The Forbidden Daughter (30 page)

However, despite her attempts at insulating herself from emo-218
Shobhan Bantwal

tional attachment, her feelings for him had undergone a vast change in the past few weeks. She wasn’t sure exactly what they were at this point. They were far too complex. And she had deliberately not taken the time to examine them under a micro-scope.

Besides, in the traditional sense she was still Nikhil’s wife.

Her official name was Isha Nikhil Tilak. And at the moment she was a threat to Harish’s safety. Two excellent reasons not to get involved with him. She turned her gaze away from his. “I think I do.”

“I realize you don’t return my feelings, but I’m willing to wait.” He tightened his arm around her shoulders. “However long it takes.”

“Don’t punish yourself so, Harish. I know you want a family, so go marry a nice girl your parents pick for you. Someday you’ll have children. And you’ll make a fabulous husband and father.” It tore her up to say that. But she had to do it—for his sake.

He gave a chuckle. “How did you come to
that
conclusion?”

“As if you haven’t devoted every hour of your free time to me and my girls! You’d make a great family man. My kids and Sheila’s boys think you can walk on water.” She looked down at the square brown hand that held hers. There was so much skill and strength in it. “I have lots of fond regard for you, Harish.

But I’m afraid I can’t give you more. I think a part of me died when Nikhil died, and it’s not likely to be resurrected anytime soon.”

“Fond regard is a good start,” he said. “Most arranged marriages start with no emotions on the part of either partner. A majority of them still work out well.”

She turned to him with a gasp. “Marriage!”

“Why do you look so stunned? I’d never offer you anything less than marriage, Isha. Just because you’re a widow it doesn’t mean all you’re fit to be is someone’s mistress. You deserve better than that. Besides, I don’t believe in pointless love affairs—

and I don’t do things piecemeal, either.”

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“No. You wouldn’t.” She should have known that an honorable man with high moral standards would never proposition a woman—widow or not. He’d offer only the complete package—the sanctity and security of marriage with a lifetime’s commitment.

“I know I can’t give you a big house and luxuries like Nikhil did.”

“It’s not that. Material things are not high on my list of priorities,” she said. “You know me well enough by now to know it.”

“I’m certainly not a good-looking chap like your late husband, either,” he continued. “But I can promise you a decent living, a home of your own, and a father for Priya and Diya—even grandparents.”

“Harish, please—”

“And,” he interrupted, “my parents happen to love girls just as much as boys.” He dropped her hand to cup her chin and tilt her face upward, forcing her to meet his eyes. “I’ve come to not only love you very much, but your children, too.”

Oh God! Why was he doing this to her? She managed to hold his gaze. “I’m honored, but I’m sure your parents have some special young lady in mind for you.”

He rolled his eyes.

So, she thought, his parents had probably been pressuring him to get married. What old-fashioned Hindu parents wouldn’t?

“Face it, Isha! I want to marry
you
. Can’t you see that? I want to provide for you and the girls, protect all three of you.”

“I don’t need protection. I’ve proved that so far, haven’t I?”

“You have, and very admirably,” he allowed. “But a woman still needs a man to take care of her. In our society, a married woman commands the respect a widow never could. Children with two parents grow up a lot more secure, too.”

“Not in this day and age,” she argued. “Nobody cares about marital status anymore. And there are lots of children raised by single parents all over the world.”

“Palgaum isn’t the whole world. Just look around you. Does 220
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anyone from your previous social circle bother with you anymore? Do your coffee-club friends stop by to see you like they used to?”

“It’s not their fault. In spite of our busy social life, I was never a party lover, and I never had any close friends, much to Ayee’s disappointment.”

“But still, you had close acquaintances, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Now you’re single, while they have husbands. I want to give you the status and security afforded by marriage.”

“I can see that, but . . .” He wasn’t making this easy for her.

“I still think of Nikhil as my husband.”

“Of course you do! You were a devoted wife. But Nikhil’s been gone some fifteen months and you’re still alive and well.”

