Wild Jasmine

by Yvonne Whittal

Sarika smiled back at her and turned to collect the gaily wrapped parcel on her bed. She had bought a damask tablecloth in England as a gift for her mother, and she could not think of anyone she would rather gave it to than Jaishree.

  Sean was pacing the hall like a caged tiger when Sarika and Ayah went downstairs, but he halted abruptly when he heard their voices, and he turned to glance up at them when they were descending the last few steps. His dark suit enhanced his rugged good looks, and Sarika's heart missed a couple of beats when his glance flicked over her, but, as always, she was left with that cold feeling that he had weighed her and found her wanting.

  'Does Sarika not look beautiful?' Ayah questioned him innocently when they reached his side, and this time his dark gaze seemed to smoulder with derisive mockery when it slid over Sarika.

  'Sarika doesn't need me to tell her that she's beautiful, Ayah. I'm sure her mirror has done that quite convincingly.'

  Ayah laughed happily, unaware of the sting behind those words, but Sarika felt the blood rush to her cheeks and recede again to leave her pale and shaken. She lowered her lashes hastily to hide the shadow of pain in her eyes, but Sean had already turned away to open the door and usher them out to the Land Rover parked in the driveway.

  Attending Jaishree's wedding was also an unexpected reunion of old friends. Melissa Armstrong was there with Craig Jenkins, and Michael Nicholson was there, of course, with Stephen and Claudia. There was time only to introduce Sean and to exchange a few words with them all before they had to enter the hall where a number of guests had already seated themselves. Sarika and Sean left their gifts on the table when they arrived, and they were told to go up on to the stage where seating had been provided for family and close friends. Ayah led the way and, to Sarika's dismay, she found herself seated alone with Sean while Ayah joined a group of acquaintances at the opposite end of the stage. Stephen, Claudia, and Michael had followed them up on to the stage, and Sarika was uncomfortably sandwiched in between Michael and Sean.

  'You look lovely this evening,' Michael whispered to her, his smile warm, and his appreciative glance darting all over her.

  Sarika murmured something appropriate, but she could not recall later what it had been. She was too aware of Sean's muscular thigh pressed against her own, and the unnerving sensation she experienced each time his shoulder brushed against hers. She was so near to Sean, and yet so far, she realised, and she looked straight ahead of her without seeing anything until she had succeeded in controlling that surge of painful longing inside her.

  Her glance shifted slowly down into the hall. The women were dripping with jewellery and resplendent in their colourful saris. It was as if they were competing with each other for the honour of being chosen the best dressed Indian woman present, and Sarika felt plain in comparison. The men wore evening suits, and a few wore well-cut evening jackets with their dhotis, but no matter how distinguished they looked, they were completely outshone by the women.

  Recorded music began to fill the hall. It was the lilting, haunting music of the East played on the sitar, and for one poignant moment Sarika was transported back to that afternoon at the Taj Mahal. She felt again the magic and the mystery, and that forbidden warmth which had suffused her entire being. It lasted no more than a brief moment, then she thrust it from her mentally as one might thrust aside a sinful thought with self-disgust.

  She tried to relax her tightly clenched hands and allowed her glance to slide over the stage which was elaborately decorated with flowers and brightly painted arches which had been sprinkled with gold glitter. It looked festive despite the solemnity of the occasion, and it was in this colourful setting that the bridegroom sat with his best man while they awaited the arrival of the priest and the bride.

  She felt the pressure of Sean's shoulder increase against hers, and turned her head to see him glancing down at her enquiringly. 'I understood there was more to a Hindu wedding than this one ceremony.'

  'Oh, but there is,' she answered him in a lowered voice. 'Two or three days before the wedding there's the Sanjee, a fun party, to which guests from both families are invited, with the exception of the groom. The bride is teased quite a bit about her forthcoming status, and the women dance the garba, which is the national folk dance. On the morning of the actual wedding day they have the Mandwa, to which only guests from the bride's side are invited. The priest says a prayer, the solemn part of this ceremony is dealt with, and then the fun begins. The young married women are required to rub turmeric powder mixed with olive oil on the bride, and they may rub it on her wherever they wish. The older generation believe that this mixture rubbed on the bride improves her complexion so that she'll look radiant at the wedding ceremony.'

