You Can't Fight a Royal Attraction (17 page)

‘Nadira?’

Animation shone in the Maharaj’s face. ‘She came to see me and told me everything. Of course she realises now how stupid she was to love someone who didn’t deserve it. The idiot left her when he got a better job at Udaipur. She admires you greatly for what you did for her.’

Nadira was ready to marry him? The girl who had started it all. She hadn’t loved him in the past. She had told him that quite plainly.

And she didn’t love him now. She only felt gratitude, he thought grimly. And maybe, he realised, recalling yesterday, a little pique. She couldn’t see another woman stealing what had once been her place in his arms. Was that it?

Were these reasons enough to base a marriage on? he wondered bleakly. But this was the marriage of royalty. It had once been based just on his father’s word.

A word that sons were duty-bound to keep.

But how could he marry this woman while his sleeping hours remained occupied by the images of another?

Saira.

Exactly what existed between them? Rihaan tried to put a name to the emotions raging through him and failed.

His father, showing rare sensitivity, didn’t pursue the matter. ‘Nadira has taken to her heart the fact that she hurt you and caused you to be banished. She’ll do anything to make it up to you.’

Oh, fantastic, he thought sarcastically. A bride on a guilt trip must be a desirable bride indeed. Rihaan passed a hand over his face, caught in a rare turmoil.

He had broken his father’s word once. He hadn’t hesitated at that time because the bride herself had requested it. Now, though…

‘If you let me know your inclination,’ the Maharaja continued, ‘I will ask Nadira’s
mama
to start the preparations for your engagement. He’s the only living relative she has. Something of a wanderer. He hasn’t taken much responsibility for her so far, but he promised me he won’t let the memory of his sister down. He’ll do the marriage duties for his niece.’

He continued, ‘In ten days, the
chaitra navratre
will start. What more auspicious time for the coronation and the engagement? People will celebrate like anything. It’s been ages since there was a royal wedding. Not since your
chacha
got married.’ He fell into happy thoughts.

His father had apparently started laying plans already. Rihaan withdrew, taking his leave as his mother came in.

Saira, he thought again. But then, what did he and Saira have? He recalled her determined insistence that she didn’t want a relationship with him.

Yet there was an attraction. Her liveliness. Her touch. The kisses that made his blood run faster even at the thought.

Which made no sense because they had nothing.

Could have nothing.

Once he had been ready to marry Nadira. He had seen his future with her. Now life had swung full circle and placed the vision of that same future in front of him. A
future he only had to reach out and touch. A future which possessed the brilliance of his dreams.

For a long time he had wanted to belong. He’d searched for his roots, been a castaway.

Now he could finally claim what was his own.

The only thing standing in his way was a momentary illogically intense attraction. Would he be strong enough to keep it from overriding his plans?

But that momentary attraction reared its head inconveniently time and again.

The following afternoon, on the field, dressed in polo whites for the match his cousin had arranged for his entertainment, he found it difficult to justify being the number three player, his concentration shot to pieces by Saira, clad in the cheerleader outfit she had teamed up with Ayesha to wear. In between play, his distracted gaze shot to the yellow miniskirt swaying around her shapely legs as she gyrated to the impromptu moves the girls staged when his team scored. He wasn’t sure Saira’s effusive loyalty was having any beneficial effect because twice he was called for foul, and ultimately his team lost.

When he found himself heading towards her, he checked, knowing officially he should meet up with Nadira.

But hell, he hadn’t promised to marry her yet. He shifted the weight of expectation from his shoulders and made his way to Saira.

S
AIRA FOUND THE
diversions thrilling. In fact, for the next few days, it seemed Viren had spared no effort to make their stay an exciting one. Horse safari, a tour of the city, grand luncheons featuring royal delicacies like
Lal Maas, Handi ka soola, Paneer ke gate
… the list was endless. Saira joined the chefs to learn the techniques involved in their making and fairly goggled. Of course the mouth-watering fare was worth every second of slavery bravely endured by the ingenious chefs.

