Читать книгу Indian Prince's Hidden Son / Craving His Forbidden Innocent: Indian Prince's Hidden Son / Craving His Forbidden Innocent - Линн Грэхем, Louise Fuller - Страница 9

WILLOW WALKED INTO the Mayfair town house and was plunged straight into palatial contemporary décor that was breathtakingly large and impressive.

‘Come this way,’ Jai instructed, heading straight for the elegant staircase with Hari still clasped to his powerful chest. ‘My former ayah, Shanaya, arrived this morning. She has a full complement of staff with her and they will look after Hari while we talk.’

‘Ayah?’ Willow questioned with frowning eyes.

‘She was my nursemaid…nanny – whatever you want to call it,’ Jai explained. ‘She is a kind and gentle woman. You need have no fear for our son’s welfare while he is with her.’

Willow didn’t want to hand over care of Hari to anyone, no matter who they were, particularly when she could not imagine that she and Jai had much to discuss. He had threatened her to make her vacate the homeless shelter and he doubtless planned to press his advantage by making her accept his financial support. Using the threat of legal action straight away had warned her that he would not listen to her protests. His bottom line, his closing argument would always zero in on what was best for Hari. And how could she argue with that sterling rule when she wanted the same thing?

Therefore, bearing in mind that she did not expect to be spending very long in Jai’s luxurious town house, she pinned a pleasant smile to her face to greet the grey-haired older woman awaiting her in a room already furnished as a nursery. She had three smiling younger women by her side, all of them dressed in brightly coloured saris, and they welcomed Hari with a sort of awed reverence that disconcerted Willow. Hari, however, did love to be admired and he beamed at all of them.

‘His Royal Highness is very confident,’ Shanaya remarked approvingly in hesitant English.

‘His Royal Highness?’ Willow hissed in disbelief as Jai whisked her back out of the room again.

‘Hari is my official heir, known as the Yuvaraja in our language. He is a very important child to my family and to our staff,’ Jai explained, ushering her downstairs and into a very traditional library lined with books and pictures and what looked like a wall of official awards. ‘This was my father’s room and, although I have certainly not kept it like a shrine, I did not have it updated after his death like the rest of the house. I still like to remember him seated here at his desk or drowsing by the fireside with his nose in a book.’

Willow had faded memories of the older man on his visits to the boarding school, which he had once attended himself. She also recalled him taking tea once in their small home with her father, the correctness of his spoken English, the warmth of his smile and the tiny brocade box filled with sweets that he had dug out of his pocket for her.

‘It means a great deal to me that you named our son after me,’ Jai admitted.

Willow went pink. ‘I wanted to acknowledge his background.’

‘Hari has been a family name for generations. My father would have rejoiced in our son’s existence.’

‘In these circumstances?’ Willow said uncomfortably. ‘I hardly think so.’

‘I assume you are referring to Hari’s illegitimate birth,’ Jai breathed in a raw undertone. ‘That problem will vanish as soon as we marry.’

Willow’s knees shook under her and she had to straighten her back to stay upright. Her incredulous gaze locked to his lean, dark features and the flaring brilliance of his pale gaze. ‘I beg your pardon?’ she murmured with a frown. ‘As soon as we…marry?’

‘Hari’s birth will be legitimised by our marriage. He cannot take his place as my heir without us getting married,’ Jai countered levelly. ‘I want us to get married as quickly as it can be arranged.’

Willow gave up the battle with her wobbly knees and dropped heavily into a comfortable armchair beside the Georgian fireplace. Slowly she shook her head. ‘Jai…men and women don’t get married any more simply because a child has been born.’

‘Perhaps not, but Hari can only claim his legal right to follow me if we are man and wife. It may seem old-fashioned to you, but it is the law and it is unlikely to be changed. My inheritance, which will one day become his, is safeguarded by strict rules. My business interests I can leave to anyone I want, but my heritage, the properties and land involved and the charitable foundation started up by my grandfather can only be bestowed on the firstborn child, whose parents must be married for him to inherit,’ Jai outlined grimly.

Disconcerted by that information, Willow snatched in a deep jagged breath. ‘But you can’t want to marry me?’

‘I don’t want to marry anyone right now,’ Jai admitted wryly.

Willow stiffened, reckoning that she had just received her answer about how best to treat his proposition. His suggestion that they should marry was sheer madness, she reasoned in astonishment. Her entire attention was now welded to him. A blue-black shadow of stubble was beginning to accentuate his wide mobile mouth and a tiny little shiver ran through her, her breasts tightening and peaking below her sweater, those little sensations arrowing down into her pelvis to awaken a hot, tense, damp feeling between her thighs. She thrust her spine rigidly into the embrace of the chair back, furious with herself but breathless and unable to drag her attention from the wild dark beauty of Jai as he paced over to the desk, his stunning eyes glittering over her with an intensity she could feel and which mesmerised her.

