The Dowry Bride (21 page)

Megha read and reread the letter, then handed it to Kiran. Quickly scanning it, Kiran frowned. “I had no idea my uncle could write this well.”

They both puzzled over the letter a while longer. Megha put it down and settled back against the cushion without uttering a word. When the shock began to wear off she turned to Kiran. “Can you believe that? Quiet little Appaji has been keeping so many secrets all these years. A bank account and lung problems? But then I always thought he was secretive.”

“He seems to care about you. Look what he’s done for you, Megha.”

“He was the only person in that house who showed me any kindness.” She glanced at the letter and sighed. “I can’t keep his check though—I’m going to return it.”

“Don’t do that, Megha. You’ll hurt his feelings. Maybe you can invest the money in something useful.”

She sent him a cynical glance. “What do I know about investing?”

“I can show you how to make your money grow.”

“I’ve never had one rupee to call my own in my entire life. Now I have one
lakh.
I don’t even know how it feels to handle that much money.”

He chuckled. “You’ll know very soon. In fact, you should open a bank account first.”

“I can’t go to a bank!”

Kiran patted her hand. “Don’t panic, Megha. You don’t have to go anywhere. I’ll bring the forms home. I’ll help you complete them and I’ll deposit the check for you. Then we’ll go over some investment options and you can decide what you want to do.” He put the letter in her hand once again. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

She rose to her feet. “I’ll need to think about this, Kiran. I don’t know if I want to keep the money. I feel like a thief, taking what rightfully belongs to Shanti.”

“The decision is entirely yours, Megha.” He picked up the check from the sofa and handed it to her. “Keep this in a safe place in the meantime.”

When she went to bed a little while later, she felt exhausted. She hadn’t done much around the house other than wash and iron some clothes, and yet she felt limp. It had to be the disturbing day she’d had. As she slipped between the sheets, her emotions were a tangled knot. Anger, sadness, fear, gratitude, and uncertainty warred with each other in her wide-awake mind.

She wondered if Kiran, too, was lying awake in the drawing room. Poor soul, he had permanently given up his bedroom to her. The sofa had to be very uncomfortable for a tall man like him, but he never complained. Whenever she brought up the subject of swapping beds, he insisted that he had never been more comfortable in his life. Liar! He was being such a generous host.

Megha still couldn’t bring herself to believe that Appaji had sent her money. She was cross with him even now for not having told her about his suspicions regarding Amma. But then, could she really blame him? No one stood a chance against the charging bull named Amma. It was ironic that the check should come from the very family that had hounded Megha and her parents for money. Her own father-in-law was now giving her a dowry so she could marry someone else in the future.

She could some day be a dowry bride—a somewhat used and jaded dowry bride—if some foolish man out there was willing to have her. Hysterical laughter bubbled up inside her at the absurdity of it, but she suppressed it for fear of disturbing Kiran.

That night she had the dream again. She must have screamed or made some sort of noise, because she woke up to find Kiran standing beside her, his face filled with concern, whispering soothing things to her. After a while she convinced him to go back to his own bed, assuring him that she was going to be all right.

But she was not all right. She thought she had learned to handle the frightening dreams that continued to haunt her. After all these weeks the image of her would-be burning was still raw. Even during her waking hours the sheer horror of it tormented her, making her break out in a sweat. She couldn’t talk to Kiran about it. It was too awkward to discuss, much too personal. Although he knew some of what had happened the night she’d escaped, she had still not told him much about the nightmares that plagued her, or the kind of treatment she had suffered at Amma’s hands, or even her life with the Ramnaths for that matter. It was both painful and embarrassing to talk to him about that aspect of her married life.

On a few occasions she had caught Kiran looking at her with genuine anxiety in his discerning eyes. She knew he was aware of what was going on in her mind to some degree. But she also knew he was too much of a gentleman to pry into her private hell.

Tonight she realized her demons were still very much alive and well. Amma and Suresh still possessed the power to drag her back, soak her in kerosene and light a match to her. She felt the deep urge once again to pick herself up and run.

