Broken
Chapter Eight
By Karisma
Rated: PG-13
Genre: Alt, Romance
Karisma456@hotmail.com
Standard Disclaimers Apply
May 2002
My AP tests are finished and I am free to write! It may take a while to get me started, but I think I'll have more chapters out sooner. Desert Rose is my major project, but I also have other fanfiction besides SM on my plate. Anyone else love GH( General Hospital)? Yes, it's a soap opera—but I got hooked over break! lol
The look he gave her made all the twisting and adjusting she had to go through in order to put the dress on worth it. It was one of pleasant shock, unmitigated desire, and another emotion Serena couldn't quite identify. Rather than puzzling over it, she floated over to the sofa where Mrs. Khan sat, jingling with each light step. Unable to avoid Darien's intent stare for long, she pretended to rearrange the flowers in the older woman's hair for as long as she could.
Feminine pride, alien and exciting, washed over her at the effect she had over him. Never had she wanted a man to want her and the affirmation that she could do it filled her with a warmth she had never known she was missing.
She didn't know how long they spent playing tag with hot eye locks, but before she knew it, Megan was tugging on her bangle-clad wrist. She jogged out the door with one last blushing smile in Darien's direction. Once outside on the green grass that Mr. Khan had specially planted, Megan handed her two decorated burgundy-colored sticks. Serena took one dandya ras in each hand without a moment's hesitation. Twirling one agley between her slim fingers, she got in her place of the circle. Out of nowhere, music started and she felt the simple beat, falling into the age-old dance filled with twirls, steps, and clicking of the sticks together.
The dance was fluid, each girl swaying and moving in the fast paced circle, round and round. Laughing, Serena moved with them, loving the bright colors of their dresses glint in the light the hung lanterns provided. She registered Darien's eyes on her when the men came out to clap and cheer. But her vision blurred with the music, lights, and movements. This wasn't a time for thinking. Carpe Diem. She was seizing the day, the moment. The beat coursed through her veins, pushing her to move her legs and arms in a way that came naturally.
Darien tuned everything out except the music and her. He traced her liquid movements all around the circle, admiring every jump, twirl, and click of the sticks she held in her hands. He had no idea she was such a good dancer. He would bet that she didn't even know how good of a dancer she was. The dim lights caught the gold in the outfit she wore. God, he groaned, that outfit. How on earth people were supposed to remain chaste here was beyond him when the women wore such provocative and curve displaying clothes. It was the purity with which they wore them that was the real turn-on, he decided. He would give his right arm that Serena had no idea how incredible her slim waist looked with the low riding skirt. Every time her toned arms came up to clang the decorated sticks together, the flimsy material covering part of her midriff moved, gracing and torturing him with a full view of the taut, creamy skin.
He clenched the hand that was wrapped around a cup of soda. The music continued, but the women stopped, laughing and hugging. They formatted a line and the men stood opposite them in a parallel fashion. In a flash, Darien was given his own pair of dark dandya ras and stood somewhere in the line. His protests were left unheeded and soon the lines moved in a blur. Members of the opposite clanked their sticks with each other before twirling and moving along the line. It took a while for Darien to move his feet with the beat, but soon enough he had the hang of it in his slacks and loosely buttoned dress shirt.
With the lines moving, his turn to be level with Serena was fast approaching. Darien smiled and absently lifted his arms to clash his sticks with that of a young girls'. Two left. He did the same with a woman around thirty something. His field of vision was filled with Serena smiling broadly as she laughed at something the little boy said across from her. One left. He turned his head slightly to catch Megan's turquoise glittered sticks raised face level. Her smirk was met with a rueful smile as he gladly met his dandya ras with Megan's.
Then she spun off and Serena's sweet face filled his view. She raised her brows as she lifted the gold spackled cylinders at an angle. His face didn't change when he met them with his with a soft clang. Between the four colored sticks was a small diamond-shaped window. They stared at each other through it, oblivious to the pulsating line they were holding up. People moved around them with ease, leaving them gazing in a world where blue met blue and words were exchanged without a sound.
The moment was brought to a halt when a small girl of six tugged on Serena's long skirt and she dropped her arms quickly and bent down to talk to the child. Darien watched them scamper away, the girl running ahead of Serena, pulling her along by the arm. When the burgundy figure was gone, Darien turned and walked away, sitting down on a nearby chair as he tried to calm down his pulse, his mind, his heart.