She was fascinated by colour. It was everywhere. She exhorted Ayesha to take her to the market, revelling in the
bandini
and
lehariya
designs in the clothing and the classy sequin-work imposed over them. The beads and metal jewellery, the ivory bangles, everything filled her with the richness of experience.

After dinner, flopped on the bed, she began to doodle on the pad and paper placed on a side table. She thought of what she would like to wear and soon the paper was filled with the brisk strokes and clean lines of an evening outfit. Excited, she turned the paper and sketched another dress and another. Her brain seemed to be in the grip of a fever of activity, fingers flying as she added tie-ins and full-skirted flares to
lehariya
dresses. Evening gowns, casual mid-length skirts, her mind had translated the traditional into the every-day-wearable. She noted the colours in the
corner of the page as they filtered to her mind. Bright orange, yellows in different shades, deep reds and greens. It seemed her pencil was insufficient to catch her mind’s spew of hues. Frustrated, she thought of the computer software she had learnt to use at the design studio. And then, slowly, consciousness of what she was doing filtered in.

She looked at sheets scattered around, figures, dresses, scarves, even accessories sketched in, and amazement filled her. So many years and she hadn’t looked back but now… The moment filled her with wonder. This was what she wanted to do. Design, tailor, innovate,
create.

Excited, she reached for her cell to call Rihaan, then stopped short. Maybe he was sleeping. Too full of enthusiasm she couldn’t hold in, she sent off a text message. Would he respond?

Come quickly.

In her hurry, she hadn’t even mentioned where.

Restless, she paced the room, then went to stand gazing out of the wide arched window. The lake he had spoken of with such fondness lay still and dark, surrounded by shadowy hills… the moonlight strongly distributing shadows to every object; the ethereal quietness contrasted sharply with the buzz that filled her.

‘Saira?’ Her heart jumped and she turned, excitement spilling over as she sighted him.

‘Oh God, Rihaan!’ She hugged herself, almost jumping in joy. ‘Come here. I have something to show you!’

Soon she was babbling away about visiting the bazaar, the inspiring sights in the market, and her own unexpected discovery.

‘What do you think?’ Breathlessly, she waited for his verdict.

He scanned the work. ‘Brilliant!’

‘But you’re not surprised?’ She couldn’t expect him to
jump with excitement about a few rough drawings but she would have liked more enthusiasm.

His dark gaze ran over her face as he gave her a warm smile. ‘Sorry to disappoint you, but no. It isn’t surprising. Everything you do is fabulous. Didn’t I say you were creative? But yes, you weren’t channelling that creativity. We must celebrate your discovering him.’

‘Who?’

‘Your Muse,’ he teased.

Discovering.
Was he right? Had it been something waiting below the surface for her? She remembered how she had used to stitch her mother-in-law’s and other relatives’ homewear when she had been married. Some of them had even worn them for their kitty get-togethers. Jokingly, they had complained that she turned the most traditional outfit into something fashionable. A skill that her ex-mother-in-law hadn’t liked, so jealous that she’d found fault in everything she made.

Maybe this streak, this creativity that he called it, had just needed to be free of that criticism to be able to breathe.

She knew the exact moment she had known freedom. When Rihaan had drenched her by streaming the coloured water all over her. Call her crazy, but something had changed in her psyche then. Deep inside her, she clung to that moment when she had felt most liberated ever in her life. Touched. Celebrated.

Or maybe it was just him being in her life. Certainly she couldn’t credit what she felt like now, so full of buzz and energy, was anything like the Saira who had lain moping around in Vishakha’s beach house.

‘Maybe your crazy Muse infected me.’ She smiled. ‘It has to be your doing, Rihaan. I had no purpose in sight. I can’t tell you how hopeless I used to feel sometimes. This—’ she spread her hands over the carpet of sheets ‘—it isn’t much. I can’t say anything will come out of it,
but it’s better than knowing there’s nothing you do that is worth doing.’ She held his gaze, her own misty as she smiled. ‘I know what I want to do now. I’m going to go back to learning. I’ll do whatever I have to. At least create one or two of these. If anyone wears a creation of mine with pleasure, I’ll be done.’ She sighed blissfully. ‘I’m so happy, Rihaan. So happy.’ Moved more than she could express, she flung her arms around him and kissed him. Kissed him to share the joy, the thrumming thrill of it all. And she poured everything she felt into it. The contact grew charged. Pleasure and electricity exploded around her as he accepted her joy and gave it back to her. Feeling blossomed and burgeoned from a sharing of excitement to shared desire. To much much more.