  'It sounds fascinating,' he murmured, and Sarika could see for once that he really meant it.

  The elaborate ceremony was about to begin. The sitar music was toned down to play softly in the background, and a hushed silence fell on the guests as the priest stepped out on to the stage in his yellow robe with its red and gold border down the front and along the bottom of the long garment. The edges of the sleeves were trimmed with the same border, and on his head he wore a white, two-pointed hat made of cotton with adequate stiffening on the inside which was similar to that which the bridegroom was wearing. The priest recited a short prayer with the barefooted bridegroom, then a sheet was raised like a partition to prevent the groom witnessing the bride's arrival.

  'Jaishree is going to be called out on to the stage,' Sarika explained softly to Sean. 'She's not allowed to see Vinod, and he's not allowed to see her until a second ceremony is performed.'

  Even as she spoke she could hear the tinkle of the little bells attached to the ankle chains which every Hindu bride wore, and a moment later Jaishree stepped on to the stage accompanied by her father. She was dressed in traditional Hindu fashion with gold jewellery hanging about her throat and dripping from her wrists and fingers. Flowers had been plaited into her hair, and her radiance, Sarika suspected, had nothing to do with the turmeric powder and olive oil which had been rubbed on her that morning. Sarika felt the sting of tears behind her eyelids, and a pang of inexplicable envy, but she suppressed both fiercely.

  'It's customary for the bride to wear two saris on her wedding day,' said Sarika, aware at the same time that Michael was glancing at her oddly from time to time. 'The red and green sari is from Jaishree's side of the family, and the white and red from Vinod's side. Both are, of course, hand-embroidered with a twenty-two-carat gold thread, and they're both draped in such a way that the one sari is on the left side of her body, and the other on her right.'

  Out of the corner of her eye she could see Sean studying her intently, and she turned her head as if drawn by a magnet until their glances met. His eyes glittered strangely, almost mockingly, and she felt herself stiffen.

  'Am I boring you with all the details?'

  'I knew you would be an informative companion.' The stern mouth relaxed in a suggestion of a smile. 'That's why I didn't object to Ayah joining her friends.'

  Dared she take that as a compliment after his cutting remark before they left the house that evening? Sarika did not have time to wonder about it. The priest was performing the second ceremony with the bridegroom, then the partition was removed. Vinod got to his feet, and he and Jaishree exchanged garlands as well as glances which once again sent that unusual stab of envy through Sarika as she watched them sit down facing each other with the container between them in which the fire had been lit.

  Halfway through the proceedings Vinod was allowed to sit next to Jaishree, and Sarika, because of her grasp of the language, could explain to Sean most of what was being said. The colourful ceremony took almost two and a half hours, and it ended with Vinod taking Jaishree's hand while they slowly took the final seven steps together with the priest saying a short prayer with each step they took.

  'With every step they're taking a vow. Something like "for richer, for poorer; in sickness and in health", and so on,' Sarika expla
ined with an extraordinary lump in her throat, and the lilting music plucked from the sitar rose above the excited voices of the guests and tugged painfully at her soul.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Flower petals rained on the bride and groom at the end of the wedding ceremony, and the family gathered around to wish them well. It was only when they had moved on to the adjoining hall that Sean and Sarika had the opportunity to approach Jaishree and her husband.

  Sean spoke to them, and, for a man who did not believe in marriage, he voiced his wishes for their future happiness with a sincerity that puzzled Sarika as she took a handful of flower petals from the tray held out to her. She showered it on the bridal couple, and joined hands with them.

  'I'm so happy for you both,' she said and, too choked to say more, kissed Vinod's cheek and embraced her friend.

  'Thank you, Sarika,' Jaishree smiled with that special radiance which had not wavered once during the lengthy ceremony. 'I hope you and Mr O'Connor will stay and join us for the meal which has been prepared?'