****
Serena tried to focus on what Priya was saying. She nodded at all the right places, but the words made no sense. All she could hear was silence, all she could see was Darien's eyes, all she could feel was the joyous nervousness that fluttered all throughout her and made her feel as light as air.
Not allowing herself to question the bubbling sensation within her, sans the alcohol, Serena waved and smiled as the women around her walked away. Unable to rid herself of the grin taking over her lips, she slowly made her way away from the party, but still well on the Khan's enormous premises. The light waned and soon she was only able to make out distinct shadows. She walked over to a slim tree, placing her hand flat on its trunk. Bending her elbow, she brought face closer to its wood, resting her forehead on the rough bark. Rotating slowly, her back was soon pressed against the tree rather than her face. Closing her eyes, she pulled away after a moment and furthered her walk, her bare feet tickled by the grass. Serena's anklet chimed with every step and she soon found herself near a lit gazebo.
Realizing the Khans must have had it built somewhere in the past few years, she fingered the white lattice pattern and took the few steps to enter the circular solace. Carefully lifting her skirts to sit on the white shelf the served as a seat all the way around the small gazebo. Lifting her legs, she turned to rest her cheek against her knees. Staring out into the night, she spotting a small tin cup right next to her. Lifting it, she placed her index finger in and dusted it off when it came back covered in red powder.
Reveling in the powder's significance, she rested her chin on her knees and peered out directly in front of her. She held her arm out eye level and stared at the small tin placed in the center of her palm.
When he came, she was not aware of his presence until he was in front of her. Even then, he had to sit down so that her outstretched arm was parallel to his chest. Plucking the small box from her hand, he looked at it, obviously trying to determine its meaning.
She decided to put him out of his misery. "It's tika." That didn't help him in the least and he let her know with an eloquent raising of one dark brow. "It's a red powder that men put on their wives to let people know they're taken." She lowered her gaze. "Somewhat like a wedding ring."
Darien nodded slowly. "Ah," he said, staring down at the substance with newfound insight. Clearing his throat, he asked, "Where do they put it?"
She answered automatically in Hindi, "Mang." The both laughed lightly at her mistake. "In the parting of her hair," she lifted her four fingers to trace the middle part her blonde hair had been combed into before being pulled back into a bun.
"How long does it last?"
"You can wash it out easily." Serena raised her eyes to meet his again. "Besides, not many people do it anymore, sort of an archaic custom."
He nodded in understanding and they fell into an easy silence. After a while, Serena bit her lip anxiously. "Maybe we should head back—"
"Serena," he interrupted her softly, causing her head to lower unconsciously. She wasn't aware of his actions until she felt his thumb high on her forehead. She lifted her head and eyes in surprise when it dawned on her what he was doing. Never letting his cobalt eyes leave her own, he traced the path of her hair part took with the colored powder. She closed her eyes as he did it, reveling in the firm, gently pressure of his thumb on her head. The poignant moment was not wasted on her and she opened her suddenly bright eyes when he lowered his arm.
Serena's eyes were all ready shining and brimming with unshed tears when he caressed her jaw with his fingers. A lone droplet eked out when his lips met her own in an achingly sweet union.
She lowered her legs to the floor of the gazebo, instinctively trying to bring her body closer to his. Clutching his upper arms for support, she gripped his biceps, her fingers nestled in the security of his steadiness. He emitted a low groan and trailed his hands up from her bare waist, the sides of her breasts, to cup her face with his hands. He pulled back long enough to look into her heavy-lidded eyes and kissed her again. They sipped at each other's lips, short kisses dispersed between heavier, longer ones.
When they finally pulled back, Serena couldn't bring herself to look at him. Instead, she stared out into the darkness, dimly hearing the shrieks of happiness and music from the party they had left. It all seemed so far away, so remote. She felt separated from it all, as if she and Darien were on this remote island, with only this awkwardness to keep them company.
Suddenly, she was miserable. It shouldn't be this way. It should be comfortable, soothing, easing, *nice*. It shouldn't be this hard. Sighing unwittingly, she got up, ready to walk to the exit and head back to the party.
A tug stopped her and she turned to look back about a yard to where Darien still sat. He held one end of her long duppatta, the other still attached to her dress. The long yard of sheer fabric was all the separated them, yet it was all that held them together. She felt naked, exposed, raw. The material really did nothing to protect or cover her, but without it, Serena could help but feel wide open for attack.
