detracted from his sheer magnificence: the luxuriant black hair, the chiselled cheekbones and flawless skin, the stunning ice-blue eyes and the dramatic lashes that surrounded them, and he had an equally beautiful body, she allowed, her face warming at that unarguable acknowledgement. Unfortunately for her, on every physical plane, Jai drew her like a magnet. One certain look, one smile and she was all over him like a stupid rash and that both infuriated her and made her feel weak and foolish. After the week she had endured of being ignored in and out of bed, she knew that in reality she meant very little to Jai and it felt degrading to still be attracted to a man who could simply switch off and forget her very existence.
The real source of Willow’s frustration, however, was, undeniably, that she had no idea what was going on inside his head. She was beginning to wonder if it was possible that, aside of sex, Jai hadn’t a clue how to behave in the sort of relationship that a marriage required. The first week with him had been heavenly and she had been so happy with him that she had practically floated, but the past week of being ignored had been a sobering wake-up call that hurt her self-esteem. One minute she had seemed as necessary to him as the air he needed to breathe, the next she had become the invisible woman.
‘I will spend more time with you from now on,’ Jai intoned with deadly seriousness.
Willow paled and walked on down the path. ‘Don’t push yourself,’ she heard herself say curtly, the colour of embarrassment stinging her cheeks.
‘It’s not like that,’ Jai assured her levelly, lifting a long-fingered brown hand to rest on her shoulder with an intimacy she resented because it reminded her too much of those carnal, expert hands sliding over her body.
‘Well, going by the past week, it is like that,’ Willow replied, squaring her slight shoulders and stepping away to break that physical connection. ‘You don’t know what you want from me…apart from the obvious…sex,’ she condemned between gritted teeth. ‘And this past week, not even that. You married me and I don’t think you know what to do with me now that you’ve got what you said you wanted!’
Evidently stunned by that disconcerting burst of frankness, Jai briefly froze, his darkly handsome features taut.
‘Goodnight, Jai,’ Willow murmured quietly and walked back indoors, for once proud of herself for not succumbing to the sexual infatuation that had entrapped her into something that felt disturbingly like an obsession.
Why was she feeling like that? Even not seeing Jai hurt, never mind not being touched by him or talking to him. Somehow, he had sparked off a hunger inside her that tugged at her through every hour of the day and she resented him for reducing her to that needy level. He should’ve started their marriage on cooler, more detached terms if that was how he intended it to be. Instead he had given her deceptive false messages and had shaken her up from the inside out.
Well, she was not some pushover for him to lift and literally lay whenever he fancied, she was strong, independent and nobody’s fool, she reminded herself doggedly. She might not have been her father or Jai’s intellectual equal, but had always been shrewd when it came to people and the often confusing difference between what they said and what they actually did. She knew how to look after herself even if she had once been foolish enough to succumb to a one-night stand with Jai.
Tense from that encounter in the garden, she went upstairs to look in on Hari as he slept, safe and smiling in the baby equivalent of the Land of Nod, probably dreaming of being rocked in a silver swing by devoted handmaidens while being fed ambrosia. If only life were so simple for her, she thought wryly. Lifting her head high, she scolded herself for that downbeat thought. She had Hari and life was very good for him. She had health and security too. There was no excuse for feeling that her life lacked anything. In that mood, she scooped up silk pyjamas from her cavernous collection of lingerie and went for a bath.
She was lying back on her padded bath pillow engaged in aggressively counting the many blessings she had to be grateful for when, with a slight knock and only a momentary hesitation, the door opened to frame Jai on the threshold, tall and lean, dark and hazardous, pale eyes glittering like stars framed by black velvet. Willow jerked up in surprise and hugged her knees with defensive hands, feeling invaded. ‘I didn’t ask you to come in.’
Jai tilted his dark head back, a dangerous glint in his bright gaze. ‘What makes you think I need permission to speak to my wife?’
Willow lifted a pale brow. ‘Courtesy?’
Jai closed the door and sank down on the edge of the bath, deliberately entering her safe space. ‘Courtesy won’t get us anywhere we want to travel right now.’
Willow lifted her chin. ‘Then get out of here…now!’ she challenged.
Disturbingly, Jai laughed and trailed a forefinger through the rose petals swirling round her knees. ‘I don’t think so. I am where I want to be. If you can be direct, so can I. I want you.’
At the sound of that declaration the blood drummed up through Willow’s body like an adrenalin boost. ‘Since…when?’ she mocked.