  'We shall be delighted,' Sean answered for Sarika, taking her arm and leading her off the stage into the adjoining hall where trestle tables laden with food awaited the hungry guests.

  'Shall we all sit together?' asked Michael, coming up alongside them with his parents directly behind him, and Sarika shot a questioning glance at Sean.

  His granite-hard features and dark, unfathomable eyes gave her no indication how he felt about Michael's suggestion, and, to fill the awkward silence which was erupting, she said hastily, 'That would be a good idea.'

  Sean released his grip on her arm, and she somehow sensed his annoyance even though his features revealed nothing. Seated beside Michael, with Sean, Claudia and Stephen facing them, Sarika was confronted with Sean's rugged good looks for the second time that evening, and something inside her twisted into an aching knot.

  'At last I'm going to have an opportunity to talk to you,' Michael succeeded in capturing her attention, and she dragged her gaze from Sean to look into Michael's grey, accusing eyes. 'You were so busy explaining the wedding ritual to Mr O'Connor that I couldn't get a word in edgeways.'

  Sarika felt a twinge of guilt. 'I'm sorry if it seemed as if I was ignoring you.'

  'You look so beautiful this evening that I'll forgive you anything,' he accepted her apology with an unmistakable warmth in his eyes, and she smiled at him with a coquetry born of despair.

  'Why, thank you,' she said, but she could have kicked herself afterwards when she realised that Michael had taken her behaviour as encouragement to strike up a flirtation with her.

  Across the table Sean's glance met hers occasionally, and his dark eyes glittered with a crushing mockery that robbed Sarika of her appetite. She played with her food instead of eating it, and tried to concentrate on the conversation she was having with Michael, but her glance went repeatedly to Sean, who was involved in a lengthy discussion with Claudia and Stephen. There was something about him that evening that made it impossible for her to keep her eyes off him, and despite the fact that she was occupied with Michael, there was a part of her which was listening to every nuance in Sean's deep, gravelly voice.

  'When are you coming through to Poona again?' Claudia asked Sarika when there was a lull in the conversation.

  'I'm not sure,' Sarika replied, her glance darting nervously in Sean's direction, but his rugged features remained expressionless. 'I've been rather tied up at the office lately,' she added lamely.

  'You surely don't work weekends,' protested Claudia, tilting her fair head at Sarika enquiringly.

  'No, I don't, but—'

  'Then what about coming through next week Saturday and spending the weekend with us?' Claudia interrupted, and before Sarika could reply, the older woman had turned to smile at Sean. 'You're welcome to come as well, Mr O'Connor. If you like riding you'll find we have a couple of excellent horses in our stables.'

  'Your invitation is tempting, but I'm afraid I shan't be here,' he declined, and the noise in the hall seemed to rise to a crescendo as Sean added: 'I'm flying to Australia this coming Monday, and I have no idea when I'll be back.'

  It felt oddly as if the bottom had fallen out of Sarika's world, and there was an accusation in her tawny eyes when she managed to capture his glance. 'You didn't tell me you were planning a trip to Australia.'

  Sean smiled at her with a tolerance one would adopt with a child. 'I received a call from my office in Brisbane late this afternoon, and you know as well as I do that we haven't actually had the opportunity to talk until now.'

  'Are you permanently stationed in Australia, Mr O'Connor?' Claudia intervened on what could have been an explosive moment, and Sean turned to her at once.

  'No, ma'am,' he smiled briefly at the woman beside him. 'My home, if one could call it that, is in the United States, but I also spend a great deal of time in many other countries.'

  'And what about your wife?' probed Claudia in a way that made Sarika hold her breath. 'Is she happy with the fact that you're away from home for such lengthy periods at a time?'

  'I don't have a wife, ma'am,' Sean replied smoothly. 'In my kind of job a wife would be nothing but a nuisance.'

  Sarika felt as if she had been hovering precariously on a high building and had suddenly been pushed over the edge. Her insides jolted sickeningly, and out of the mist that clouded her mind came Michael's reproachful voice.