He gently pulled the delicate cloth, drawing her nearer as if it were a leash. But it was not, Serena walked slowly of her own accord, Darien only pulling the fabric closer to him.
Soon enough, the entire material was in a pool by Darien's side and she was directly in front of him. His breathing was shallow and hers was accelerated. When he gently placed his hands on her hips, his fingers brushed the warm skin above the low cut line of the skirt. He stood up, diminished her height with his tall form. When he lowered his head to kiss her, her face was already turned up, waiting.
And then, she didn't feel endangered any longer. She felt safe and warm and content. Just like that. Perhaps it was simple after all.
****
When they returned to the party, it was much later and Darien dodged the men's grins and the women's giggles. Serena's reputation, however, was above reproach as she was led off to a mehdi party. After another hour or so, he turned in under the excuse of jet lag. Laying on top of the thick mattress they had placed out on the floor of another wise empty room, Darien stacked his hands behind his head and stared up into the ceiling. He was distracted by sound of tinkling jewelry near his door. When it swung open and Serena stepped in, he sat up in surprise, suddenly wanting to cover his bare torso out of deference to her.
She didn't seem to mind as she crept closer, finally sitting on the edge of his mattress, smiling sweetly. "I just wanted to show you." She held out her left hand for him to see. Darien gazed down at the intricate patterns woven in black on her palm and fingers. The moonlight illuminated the beautiful decorations as well as Serena's hair and face.
"It's beautiful," he whispered thickly, afraid that if he spoke too loud the delicate moment would be shattered.
"Look closer,'' she urged.
At that point he would have fallen off a bridge if she had told him to. Bending his head, he obeyed and was surprised when the cold mix was wiped on the side of his nose by her index finger.
She giggled as he raised his head, startled. Wiping it off gently, she set aside the used napkin she had used. Her left hand rendered immobile, Darien took the opportunity to tickle her ribs. She squirmed and tried to slap his hands away with her only defense: her right hand.
"Uncle," she gasped out in between bouts of muffled laughter.
"That's what I thought," he said smugly, pinching her side before he leaned back on his hands and straightened arms to look at her. She gazed back and for the first time since he had met her, Darien saw true joy shining in her blue eyes. And in that moment he knew that it had been the right choice bringing her here.
As if reading his mind, Serena broke their silent moment. "Darien, I wanted to thank you. You probably got the feeling I wasn't too keen on coming here" He snorted and she glared at him playfully, "But you insisted and I'm so grateful.
"I'd forgotten how magical everything seems to be here. I forgot how wonderful the Khans and all their friends are." She looked down at her linked hands. "I guess after the…attack, I just lumped India with all that Raye had to go through." He noted that she didn't mention the tragedy *she* had to endure. "I was wrong, though. There is so much good here." She stopped and bit her lip, unable to express the maelstrom of emotions running through her.
But he understood and all it took for him to convey that was a light squeeze to her hand. She looked up at him, smiling softly. He didn't know he had angled his body toward her until he was actually kissing her, wreaking havoc through her carefully coiffed bun. When he had untangled one of his hands from the mass of blonde waves, he lowered it to untuck her wrap out of the waistband of the skirt, grazing his fingers across her midriff. He felt her muscles there contract at his touch as she responded ardently to his kisses. He thought absently of his promise to stay away from her. Darien shook the memory from his mind; it was an impractical vow. This woman was a drug, stronger than nicotine or cocaine---kicking the habit was no longer a possibility.
Serena was drowning and the most beautiful part was that she didn't care. Air was no longer a necessity. Only Darien was; his scent, his touch, his kiss. Her fingertips lightly traced his shoulders, reveling in its tightness across his muscles. Moving her hands up, she stroked his jawline before linking her hands behind his neck, pressing gently so that both of them fell back against the mattress.
He pulled away so that he could look at her even in the dark room. The unspoken question was in his face: Are you sure? She nodded and leaned her head down to kiss him again. But Darien stopped them again, sitting up and thereby forcing her to do the same.
"What's wrong?" An embarrassed flush spread high across her cheekbones. The question was faint and vulnerable.
He sighed. "We can't make love until we know how we feel about each other, Serena."
"I know how I feel about you."
He looked up, hope and wariness in his cerulean eyes. "Do you?"