‘I can’t switch it off. With you, it’s a primal and very basic urge and it hurts to deny it.’ Jai’s fingertip glided up out of the water to slowly stroke the soft underside of her full lower lip and her heart hammered at an insane rate.
‘So, why did you?’ she whispered unevenly.
‘I thought I should. I don’t know why. I don’t like feeling out of control,’ Jai admitted thickly, his mesmeric gaze holding hers with sheer force of will. �
��And you often make me feel out of control…’
And a huge wave of heat that had nothing to do with the temperature of the water shot up through Willow. Her brain was blurring as though it had been enveloped in fog. She could feel her own heart thrumming inside her chest, the tautness of her pointed nipples, the pool of liquefying warmth at her core, but she couldn’t think straight and when he angled his mouth down to hers, her mouth opened, only anticipation guiding her. His mouth on hers was like paraffin thrown on a bonfire, shooting multicoloured sparks of heat through every fibre, and only a slight gasp escaped her throat when he lifted her, dripping, out of the water and melded his lips to hers again with all the urgency she had dreamt of.
‘I’m soaking wet! This wasn’t supposed to happ—’ she began, common sense struggling to get a look-in as he laid her down on the bed and arranged her like some ancient sacrifice on an altar.
‘Shush, soniyaa,’ Jai breathed hungrily against her mouth and she was vaguely aware of him peeling off his clothes in the midst of kissing her, but she was too connected to the sheer power surge of his urgency to make even the smallest complaint.
He ran his palms slowly down over her smooth body as if reacquainting himself with her slender contours and she shivered, every skin cell primed for more, her breath trapped in her throat as if breathing might prevent the excitement already licking through her. He slid down the length of her, all lithe bronzed grace and tenacity, his skin hot where it brushed hers, his bold arousal brushing her stomach, filling her with heat and the kind of wanting that burned. He tipped her thighs back, settled his lips to the most sensitive part of her quivering body and slowly, surely, with his mouth and his wickedly knowing fingers, proceeded to drive her out of her mind with throbbing waves of pleasure. She squirmed and then she writhed, unable to stay in control and flying involuntarily into an intense climax, with his name breaking from her tongue and then the taste of herself on her lips as he kissed her with ferocious demand and settled over her.
From that shattering point on, it was as it always was between them: wild. He plunged into her with a growl of satisfaction and she gasped in delight from the first thrust, the delicious stretching of her tingling body, the sleek hardness of his body driving over and in hers and the raw sexual connection that destroyed her every inhibition. He flipped her over onto her hands and knees, pressing her down, entering her powerfully and deeply again, making every sense sing in high-voltage response. Sobs of excitement were wrenched from her convulsing throat as another climax seized hold of her and shock-waved through her with an intensity that wiped her out. She flopped flat on the bed like a puppet who’d had her strings cut, smiling dizzily into the silk bed cover at his shout of completion, knowing that never in her life before had she dreamt of that much excitement and that much drowning pleasure.
‘No more starting work at dawn, no more late nights,’ Jai breathed with ragged resolution as he turned her limp length over and back into contact with the hot, damp heat of his body, sealing her there with both arms, his hands smoothing her slender back in a soothing motion.
‘You’re going to delegate?’ she whispered with effort because it was a challenge to kick her brain into gear again.
‘With the foundation, yes. My life has changed now that I have you and Hari and I need to adapt,’ he murmured, setting the edge of his teeth into the exact spot on the slope of her neck that drove her crazy and making her jerk against him. ‘In many ways.’
And Willow was satisfied by those assurances. He was making a major effort. He hadn’t approached her simply for sex. No, he had recognised that change would be required from both of them if their marriage was to survive and that was good, wasn’t it? She shouldn’t still want more, should she? She couldn’t understand the lingering hollow sensation in her chest, particularly when her body was already warming up again to the stimulation of his.
Of course, he wasn’t going to start talking about emotions—that was a female thing, wasn’t it? Concentrate on the positives, she told herself sternly. Both of them were finding their way in a new and very different situation as parents and partners. Of course, there would be misunderstandings and clashes along the way. All that should really matter was that Jai cared enough to put in the work to keep their relationship ticking over.
Obviously, he was unlikely to ever give her the kind of rapturous reception he gave Hari every time he lifted his son into his arms. She had seen that look, that intense emotion he hid around her and, if she was honest, had envied her son, who had inspired love in his father practically at first sight. But she was only human and it was normal to make comparisons, even if they were unwise comparisons, because love and devotion had featured nowhere in their agreement. Even worse, logic warned her that Jai, a tough businessman to his fingertips, would stick exactly to the deal he had made with her.