‘Obviously you don’t want to marry me,’ she remarked in a brittle undertone.

‘Aside of my little flirtation with the idea of marriage when I was twenty-one, I have always hoped to retain my freedom for as long as possible,’ Jai confessed with a twist of his shapely mouth as he studied her, appreciating the elegant delicacy of her tiny figure in the overly large chair, but not appreciating the way his attention instinctively lingered on the swell of her breasts below the sweater and the slender stretch of her denim-clad thighs. ‘I planned to marry in my forties, while my father was even older when he took the plunge. Hari’s birth, however, has changed everything. I cannot deny Hari his right to enjoy the same history and privileges that I had.’

‘I understand that, but—’ she began emotively.

‘No matter what you say, it will still come down to the same conclusion. Our son needs his parents to be married,’ Jai delivered with biting finality. ‘Only imagine his angry bitterness if some day he has to watch another man inherit what should have been his…because if you refuse to marry me, I will inevitably marry another woman and have children with her. It is my duty to carry on our family name and a second son born from that marriage will become my heir instead.’

The content of that last little speech shook Willow rigid because she realised that she didn’t want to imagine any of those events taking place…not Jai marrying someone else and fathering children by her and certainly not her son hurt by being nudged out of what could have been his rightful place. It was a distressing picture, but Jai was being realistic when he forced her to look at it. Sooner or later, it seemed, he had to marry and have a child and why shouldn’t his firstborn son benefit from their marriage?

‘You’re ready to bite the bullet because Hari and I would be the practical option?’ Willow suggested tightly.

‘Those are not the words I would have used,’ Jai chided. ‘This may not be what I once innocently planned, but Hari is here now and, as his parents, shouldn’t we do what we can to make amends for his current status?’

Willow stared stonily at the rug on the floor, because it was an unanswerable question. Of course, Hari should be put first, not left to reap the disadvantages his careless parents had left him facing. Would her son even want to follow in his father’s footsteps to eventually become the Maharaja of Chandrapur? She reckoned that, as an adult, her son would want that choice and wouldn’t wish to be denied it over something as arbitrary as the accident of his birth. She swallowed hard. ‘Right, so if I agree to marry you, what sort of marriage would it be?’

‘A normal one,’ Jai murmured, soft and low, a little of his tension dissipating as he grasped that she was willing to proceed. ‘Of course, if we are unhappy together we can separate and divorce but we will both make a big effort for Hari’s sake because two parents raising him together must surely be better than only one.’

Of course, neither of them knew what it would be like to grow up with two parents, Willow conceded. But she had seen that dynamic in the homes of her friends, parents pulling and working together to look after their families. She had also visited the homes of single-parent families and had only noted there that the parent carried a much heavier burden in doing it all alone. Would she and Jai be able to provide Hari with a secure and happy home? Jai didn’t love her, while she was still insanely attracted to him, she acknowledged uneasily, lifting her head to collide with the frosty glitter of his eyes, feeling the almost painful clench of internal muscles deep down inside.

‘Do you think we could do it?’ she whispered.

‘I think we must for his benefit,’ Jai countered levelly. ‘And as soon as possible. Are we agreed?’

Almost mesmerised by the blaze of his full attention, Willow nodded very slowly. ‘Yes.’

She was going to marry Jai and the concept was surreal: Jai the playboy with his polo ponies and trophies, his heritage palaces, his long backstory of glamorous and impossibly beautiful former lovers. Yet she was so ordinary, so unexciting in comparison, she thought in dismay. Even worse, he didn’t want to marry her and he had admitted it.

But that honesty of his was good, she told herself fiercely. Should she be ashamed of the reality that the very idea of being freed from all her financial worries was a relief? Did that mean that she was greedy? Or simply that she was tired of feeling like an inadequate mother? Without Jai, she had found it impossible to give Hari the comfort and security he deserved. With Jai, everything would be different. In addition, she would have far more rights over her own son if she married Jai. In terms of custody they would be equal partners then, she reasoned, and no matter what happened between her and Jai she would have very little reason to fear losing access to her little boy.

What would it be like, though, being married to a man who didn’t love or really want her? Jai hadn’t even wanted her enough to ask to see her again, she reminded herself doggedly, reeling from the toxic bite of that fact. Yes, sure, he had tried to check up on her a couple of months afterwards, she conceded grudgingly, but by that stage only an ingrained sense of responsibility towards Brian Allerton’s daughter had been driving him, nothing more personal.