"Mm-hmm," she nodded and leaned toward him again, prepared to kiss him softly.
But he turned away from her. "Well, I love you, Serena. In fact, I want to marry you." She gasped and pulled back, her eyes as wide as saucers in the moonlight. He laughed bitterly. "Do you love me?"
She didn't answer. She couldn't. Instead, she got up noiselessly and left, her anklets suddenly falling silent as she ran to her room.
****
The rest of their trip, Serena avoided him at all costs. Darien kept his distance, unable to blame her for her guarded caution. He knew she loved him, he knew it in his bone. Whether she admitted to it or not was a matter of fighting her own personal demons. As much as Darien wanted to be there for her, help her even, it was a battle Serena had to take on alone. So he allowed her space, not pressing the matter in any way. He even went so far as to change their seats so that Serena could be relatively alone on the way back to London.
Megan saw the difference in their relationship and continuously shot him puzzled looks. But he just shook his head silently, unable to answer her pressing questions. She seemed to understand the gist of the problem, quietly offering her comfort. If it was one thing Darien learned during his stay in India, it was that expressions said everything.
It was only when they had claimed their baggage that Serena uttered her first words to him since that night in his room. "I trust you are a man of your word, Darien."
He peered at her expressionlessly. He knew what she was saying. "You know I am."
"Then our agreement still stands. I think it would be best if we didn't see each other again."
He nodded once, his face still a mask void of emotion. Even his voice was that of an automaton. "If that's what you want."
"It is," she said, perversely upset that he agreed so quickly.
"I'll drop you home then."
Knowing that these were their last moments together, she didn't protest. Not any words were exchanged between them as their bags were loaded and they sat together in the back of Darien's car. He gave his driver Serena's address and leaned back, completely avoiding look at her.
She stared at his profile, a heavy sadness washing over her. Yes, he may love her now but how long would that last? No, it was better not to do this. It was safer, wiser.
Then why didn't she believe a word of what she was saying? Tears threatened to spill over but she called them back, commanding herself to save them for when she was home. Men like Darien didn't stay interested in women like her for long. And as for her—well, she didn't deserve it. *Any* of it.
She looked out the window and would have laughed had this not been her life. Wonder of wonders, it had started to rain.
Chapter Eight
By Karisma
Rated: PG-13
Genre: Alt, Romance
Karisma456@hotmail.com
Standard Disclaimers Apply
May 2002
My AP tests are finished and I am free to write! It may take a while to get me started, but I think I'll have more chapters out sooner. Desert Rose is my major project, but I also have other fanfiction besides SM on my plate. Anyone else love GH( General Hospital)? Yes, it's a soap opera—but I got hooked over break! lol
The look he gave her made all the twisting and adjusting she had to go through in order to put the dress on worth it. It was one of pleasant shock, unmitigated desire, and another emotion Serena couldn't quite identify. Rather than puzzling over it, she floated over to the sofa where Mrs. Khan sat, jingling with each light step. Unable to avoid Darien's intent stare for long, she pretended to rearrange the flowers in the older woman's hair for as long as she could.
Feminine pride, alien and exciting, washed over her at the effect she had over him. Never had she wanted a man to want her and the affirmation that she could do it filled her with a warmth she had never known she was missing.
She didn't know how long they spent playing tag with hot eye locks, but before she knew it, Megan was tugging on her bangle-clad wrist. She jogged out the door with one last blushing smile in Darien's direction. Once outside on the green grass that Mr. Khan had specially planted, Megan handed her two decorated burgundy-colored sticks. Serena took one dandya ras in each hand without a moment's hesitation. Twirling one agley between her slim fingers, she got in her place of the circle. Out of nowhere, music started and she felt the simple beat, falling into the age-old dance filled with twirls, steps, and clicking of the sticks together.
The dance was fluid, each girl swaying and moving in the fast paced circle, round and round. Laughing, Serena moved with them, loving the bright colors of their dresses glint in the light the hung lanterns provided. She registered Darien's eyes on her when the men came out to clap and cheer. But her vision blurred with the music, lights, and movements. This wasn't a time for thinking. Carpe Diem. She was seizing the day, the moment. The beat coursed through her veins, pushing her to move her legs and arms in a way that came naturally.
