Where the Lotus Flowers Grow (20 page)

After swallowing the large lump in my throat, I managed a weak smile. “So I’ve made you a believer in charms and talismans and all that rubbish now?”

“I’m still skeptical about the properties of moonstones, but I understand the rest of it. The moonstone is just a symbol, though. It didn’t really bring them together.”

I crossed my arms. “How can you be so cynical? Especially considering where we just came from. You felt the magic in the caves as much as I did.”

He was thoughtful for a while. “It was fine art. Who couldn’t appreciate the hard work and effort that went into something like that?”

“Admit it. There was a spirituality in those walls.”

“Okay, I agree with you. But I still think you give an inanimate object too much credit.”

“When I first held the stone, I felt something like a charge go off inside of me. I knew it held magic. You won’t change my mind on that.”

“I’m not trying to. I don’t want to change a thing about you, especially not your mind. You have a way of seeing the world that makes me believe it’s a better place.”

I had no response. In a way, he did the same thing for me.

“When did she give it to you?” he asked.

I closed my eyes tight, remembering that special night. “When she visited us in England. She told me the story then, too. My dadima was sad because she had owned more expensive jewels Marco had bought for her over the years, but she had sold them to fund my father’s education. She said the moonstone was the only thing she had to give me. I wish I could have told her then, but I didn’t have the right words.”

“Told her what?”

“I wouldn’t have traded it for all the jewels in the world. Dadima said it would keep me safe and sweeten all my dreams. Eventually, I was supposed to give it to my own true love so it would bind us forever. I would sit in bed at night and clutch the stone, saying a prayer for my dadaji in heaven and for my dadima. She never complained or even told us, but I knew she was sick. The visit was the last time I saw her. The moonstone was my inheritance. It’s as magical to me as the lotus flower.”

I cursed myself for the way my voice wavered. For taking the context of our temporary relationship and applying a deeper meaning than necessary.

I blinked in surprise. The boat wasn’t crowded, but the few passengers aboard were all staring at us…at me. They had been listening to the story. Liam followed my gaze. His attention had been on me, so he hadn’t realized it either. Had I been speaking too loudly? Perhaps the story just drew in people, the way it had drawn me in when I was a child. The way it drew in Hannah when I’d told it to her. Although she had never met our dadima, she’d begged me to tell the moonstone story over and over. She’d even picked up random stones on the beach and pretended they were Dadima’s moonstone.

“We can talk about this later,” Liam said.

“Do you still have it?” a woman in a bright red sari asked. The girl next to her, probably her daughter, wiped her eyes.

“Have it?” I asked.

“The moonstone?”

“No.” Although I hadn’t meant to share the private tale with Liam, let alone a ship full of strangers, I wasn’t upset. My dadima would have rejoiced if her story inspired people. Papa had always said good stories had a way of connecting people. I had seen that firsthand. Unfortunately, the ending to this story was a huge disappointment.

“What happened to it?” she asked. Her daughter gripped her mother’s shoulder, perhaps warning her against the blunt question, but I could see she was also curious.

Liam cleared his throat, his irritation apparent. “I really don’t think that’s important.”

I tilted my head to take in his expression. He wanted to defend me, to bring me under the same shield he used to keep people out. I squeezed his hand. “It’s okay, Liam. I don’t mind.” I turned to the lady. “I honestly don’t know what happened to it. It wasn’t in my bag when we returned to India.”

She looked disappointed in me, as did the other passengers. “You lost it?” She made a tsking sound. “This is why you should not entrust children with family heirlooms.”

“You’re right, Auntie.”

“That’s not the point of the story,” Liam said a little harshly.