Questions popped into her mind. Was Palgaum safe for her anymore? As long as she remained in Kiran’s house, was Kiran safe? Falling in love with him had complicated the situation to no end. Along with her own safety, could she put Kiran’s safety on the line? What could she do to assure his security without seeming ungrateful?

She had to make a decision soon. Very soon.

K
iran’s brain churned with troubled thoughts as he tried to settle himself on the sofa once again. He wasn’t entirely sure if it was wise to leave Megha alone yet. She was still shaking from the nightmare when he’d left the bedroom a while ago.

That must have been some hellish nightmare. Hearing the muffled scream emerging from the bedroom, Kiran had rushed in and found her thrashing around like a small animal caught in a trap. Probably mistaking him for the demon in her dream, she had fought him with all her might. It had taken considerable strength to subdue her. In the end, it was he who was scared out of his skin. Megha had some deep emotional scars that would probably stay with her for life.

What had the Ramnaths done to her that she suffered so much? Or was it something that went back to her childhood? She was very close-mouthed about her past other than telling him a little about that night she had escaped from Suresh and Amma.

Despite his conviction that he was Megha’s savior, doubts and misgivings scratched at his mind. Reality had begun to rear its pragmatic head. Appaji’s letter and the check had jolted Kiran into thinking hard. Suresh, who had started to fade more and more into the background in the last several days, was suddenly looming large once again.

Of course, Amma’s hulking presence constantly hovered over them. This afternoon’s phone call had made it all the more real. His own breath had stopped for a second when she had called him at his office. Far from feeling satisfied with her explanation, Kiran was uneasy. He knew his aunt well enough to sense that she was up to something again—her answer had sounded too rehearsed. Had she guessed about Megha’s presence in his house and called to verify it? Had she somehow discovered Appaji’s secret letter to Megha?

Was it wise for him to shelter Megha like this? Was he doing her more harm than good? She obviously needed psychiatric counseling for her recurring nightmares and her growing paranoia. Then there was her reputation to consider. No matter what his personal feelings for her, Megha was right about one thing: it was unacceptable for a bachelor to have a young female living with him under these circumstances. But then, what other choice did he have? All the options had been examined and reexamined a number of times and they kept coming up empty.

But now, because of Appaji’s eccentric sense of duty and generosity, Megha had some money. Kiran couldn’t decide whether it was a blessing or a curse. He could no longer use Megha’s lack of resources as an excuse to keep her in his home, but on the other hand, for the first time in her life she had some financial independence. Megha could now afford to leave town and live somewhere on her own. But she had neither the maturity nor the experience to make a career for herself, and her money wouldn’t last long.

In the meantime, Megha was still his responsibility. He had promised her she could stay as long as she needed to. And he wanted her to stay, under his roof, under his protection. But it was also dangerous ground. His attraction to her continued to grow and trouble him. As it was, he had to nearly beat himself to stay away from her.

His eyes wandered to the closed bedroom door. Night after night, the temptation to join her in that big bed was hard to resist. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, trying to let reason replace desire. She needed him, not as a man but as a guardian. All his protective instincts were on full alert—he wanted to take care of her. His male instincts, however, were another matter—they were going completely crazy. Were his erotic feelings tantamount to moral turpitude? Was his need to touch and love her grossly inappropriate?

Well, of course it was, he told himself in silent exasperation. He couldn’t take advantage of her helplessness. Never!

Then he heard the click. Shifting, he saw the bedroom door open by slow degrees. His pulse shot up. In the semi-darkness, he watched in silence Megha’s nightgown-clad figure tiptoe around the dining table and disappear into the kitchen. He heard the refrigerator door open and its faint light illuminated the dining area for a second. Then the door closed with a muffled whoosh.

She probably needed some cold water.

With his breath reined in tight, he waited for her to come out of the kitchen and creep back to the bedroom. No sense letting on that he was awake and watching her. Several minutes later there was no sign of her. Finally, convinced that something was wrong, he threw the cover aside and rose.

To make sure he didn’t startle her, he called out to her softly. “Megha, are you all right?” His question met with silence. “Megha?”

