Maharaja's mistress MG ch 7 prt 1 pg 83 25/03 - Page 11

Chapter three

The meeting

Part one

'I have made my private sitting room available to you,' Geet's kindly old employer told her with obvious concern.

'thankyou Monsieur'

'and you only have to tug on the bell-pull if you need me.'

Monsieur's concern was genuine and it touched her. 'thankyou Monsieur, but I'm happy to see him.' On this occasion, a small white lie surely wouldn't hurt.

Bold resolutions were one thing; acting them out was something else, Geet realized, glancing anxiously around as she crossed the salon full of mirrors. Everyone else was carrying on as normal, which seemed odd until she remembered that their world was still running at the prescribed speed. But why should she worry about how she looked or what Maan thought of her? This was her life and Maan could accept it or not. But he was in for a shock—and not just because of the unconventional outfit. She'd always been alternative where fashion was concerned, but she hadn't always been scarred. But she had wanted this. No one had forced her to make contact with Maan. She had wanted the challenge and the chance to prove herself of her own terms.

And it couldn't be worse than Brij and Maan's Leavers' Ball. The event had been held in aid of charity and was the hottest ticket of the year. She'd been sixteen, so of course she didn't have a date—she never had a date. She usually managed to frighten boys away with whatever outlandish new look she happened to be sporting.

On this occasion Maan had teased her into making up a foursome with her brother Brij and his girlfriend, when Maan's date had gone down last minute with flu. He'd even told her she looked lovely when they both knew that was a lie—she had cut her black hair aggressively short that year and had dyed some of the spiked pillar-box red—but the chance for the ugly duckling to turn up with a hot, eighteen year old prince and shock all those pretty girls had proved irresistible. Not that she had improved any on the fashion stakes. She could never compete with the pretty girls and so she didn't try. Her dress was a hand-me-down some well-meaning aunt had passed on to her mother. 'its vintage,' she remembered telling Maan defiantly, pretending the ankle-length, sludge-green chiffon with its smattering of sequins was what she wanted to wear. Tall, hard-muscled Maan, acting like the prince he was, had shrugged and offered her his arm. Looking back, Geet guessed it must have been a charity event for him in all senses of the word.

But she was a very different person now—she could cope with anything Maan threw at her.

Which was why her heart was going crazy?

Opening the door onto Monsieur Michel's private quarter's Geet shut the bustle of the salon out. She needed a moment to clear her head and leaned back on the door. She and Maan hadn't parted on the best of terms. The last time they met had been at Brij's engagement party when Maan's behavior had confused her. She had been so desperate for him to see her as a woman and had really taken trouble to look nice for once. They were both adults, Maan had told her when she had tried to engage him in conversation, and his life was moving in a different direction. He might have acted coolly, but he'd bought her a goodbye present—and there was even a moment when she'd thought he was going to kiss her, but nothing came of it. Why did he have to humiliate her like that? The dress was a parting gift, she'd realized later—a rich boy's pay-off for a childhood friend he would no longer have any time for.

She wasn't pretty enough or interesting enough to hold Maan's attention—she could see that now, but back then she'd been so young and so very vulnerable. Maan leaving had been a license to run wild. The endless and ultimately unsuccessful search to put something in his place transformed her from a daring tomboy to adrenaline junkie—treading the thin line between thrill and disaster became her only purpose until the accident and an enforced stay in a burns unit brought her into contact with the people far worse off than she was , by which time she was sick of her empty life and Maan was long gone.

And now he was back.

Courage. That was what the doctors had told her she would need after the accident when she had to face the possibility of losing her sight.

Courage. Did she have it? Did she have enough?

With Maan Singh Khurana just a few feet away, it was time to find out.

And still she hesitated outside the paneled door. She had only visited Monsieur's private sanctum on one previous occasion and that was for her interview.

Well, she thought admiring the room, she couldn't stand here all day, tilting her chin at a defiant angle, she seized the handle and entered the room only to discover that with Maan in the room Monsieur's cosy sitting room was anything but cosy.