I’d always suspected my mother might have placed it in the discarded box with my father’s old records. A horrible vindictive act of revenge against Dadima for not leaving her with any expensive jewels. Or revenge against my papa for never making enough money to buy her new jewels. Or maybe even revenge against me for never wanting any of the things she wanted for me. I’d never had the courage to confront her and seek the truth. After all, no answer would have satisfied me. If she had done it, I would never forgive her. Even as a child, I understood the complexities of our relationship. I craved her love, but even more so, I needed to love her without any reservations, without the restrictions she placed on me. So I hid my suspicions and told Papa that Dadima’s moonstone had disappeared in transit. He saw how upset I was, so he didn’t ask for more details or make me feel guilty. I never admitted there was a chance I lost it…not even to myself. There was a hole at the bottom of my bag, after all. If it turned out to be my fault, I wouldn’t have forgiven myself for being so careless. Instead of acknowledging either possibility, I pretended I wasn’t ready for the moonstone’s magic, so the Hindu gods my dadima worshipped took it from me for safekeeping. In this way, I maintained my own piece of mind.

Liam stood, his long shadow falling over me. He took my hand. “Come with me.”

He led me to the ship’s railing. Standing behind me, he wrapped his arms around my waist. We were both sweaty from the long day with its intense heat. The scant breeze coming off the water felt good. We watched the city come into view. He whispered in my ear to preserve our private moment, although no one was listening to us anymore. “I’m sorry, Mary. Your grandmother sounds like an astonishing woman.” His warm accented voice sent a shiver up my spine despite the humidity.

“She was.”

“Your inheritance wasn’t the moonstone. It was the story.”

I had never thought of it that way.

“You also inherited other things from her that are more precious than any gem. You got her strength, her grace, and her compassion. Those things live on. She lives on because her spirit exists in you. You have it in here.” He put his hand over my heart. Wasn’t this similar to what I’d said to him not so long ago? Except it was much deeper than what I could say. My hand gripped the railing because my knees were shaking so hard I doubted they could sustain me. They might not have if he didn’t hold me so close.

“I hope so, Liam. Thank you.”

“Welcome, love. But there is no need for hope. It’s true.” He kissed my temple. He tapped his fingers on the railing, the sound akin to a beating drum. “You have it all wrong, though. Although I’m not a true believer about moonstones as you are, you have to realize purchasing the necklace for you would not have the same effect.”

“What do you mean?”

He gestured to the horizon. “The sun is just setting, and I’m pretty sure it’s not a full moon tonight. It would have just been a small gesture on my part. I like seeing you happy, too. I’m trying, and most likely failing, to figure out just how to do that.”

I turned to him. I caressed the angles of his face, so perfectly sharp they appeared chiseled like the statues in the cave. “I am happy. I don’t need clothes or jewels. This moment right here, watching the sunset with you, makes me happy.”

“Still, I wish you’d let me do more for you.”

The heavy emotions anchoring me down suddenly lifted. “You’re right. We should go back and get the necklace.”

His mouth dropped. I laughed and smacked his chest. “I’m kidding.”

* * * *

When we got back to the hotel, Liam asked where what I wanted for dinner.

“You choose, but I have to take a shower first.” I winced when I caught my reflection in the ornate mirror hanging above the dresser. My hair had morphed into a frizzy, damp mess. He stood behind me, a raw hunger in his eyes as if he saw something different in the mirror than I did. Perhaps it was the visit to the island or that I’d revealed such a private story to him. But something crackled between us, an energy that needed to be released.

“Me too.” His eyes locked on mine. He took my hand and led me into the bathroom.

We peeled our sticky clothes off each other. Under a spray of warm water, his powerful, large hands ran soap over my body.

“Turn around,” he said.

I leaned against his solid chest while he washed my hair with almond-scented shampoo. It was his long talented fingers, not the expensive shampoo, that left my scalp tingling. The water rinsed away any doubts I harbored about my feelings for Liam. His powerful hands massaged my shoulders and back, relaxing every tense muscle.

“My turn,” he said. He gripped my hips and moved us in the opposite direction. He leaned his head back. The water drenched him, running in rivulets down his hard, lean body. I lathered the soap. I pressed my palms against his chest, working my way down in slow circles. He closed his eyes and mumbled something appreciative. I went lower. His eyes snapped open.

“Mary…” He stretched the syllables of my name in a combination of whisper and growl that left my body trembling and my mind daring at the same time.

He looked down at my hand encircling his erection. What was it about him that made me so bold? I wanted to surrender to his lead and be in control at the same time.