Of course, she didn’t love him either, she reminded herself doggedly. All the same, she couldn’t take her eyes off Jai when he was in the same room and her heart hammered and her mouth ran dry every time he looked at her. If she was honest with herself, she was sort of fascinated by Jai, always hungry to know more about him and work out what made him tick. He had accepted Hari without question and moved them straight into his home.

Yes, he had threatened her with legal action but only on Hari’s behalf, not to take her son away from her, indeed only, it seemed, to pressure her into leaving the hostel and agreeing to marry him. With shocking shrewdness, he had accomplished that objective within hours, she registered in belated dismay. Yet he had done it even though at heart he didn’t want to marry her! But that was the mystery that was Jai. He was volatile and emotional and very hot-blooded, yet he was still apparently willing to settle for a practical marriage…

* * *

Jai watched Willow walk away from him to return to their son. Evidently, he was about to acquire a wife. He gritted his teeth, for being forced to marry to bring Hari officially into the family was even less attractive than increasing age prompting him to the challenge. Marriage was difficult, as his parents’ failure to surmount their differences proved. But he knew in his heart that he owed Willow a wedding ring. It was that simple, because what he had done with her broke every principle he had been raised to respect: he had greedily and irresponsibly taken an innocent woman and slept with her when she was vulnerable, and even in the act he had not protected her as he should’ve done.

He found it hard, though, to forgive her for hiding Hari from him and denying him precious moments of his son’s babyhood that would never be repeated. But he had to set that anger aside, he reminded himself fiercely, shelve the pointless regrets that he could have been such an idiot and concentrate instead on the present. He should be relieved that she still attracted him, even if he resented the constant disturbing pull of her understated sensuality. He didn’t know how she still had that effect on him, and he wasn’t planning to explore it again, not until they were safely, decently married.

* * *

‘You look a treat,’ Shelley said, patting Willow’s hand as they travelled in a limousine to the civil ceremony at the register office.

Willow shivered, scolding herself for having picked a wedding dress unsuited to autumn, but then she had been living on a dizzy merry-go-round of change and struggling to adapt throughout the past week in Jai’s London home. Agreeing to marry Jai had been like jumping on an express train that hurtled along at breakneck speed. He had pointed out that getting married in Chandrapur would entail a solid week of festivities while getting married discreetly in London would only require an hour and a couple of witnesses.

She had spent most of the week with Hari because Jai had been busy working. She had, however, seen Jai at mealtimes and had tripped over him in the nursery more than once. Surrounded by a bevy of admiring nursemaids, Jai was attempting to get to know his son and Hari was thriving on the amount of attention he was receiving. Willow could already see that the biggest problem of her son’s new lifestyle would be ensuring that Hari did not grow up into an over-indulged young man, unacquainted with the word ‘no.’

Her wedding gown left her arms and throat bare. With cap sleeves, a crystal-beaded corset top and a sparkly tulle skirt, it was a fairy-tale dress and very bridal. In retrospect, Willow was embarrassed about the choice she had made and worried that it was too excessive for the occasion. But who knew if she would ever get married again? And when she was faced with choosing her one and possibly only wedding dress, she had gone with her heart.

Luckily, she had had Shelley’s support when a stylist had arrived at the house and informed her that she had been instructed to provide Willow with a whole new wardrobe. A huge wardrobe of clothes tailored to fit Willow had been delivered within forty-eight hours, outfits chosen to shine at any possible occasion and many of the options decidedly grand. Hari now also rejoiced in many changes of exclusive baby clothing. Jai, Willow reckoned ruefully, was rewriting their history and redesigning his bride into a far more fashionable and exclusive version of herself. Did he appreciate that that determination to improve her appearance only revealed that he had previously found her unpolished and gauche?

She walked into the anteroom with Shelley by her side. Jai approached her with his best friend, Sher, and performed an introduction. Sher was the Nizam of Tharistan and he and Jai had been childhood playmates. Sher was tall, black-haired and as sleekly handsome as a Bollywood movie star. Beside her, she felt Shelley breathe in deep and slow as though she was bracing herself and she almost laughed at her friend’s susceptibility to a good-looking man until it occurred to her that she was even more susceptible to Jai.

‘You chose a beautiful dress,’ Jai murmured. ‘It will look most appropriate in the photographs.’

‘What photographs?’ she asked with a frown.

‘I have organised a photographer to record the occasion. Brides and grooms always want to capture such precious memories on film, I believe,’ he advanced calmly. ‘A photo will be released to the local media in Chandrapur and some day Hari may wish to look at them.’