She drew away, breathless; he drew away too, dishevelled from the fingers she had raked into his hair. Her heart was beating wild enough to jump out of her chest. ‘That felt… stupendous.’

‘Saira!’ The word was an acknowledgement and a warning combined. ‘Don’t get carried away by gratitude.’ Although whether he was warning her or himself, Rihaan couldn’t have said at the time. She was right. It felt like something else entirely. The exhilaration that radiated from her was fairly a zap of current that wouldn’t take much to flare to shocking electric pleasure.

‘Gratitude can only go so far and no further. It can’t generate this kind of desire. You want me, Rihaan,’ she said with typical frankness. ‘And I… I’m ready to let go of the barriers.’ How could she not when his mere touch sent want spiralling through her? She had held back too long. From life. From chance. Now it was time to go forward and meet it. The conviction that pulsed through her swept away all the doubts.

‘It’s not so easy.’ He got up, putting distance between them.

She followed. ‘Then why did you come? It was just a text message. You could have ignored it.’

‘Maybe I thought you were in trouble.’ He smiled wryly. ‘Rescuing you seems to have become a habit.’

‘That wasn’t it and you know it.’

He sighed. ‘Things are complicated. More than ever now, Saira. If I could offer you nothing but a temporary affair before, now I can’t offer you anything.’ He paced then turned back to her. ‘The Maharaja wants me to take over the kingdom. He plans to grant me accession by his own hands so no one can doubt he has accepted me back. But the condition that accompanies it is that I have to marry Nadira. If he does this for me, I can do no less than help him keep his word, now that the truth about the past is all out and he knows I was ready to marry Nadira before.’

‘So the past will be brought back to life,’ she stated, trying to absorb the shock.

‘This time round, I might have to marry her,’ he told her quietly.

‘But you haven’t yet, have you?’ Before she lost courage, she said quickly, ‘Maybe you can’t offer me anything. But then I don’t
want
more. We can still have this night.’ If she lost him after that, at least she would have no regrets. No regrets that she hadn’t taken what life had once offered her. The electric desire, the thrill of his touch. She wanted this with him. Her heart began to beat wildly.

‘Saira…’ She couldn’t get enough of the dark need flooding his eyes. Triumph was a heady feeling, a rush of intoxication.

She moved to him. ‘Kiss me.’

‘I don’t think I should.’ Slowly he gave a negative headshake, gaze hooked to her.

‘Then I will.’

‘I can’t resist you any more than a junkie can resist a fix. Sweetheart, don’t try me. I’m losing the battle.’ The last
was uttered on an exhalation as she pressed against him, raining kisses over the skin revealed by the open collar of his nightshirt.

Rihaan groaned. In the soft cotton two-piece she wore for nightwear, she was infinitely more desirable than any starlet in a sexy negligee. All he could think of was the memory of the feel of her skin, her kiss, her body straining against his in the alcove that full moon night of Phalguna.

Too much temptation for a mere mortal, surely? Her soft scent swirled around him and filled his senses.

She’d already asked him to stay…

Just a touch, he told himself and let his fingers caress the skin where the short top barely met the pyjamas. Smooth. Like the finest silk.
Just a bit more.
His hands slid up. His mouth was finding hers. Homing in on it like a hungry eagle swooping down to capture a succulent prey. Reason became lost as they clung to the reality of only touching, only feeling.

Just one night… couldn’t he forget everything for just one night?

She started to take off his shirt and Rihaan was only too glad to help her. She ran her hands over him, leaving trails of heated skin behind. Her hand slid between them, closing over his arousal and he went still. Power and desire surged through him till he thought he would explode.