“If you keep doing that, I’m going to fuck you against this wall. It wouldn’t be a good idea since we don’t have a condom in here.”

“That can be remedied, sir.”

He cupped my face, his thumb brushing my cheek. His kissed my forehead. The moment was a complete duality—lusty and tender at the same time.

He skimmed my nipples with his thumbs. They turned hard at his touch. Then he slid his hands further down my body. He traced my slit, back and forth. I gripped him tighter, urging him deeper, but he kept the same movement. I’d found myself at the crossroads of agony and ecstasy.

“Please.”

He entered me, his green-brown eyes piecing me with the same depths as his finger.

“You are so wet, Miss Costa.”

“Well, I am in the shower.”

“And you’re a smartass, too.”

He covered my mouth with a rough kiss. Two of his fingers curved inside me, thrusting gently. I lost focus on my own task. Until he reminded me, circling his hand over mine, showing me how he preferred to be touched, all the while his fingers penetrated me. As I moaned, he quickened his speed, his mouth laying hungry kisses down my neck. He was a conductor, commanding my body to sing as it never had. His thumb pressed into my nub.

“Liam, please.”

“Please what? You have to finish the sentence.” He traced the shell of my ear. Then he nipped my earlobe. “Finish the fucking sentence.”

“I want you inside of me.”

His fingers moved faster. “I am inside of you, lover. Do you want more of me?”

I nodded, unable to articulate anything. His lips followed the trail his fingers had made until he fell to this knees. His pressed his mouth against me, his face tilted up, his eyes watching me. It was too much and not enough. I flayed my arms for something to steady me. He hooked my leg over his shoulder. His hands tightened their grip on my waist. I lost myself in Liam Montgomery. In the feel of his mouth, the touch of his hands, the lusty glint of his eyes. Whatever dream this was, I didn’t want to wake. I came undone.

I would have fallen if he hadn’t kept me steady. He turned off the valve. He dried me off with a soft, thick towel. Then I did the same for him. He carried me to the bed. The satin sheets cooled my over-heated skin. I shivered against the drop in temperature until he slid on top of me, pressing me into the soft bed.

He ripped the condom packet in his mouth. With one swift move, he was inside me. I lifted my hips off the bed to meet each one of his urgent thrusts. His damp hair was the color of sand, yet it had the feel of soft silk under my fingers. Just as he’d done in the shower, he adjusted my leg over his shoulder. It felt different in the horizontal. He stretched me. My body welcomed him. Each drive was deeper than the last, leaving me breathless. Liam pulled all the way out. I groaned in protest. He lunged inside me again. I screamed in pleasure. He held my wrists down, his arms flexing with each movement. Our eyes locked. We spoke in the language of lovers…grunts, moans, and growls. Yet, in that moment, we communicated with depth and precision.

“Come, Mary,” he said in his slow, commanding way.

When every nerve in my body cried out with my climax, he reared his head back, releasing a deep resonating growl as he peaked.

He buried his head in my neck. I wrapped my arms around him. It would have been an embrace, except it was more than that. We clung to each other.

“So…room service tonight?” he whispered.

Mary

I went to Papa and Hannah’s graves every day while Liam worked. He asked me what I did during the day, but I couldn’t talk about Hannah to him. The pain was still too raw, a wound that would cause me to bleed out if I opened it again. Really, he could have asked the driver since he insisted I take a car, but he never did. I appreciated the way he respected my privacy.

I was three quarters into the book when the scent of lavender perfume surrounded me. Dressed in an elegant pink sari with a white paisley border, she looked regal. The fresh bouquet of marigolds in her hand made it clear who tended my family’s graves.

“Hello, Mary,” she said, falling to her knees next to me. I winced, imaging the stains on her beautiful sari.

“Divya.” What could I say to this girl…woman? This friend, sister, and savior whom I’d abandoned all those years ago. Her fingers threaded through mine around the cloth beads tangled in my hand. I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. She embraced me. The way she shook caused me to do the same. We cried together at the cemetery. We cried for the little girl we both loved.

“Where have you been,
yaar
?” she finally asked, once our sobs had been reduced to quiet breaths.