Willow grasped that he had wanted her to look suitably bridal in the photographs and understood that there was nothing personal in the compliment. He was simply keen for her to visibly fit the bridal role so that the haste that had prompted their marriage was less obvious.

They entered the room where the ceremony was to take place. Willow focussed on a rather tired-looking display of flowers in a cheap vase and tensed as Jai threaded the wedding ring onto her finger. She turned in the circle of his arms, thinking numbly, I am married to Jai now, but it didn’t feel remotely real. It felt like a fevered dream, much as that night in his arms had felt.

It felt a little more real when she shivered on the steps outside and posed for the photographer that awaited them. Jai smiled down at her, that killer smile of his that made her stupid heart flutter like a trapped bird inside her chest, and she remembered him smiling down at her that night in the aftermath of satisfaction. And, of course, Jai was pleased, she told herself ruefully – he had accomplished exactly what he wanted for Hari.

They returned to the house for a light lunch. Hari was brought down to meet Sher and then Sher offered to give Shelley a lift home.

‘Does he have a limousine?’ Willow asked with amusement in her clear eyes after she had hugged her scatty friend and promised to invite her out to Chandrapur for her annual holiday.

‘I should think so. Sher made his fortune in the film world before he went into business,’ Jai told her. ‘And we need to make tracks now for the airport.’

‘I’ll get changed.’ But, still immobile, Willow hovered in the hall as Jai closed the distance between them and reached for her, his eyes as bright as a silvery blue polar flame.

‘It is a shame that you have to take off that dress without me to do the honours,’ Jai husked soft and low, his fiery attention locking so intently to the luscious pout of her pink lips that a convulsive shiver rippled through her slender frame. ‘But if I joined you now, if I even dared to touch you, we would never make the flight this side of tomorrow.’

Her breath feathered dangerously in her throat, her entire body quickening and pulsing in response to that heated appraisal and the smooth eroticism of those words while he kept his lean, powerful frame carefully separate from hers. Her five senses were screaming with a hunger that hurt, the achingly familiar scent of him, which only made her want to be closer to taste him, the tingling in her fingertips at the prospect of touching him, the rasp of his dark deep voice in her ears throwing up the recollection of his ecstatic groan in the darkness of the night. It was an overwhelmingly potent combination.

‘Go upstairs, soniyaa,’ Jai urged thickly.

On trembling legs, Willow spun away, only to get a few steps and halt again to turn back to him. ‘What does that mean?’

‘In Hindi? Beautiful one,’ he translated.

Shaken, Willow climbed the stairs, breathless from the spell he had cast over her, the sheer shocking effect of that high-voltage sexuality focussed on her again. And yet he had not touched her once since she had moved into his house, had left her alone in her bed, maintaining a polite and pleasant attitude without a hint of intimacy when they met at occasional mealtimes. Why was that? Why had he kept his distance even after she had agreed to marry him?

It had made Willow feel that his former attraction to her had been a short-lived thing, a flash in the pan, one of those weird, almost inexplicable incidents that struck only in a moment of temptation. Now it seemed that Jai was much more drawn to her than he had been willing to reveal but, while he had maintained his reserve, he had damaged her self-esteem because the awareness that she still craved him when he did not seem to return that compliment or share that weakness had felt humiliating.

After checking on Hari, who was enjoying a comfortable nap after his midday feed, Willow changed into one of her new outfits, an elegant fitted sheath dress and slender high heels teamed with a jacket for the cooler temperatures of London.

She had never travelled in a private jet before and Jai’s was spectacularly well-appointed in terms of comfort and space. She sat down beside Hari’s crib in the sleeping compartment and fell deeply, dreamlessly asleep. Jai glanced in at the two of them and when he saw her curled up on the bed next to his son’s crib, his chest tightened, and he breathed in deep and slow. They were his wife and child, his family now, and, in spite of what he had expected, he didn’t feel trapped. No, so intense was his hunger for her that he couldn’t think further than the night ahead when that raw hunger would finally be sated.

Willow’s strawberry-blond waves tumbled across the pristine pillow, her soft mouth tranquil, her heart-shaped face relaxed in slumber. She was a beauty and his tribe of relatives would greet her like manna from heaven for they had long awaited his marriage. Hari would simply be the cherry on the top of an award-winning cake.

Willow wakened to the news that they were landing at Chandrapur in half an hour and with the time difference it was almost lunchtime. Hari occupied the first fifteen minutes until Shanaya took over and the remainder of the time Willow hurtled around showering and changing.

