This will be a most unusual wedding compared to the ones that I have written before. I am trying to keep with the characters.
I have made a few changes in the content, thanks to the advice and suggestions of iluvmyphantom - she is a bit of an expert on Indian culture and has been giving me some pointers. Thank you, my friend.
Enjoy.
DARK SIDE OF THE GLASS
CHAPTER 26
Christine and Raoul arrived early the next day, ready to be a part of the wedding ceremony. It was not a big ceremony, as most Indian weddings would be, but Lavanya did not feel too concerned about that minor flaw; she had foregone most of the traditions of her country – fearing never to return.
She had agreed to let Christine, Meg, and Tarrah help her prepare for the ceremony; she took a long, luxurious bath in perfumed water – oiled and moisturized her skin and paid a great deal of attention to her hair.
Afterwards, they wrapped her in the Sari and jewels adorned her face, ears, hair, and hands. She had managed to find some amazing jewelry in Paris yesterday – a wonderful shopping experience with Tarrah and Meg. Tarrah had been the one to ask Erik for the funding, and he had provided nicely, not even questioning why she needed it.
They did not have the henna for the body painting, so they made due with various berry juices and natural colorants. When done, Lavanya looked like an exotic princess from a far-away land, ready to meet her prince charming.
"You look stunning, Lavanya, I have never seen a more beautiful bride."
Lavanya smiled at the soft words that Christine spoke. She had finally realized that the young woman saw Erik more as a best friend/father figure than a love interest. The discussions they had shared and all of the things she had said just proved that more and more - but she loved him very much.
"Thank you…" she looked at every woman in the room, "…I could not have done this without you. I would normally have my mother and sisters around to help, but my mother died when I was eight and I have no sisters…" her voice trailed off in thought and a sad light invaded her eyes, "…I just wish Sharad were here."
"Who is Sharad?" Meg asked, curious about this man she spoke of with such fondness.
"My brother, Meg…" Lavanya smiled, "…he is quite handsome and he and Erik are the same age."
Meg nodded in response, understanding how much she would want her family around her when she finally caught the eye of a man worthy of her mother's scrutinizing eye.
Lavanya was thankful that Sharad had found love and was planning on settling down; he had always avoided getting too involved with anyone – he just loved women too much
Christine's voice drew her from her thoughts.
"Raoul would have a conniption if I wore such an outfit; but I cannot believe how comfortable it looks."
Lavanya frowned at the younger woman; not understanding any man objecting to the beautiful and sensual clothing of her native land.
"Why would he object?"
"It just is not proper in our society to wear such revealing clothing."
Lavanya glanced down at her form and chuckled.
"I have thought the same about some of the low-cut dresses I have seen the French ladies wearing." They all agreed with that. "If you think this is revealing, you should see my kathak outfit."
Every woman's mouth was agape.
"Kathak?"
Lavanya nodded.
"It sounds intriguing."
Lavanya smiled, and chuckled at their enthusiastic eyes and voices.
"It is - and quite beautiful. It is a dance that many women in my country have perfected; it is artistic, elegant, and sensual."
Tarrah thought is sounded fascinating, "Erik will be enthralled…you must show him."
"I intend to…there is a great deal about me that he does not know, and I know even less about him." Lavanya stated with a twinkle in her eye. "However, in my country, this is not unusual. Marriage is journey of discovery…there are no long courtships in my country – no engagement rings…none of these things are significant in my culture."
"That sounds atrocious!" Christine stated vehemently.
Lavanya smiled and continued.
"It is not; the families usually benefit from the match and the bride and groom seldom know each other beyond brief contact."
"So, the fact that you and Erik scarcely know each other does not bother you?"
Lavanya smiled and shook her head, "No, it does not…I only hope he finds happiness with me. I promised my brother I would do right by Erik, and I will…not because I promised Sharad, but because Erik seems worthy of my best…." She smiled sheepishly, "…even if he can be a bit of a grump."
♠♣♦♥
They had agreed upon their attire being traditional Indian – as well as her ritualistic preparation, but they had also agreed upon a ring ceremony – Erik had wanted to put a ring on her finger; little did he know that Lavanya was eager to wear it.
The service would be Christian, as Lavanya had converted years ago – more to upset her father than anything – but she found that the God of Christianity touched her like no other. Despite her Christian conversion, she had kept much of her Indian culture.
