her gown and dropped it on the bed.
The bed was huge, a solid carved four-poster with white filmy netting hanging from it—and no way was she staying here tonight. No way was she sleeping in this giant bed, with Raj in the same house, knowing she couldn’t go to him.
Knowing he would not come to her.
Veronica found a thin silk robe in her luggage and wrapped it around herself. Then she slipped into the hallway and toward the front doors. She would go down to the cottages, find Martine’s quarters and sleep there tonight. If she were not under the same roof with Raj, she could breathe again. She could think and feel and not ache so much.
She found the front door and jerked it open—
Raj was standing on the other side, his hand poised over the handle. They stared at each other without speaking. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and her heart lodged in her throat. A pair of pajama bottoms sat low on his hips, the drawstring tied just loosely enough to allow his lean hip bones to protrude.
Not to mention the ridges of his abdominal muscles, so hard and tight beneath his broad chest. Her mouth went dry. Her brain refused to function. She tried to speak, but no sound came out.
“Going somewhere?” he asked, one eyebrow lifting sardonically.
“Yes,” she managed to respond, her voice croaking out as if she’d been traveling across a desert with nothing to drink. She swallowed. “I was going to find Martine.”
“Isn’t it a bit late to dictate a letter?”
She couldn’t admit to him that she’d wanted to escape this house. Wanted to escape him. It would give him too much power over her. As if he didn’t have enough already. As if she weren’t teetering on the edge of something that would change her forever.
“I thought of something important,” she lied, lifting her chin.
“It’s a distance to the cottages.” His gaze slipped down her body. “And there are things you might not wish to meet in the dark. Especially dressed like that.”
“I went to the beach in an evening gown,” she pointed out.
“Not as far. Or as rich with vegetation.”
She wanted to argue, but she took a step back, defeated. She wanted out, but she wasn’t stupid. Who knew what manner of creatures waited on the path to the cottages? Bugs? Stinging bugs? Cobras?
Veronica shivered.
Raj came inside and closed the door. Locked it.
Her heart thundered in her ears. He was so close. Once more, so close. He smelled delicious, like the sea and wind and India.
“You’re upset,” he said softly.
“I’m not.”
He lifted a finger, skimmed her cheek, tipped up her chin so he could look down into her eyes. The light in the entry came from the living area, warm and golden and spilling through the prism of glass that divided one area from another. Her breath stopped in her chest. Time seemed to stretch out between them, so fine and thin, like the thread spun out by the mythical Fates.
But would one of them cut it, or would it continue to spin?
“You make me want things I shouldn’t,” he said, his voice so husky and deep.
Her heart pounded in her temples, her throat, between her legs. “Who says you shouldn’t? You? Are you not in control of your own destiny?”
His laugh was part groan. “You make it sound so simple, like one simply reaches a decision and starts down a new path.”
“Don’t they?”
“You know it’s not true. You know that life throws things at you, and you do the best you can to deal with them. If you’re lucky, you figure out what works for you, and you stick with it.”
It was her turn to laugh. “And how is that working for you, Raj? Because I have no idea what I’m doing from one day to the next sometimes. Maybe I should try your method.”
His expression was troubled in the dim light. “You confuse things, Veronica.”
A pinprick of pain pierced her, the hurt rippling outward as if someone had thrown a rock into a pond. “Don’t patronize me. I’m not stupid, and I’m not confused.”
“You confuse things for me,” he said. “You make me question myself.”
“Everyone should question his paradigm from time to time.”
“Are you questioning yours?” he asked, taking a step closer to her. “Am I still the wrong man?”
His mouth was so close now, and her body was sizzling with heat and memory and need.
“You’re completely wrong,” she said. “I don’t want you at all.”
His smile was self-assured. Feral and sexy. “You’re lying, Veronica.”
He tilted his head, studying her. She endured his scrutiny, her heart thundering, her skin begging for his touch.
Oh, God, she no longer cared. She just wanted him to touch her, to give her the bliss he’d given her two nights ago. She wanted to feel loved again, even if it wasn’t quite true.
She thought she would go mad waiting.
“What do you plan to do about it?” she said, a heaviness settling in her abdomen, between her legs.
He smiled again, only this time it was filled with regret. “Nothing. The desire will have to be enough for both of us.”
Furious tears stung the backs of her eyes. “Bravo, Raj. Once more, you’re willing to sacrifice yourself on the altar of altruism for my sake. Whatever would I do without you to make decisions for me?”
His growl was not what she expected, but it sent a thrill through her belly nevertheless. “You can’t have it both ways,” he snapped. “You can’t tell me I’m wrong for you and then look at me like I’m the only man who has what you need. So tell me what you want from me or get back to bed.”
TELL me what you want.
Such a simple statement, and so complicated all at once. So many things she wanted, and only one thing she would get from him. Only one thing he was willing to give.
Or perhaps he wasn’t.
Perhaps he was simply trying to humiliate her. Perhaps the best thing she could do—for herself, for both of them—was to turn and go back to her bedroom.
Heart in her throat, she turned away and took two steps. And then, because she was frustrated and angry and hurt and confused, she turned back. Stood there staring at him while he