He disengaged the contact, breathing raggedly. Control. It was blown away. A thing belonging to the past. Lost in the raging wanting possessing his body.

With shaky hands, he took off her top, gazing at her, letting her beauty fill his senses. Instinctively, moving to possess the globes waiting for his touch. She gasped and clung to him. The peaks pierced his palms like tight rosebuds. Hunger intensified in his body and he lifted her up to take her over to the bed. His heart filling his chest with its galloping beat, he slid off her pyjamas. Then he stopped
abruptly, closing his eyes in regret. ‘Damn, I’m not carrying protection.’

‘Don’t worry. I’m on the Pill,’ she said softly.

‘Better words were never spoken,’ he growled approvingly. He made short work of his clothes. ‘I’m clean. I’m no virgin but I always use a condom. And I have check-ups.’

‘I’m—’ Her gaze was fixed on his body, muscled and shapely, light and shadow playing on dark gold skin, the dark whorl of hair framing his manhood. The temperature between them went soaring as he caught her regard. She swallowed. He came on to the bed, letting their bodies touch.

Somehow she found breath enough to continue. ‘There hasn’t been anyone since Munish.’

The feel of her naked body beneath his was driving him mad but he could still see the brief glimpse of pain the name of her ex evoked.

‘Forget him,’ he said roughly. His mouth moved over silky skin. He felt the vow pound through him. He was going to make her forget everything. Think of just him. Make her forget every lover, every fantasy she’d ever had.

Saira arched as his mouth traced sensuous patterns on her waist, his tongue circling her navel. His hands were everywhere and every spot they touched was throbbing with the need to know more. Even more.

She traced the outline of hard muscles, delighting in the feel of them bunching beneath her hands. The scrape of his chest hair was deliciously inciting to touch, his abdomen ridged and hard and, below the flat plane, in the dark cloud the symbol of power and masculinity made her insides melt as she thought of his possession.

There was intensity and beauty in each stroke of his touch, in the intoxicating snare of dark sherry eyes. In his kiss. The intensity that hadn’t been in Munish’s. He had been a considerate lover but the aim had been climax not
this divinely exquisite exploration of each other that made pleasure a slow torture both to be delighted in and suffered for the next level of pleasure to envelop them.

The shivering thrill he evoked, the sheer intensity of the need she felt, frightened her a bit. His hand stroked along her thigh, upward to the centre of her desire, and she stilled, afraid of giving in to the want before he hit his satisfaction.

‘Let go, sweetheart,’ he whispered. And she did. She let pleasure overtake her, crash over her, sweep her along in the flood.

‘Rihaan, don’t make me wait.’ She swallowed, suddenly hesitant. Had she come across too eager? But his harsh breathing told her he couldn’t wait either. She tensed slightly but fear had no place here, only pleasure, as he showed her, every nerve stretching out with the fulfilment of his possession.

But this was just the beginning. She clung to him, her body accommodating his, eyes closed to better let the exquisite sensations flood her. How could so much make her only want still more? And she had it. Her fingers curled into supple skin as sensations climbed. Her mind hazed. He increased the tempo till she could only gasp. ‘Please, Rihaan,’ in repeated broken phrases as the urgency grew and coiled tight. And tighter.

She felt heatwaves steal over her skin, red-hot and intense, then tremors took over and it all crashed together in a glimpse of heaven enclosed in the plummeting, buffeting waves of pleasure.

He followed soon after, his triumphant growl making her feel more sated than any rich feast could ever have.

‘I have been had in a palace, by a prince. Surely it doesn’t get better than this!’ The windows showed the dark blue of a pre-dawn sky. She caught the sheet and leaned back
against Rihaan, stretching limbs that felt languid and heavy, a body that felt… loved, stinging lightly at places he’d been too attentive to during the night.

And what a night! They had slept sketchily, the need for each other too strong to be quieted easily.

Rihaan drawled, ‘I was the one who was had.’ Lazy fingers slid in her hair and rubbed her scalp. ‘I was overpowered.’