Darien tuned everything out except the music and her. He traced her liquid movements all around the circle, admiring every jump, twirl, and click of the sticks she held in her hands. He had no idea she was such a good dancer. He would bet that she didn't even know how good of a dancer she was. The dim lights caught the gold in the outfit she wore. God, he groaned, that outfit. How on earth people were supposed to remain chaste here was beyond him when the women wore such provocative and curve displaying clothes. It was the purity with which they wore them that was the real turn-on, he decided. He would give his right arm that Serena had no idea how incredible her slim waist looked with the low riding skirt. Every time her toned arms came up to clang the decorated sticks together, the flimsy material covering part of her midriff moved, gracing and torturing him with a full view of the taut, creamy skin.
He clenched the hand that was wrapped around a cup of soda. The music continued, but the women stopped, laughing and hugging. They formatted a line and the men stood opposite them in a parallel fashion. In a flash, Darien was given his own pair of dark dandya ras and stood somewhere in the line. His protests were left unheeded and soon the lines moved in a blur. Members of the opposite clanked their sticks with each other before twirling and moving along the line. It took a while for Darien to move his feet with the beat, but soon enough he had the hang of it in his slacks and loosely buttoned dress shirt.
With the lines moving, his turn to be level with Serena was fast approaching. Darien smiled and absently lifted his arms to clash his sticks with that of a young girls'. Two left. He did the same with a woman around thirty something. His field of vision was filled with Serena smiling broadly as she laughed at something the little boy said across from her. One left. He turned his head slightly to catch Megan's turquoise glittered sticks raised face level. Her smirk was met with a rueful smile as he gladly met his dandya ras with Megan's.
Then she spun off and Serena's sweet face filled his view. She raised her brows as she lifted the gold spackled cylinders at an angle. His face didn't change when he met them with his with a soft clang. Between the four colored sticks was a small diamond-shaped window. They stared at each other through it, oblivious to the pulsating line they were holding up. People moved around them with ease, leaving them gazing in a world where blue met blue and words were exchanged without a sound.
The moment was brought to a halt when a small girl of six tugged on Serena's long skirt and she dropped her arms quickly and bent down to talk to the child. Darien watched them scamper away, the girl running ahead of Serena, pulling her along by the arm. When the burgundy figure was gone, Darien turned and walked away, sitting down on a nearby chair as he tried to calm down his pulse, his mind, his heart.
****
Serena tried to focus on what Priya was saying. She nodded at all the right places, but the words made no sense. All she could hear was silence, all she could see was Darien's eyes, all she could feel was the joyous nervousness that fluttered all throughout her and made her feel as light as air.
Not allowing herself to question the bubbling sensation within her, sans the alcohol, Serena waved and smiled as the women around her walked away. Unable to rid herself of the grin taking over her lips, she slowly made her way away from the party, but still well on the Khan's enormous premises. The light waned and soon she was only able to make out distinct shadows. She walked over to a slim tree, placing her hand flat on its trunk. Bending her elbow, she brought face closer to its wood, resting her forehead on the rough bark. Rotating slowly, her back was soon pressed against the tree rather than her face. Closing her eyes, she pulled away after a moment and furthered her walk, her bare feet tickled by the grass. Serena's anklet chimed with every step and she soon found herself near a lit gazebo.
Realizing the Khans must have had it built somewhere in the past few years, she fingered the white lattice pattern and took the few steps to enter the circular solace. Carefully lifting her skirts to sit on the white shelf the served as a seat all the way around the small gazebo. Lifting her legs, she turned to rest her cheek against her knees. Staring out into the night, she spotting a small tin cup right next to her. Lifting it, she placed her index finger in and dusted it off when it came back covered in red powder.
Reveling in the powder's significance, she rested her chin on her knees and peered out directly in front of her. She held her arm out eye level and stared at the small tin placed in the center of her palm.
When he came, she was not aware of his presence until he was in front of her. Even then, he had to sit down so that her outstretched arm was parallel to his chest. Plucking the small box from her hand, he looked at it, obviously trying to determine its meaning.
She decided to put him out of his misery. "It's tika." That didn't help him in the least and he let her know with an eloquent raising of one dark brow. "It's a red powder that men put on their wives to let people know they're taken." She lowered her gaze. "Somewhat like a wedding ring."
Darien nodded slowly. "Ah," he said, staring down at the substance with newfound insight. Clearing his throat, he asked, "Where do they put it?"
She answered automatically in Hindi, "Mang." The both laughed lightly at her mistake. "In the parting of her hair," she lifted her four fingers to trace the middle part her blonde hair had been combed into before being pulled back into a bun.
