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?
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 diamond 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