  'Sarika, you aren't listening!'

  'I'm sorry.' She made a valiant effort to pull herself together. 'What were you saying?'

  'I'm coming through to Bombay on Monday, and I'm staying until Friday,' he enlightened her, and she grasped blindly at this information to steady herself.

  'Then you must come to dinner one evening,' she said on the spur of the moment, and Michael smiled at her broadly.

  'I was hoping you'd invite me.'

  Sarika could not remember much of what happened afterwards. She was aware of talking to Michael, but she could not recall what she had said. Across the table Sean's eyes mocked and chided her alternately, and she was inordinately relieved when Ayah beckoned from across the hall that it was time to leave. Sarika had time to say a brief farewell to Jaishree and Vinod, and when they were leaving she felt a hand touch her lightly on the arm.

  'I'll be in touch,' Melissa Armstrong promised when Sarika turned to face her, and Sarika forced her stiff lips into a smile of acknowledgement before she was whisked out of the hall.

  Sarika sat in front with Sean when they drove home, but it was Ayah, seated in the back, who filled what might have been a strained silence with her excited, almost monologic conversation until they arrived at the house. Sean garaged the Land Rover, and when they entered the house Ayah excused herself immediately and went to her room. Sarika wanted to do the same, but she had barely walked a few paces towards the stairs when strong fingers snaked about her wrist.

  'Have a drink with me before you go up to bed?'

  A polite refusal hovered on her lips, but when she looked up into Sean's rugged face she found herself accepting his invitation, and she wondered frantically whether he could feel the acceleration of her pulse rate where his fingers rested against her wrist.

  He released her in the living-room and she lowered herself into a chair, arranging her sari about her legs while he walked across to the cabinet to pour a whisky for himself and a sherry for her. She knew she was staring at him, but she could not help it. Her glance lingered on the back of his dark head and the wide shoulders beneath the evening jacket, and an aching longing stirred deep inside of her which she hastily suppressed when he turned towards her. She accepted the glass of sherry from him in silence, and he seated himself in the chair close to hers with his long legs stretched out characteristically in front of him.

  'I want to thank you for explaining so much to me at the wedding ceremony this evening,' he severed the silence between them.

  'It was a pleasure,' she murmured politely, sipping at her sherry, and hoping he did not notice
the slight tremor in her hand.

  'The Nicholsons are a fine couple, and it's a pity I had to turn down Claudia's invitation.' He loosened his black string tie and undid the top button of his white silk shirt while his dark eyes probed hers. 'Are you going through to Poona next weekend?'

  'I might,' she answered evasively, and Sean's eyes filled with mockery.

  'I guess you know that Michael is crazy about you.'

  The mouthful of sherry turned sour in her mouth, and she swallowed it down hastily. 'I'm going to bed.'

  'Sarika!' He held up a deterring hand and she found herself sinking back into her chair, but this time she sat on the edge of it in preparation for flight. 'What's been bugging you these past few days?'

  Her heart jolted in her breast. Didn't he know? Hadn't he guessed the secret she had been carrying around with her the past few days? What could she say without making him suspect that he was the cause of her misery she had thought she had hidden so well behind her aloof manner?

  'I don't know what you're talking about,' she played for time, lowering her gaze to her hands clasped so tightly in her lap.

  'Okay, if you want me to spell it out for you, I will!' he exploded with a harshness that made her flinch inwardly. 'Since the day we went to Agra you've been exceptionally cool and quiet. Explaining the marriage ritual to me was the most you've said to me in days, and then it was only because I imagine you felt obliged to do so.'

  Her pulses fluttered nervously. 'You're imagining things.'

  'I learnt at a very early age never to rely on my imagination, but to rely instead on cold, hard facts, so don't give me that excuse.'

  She was being driven into a corner, and she realised that the only way out was to launch an attack of her own. She squared her shoulders, and raised her head to meet the onslaught of his eyes with a glint of anger in her own. 'All right, so I haven't been very talkative lately, but you've been somewhat cool and distant yourself.'

  'I've had a lot on my mind.'