"How long does it last?"
"You can wash it out easily." Serena raised her eyes to meet his again. "Besides, not many people do it anymore, sort of an archaic custom."
He nodded in understanding and they fell into an easy silence. After a while, Serena bit her lip anxiously. "Maybe we should head back—"
"Serena," he interrupted her softly, causing her head to lower unconsciously. She wasn't aware of his actions until she felt his thumb high on her forehead. She lifted her head and eyes in surprise when it dawned on her what he was doing. Never letting his cobalt eyes leave her own, he traced the path of her hair part took with the colored powder. She closed her eyes as he did it, reveling in the firm, gently pressure of his thumb on her head. The poignant moment was not wasted on her and she opened her suddenly bright eyes when he lowered his arm.
Serena's eyes were all ready shining and brimming with unshed tears when he caressed her jaw with his fingers. A lone droplet eked out when his lips met her own in an achingly sweet union.
She lowered her legs to the floor of the gazebo, instinctively trying to bring her body closer to his. Clutching his upper arms for support, she gripped his biceps, her fingers nestled in the security of his steadiness. He emitted a low groan and trailed his hands up from her bare waist, the sides of her breasts, to cup her face with his hands. He pulled back long enough to look into her heavy-lidded eyes and kissed her again. They sipped at each other's lips, short kisses dispersed between heavier, longer ones.
When they finally pulled back, Serena couldn't bring herself to look at him. Instead, she stared out into the darkness, dimly hearing the shrieks of happiness and music from the party they had left. It all seemed so far away, so remote. She felt separated from it all, as if she and Darien were on this remote island, with only this awkwardness to keep them company.
Suddenly, she was miserable. It shouldn't be this way. It should be comfortable, soothing, easing, *nice*. It shouldn't be this hard. Sighing unwittingly, she got up, ready to walk to the exit and head back to the party.
A tug stopped her and she turned to look back about a yard to where Darien still sat. He held one end of her long duppatta, the other still attached to her dress. The long yard of sheer fabric was all the separated them, yet it was all that held them together. She felt naked, exposed, raw. The material really did nothing to protect or cover her, but without it, Serena could help but feel wide open for attack.
He gently pulled the delicate cloth, drawing her nearer as if it were a leash. But it was not, Serena walked slowly of her own accord, Darien only pulling the fabric closer to him.
Soon enough, the entire material was in a pool by Darien's side and she was directly in front of him. His breathing was shallow and hers was accelerated. When he gently placed his hands on her hips, his fingers brushed the warm skin above the low cut line of the skirt. He stood up, diminished her height with his tall form. When he lowered his head to kiss her, her face was already turned up, waiting.
And then, she didn't feel endangered any longer. She felt safe and warm and content. Just like that. Perhaps it was simple after all.
****
When they returned to the party, it was much later and Darien dodged the men's grins and the women's giggles. Serena's reputation, however, was above reproach as she was led off to a mehdi party. After another hour or so, he turned in under the excuse of jet lag. Laying on top of the thick mattress they had placed out on the floor of another wise empty room, Darien stacked his hands behind his head and stared up into the ceiling. He was distracted by sound of tinkling jewelry near his door. When it swung open and Serena stepped in, he sat up in surprise, suddenly wanting to cover his bare torso out of deference to her.
She didn't seem to mind as she crept closer, finally sitting on the edge of his mattress, smiling sweetly. "I just wanted to show you." She held out her left hand for him to see. Darien gazed down at the intricate patterns woven in black on her palm and fingers. The moonlight illuminated the beautiful decorations as well as Serena's hair and face.
"It's beautiful," he whispered thickly, afraid that if he spoke too loud the delicate moment would be shattered.
"Look closer,'' she urged.
At that point he would have fallen off a bridge if she had told him to. Bending his head, he obeyed and was surprised when the cold mix was wiped on the side of his nose by her index finger.
She giggled as he raised his head, startled. Wiping it off gently, she set aside the used napkin she had used. Her left hand rendered immobile, Darien took the opportunity to tickle her ribs. She squirmed and tried to slap his hands away with her only defense: her right hand.
"Uncle," she gasped out in between bouts of muffled laughter.