Erik had stopped himself from walking out on the ceremony many times; knowing that Lavanya had surely come to her senses and fled. However, each time, he stopped; hating the weakness that made him want what she had to offer.
The outfit that Lavanya had made for him looked wonderful on him, but Erik did not even notice. He dressed, much as he had every other morning, decided to let the defiant, soft curls of his soot-colored hair hang loose around his face, and donned his white half-mask.
The only people present were Annette, Richard, Gilles, Tarrah, Christine, Raoul, and Meg. He only wished he could have given her the tradition Indian wedding she deserved. As it was, they had improvised and the vicar had graciously agreed to be flexible.
There would be no exchanging of vows, just a public acceptance of one another and a brief moment of placing a ring on her finger. They were being married in a small, but elegantly decorated stateroom of a local hotel – where no reporters or meddlesome gossips could find them.
He was not allowed to see her until she stood before him, a western tradition she insisted upon; so he faced the priest as she was brought to him. He would be free to speak, if he so chose, but it was not required.
However, what was to happen next made his knees shake.
To accept her as his bride, he was to place his ring on her finger, lift her veil, and kiss her - not a chaste kiss, but the kiss of a husband. In return, she would accept him – or run, as Erik thought was the more appropriate description.
Forget the knees, everything on him was shaking.
♣♠♦♥
Erik had always held the opinion that the women of India were some of the most beautiful in the world. He had been a silent but avid watcher of them in the years that he had spent there.
As the exquisitely clad figure of his bride appeared before him – adorned in pure white with shimmering threads draping her body like the touch of a lover, he could not remember how to breathe. He only prayed he did not look like a halfwit standing before her with his mouth agape.
A veil covered her features; giving her an air of mystery that succeeded in igniting his blood. Erik was busy admiring the soft, feminine movements of her body under the wedding attire and did not realize that a stunning smile spread over his face; and his bride admired it from beneath the veil.
She curtsied in submission and waited for his hand upon her shoulder. He gave it, feeling the softness of her clothing and heat of her body.
She arose and stood before him awaiting his approval. His trembling hands held her veil firmly and he slowly began lifting it. He could not understand why she had gone to so much trouble just to marry him. She had undergone the entire wedding preparation ritual; it was evident by her incredible appearance.
Of course, nothing escaped Lavanya's eager eyes. He looked beyond magnificent in the clothes she had made for him. His tall, lean, muscular body did them justice and she longed to see him move in them. He lit a fire within her at that moment…one that would never out.
The veil finally revealed her to him and his heart swelled with a warm light that was unfamiliar to him. She had bejeweled herself for him – her hair, her ears, her neck, her face – she was a paragon of feminine beauty.
She stared up at him with a softness in her eyes that Erik found disconcerting, but also unbelievably desirable. He knew it could not be for him, but he was enjoying the moment, completely engulfed in their blue/green depths.
He took the ring from his smallest digit, where he had placed it for safekeeping, and placed it upon her finger. He had found the ring a couple of days ago while lingering in town after a rehearsal. The jeweler had been impressed with his professional eye concerning the design and type of diamond. This was the only ring that Erik felt was worthy to be worn by Lavanya.
The 2-carat diamond was in the shape of a teardrop and was nestled between rows of smaller diamonds on both sides. It was exquisite and Lavanya stared in awe at it for a few moments before lifting her oceanic eyes.
He had not planned to say anything to her, but he found the words pouring forth from him as though they were written on his heart.
He scanned her face with his eyes, slowly taking in each delicate feature that suddenly and completely captivated him; a smile, small but beautiful played upon his full lips and he spoke to her, so softly that the others in the room had a hard time hearing him.
"This moment will be a part of me for the rest of my life – the way you look – there is no one that compares; the way you are looking at me - as though I am actually worthy of your attention…" He centered his eyes on her lips, tasting their sweetness and feeling their softness in his mind before he dared to touch them. "…you take my breath away."
He lowered his head, forgetting all the misgivings and doubts, forgetting his insecurities and self-hatred; he was going to kiss this woman – and cherish the moment for the rest of his life.
The touching of their lips was like a melding of two souls. Erik barely moved his lips over hers, but he felt the force of the contact shoot straight through him. She responded to him by moaning quietly and kissing him back; a soft opening of her lips that left his knees weak.