She didn’t have what it took to inspire Jai with romantic feelings. That had been made clear to her the morning after their first night together. Yes, he had visited to check on her a couple of months later but that had only been a knee-jerk sense of responsibility she owed to his friendship with her late father. It had not related to her personally. Her main attraction for Jai was self-evidently the passion that virtually set fire to their bedsheets and she was beginning to recognise that she ought not to be turning her nose up at that rather lowering truth when it might well prove to be the glue that kept their marriage afloat in the future.
Or would familiarity breed contempt? She shivered, wondering why her thoughts continually took a negative direction around Jai. What was the matter with her? Why couldn’t she simply be content with what they had? Why was she always seeking…more?
CHAPTER EIGHT
JAI LOOKED MAGNIFICENT.
Indeed, Willow was flooded by distinctly sensual and, admittedly, superficial impressions of Jai garbed in traditional Maharaja dress in readiness for the party that would introduce her as his wife to his family and friends. In the black and silver frogged silk tunic and pants, he took her breath away. In fact, virtually everything about the pomp and ceremony of the occasion and their surroundings was having the same effect on her. His grandfather’s art deco palace was a sumptuous building with soaring marble columns and ceilings, glittering Venetian glass chandeliers and intricately designed marble floors and even the furniture and the grounds around the building matched that splendid classic elegance, but Jai had been quite correct: it was too grand a place for mere comfort.
As soon as they had arrived in their finery and in advance of the party, official photographs had been taken in the Greek-style marble temple in the centre of the lawns. They had leant against pillars, posed on the layers of steps, looked pensively into each other’s eyes until she’d succumbed to an uncontrollable bout of giggles and then she had twirled in her gown for the photographer to show off the full skirt of her gorgeous dress.
She had felt remarkably like a Bollywood movie actress and Jai had told her that all photos taken for special occasions had a dash of that spirit in India. When she had asked Jai if she should don a sari to blend in better at the party, Jai had only laughed before informing her that many of their guests would be European and that some of his countrywomen would dress traditionally while others would wear the latest Western fashion, that, in actuality, however she chose to dress would be acceptable.
Willow had picked a spectacular ball gown out of her crammed wardrobe, a brilliant cerise-pink shade much favoured by Rajasthani women. The finest lace covered her shoulders and upper arms, the style closely tailored to her slender figure down to the hip and then flaring out in volume into the beaded silk skirt. It was one of those ridiculously beautiful fairy-tale dresses that made a woman feel like a million dollars and to complement it she had worn very high heels. In addition, Jai had brought her a glorious emerald and diamond necklace and earrings, which had belonged to his grandmother, as well as having gifted her a diamond bracelet and a gold and diam
ond watch that very same week. It was little wonder that she kept on wanting to pinch herself to see if she was still living in the real world because, only weeks earlier, she could never have dreamt that such incredible luxury would ever feature in her life.
In the echoing marble hall, there was a huge display of wedding gifts and they wandered around examining them. Willow was disconcerted by the large amount of jewellery she had been given, gleaming gold necklaces and armbands and earrings, and there were even some pieces for Jai, which he assured her with a groan that he would never wear. She strolled up to him when he was holding something in his hand and signalling his hovering PA, Mitul, to ask him a question.
With an exclamation in his own language he set the ornate little box down again in haste, his sensual mouth compressing. Curious, Willow scooped it up. ‘What is it?’ she asked.
‘An eighteenth-century inro—an ornamental box in which Japanese men used to carry seals or medicine. I collect them,’ he told her in a curt undertone.
‘A very good friend must’ve given it,’ Willow assumed, because everything on the tables struck her as valuable. ‘But why are you annoyed? Was it an unsuitable gift from the friend concerned?’
‘In my opinion, yes,’ Jai conceded crisply. ‘The giver is my ex-fiancée, Cecilia.’
‘The one that ditched you?’ Willow gasped in surprise.
All of a sudden, Jai grinned, the tension in his lean, handsome features evaporating again. ‘You’re no diplomat, are you, jaani?’
Willow reddened because she knew that she hadn’t been tactful. ‘I know nothing about her…but what upsets you about the present?’
‘That I have only just learned that she and her husband have been invited to the party. Odds are that she won’t come. But if she does, it’s entirely my fault that she received an invite,’ he acknowledged in exasperation. ‘I told Mitul to use the same guest list for my friends that was used ten years ago at a party I held here. But he didn’t work for me back then and he wouldn’t have recognised the significance of her name. Of course, I should’ve checked the list myself.’