Take One Arranged Marriage… (5 page)

S
EVERAL
hours later, Tara rolled over in bed and drew the covers around her a little more closely. So far the night had been the most interesting one in her short life. She looked up at Vikram, who’d propped himself up on one elbow and was gently trailing a finger down her cheek.

‘Was it very bad?’ he asked.

She shook her head. ‘It hurt like blazes in the beginning, that’s all,’ she said, and buried her face in his shoulder. ‘I was awful, wasn’t I?’

All she could think was that he’d now be comparing her unfavourably with every other woman he’d ever been with—probably even regretting marrying her.

Vikram’s hand paused for a second, and then continued on its way down her bare shoulder. ‘No, you weren’t,’ he said, kissing the nape
of her neck. ‘Tonight was probably one of the best nights of my life. I only wish it had been better for you.’

So, all right, he wasn’t complaining. But he might still be comparing. Tara peered at him in the dark, trying to make out his expression. But it was impossible—he was just a black hulking silhouette. She hadn’t let him put on a night light because she’d been embarrassed, and the only light in the room came from outside.

The room they were in faced towards the steel factory where both their fathers worked, and the night sky blazed with light every time a load of slag was dumped out of the huge furnace. An almost perfectly timed flash lit up the room at that point. Filtered through the curtains, the light was a pale unearthly orange, lighting up the planes and angles of Vikram’s face. His usually rather hard expression had been replaced by something that was almost tender, Tara noted. And his torso, as the glimpse she’d got during the wedding had promised, was amazing.

‘Maybe I need practice?’ she ventured finally, doing her best to keep her voice from squeaking as his hand burrowed under the covers.

‘Practice will help,’ he agreed solemnly. ‘Lots of it, preferably. You can count on me.’

The room was almost completely dark now, and Tara welcomed him with open arms as he bent to cover her lips with his.

Waking up the next morning was tough. Tara felt a large hand shaking her shoulder and burrowed even further down under the covers. ‘Not morning yet,’ she muttered.

‘Should I get you breakfast in bed?’ Vikram asked.

Her eyes flew open as she realised where she was. ‘Damn,’ she said, sitting up, careful to keep the covers around her. It was evidently past nine, and she blushed at the thought of having to go out and face knowing looks from the rest of the household.

Vikram had been up for a while, evidently—his hair was damp from the shower and he was wearing jeans and a T-shirt. The muscles in his shoulders and chest strained against the thin material of the T-shirt as he moved, and Tara felt her mouth suddenly go dry.

‘I’ll give you a few minutes to yourself,’ Vikram said. ‘Will you be able to find your way to the dining room?’

It wasn’t a facetious question—the bungalow
was large, and had several interlinked verandas and corridors that it would be easy to lose one’s way in.

‘I’ll manage,’ Tara said, waiting until he left the room before she got out of bed and ran across the room to bolt the door behind him.

Her body ached in unfamiliar places, but her lips curved up in a smile. So far, so good, she thought. Vikram had turned out to be a surprisingly gentle and considerate lover—and she’d been right. All she’d needed was some more practice. She was positively looking forward to the honeymoon now.

Meeting Vikram’s parents on the ‘morning after’ turned out to be less embarrassing than she’d thought it would be—they were both acting perfectly normal, with no knowing looks, and neither of them asked her if she’d slept well.

‘I’m sorry we didn’t wait for you,’ Mr Krishnan said, smiling at her across the breakfast table. ‘Vikram wasn’t sure how long you’d take, and I need to leave for work in little while.’

‘You work way too hard,’ Mrs Krishnan scolded. ‘You could have taken the day off.
No wonder Vikram works the crazy hours he does with you for an example.’

‘Compared to Vikram, I barely work,’ Mr Krishnan said drily. ‘We should all count ourselves lucky that it’s not
him
rushing off to work the day after his wedding.’

Mrs Krishnan frowned. ‘That will all change now that he’s married,’ she said. ‘Tara will make sure he gets home on time every day.’

‘Assuming she wants me home on time every day,’ Vikram said.

Tara barely restrained herself from saying that she didn’t care what hours he kept as long as he was home at night.

‘Of course she does,’ Mrs Krishnan said, and gave Tara an affectionate pat on the hand. ‘We’re really lucky to have you in the family. Vijay would have been so thrilled … He used to tease Vikram all the time, saying no one would want to marry a lawyer.’