She initiated more contact by wrapping her arms around his neck and bringing her lips to his again, this time with a more demanding surety. Erik felt her body mold to his and his arms instinctively surrounded her waist, drawing her to him more fully.
Lavanya drank him in; his taste, his scent, his tenderness, his passion…his pain – all revealed to her through the touch of his lips to hers. There was no arrogance in his kiss, no guile – he seemed as baffled by the heated contact as she was…but she relished it like a perfect rose relishes the fresh dew at dawn's break.
For the tiniest moment, her tongue flitted across the sensual cut of his full lips – flirting with their softness; but before Erik could respond, the officiating vicar cleared his throat and they parted, both of them breathless and stunned.
Lavanya moved the tip of her tongue over her lips, still tasting him. She had been lost in the feel of his warm, soft lips against hers, having been kissed on several occasions by different suitors. She had longed for more – her body ached for more – and he was now her husband…she had the right to ask for more.
She looked at him as the priest announced their union and felt a twitter in the pit of her stomach. He seemed rather shocked at the intimate kiss they had shared – even ashamed; but Lavanya had no idea why he would feel that way.
There was a dinner being catered, compliments of Raoul and Christine. They had wanted to do something special to show how happy they were for Erik and Lavanya.
The food was marvelous and the small ensemble they had hired to play music in the background was quietly entertaining them; but Erik separated himself from the festivities and slowly moved through the large, double glass doors to stand on the patio.
He gazed into the large garden area, watching the dusky shadows begin to dominate his surroundings. The beautiful landscaping the hotel displayed, was one of the most prestige's gardens in Paris.
His thoughts wandered to the kiss they had shared…he was a logical man; they had both been wrapped up in the moment; and yet, the kiss had left a yearning within him that was quickly giving way to despair. Why had she kissed him back – and with such wild abandonment?
Erik stepped off the patio and traced the rock path through the gardens. The sun was sinking; soon to give way to the rising, pale crescent of the moon. The smell of the spring flowers tickled his senses and he relaxed from the peaceful serenity of the garden.
He was not aware of his bride's watchful eyes, following his statuesque figure as it moved gracefully through the garden. She felt the loneliness that controlled him – ate at him – and she could not help but feel the need to shelter him from whatever caged the impassioned man who had kissed her so deliciously.
He knelt down, closely examining one of the spring tulips that had closed for the evening. He removed his gloves and touched the soft surface of the petals, marveling in the simple beauty it possessed.
"There cannot be too many men who would wish to be by themselves on their wedding night."
Her voice jolted him and he stood abruptly, turning toward her arousing figure. His head lowered and he hoped she did not see the terrifying fear in his eyes.
"It is no reflection on you, Madam, I assure you…" he relaxed slightly and tried not to focus on her beauty, "…I am not one for celebrations."
Lavanya walked slowly over to a small, wooden bench and sat down. He moved to stand beside her, keeping at a safe distance.
"We are beyond formalities, my husband."
She smiled and patted the seat beside her, indicating that she wanted him to sit down.
Erik, unsure of what to do, hesitantly sat down; keeping his back straight and his hands on his knees.
She lifted her hand and examined the beautiful ring he had placed on her finger.
"This ring is the prettiest thing I have ever seen, Erik; thank you."
Erik watched her eyes react to the ring, their blue/green irises turning a deep, midnight blue with the shroud of the evening sky.
He simply nodded, not trusting himself to say anything logical or profound pertaining to the ring. Her eyes were a mystery to him, and the question was out before he thought about it.
"Forgive my forwardness, but you have the most stunning eyes I have ever seen. Most of the women from your country have brown eyes."
Lavanya felt a swell of joy within her that he had noticed her eyes; ever since her arrival, he seemed to be pushing himself further and further away from her. She had begun to think he did not like her at all…until the kiss they had just shared.
No matter how hard he tried, he could not resist the pull she had on him. Her eyes were just one part of her that he found devastatingly attractive.
He looked away from her and again stared into the darkness. He was nervous about bringing up what was to happen next. He could not imagine taking her to his bed…even now, he was sure she was trembling in fear at the thought of it.
It is my right to do so; all I have to do is lead the way...she will follow… and I can finally know the joys and warmth of a woman's body.
His thoughts made his body harden and his heart speed up. The thought of having a willing woman yield to him was almost too much…
She is not willing, Erik…she had no choice in taking you as her husband.