This time he heard a slight rustle, so he proceeded to the kitchen, calling her name again. He found her standing beside the sink, leaning against the counter with a glass of water in her hand, staring into space. Her stillness told him she was lost in some private world.

Moving to stand directly in front of her, he pried the nearly empty glass from her hand and put it on the counter, then took both her hands in his. “Did you have another bad dream?” He kept his voice quiet and gentle.

Megha shook her head.

“What is it then? You can’t sleep?”

Shaking her head once again, she seemed to emerge from her trance. Her eyes came to focus on him. In the dim glow of the streetlight filtering through the window, Kiran couldn’t quite see the expression in them, but he sensed that Appaji’s letter had something to do with her present condition. All he could feel was her need for comfort and assurance. So he dropped her hands and placed his on her shoulders. “Tell me what’s bothering you. Maybe I can help.”

Her hands came up and she flattened them against his chest, as if to push him away, but after a moment’s hesitation she sighed and laid her forehead on them, tucking her head under his chin in a childlike move. “I’m so confused, Kiran.”

“About what?”

“Until last night I had no choice but to stay here, but now I have some money. What do I do with it? If I go off on my own, what will I do? I’ve never held a job. I’ve been alone in my whole life.”

Oddly his thoughts were along the same lines as Megha’s, Kiran reflected. Now she no longer needed him in the most desperate way. And yet, if she moved out of his life, what would become of her? He was just as anxious about her options as she was, perhaps more, but he couldn’t very well tell her that.

She looked like a lost child. What she seemed to need was someone to tell her everything would turn out all right. So he said, “Listen, you don’t have to make any decisions right away. Take some time; do some serious thinking. You and I can look at some options and then you can decide what’s best. Meanwhile, consider this your home.”

“You’ve been more than generous, Kiran. But I can’t stay here forever.”

“There’s plenty of time to think about this. You shouldn’t rush into anything you’ll regret later.” On an impulse he added, “And don’t forget Amma is still out there.”

Amma’s name seemed to send a shiver through Megha. She appeared to surrender to her need for closeness, so Kiran put his arms around her. Never having held her before, his body reacted with a pleasant tremor of its own. Damn! She felt small and soft, so defenseless.

An odd mixture of tenderness, protectiveness and primal desire filled Kiran. This was what he’d been contemplating, dreaming about, fantasizing over for the longest time. Now that Megha stood within the circle of his arms, he realized that reality was far more enchanting than his wildest fantasies. And far more frightening—like the nervous apprehension of gazing at something beyond one’s reach, and wondering if it’s real or just a fleeting illusion. And whether it will crumble when touched.

Oh, she was real all right! Her fragrance was unmistakable, her warm breath on his chest disturbingly real. He tried to remind himself that she was off limits to him. Megha was hurt and vulnerable; she needed his sympathy and support, not his less than honorable attentions.

She stirred, and he wondered if she was going to push him away this time. If so, perhaps it was for the best. Instead, she lowered her hands from his chest and wrapped her arms around his waist, hesitantly at first, then more firmly, pressing closer against him.

That final gesture on her part was his undoing. Was she trying to snuggle closer for warmth and comfort or was she feeling the sensual, pulsing current between them as he was? He closed his eyes and hoped she couldn’t hear his heart pounding, his breath sounding labored. Despite his resolve not to go any further, he felt compelled to place a soft kiss on the top of her head. Her hair was silky and smelled sweet. So bloody irresistible!

Abruptly she disentangled herself and pulled away from him. But her hand lingered on his arm. A puzzled look came over her face and her hand trembled. Had he gone too far with her? Had he repulsed her with that foolish kiss? “I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry, Megha,” he mumbled.

But she continued to look bewildered. Her hand remained on his arm. Was she trying to assess his expression? Was she wondering why his arm wobbled just as much as her hand?

A light seemed to flicker in her eyes. In that instant Kiran realized that Megha had felt something during that embrace—perhaps not with the same intensity as he had, but he could sense her rigidity, her pulse picking up momentum.

The electricity between them intensified then sparked.

Kiran held Megha with his eyes, a silent message in them she couldn’t ignore. Was that desire burning in his gaze? Love? Anticipation? So, Harini had been right in her assessment of Kiran’s interest in her. Her own instincts were right on target, too.