There was a short silence, and Tara was about to ask who Vijay was when she looked across at Mrs Krishnan. She was sitting very still, her plate untouched in front of her, as tears slowly welled up in her eyes. Mr Krishnan got up and gently put his arm around her.

‘Vyjanthi,’ he said warningly. ‘Don’t start getting depressed now.’

Mrs Krishnan nodded and made a valiant attempt to control her expression, moving the tea things around the table and not looking up. Then her face crumpled, and she muttered, ‘I’m sorry …’ She hurried out of the room.

Vikram put down his coffee cup and went after her, leaving Tara and Mr Krishnan looking at each other.

‘I’m so sorry, my dear,’ Mr Krishnan said, recovering first and patting Tara’s arm awkwardly. ‘Do excuse my wife. The strain’s been a bit too much for her. Ever since Vijay … It’s been very difficult for her.’

He evidently expected her to know who Vijay was, and Tara wasn’t sure how to break it to him that she didn’t have a clue.

Vikram returned a few minutes later. ‘Mum’s lying down,’ he said in answer to his father’s enquiring look. ‘She’s completely wrung out. She wanted to come back and say goodbye to Tara before we leave, but I said I’d apologise on her behalf.’

Mr Krishnan sighed heavily. ‘I’ll go to her,’ he said. ‘Have a good trip, both of you.’ He shook hands with Vikram and gave Tara a fatherly
pat on the head before he left the room in search of his wife.

‘We should leave in half an hour,’ Vikram said, not looking at Tara. ‘The trip to Pench is going to be pretty tiring.’

‘I’ll go and get ready, then,’ Tara replied, and then, tentatively, ‘Vikram … why was your mum so upset?’

‘I’m sorry. I should have told you,’ Vikram said, his voice stiff. ‘I had a younger brother who died in an accident three years ago. My mother’s not over it fully yet.’

He turned towards her, and Tara’s instinctively sympathetic response died in her throat when she saw the rigid expression on his face. It was as if the Vikram she thought she knew had suddenly been whisked away, to be replaced by an emotionless stranger.

‘I’ll carry the cases out,’ he was saying, his voice perfectly controlled. ‘Maybe you could just check in the room that there’s nothing you’ve left behind?’

Tara nodded, her head in a whirl. Granted, they’d not spent too much time together—but a brother she didn’t even know about? Shouldn’t Vikram have mentioned him at some point? His parents obviously talked about him quite freely, but she’d spent even less time with them
than she had with Vikram. She’d even said something to him once about both of them being only children, and he hadn’t bothered to contradict her.

Vikram watched her leave the room and his jaw tightened. He’d been stupid, not telling her about Vijay, but the topic wasn’t one you could bring up easily in a regular conversation. She’d have questions now, and they’d be even more difficult to answer than if he’d just told her about Vijay earlier.

It was late evening before they reached the tiger reserve in Pench, and Tara was exhausted. They’d crossed half the country—first driving from Jamshedpur to Kolkata, catching a flight to Nagpur, and then driving for another three hours to reach Pench. Vikram had been silent for most of the journey, other than checking with her at regular intervals to make sure she was comfortable. Tara had been uncharacteristically quiet as well. Everything she’d tried to say had come out sounding either overly self-conscious or overly formal, and she’d soon stopped trying, burying herself in a book.

Halfway between Nagpur and Pench Tara had drifted off to sleep, the book slipping from
her fingers. Vikram had picked it up and put it into her handbag. She’d looked adorable as she slept, her long eyelashes fanning out against her smooth pink cheeks. The road had been bumpy, and he’d put an arm around her to steady her, his heart quickening a little at the trustful way she snuggled up to him.

He was acutely aware of the barrier that had come up between them ever since she’d found out about Vijay, but he couldn’t see what he could do about it. His brother’s death was like a raw, open wound, and he couldn’t bear talking about it—not to anyone. Tara must have sensed his discomfort because she hadn’t asked any questions after his terse explanation of his mother’s breakdown. The incident had cast a shadow on both of them, though, and a wariness had crept into Tara’s conversation that hadn’t been there before.

Tara had woken up a few seconds before they reached Pench, sitting up straight and stretching herself like a little cat.

‘Dinner first,’ she said now, when the receptionist at the luxury jungle lodge asked her if they wanted to be shown to their bungalow. ‘I’m starving.’

Vikram nodded, and after asking for their luggage to be delivered to their room, he followed
her into the small dining room. There was a buffet dinner laid out, and he filled his plate before joining her at the table. She frowned at it as he sat down.