"That's what I thought," he said smugly, pinching her side before he leaned back on his hands and straightened arms to look at her. She gazed back and for the first time since he had met her, Darien saw true joy shining in her blue eyes. And in that moment he knew that it had been the right choice bringing her here.
As if reading his mind, Serena broke their silent moment. "Darien, I wanted to thank you. You probably got the feeling I wasn't too keen on coming here" He snorted and she glared at him playfully, "But you insisted and I'm so grateful.
"I'd forgotten how magical everything seems to be here. I forgot how wonderful the Khans and all their friends are." She looked down at her linked hands. "I guess after the…attack, I just lumped India with all that Raye had to go through." He noted that she didn't mention the tragedy *she* had to endure. "I was wrong, though. There is so much good here." She stopped and bit her lip, unable to express the maelstrom of emotions running through her.
But he understood and all it took for him to convey that was a light squeeze to her hand. She looked up at him, smiling softly. He didn't know he had angled his body toward her until he was actually kissing her, wreaking havoc through her carefully coiffed bun. When he had untangled one of his hands from the mass of blonde waves, he lowered it to untuck her wrap out of the waistband of the skirt, grazing his fingers across her midriff. He felt her muscles there contract at his touch as she responded ardently to his kisses. He thought absently of his promise to stay away from her. Darien shook the memory from his mind; it was an impractical vow. This woman was a drug, stronger than nicotine or cocaine---kicking the habit was no longer a possibility.
Serena was drowning and the most beautiful part was that she didn't care. Air was no longer a necessity. Only Darien was; his scent, his touch, his kiss. Her fingertips lightly traced his shoulders, reveling in its tightness across his muscles. Moving her hands up, she stroked his jawline before linking her hands behind his neck, pressing gently so that both of them fell back against the mattress.
He pulled away so that he could look at her even in the dark room. The unspoken question was in his face: Are you sure? She nodded and leaned her head down to kiss him again. But Darien stopped them again, sitting up and thereby forcing her to do the same.
"What's wrong?" An embarrassed flush spread high across her cheekbones. The question was faint and vulnerable.
He sighed. "We can't make love until we know how we feel about each other, Serena."
"I know how I feel about you."
He looked up, hope and wariness in his cerulean eyes. "Do you?"
"Mm-hmm," she nodded and leaned toward him again, prepared to kiss him softly.
But he turned away from her. "Well, I love you, Serena. In fact, I want to marry you." She gasped and pulled back, her eyes as wide as saucers in the moonlight. He laughed bitterly. "Do you love me?"
She didn't answer. She couldn't. Instead, she got up noiselessly and left, her anklets suddenly falling silent as she ran to her room.
****
The rest of their trip, Serena avoided him at all costs. Darien kept his distance, unable to blame her for her guarded caution. He knew she loved him, he knew it in his bone. Whether she admitted to it or not was a matter of fighting her own personal demons. As much as Darien wanted to be there for her, help her even, it was a battle Serena had to take on alone. So he allowed her space, not pressing the matter in any way. He even went so far as to change their seats so that Serena could be relatively alone on the way back to London.
Megan saw the difference in their relationship and continuously shot him puzzled looks. But he just shook his head silently, unable to answer her pressing questions. She seemed to understand the gist of the problem, quietly offering her comfort. If it was one thing Darien learned during his stay in India, it was that expressions said everything.
It was only when they had claimed their baggage that Serena uttered her first words to him since that night in his room. "I trust you are a man of your word, Darien."
He peered at her expressionlessly. He knew what she was saying. "You know I am."
"Then our agreement still stands. I think it would be best if we didn't see each other again."
He nodded once, his face still a mask void of emotion. Even his voice was that of an automaton. "If that's what you want."
"It is," she said, perversely upset that he agreed so quickly.
"I'll drop you home then."
Knowing that these were their last moments together, she didn't protest. Not any words were exchanged between them as their bags were loaded and they sat together in the back of Darien's car. He gave his driver Serena's address and leaned back, completely avoiding look at her.
She stared at his profile, a heavy sadness washing over her. Yes, he may love her now but how long would that last? No, it was better not to do this. It was safer, wiser.
Then why didn't she believe a word of what she was saying? Tears threatened to spill over but she called them back, commanding herself to save them for when she was home. Men like Darien didn't stay interested in women like her for long. And as for her—well, she didn't deserve it. *Any* of it.
She looked out the window and would have laughed had this not been her life. Wonder of wonders, it had started to rain.