He hung his head and sighed quietly, causing Lavanya to ponder over what was causing such despondency in a man who had just given her the most incredible kiss she had ever experienced…it didn't matter that it was not her first; his had been the sweetest and she longed for what was yet to come.
"Come, my husband; it is getting quite chilly out here and I find myself growing weary of being around so many people….I am sure we can find something to keep ourselves busy."
Erik wasn't thinking straight, obviously; he could have sworn he had heard a sensual purr in her voice – one that sent a stroke of desire up his flesh as though she had firmly gripped his manhood in her hand.
She had gently taken his bare hand in hers, as his gloves lay forgotten on a table somewhere; and she was leading him into the large room; the contact of her flesh on his left him addled and he followed like a lamb to the slaughter.
Ravenously, he watched her swaying hips – almost feeling their softness beneath his hands and their hidden joys wrapping around his wanton flesh, coaxing him into a state of utopia.
She looked back at him as she led him to an unknown destination. Erik could not even remember what they had been discussing before she took his hand and began to lead him.
"Erik…."
Her voice penetrated his desire-clouded mind, throwing him back into reality with a force that rivaled a spring thunderstorm.
He focused his eyes on her face, seeing her beautifully adorned hair and skin, and immediately averted them – she did not need to know the lustful thoughts that had been going through his mind – he was here to protect her – all else was unimportant.
"Erik, do you have a preference?"
He frowned and lifted his eyes, barely holding her gaze.
"A preference?" He repeated.
She smiled, leaving him breathless and even more confused.
"Yes, a preference…on the room?"
Confusion still shrouded his features and he remained motionless, standing in the middle of the long, wide hallway with his wife's petite hand still holding his.
"Would you rather stay here – in the room that Raoul and Christine have graciously given us for the night – or would you rather go back to our home?"
She sincerely thought he met to bed her this night – to treat her as some trophy wife he had obtained through bargaining or bartering. She seemed almost willing to allow his monstrous, murdering hands to touch her.
Shame, like nothing he had ever felt before, washed over him and he quickly removed his hand from her grasp. He trembled from head to foot – fighting the self-disgust that flooded his mind and spirit.
A douse of invisible cold water must have hit him – completely cleansing him of the impure thoughts he had been harboring - and any remaining desire he may have been tempted to act upon.
"NO!" He emphasized - his voice a very loud, sharp gasp.
She pulled back from him, but her eyes never left his. She stared, disbelievingly, into his stormy green eyes, not comprehending why he was objective.
"No?" She whispered back.
Her eyes were inquisitive and Erik was certain she was confused by his reaction. He did not want to compound the situation by leaving her in the dark about his intentions. He relaxed his tense stance and tried to smile.
He would take her to the hotel room, but not for the reason she surely anticipated; they needed to talk before he lost his nerve.
"Come, we need to talk."
His voice was low and lulling – sending a warm thrill up her spine. He took her hand gently in his and they found their way to the room that Raoul and Christine had rented for the night.
Just thinking about the fact that they had expected him to consummate this marriage tonight, embarrassed and shamed him – why would they think he would do such a thing.
Once inside the room, Erik turned up the lights and the soft, sensual glow of the flame illuminated the beauty that surrounded them.
The walls were a soft white with intricately carved, wooden molding around the ceiling and floorboards. The ceiling was lovely; a painted mural depicting the Garden of Eden and the intimate binding of man and woman was exquisitely displayed.
Deep burgundy, forest green, midnight blue, and velvet black accented the room and sensually cloaked it in shades of seduction.
The large, four-poster, bed against the back wall dominated the room – calling to Erik like a siren leading him to his doom. He stayed away from it – fearing its control and yearning for its promise.
"What is it you wish to talk about, husband?" Lavanya murmured from behind him. "I did not think that talking would be what you had in mind."
Erik stood up straighter at the sound of her voice and closed his eyes – willing his nerve to remain strong and unmoving. He finally turned around to find her only inches from him, staring into his face with a look that said she was clearly baffled by his behavior.
Lavanya instinctively knew he was as much a virgin as she was; more so, really – for he had no sensuality training – what he knew, he had learned by reading. He doubted his virility and attractiveness and she knew he had entered into this marriage never intending to exercise his husbandly rights.
Lavanya smirked to herself and her thoughts turned coltishly seductive.
Whatever makes the poor man think he is in charge of such things?
TBC