insides like red-hot wire. ‘No. It belonged to my great-grandmother.’
He had never offered Nasreen his great-grandmother’s ring, a ring given to her by his great-grandfather as a symbol of their love. Nasreen had told him that she longed to wear the enormous emerald ring that was part of another suite of jewellery, and against his better judgement he had allowed her to have it. Against his better judgement because it was a formal piece meant to be worn with the rest of the set.
Somehow it seemed right that Sophia should have the ring that had been a gift of love. His own thoughts made him frown.
Thankful that she wasn’t going to be wearing Nasreen’s ring, Sophia removed the ring from its box and slipped it on to her own ring finger, surprised to discover that it fitted her perfectly.
It fitted her and suited her, Ash recognised, as he looked down at where his great-grandmother’s ring shone on Sophia’s finger as though it had found its rightful place.
‘Alex texted me to ask what is going on,’ he told her, changing the subject. ‘Your father obviously told him that we are getting married. I should warn you that I’ve told him that meeting up again at his engagement party made us both realise that we had feelings for each other that we couldn’t ignore.’
‘Alex thinks that we’re in love?’
‘It seemed preferable to telling him the truth. He and I may be old friends, but you are still his sister. I felt it was wiser all round to allow him to think that our marriage is based on a mutual desire to be together, which brings me to another point. Having told him that, I think that in public it will be for the best if we behave as though we want to be together. I have no wish for our marriage to become the subject of any ongoing gossip and speculation, and given that your father publicly announced your engagement to another man, the press are bound to be curious. The discovery that our feelings for each other are stronger than mere friendship will provide the necessary explanation. And that goes for anything you might say to your family.’
‘But if my father has told them that he has insisted that you marry me …’
‘He hasn’t, and he agrees with me that the sudden discovery of our love for each other will provide an acceptable excuse for him to give to the prince. In the eyes of the world this marriage will work, Sophia. Make no mistake. I am determined about that.’
It was over, done. Now, standing here in this anonymous public building that was the marriage registry Ash had chosen, in the eyes of the law she had become his wife. It had been a civil ceremony so plain and direct that against all her expectations she had found in the exchange of the words that had committed them to each other a meaningful simplicity that had touched her emotions. Instead of feeling deprived because she was not having the exotic glamour of a three-day-long traditional Indian wedding, or the pomp and ceremony of being married in the cathedral on Santina, during the ceremony she had thought of all those couples who had made the simple commitment they were making out of love for each other. And that was the cause of the sharp up-rush of pain she felt? Yes, of course it was. What else could it be? It certainly wasn’t because she was still foolish enough to dream of being loved by Ash.
They had signed the registry, their signatures had been witnessed, and Ash had told her that her father intended to break the news to their family that their marriage had now taken place later that evening.
‘Carlotta will say that I should have waited.’
‘And you will tell her that our love for each other meant that we couldn’t.’
To step out into the colourful bustle of the busy street as Ash’s wife felt almost surreal. There had been no couture wedding gown for her, just a simple white linen dress, its colour drawing a look from Ash that had told her how little a claim she had to its virginal purity.
It was too late now for her to change her mind. They were married. Desperate to distract herself from the anxiety and the feelings of being unloved and totally alone in the world that were beginning to engulf her, Sophia looked around at her surroundings once their car had pulled away from the registry office. It would be impossible not to be excited and entranced by the verve and colour that was India, or to have one’s heart captivated by it, she acknowledged. She desperately wanted to share with Ash her wonderment and belief that she would very quickly grow to love her new home, and to ask him questions about the city and of course about his home of Nailpur, but she had to remember that this was a dynastic marriage of convenience. Ash did not want any kind of emotional bonding or sharing between them. All Ash wanted from her was her sexual fidelity and an heir.
‘We need to get back to the apartment,’ Ash told Sophia. ‘We’re flying to Nailpur in a couple of hours.’
A new text beeped into Sophia’s phone. From her mother this time and not Carlotta. Darling, your father and I are so pleased about you and Ash. I remember how you used to adore him when you were young. Be happy.
Be happy? That was impossible.
Another text had arrived, this one from Carlotta, demanding, Are you sure you’re doing the right thing?
Hitting Reply, Sophia wrote defiantly through the emotion threatening to close up her throat. It’s a dream come true. Have loved Ash forever and couldn’t be happier.
Couldn’t be happier, she had told Carlotta, but wasn’t the truth that she couldn’t have been more unhappy?
Ash stared out of the window. He had done the right thing, the only thing given the circumstances, in subjecting his decision to exactly the same logical tests he would have subjected a vitally important business deal, given the development of a situation that meant that decisive action had to be taken and quickly. Yes, he might have had to make the best of a bad job as it were, but his decision had passed those tests.
So why did he have a niggling feeling that there was something important that he had failed to consider? Why did he feel this wary sense of some kind of danger from which he should retreat? Ash knew the cause of his disquiet perfectly well. It could be traced back to those minutes in bed with Sophia on the plane when he had come so close to relinquishing his self-control. Of almost glorying in succumbing to his own need to abandon that self-control for the sake of the pleasure he had known it would give him to take her without it. That would have been an act as reckless in its way and with potentially as far-reaching effects further down the line as if he had had full sex without using any protection. If he had given in to that need, if he had allowed his desire for Sophia to breach his self-control then … But he had not. The steward’s timely interruption had seen to that, and now that he was aware of that possible weakness within him he was in a far better position to deal with it. And he would deal with it.
THEY flew out of Mumbai, its crowded streets swarming with busy life and brilliant with the vibrant colours of its fabrics and decoration that Sophia had already come to feel somehow warmed against the coldness of the loss of her dreams and the harshness of reality that was chilling her heart. It was just after night had fallen, so that below them, the city was a brilliant spangle of multicoloured lights against the darkness of the night sky.
Ash glanced towards Sophia as she sat still strapped in her seat, and looking out of the jet’s cabin window. He heard her indrawn breath and saw that they were flying over Marine Drive with its plethora of lights.
‘They call it the Queen’s Necklace,’ he told her.
Sophia nodded her head. After all those teenage dreams of becoming Ash’s wife, the mundane reality of the two of them together with nothing of any importance to say to each other was certainly not what her fevered longings had once imagined. But then conversation of any kind hadn’t featured in those teenage longings, Sophia was forced to acknowledge, other than a passionate ‘I love you’ murmured in between the unrestrained passion of Ash’s kisses and caresses.
‘Nailpur isn’t Mumbai,’ Ash felt obliged to warn Sophia