‘You eat meat?’ she asked.

Vikram looked down at his plate. ‘Yes, I believe I do,’ he said slowly. ‘Is that a problem?’

Tara put down her soup spoon. ‘Of course not!’ she said. ‘Don’t be so prickly. I assumed you’d be vegetarian because your parents are, that’s all. And you ordered vegetarian food the night we went out for dinner in Jamshedpur.’

‘It was a vegetarian restaurant,’ he pointed out, and she laughed.

‘Oh, of course—I didn’t realise.’ She looked at him curiously for a bit. ‘I don’t know anything about you, do I?’

His food preferences were a minor matter, but she still felt disturbed when she thought of his mother breaking down after the wedding. This wasn’t the right time to ask about his brother, though.

Vikram shrugged. ‘We haven’t spent much time together. We’ll find things out as we go along, I guess.’

He gently ran a finger down her arm, and Tara felt a pleasurable little shiver run through her. She felt quite bereft when Vikram removed
his hand and went back to his dinner. She could think more clearly when he wasn’t touching her, though, and that was a definite plus.

‘You know pretty much everything about me,’ she pointed out. ‘Right down to what size knickers I wear.’

Vikram looked up, an indefinable expression in his eyes. There was a pause before he spoke. ‘Tara, I can see where this is coming from, but trust me—there isn’t all that much to me. Let’s just take things as they come. We’re on our honeymoon. Let’s enjoy the few days we have, and save the heavy conversations for later.’

Tara toyed with her food for a few seconds. ‘Fair enough,’ she said finally. ‘So we treat the honeymoon like a holiday, then? Relax, eat lots of dessert, and have sex several times a day? Sounds like a plan.’ She looked up in time to catch the look on Vikram’s face, and burst into a spontaneous peal of laughter. ‘Oh, God, that was a little too direct, wasn’t it? Sorry. I just like getting things clear so that there’s no confusion.’

‘I’ve noticed,’ Vikram said gravely, though a smile was tugging at the corners of his mouth. ‘Yeah, that’s pretty much what I meant.’

‘Thought so,’ Tara said. ‘I’m fine with it—as long as we do get to talk when we’re back.’

‘We will,’ he promised, his eyes softening as he looked at her. ‘But, like I said, I don’t have any dark secrets hidden away—it’s just a question of us spending more time together.’

She had to be satisfied with that, though it still sounded as if he’d do his best to avoid any kind of soul-searching.

On the way out of the restaurant Vikram stopped by the receptionist’s desk to figure out arrangements for the next day’s safari. ‘Carry on to the room,’ he said to Tara. ‘I’ll join you in a bit.’

Tara gave him a disappointed look and went. She wanted him to come with her and make wild passionate love to her all night through, but she could hardly tell him that with a dozen people within earshot. In any case, he’d be along soon enough.

She brushed her teeth, and got into bed, trying to arrange herself in an alluring pose. Only it felt uncomfortable, and faintly ridiculous, so she sat up again. The fatigue of the journey was beginning to catch up with her, and she stifled a yawn as she set the alarm on her mobile for the safari the next morning. Wishing
Vikram would hurry, she leaned back against the headboard and shut her eyes.

Vikram took longer than he’d expected—the hotel had needed copies of various documents from the forest department before they could be booked into the reserve—and it was past nine when he got back to the bungalow. Tara was snuggled up in bed, her lovely hair spread around her on the pillow. She was fast asleep.

The temptation to wake her up was almost irresistible—he was used to travelling, wasn’t tired in the least, and he’d been looking forward to his second night with his wife. Especially after her saying that they should have sex several times a day. It didn’t seem fair, though. She was very tired, and after all what was the hurry? He had the rest of his life to spend with her.

Ten minutes later, when he slid into bed next to her, she immediately scooted up to him, cuddling close. Vikram’s body reacted enthusiastically and he turned towards her, hoping she’d woken up. She hadn’t, but her movement pressed her against a very sensitive part of his anatomy and he groaned mentally. It was going to be a long and frustrating night.

The alarm rang stridently at four-thirty a.m.,
and Tara bounced out of bed almost immediately. ‘Brr, it’s cold,’ she said, sliding her feet into slippers and grabbing a shawl to put around her shoulders. She was wearing a slightly more daring negligee than she had on her wedding night, and one black lace strap slipped to expose a delicately moulded shoulder.