“But that’s just it! I’m still here and he’s dead.”

“So you feel guilty that
you
were spared and
he
was taken?”

he asked, his tone incredulous.

Isha blinked. “I . . . I guess so.” Harish had managed to analyze her in a second when she had failed to recognize her own hang-ups.

Guilt was precisely what it was. She was just as responsible as Nikhil for rebelling against the elders’ dictates. They had both been in it together, and yet he had fought the battle alone, and paid the ultimate price. And why had she been so blind to what Nikhil had been doing in the days prior to his death? She had always prided herself on being able to read her husband like a book, detect his every mood.

She’d failed miserably at both.

“How long are you going to play the martyr?” Harish asked after a lengthy silence.

“Is that what you think I’m doing?” Was he correct in his assessment?

He nodded. “Denying yourself a normal life because of your guilt isn’t going to do either you or the children any good, or even Nikhil’s departed soul, for that matter.”

“There’s a lot more than guilt involved in all this. You wouldn’t understand.”

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“Were you happy in your marriage to Nikhil?”

She was taken aback for a moment. What a strange and unexpected question! No one had ever asked her that, not even her parents. “Our horoscopes were matched by two different astrologers, and our families did a lot of research and careful deliberating before Nikhil and I were considered suitable for each other.”

“That’s not what I meant. I asked if you were
happy
with Nikhil.”

“Very happy, despite his parents’ constant interference in our lives. I was in love with my husband.”

“Right from the start?”

“Yes. He was also my best friend.” She sighed, long and deep. “In fact, Nikhil was everything to me. That’s why it’s taking me so long to put my life back together.”

“I understand.”

“It’ll be a long time before I consider replacing him with someone else—if I
ever
consider it. And that’s not fair to you.”

“I realize you loved your husband very much. It’s not easy to forget one’s spouse just because he or she is gone from one’s life.”

“How would
you
know that?” she shot back.

“You’re right,” he said softly. “What the heck would I know about losing a spouse?”

Dear God, she’d hurt his feelings. “I’m sorry. That was un-called for.” How could she lash out at
this
man of all people?

“I’m really sorry.”

He remained silent for a long minute. “That’s okay,” he said finally. “You’re under a lot of stress.”

She stared at him, startled. “You’re willing to forgive me that easily?”

He nodded. “And I’m also willing to wait.”

“It may be a very long wait.”

“I’ll give you all the time you need.” He caressed the side of her face with his knuckles, a gesture so tender that Isha’s heart did a painful somersault.

The jolt took her by surprise. Despite what she’d been experi-222
Shobhan Bantwal

encing lately in his presence, she hadn’t expected such a powerful reaction to being touched by him.

“Meanwhile, please don’t push me away,” he said. Abruptly peeling off his glasses, he tossed them on the coffee table and put his hands on her shoulders. “Don’t shut me out of your life, Isha.”

The unexpectedness of his move made her go still. “I . . .

won’t,” she mumbled. She couldn’t shut him out, even if she tried.

Her pulse skyrocketed. The warm, urgent pressure of his hands on her was like a balm and an aphrodisiac combined—a promise of sustenance for her starved heart and body. His eyes, without the glasses, were burning laser beams. She was willing to bet he could see all the way into her soul.

Warmth spread through her like hot water poured into her blood vessels.

“You’re a very attractive woman, Isha Ketkar,” he whispered, using her maiden name for the second time since they’d met. “I’m in love with you . . . crazy about you.” Maybe to prove his point, he shifted, pulled her into the circle of his arms and gazed at her intensely for a second, the black of his irises turning to gleaming onyx.

She drew in an astonished breath, held it there for an instant.

My, oh my! This was even more unexpected than the embrace.

Perhaps expecting her to withdraw, he said, “Relax. There’s no cause for guilt. Let me show you what I mean. I promise I won’t hurt you.”