Jai’s bodyguards moved round them as their party emerged from the VIP channel and a roar of sound met her ears. Dozens of photographers were leaning over the barriers with cameras and shouting questions. The flashes blinded her. Until that unsettling moment she had forgotten how famous Jai was in his birth country. Single as well as very good-looking and immensely successful, he was highly photogenic and a media dream. His sports exploits on the polo field, his business achievements and the gloss of his playboy lifestyle provided plenty of useful gossip-column fodder.

‘Sorry about that. I should’ve timed the announcement of our marriage better,’ Jai breathed above her head as he steered her down a quiet corridor and back out to the sunlit tarmac. The heat of midday was more than she had expected as she scanned the clear blue sky above them and she was relieved to climb into the waiting vehicle that, Jai assured her, would quickly whisk them to journey’s end.

‘Where’s Hari?’ she gasped worriedly.

‘In the car behind us. I often make this transfer by helicopter but Shanaya doesn’t trust a helicopter with a child as precious as Hari.’ Jai chuckled.

Precious, Willow savoured, enjoying that word being linked to her son. A crush of noisy traffic surrounded them, and she peered out of the windows. There were a lot of trucks and cars, colourful tuk-tuks painted with bright advertisements and many motorbikes with women in bright saris riding side-saddle behind the driver in what looked like a very precarious position. Horns blared, vehicles moved off and then ground to a sudden halt again to allow a herd of sacred bulls to wander placidly through the traffic. Bursts of loud music filtered into the car as they drove along beside a lake. By the side of the dusty road she saw dancers gyrating.

‘It’s a festival day and the streets are crammed. Luckily our palace isn’t far,’ Jai remarked.

Our palace.

Willow almost smiled at the designation, for she had never dreamt that those two words used together would ever feature in her future. ‘So, you’re taking me to where your family’s story began—’

‘No. My family’s story began at the fortress in the fourteenth century. Look out of the window,’ Jai urged. ‘See the fort on the crags above the city…’

Willow looked up in wonder at the vast red sandstone fortress sprawling across the cliffs above the city. ‘My ancestor first invaded Chandrapur in the thirteenth century. It took his family a hundred and forty years of assaults and sieges but eventually they conquered the fort. We will visit it next week,’ he promised. ‘At present it’s full of tourists…we would have no privacy.’

‘Then, where are we going now?’

‘The Lake Palace,’ Jai told her lazily. ‘It’s surrounded by water and a private wildlife reserve and immensely private. It is where I make my home.’

‘So you like…have a choice of palaces to use?’ Willow was gobsmacked by the concept of having a selection.

‘The third one is half palace, half hotel, built by my great-grandfather in high deco style in the twenties. We will visit there too,’ Jai assured her calmly.

‘Three? And that’s it…here?’ Willow checked.

‘There is also the Monsoon Palace. A very much loved and spoilt wife in the sixteenth century accounts for that one,’ Jai proffered almost apologetically. ‘I leave it to the tourists.’

‘You own an awful lot of property,’ Willow remarked numbly.

‘And now you own it too…as Sher reminded me, I didn’t ask you to sign a pre-nuptial agreement,’ Jai parried, shocking and startling her with that comment.

‘We did get married in a hurry,’ Willow conceded ruefully.

‘Let us hope that neither of us live to regret that omission,’ Jai murmured without expression.

‘I’m not greedy. If we ever split up,’ Willow told him in a rush, rising above the sinking sensation in her stomach at that concept, ‘I won’t ever try to take what’s not mine. I’m very conscious that I entered this marriage with nothing and all I would ask for is enough to keep Hari and I somewhere secure and comfortable.’

‘My biggest fear would be losing daily access to my son,’ Jai confided with a harsh edge to his dark, deep voice.

Willow suppressed a shiver. ‘Let’s not even talk about it,’ she muttered, turning to look at a quartet of women, their beautiful veils floating in the breeze as they carried giant metal water containers on their heads.

On both sides of the road stretched the desert, where only groves of acacia bushes, milk thistle and spiky grass grew in the sand. It was a hard, unforgiving land where water was of vital importance and only a couple of miles further on, where irrigation had been made possible, lay an oasis of small fields of crops and greenery, which utterly transformed the landscape.

His hand covered her tense fingers. ‘We won’t let anything split us up,’ Jai told her. ‘Hari’s happiness depends on us staying together.’

‘Did you miss your mother so much?’ Willow heard herself ask without even thinking.

‘I was a baby when she deserted my father and I have no memory of her,’ Jai admitted flatly as he removed his hand from hers. ‘I met her only once as an adult. I don’t talk about my mother…ever.’

Willow swallowed painfully hard as her cheeks burned in receipt of that snub and she knew that she wouldn’t be raising that thorny topic again.