Modern Romance February 2020 Books 1-4. Louise Fuller

letters and wedding gifts in Samaira’s small office had she realised that she had been ridiculously naive not to appreciate that Jai’s position with an international charity foundation, his local role as a former ruler and his recent marriage would not also make demands on her.

      ‘And there was this,’ the tiny, beautiful Samaira finally declared, sliding a sheet of paper across the desk and rising at the same time to leave the library. ‘It’s an email that arrived on the Maharaja’s historical website and I was given it by his PA, Mitul. He took the liberty of printing it out, which I hope was correct,’ she added hopefully. ‘We felt that the enquiry was for you and best given to you.’

      Surprised by that seemingly unnecessarily detailed explanation, Willow frowned and glanced down at the paper, looking first at the signature. Milly St John, a name that meant nothing whatsoever to her. She studied the couple of lines in the message before comprehension gripped her with sudden dismay.

      As you have recently married my son and are the mother of my grandson, I would be very grateful if you would agree to meet with me alone and in private at my hotel in Chandrapur on the seventeenth.’

      Willow paled, because it was an extraordinary request from a woman that Jai would not even discuss. It was also a hot potato that had passed quickly from hand to hand, the staff probably striving to work out the best way to deal with it since Jai’s aversion to anything relating to his mother was clearly well known. And Samaira was right, it was an invitation for Willow but undoubtedly not one of which Jai would approve.

      ‘Thank you,’ Willow said quietly, keen not to embellish the staff grapevine by commenting on an email that had very probably already caused a wave of gossip and speculation.

      And while she was pondering that problem and what to do about it, she too left the library and wandered down to the far end of the palace in the direction of the suite of offices that had been neatly tailored from what had once been staff quarters. There she hesitated, uncertain that she even wanted to raise such a prickly topic, for in recent days Jai had become progressively more elusive. Yes, she had accepted that he would have to return to work, but she had not appreciated quite how much business would occupy his time. He usually joined her for dinner but rarely for breakfast or lunch, invariably rising before her and retiring after she had. She was relieved, however, that in spite of that relentless schedule he had still made time for their son, even if any notion of making time for her seemed to have died a total death after that first glorious week together.

      Willow understood, however, that he was very busy, and she wasn’t the clingy type. She didn’t need him to fill the daylight hours when she had Hari to occupy her, a beautiful garden and an entire library of books, but she couldn’t help thinking that Jai was treating her rather like a new and shiny novelty whose initial lustre had quickly worn off and ended up boring him instead. On that note, she turned her steps in another direction and decided to ask him what she felt she needed to ask him over dinner instead.

      Later, Jai strolled out to the big domed terrace that was shaded throughout the day and cool. Willow sipped her wine and savoured his long-legged grace and sheer bronzed beauty with his black-lashed arctic-blue eyes glittering. A little quiver ran through her slender length, her breasts peaking almost painfully below the bodice of the sundress she wore, a clenching sensation tightening deep in her pelvis so that colour flared up in her cheeks. ‘Hello, stranger,’ she heard herself say even though she had not intended to make any comment on his recent inaccessibility.

      Jai lifted a black brow in query, as if that greeting had totally taken him aback.

      ‘I haven’t seen you since I woke to see you walking out of our bedroom yesterday morning,’ Willow pointed out, watching the faint rise of colour that scored his exotic cheekbones with curiosity. ‘Hey, I’m not complaining. I’m just pointing it out.’

      Disconcerted by that statement, Jai breathed. ‘Has it really been that long? I’m sorry but I had to attend a board meeting for the foundation last night. It ran late and I didn’t want to disturb you, so I used another room.’

      ‘I think you need to learn to delegate more,’ Willow responded with determined lightness. ‘It’s not healthy for anyone to be working twenty-four-seven.’

      Jai gritted his teeth, belatedly recognising in that moment that he had gone to quite absurd lengths to avoid his wife for the sin of attracting him too strongly. He dimly wondered if there was a streak of insanity somewhere in his family genes. What had seemed like such a good idea a week earlier had now blurred and become questionable. In the midst of scanning her tiny slender figure in a sunflower-yellow dress, which accentuated the strawberry-blond waves curling round her piquant face and framed her catlike green eyes, he reckoned that no normal man would have behaved as he had done: resisting his beautiful wife’s allure as though she were both toxic and dangerous.

      He could only assume that the literal act of getting married had afflicted him with some very weird and deferred form of cold feet. All to prove some kind of point to himself? That he was in control? And able to wreck his marriage before it even got off the ground? He breathed in deeply, recognising in bewilderment that his usual rational outlook inexplicably seemed to always send him in the wrong direction with Willow.

      ‘Even with the party scheduled, next week won’t be half as frantic for me,’ Jai assured her hurriedly as Ranjit poured the wine and retreated.

      ‘Good,’ Willow replied with a smile that lit up her face like sunshine. ‘But the party event has also given me some questions I feel I have to ask you about your background.’

      Jai tensed. ‘My…background?’

      ‘I feel awkward about asking but I feel I should know the basic facts, because I will be mixing with your relatives, who presumably already know those facts, and I don’t want to trip up in my ignorance and say anything that sounds stupid,’ Willow outlined, trotting out the excuse she had prepared and reddening hotly because simply telling him the truth would have come much more naturally to her.

      Yet in her heart of hearts she had already guessed that Jai would absolutely forbid her to have anything to do with his mother, but Lady Milly was her mother-in-law and Hari’s grandmother and, although she was a stranger, Willow still felt that she surely ought to have the right to form her own opinion.

      ‘Facts about what?’ Jai prompted.

      ‘About why your parents broke up, about why your mother left you behind,’ she murmured tightly, guilt still jolting through her in waves.

      ‘My mother is the daughter of an English duke, which is still virtually all I know about her. The marriage didn’t last long and ended in divorce…’ Jai compressed his sensual mouth into a flat bitter line ‘…because apparently she believed that her alliance with an Indian and the birth of a mixed-race child were adversely affecting her social status.’

      ‘That’s weird… I mean, if she believed that why would she have married your father in the first place?’ Willow pressed with a furrowed brow.

      ‘I have never had a conversation with her, consequently I don’t know,’ Jai admitted flatly.

      ‘You’ve never even met her?’ Willow exclaimed in disbelief.

      ‘I don’t think you could call it a meeting… I did run into her once quite unexpectedly at a public event and she pretty much cut me dead. Her second husband and children were with her,’ Jai explained, and his strong bone structure might have been formed with steel beneath his olive skin, his forbidding cast of features as revealing of his feelings on that occasion as the ice in his gaze.

      ‘That was unforgivable,’ Willow conceded, shocked and unhappy on his behalf.

      Jai frowned. ‘Of course, she did attempt to come back from that very low point. Shortly afterwards, she came to my London home in an attempt to see me, but I had her turned away. In fact, there were several attempts, but I have no desire to either see or speak to her. She sent letters as well, which I returned unopened. At this stage in my life and with my father dead, I see no reason to waste