She tried to relax, without much success. Every nerve in her body was on high alert. He waited one more beat. When she didn’t flinch or resist, he tightened his hold and brought his lips down on hers. It was a slow, calculated motion, perhaps to give her and himself time to adjust to each other. Most men in his place would have roughly grabbed what they desired. But he was so careful, so gentle, so thoughtful, as always.

And he was right. Despite the light touch, the kiss was . . . delicious! How long had it been since she’d experienced anything like this—the thrill of a man’s hard chest pressing against her THE

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soft, sensitive breasts? She had all but shut herself off from such sensations the night Nikhil had died—or so she’d assumed.

But her body obviously hadn’t forgotten the instant surge of excitement that came with an unanticipated kiss, the breathlessness, the tingling energy zipping through every nerve, all the way from the top of her head down to her tiniest toe.

As his mouth moved across hers and grew bolder and more insistent, she sighed and gave in to the myriad sensations, sur-rendered to his firm hands stroking her back. He was right.

There was no need to feel guilty. She was a single woman. He was an unattached man. She wasn’t betraying Nikhil.

Little by little she allowed herself to thaw, come to life, and experience the electricity building up, until it gradually suffused her entire mind and body.

How could she resist him when his mouth was so hot and al-luring? So demanding? So filled with unspoken promises? How could any woman who’d been kissed often and loved well forget the enchantment of being held in a man’s strong arms and kissed with such desperate hunger? The coarse evening stubble on his face felt wonderful even as it abraded her skin. His unabashedly bold hand searching out and then cupping her breast was even more delightful.

Who would have thought Harish Salvi capable of making a woman reach fever pitch? There was no doubt he was succeed-ing in seducing her. And she was welcoming it!

Setting aside the last of her misgivings for the moment, she placed her arms around his neck and pressed against him. She returned his kiss with equal parts need and desire, for heaven knew how long, and with how much ardor . . . until . . . somewhere in the vicinity a clock chimed the hour.

With a gasp she realized it was indeed a clock and not a warning bell clanging in her brain. But it very well could have been, for the harsh wake-up call it gave her.

She pulled back. And saw Harish close his eyes and groan in frustration. She knew the feeling. He let go of her with obvious reluctance and raked shaky fingers through his hair. His breath sounded ragged. This was the first time Isha had seen him like 224
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this. And she realized it was she who’d done this to him, rattled his confidence, and made those eminently capable hands quiver.

There was satisfaction in knowing she still had the capacity to arouse and disturb a man to this degree.

Thank goodness the clock had saved them just in time! A few more minutes of that frenzied kissing and groping and she’d probably have ended up in his bed, trembling and needier than ever. How could she have overestimated her own willpower and underestimated the human need for warmth and physical love?

She was a woman first, with all the weaknesses of the flesh.

She’d have to remember that in the future.

She’d never have forgiven herself if she’d gone to bed with a man who was offering her his heart while she used him for fulfilling no more than a primitive need for release.

Now she was convinced that all that excitement that had her sparking and smoking whenever he was around was nothing more than pent-up physical need—the natural reaction of a body that had gone through a very long dry spell.

But the magic of the moment had vanished in an instant.

“Take all the time you want,” he said after a minute of awkward silence. “There’s no rush.” He put his glasses back on and smoothed his hair with steadier hands. He seemed to have regained most of his composure.

Good thing he hadn’t offered her an apology. He didn’t owe her one. She’d enjoyed the thrill of it just as much as he had—

maybe more. And it had certainly made her forget the horrible episode earlier at the hospital, at least for a while. She let her gaze drop, tried to steady her unstable heartbeat. She couldn’t look into his eyes and promise him anything she wasn’t able to deliver. Not at this time, anyway.

Right now she had more pressing problems to worry about, like Karnik.

“Do you want any tea or coffee . . . anything?” he asked.

She knew he was trying to help both of them recover from an embarrassing
after
moment. “No, thank you.”

He chuckled. “My tea was that awful, huh?”

She smiled. “It wasn’t all that bad.”