Lynn Harris - Up Close And Personal - Captive but Forbidden / Unnoticed and Untouched / Revelations of the Night Before

She hadn’t heard any cars arrive, but she’d napped until nearly five-thirty before she’d awakened with a start and hurriedly gotten dressed. Now, as she glided through the sprawling house, following her nose toward the delicious scents of curry and spice, she realized there was no sound except the occasional distant voice speaking in Konkani.

The dining room was empty, but a long wall of wooden doors was opened to the terrace. She stepped out, expecting to find a small gathering of people. Perhaps Raj had invited powerful friends who could somehow help her.

But there was no one. Nothing except a long wooden table set for two with hibiscus blossoms and gleaming crystal, china and silverware. Torches flickered around the perimeter and the sound of the sea washing the beach drifted up from below. A lone man stood at one end of the terrace. She knew who it was even before he turned.

Her heart caught at the sight of him in an ornate green silk sherwani coat over traditional trousers. His dark hair had been cut since she’d last seen him this morning, the ends no longer curling over his collar. He looked like a maharaja, so exotic and handsome and regal that he took her breath away.

“Where is everyone?” she asked, because she could think of nothing else to say.

He came forward and poured a glass of wine for her. She accepted it, her body reacting with a shiver as his fingers brushed against hers ever so lightly.

“It’s just us tonight,” he said, his voice wrapping around her senses, caressing them.

“My staff?”

“Dinner in their cottages, I assume.”

She’d met with them earlier when she’d spent part of the afternoon making phone calls about the situation in Aliz. They were all tired, all stressed by what had happened. And perhaps a bit regretful that they’d been with her in London. If they’d been at home in Aliz, they’d be swept into this change from the inside and simply riding the wave until it came to rest onshore. But because they were with her, they were now outsiders, too.

Veronica took a sip of the wine, frustration and guilt hammering through her.

“Don’t beat yourself up, Veronica,” Raj said gently.

“What makes you think I was doing so?”

He shrugged, his golden eyes gleaming in the torchlight. “Call it a hunch.”

“Is anyone else coming?” she asked, and then felt stupid since he’d just informed her it would only be the two of them.

“No,” he said, the corners of his mouth lifting in a faint smile.

He pulled a chair out for her and then sat in another nearby. At that moment, a waiter came outside with a tray. There were many small silver dishes containing food in red sauces, green sauces and bright amber sauces. There was also creamy raita and naan bread, as well as fragrant basmati rice. Fried fish, fried prawns and salads of purple onion slices with tomatoes and cucumber rounded out the variety. And then there was chutney and thin, crispy yellow papadum .

If she weren’t so hungry, she’d get up and go back to her room. She was supposed to be angry with him, not companionable. But the food smelled too good, and the night air was warm and fresh.

And she just didn’t feel like fighting with him again after the stress of the past twenty-four hours.

“Fish curry is a Goan specialty,” he said after she’d filled her plate with a bit of everything.

She took a bite and the flavors exploded on her tongue—the spice, the fresh fish, the tomatoes and hints of coconut milk. “It’s delicious,” she said.

It was awkward at first, but eventually they started to talk about subjects that weren’t sensitive in the least. They avoided anything personal, avoided Aliz or what had happened between them last night. There was even a discussion of Bollywood movies—Raj hadn’t seen many, and Veronica was surprised.

“I was born in Britain, but raised in America,” he explained. “And then I joined the military. I haven’t spent a lot of time watching any movies, much less Indian ones.”

“How did you like the military?” she asked, dipping a piece of naan into a masala sauce before popping it into her mouth.

He didn’t look at her. “Well enough,” he said. “It got me where I am today.”

She could picture him in military fatigues, silver dog tags hanging from a chain around his neck. He was tall, broad, tough—the kind of man to whom a weapon was an extension of his body and not just a foreign object. It’s what made him so good, she realized. And so lonely.

“So where is home for you? Where is the place you most identify with?”

She wasn’t sure, but it seemed as if he stiffened. And then he was looking at her sharply before he smoothed his expression. “I’m a mutt,” he said. “I have no specific home.”

“A mutt?”

“Someone of mixed ancestry, like a dog that you can’t quite tell what the dominant breed is.”

“But you live in London,” she said, trying to approach it from a different angle. “Is that the place you prefer over the rest?”

“I don’t prefer anywhere. I go where I want to go.”

“Like here?”

“Precisely.”

She took another sip of wine. “But what about when you’re ready for a family? Where will you settle then?”

His eyes were hard, glittering. “Don’t, Veronica,” he said. “Don’t take this conversation down that road.”

She tilted her chin up to glare at him icily, though her stomach was doing flips. “Don’t flatter yourself. I was simply making conversation, not trying to set up house with you.”

He shoved a hand through his hair and leaned back on his chair. The torches crackled, the sea churned, and he was silent for a long moment. “It’s complicated,” he finally said. “I’m complicated.”

“Aren’t we all.” She said it as a statement, not a question, and he looked at her, appraising her.

“You certainly are,” he said softly. And then he took a drink of his wine. “Family is not for me,” he said. “It’s not what I want.”

Her heart pinched in her chest. Yes, she did want a family—a husband, children—but she didn’t want them right this moment. Nor was she naive enough to think that one night of sex with Raj made him her ideal man, her love for all time. But the fact he could state so emphatically that a family was out of the question …

Yes, it bothered her. Because it seemed as if men never thought of her in terms of family life. They thought of her for sex. For uncomplicated, uncommitted relationships based on physical attraction.

There was nothing deeper. There never had been. And that saddened her.

She set her napkin on the table, pushed back and got to her feet. “Thank you for a wonderful meal,” she said. “But I think I’ve had enough excitement for one day. It’s time to turn in.”

“Veronica,” he said, standing, holding his hand out as if to stop her.

She turned slightly, her gaze not on him but on a point behind him. “It’s okay, Raj,” she said. “I understand. I’m just tired.”

“It has nothing to do with you. I just don’t feel the need for those things. I’m happy the way I am.”

“Are you?” she said, her voice stiff even though she tried to make it casual.

He looked as if he pitied her. She hated it, because she knew what he was thinking. It made her wish she’d never told him about the baby. She didn’t want his pity. She didn’t want anyone’s pity. She didn’t deserve it.

“Not everyone needs the same things out of life. I have money and freedom. I need nothing more.”

“How lonely that sounds,” she said. “And what happens in twenty years when you wake up and realize you have no one who cares?”

He shook his head slowly. “You’ll find him, Veronica.”