Something inside Megha snapped. She knew she was treading on dangerous ground, and yet…recklessness seemed to override prudence.

Kiran must have experienced the same desperation to touch her because he pulled her back into his arms and lowered his mouth to hers. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, “but I have to do this.”

The tension that had built up and hummed for so long between them finally broke loose. Guilt and trepidation were forgotten as their feelings for each other buzzed and swirled around them in circles.

As they kissed, Kiran’s hands caressed her, tenderly at first, then with rough urgency. One large hand curled around her nape, the other traveled to her back, her hips, her shoulders, her breasts, touching, stroking, exploring. “Forgive me, Megha—I can’t help myself.”

Lost in the moment, Megha vaguely wondered why Kiran was so apologetic. She was participating in it just as much as he. “It’s okay,” she said and looped her arms around his neck. She puzzled over why she had never experienced this kind of physical and emotional high with Suresh. But then Suresh had never kissed her like this, held her like this, or touched her like this. This was different. And although her brain warned that it was wrong and immoral, her heart said otherwise. Casting all other thoughts aside, she responded to Kiran with a curious hunger.

In the next minute, Kiran broke the kiss, making Megha wonder if she’d repulsed him in some way. Had she behaved like a wanton slut? But she was caught by surprise when he put one arm behind her back, the other beneath her knees and hoisted her in his arms.

He was taking her to the bedroom. She knew it; she saw it in his face.

Kiran was a large, strong man and it felt wonderful to be cradled in such powerful arms. Despite their obvious strength they held her with the utmost care. Kiran’s eyes looking into hers as he strode toward the bedroom had an intense, provocative gleam in them. Suresh was so puny he could hardly lift a log of wood, let alone his wife. And yet Kiran held her like she weighed next to nothing.

He carried her to the bedroom, all the while mesmerizing her with his gaze. She couldn’t have broken the eye contact if she tried. A distant bell of alarm clanged somewhere in her brain. But at the moment only her need to stay close to Kiran prevailed. Her other life was merely a blurred and unpleasant dream. This was now and it was infinitely more desirable. More seductive. More captivating. She wanted this, wanted Kiran as she’d never wanted anything in her life.

In her eyes, Kiran put all those movie heroes to shame. Those Mills and Boon men paled in comparison to him. Kiran was her personal hero. And at the moment he was all hers—all six feet of hard muscle and hot, captivating maleness. A ripple of excitement shot through her veins.

In the bedroom, he put her gently on her feet and caught her once more in his arms. “Megha, are you feeling what I’m feeling?” he asked.

Words failed her. All she could do was stare at him. Sensual energy flowed over her, setting every nerve on full alert, yet she remained speechless.
Yes, I’m feeling what you’re feeling and more. Much, much more!

“I want to make love with you, Megha—” He halted, probably because her eyes turned wide. Then he continued, “But only if you want it as much as I do.” His voice sounded hoarse as he unbraided her dense mass of hair, lifted a handful and watched it sift through his fingers. “You have lovely hair…so soft…like silk.”

A smile touched Megha’s lips. She’d never paid much attention to her hair, and yet, the way Kiran was fingering it, admiring it, it was one of the most erotic gestures in the world.

For a moment, she was almost consumed by the powerful longing to surrender completely to him. The need was startling in its intensity. She’d never felt such an overwhelming hunger to make love before. This kind of yearning was new to her. She tried to think hard for a second, even to fight the wave of desire, but realized it was a losing battle. Her feelings for Kiran would win in the end. She loved this man deeply and she wanted him.

Watching the conflicting emotions doing battle in her eyes, he cupped her face in one firm hand. “I know what’s going on in your head. I’m just as confused as you.”

“You, too?” But he was always so decisive, so sure of himself.

Kiran smiled at her. “Yes. But let me love you, Megha. Let me give you what you need.”

Oh dear God, she wanted that, too. Was her need for love so nakedly visible in her eyes that he could read it with such clarity? Whatever, it was too compelling to deny him or herself. Her body was already trembling with anticipation. She nodded yes.