did it to herself,” he said. “Drug use.”
He said the words so matter-of-factly, but she knew they hurt him. She could see it in his expression, in the way he stared into the distance, as if he didn’t see her beside him. What must he have suffered, watching his mother go through something like that?
She didn’t remember her mother. She had impressions sometimes of a soft, laughing woman that were so fleeting she wondered if she’d imagined them. Her father had never talked of her mother once she was gone. He’d simply smothered his daughter in an attempt to keep her from leaving him, too. As if death could be cheated by imprisonment.
They rode the rest of the way in silence, finally turning and climbing steadily up a hill until they reached a sprawling estate that perched over the Arabian Sea below. The land was dotted with tall swaying palms, green grass that tumbled down to white-sand beaches and bordered by the sparkling sea that went on forever before finally curving into the horizon.
It was beautiful, far more beautiful than she’d realized it would be. The sea view reminded her of Aliz, and a pang of emotion clawed into her belly as she thought of her nation. What was happening there now? Would she ever see her home again?
A woman in a bright turquoise sari edged in gold and shot through with green threads emerged from the house, followed by a cadre of servants, who collected luggage and issued instructions. Veronica’s gaze kept straying to the sea, and when she finally looked back again, she realized that she and Raj were alone.
“The view is even better from the terrace,” he said.
“Where is my staff?”
“They’ve been shown to the guest cottages. Don’t worry, they will be quite comfortable there.”
“I’d like a guest cottage, too,” she said, her heart suddenly picking up speed again at the prospect of being left alone with him.
“You will stay in the main house,” he said. “With me.”
“I’d rather not.” She lifted her hand to shade her eyes as he moved, the light off his sunglasses reflecting the sun and sending a bright shaft of light into her vision.
Then he was before her, so close—too close—and the brightness was gone.
“You have no choice,” he replied. “It is for your safety.”
A shiver of dread washed over her. And then there was something else. Something warm and electric. Something he caused by standing so near, by filling her senses with his scent and his presence.
“And who will keep me safe from you?” she said softly.
One corner of his mouth lifted in a faint smile. A predatory smile. “That is entirely up to you, Veronica. I won’t touch you unless you ask me to.”
“I won’t,” she declared. “I’d rather curl up with a cobra.”
He laughed. “This is India. That can be arranged.”
Veronica followed him into the house, the brightly clad woman appearing once more as soon as they were inside. She spoke to Raj in a language Veronica didn’t recognize. He said something in return, slowly she thought, as if he were figuring out the words.
And then the woman was turning and sweeping down the hallway like a dazzling exotic bird flying away.
“Your room is this way,” he said, leading her down a hall to a polished wooden door. Iron hinges and studs decorated the edges, and carvings of elephants, tigers and flowers marched in profusion across the surface.
Raj opened the door without seeming to notice its beauty and held it for her. She preceded him inside, and found her luggage already waiting at the end of the bed. Double doors were open to the outside, leading onto a terrace. She went out, drawn once more by the sea view. She hadn’t realized how tense she’d been over the past few weeks, but something about this place calmed her. In spite of her fear and anger, she felt strangely calm beneath all the emotion.
A breeze lifted her hair, blew it across her face. She pushed the strands down again and breathed deeply. She wasn’t precisely free here, but at least he hadn’t shut her into a room with four walls, tiny windows and one door. She could come and go as she pleased, though she didn’t fool herself that she wouldn’t be watched or that she could leave this estate and keep on going right back to the airport and thence to Aliz.
She wasn’t that free.
She didn’t have to turn to know he was standing behind her. The hair on her arms had prickled as he drew near. Even now, her body was zinging with electric sparks. Longing was a palpable force within her.
If only she were here under different circumstances. If only. The story of her life, really.
She had merely to lean back, and she would connect with his solid form. He would put his arms around her as she tilted her head to the side, gave him access to her neck. His mouth would skim along her throat, her shoulder, and then he would turn her in his arms and kiss her.
She closed her eyes, her chin dropping as the weight of her need pressed down on her. And the weight of her sadness.
“You should have consulted me,” she said bitterly. “You should have treated me like I was capable of offering an intelligent opinion on the subject. Bringing me here against my will was wrong.”
He sighed. “You left me no choice. You were determined to go to Aliz, no matter what anyone said to you.”
“It was my choice to make, not yours.”
“We will never agree on this subject, Veronica.”
She turned then, taking a step back. He regarded her with golden eyes that made her heart skip. So beautiful. So exotic. He’d always been exotic, and yet this setting made him more so.
“What happens now, Raj? I’m here with you, but I still have a responsibility to the people of Aliz. I can’t simply give up.”
“You aren’t giving up. Your people have issued statements on your behalf. World pressure will be brought to bear on Monsieur Brun.”
She blew out a breath. “I don’t like waiting,” she said. “I’ve never been very good at it.”
He reached out, lifted a tendril of her hair, rubbed it between his thumb and forefinger. “I can wait,” he said, his voice a deep, sensual growl that vibrated into her belly. “I can wait as long as it takes. Sometimes, the reward is much sweeter after the waiting.”
Every cell in her body was attuned to him. Her breath had stilled, her heart, her blood—everything silent, waiting … waiting for a touch that never came.
He dropped her hair, stepped back. “Dinner is at six,” he said. “Wear something simple—but stunning.”
“Why?” she asked, the pulse point between her legs throbbing now. “Will there be guests?”
“Perhaps.” And then he left her alone on the terrace, the breeze gently caressing her, tormenting her. If she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine the tendrils of wind were his fingers, skimming oh so lightly along her skin.
