Page 26 of Journey to You

“I’m a sensitive new age guy. Go ahead. Try me.”

“Okay, but you better sit down. This could take a while.” She sank onto the ground, clasped her hands around her knees, and rested her chin on her knees, waiting until he sat next to her to begin.

“Shah Jahan was the son of the fourth Mughal emperor of India. He was fourteen when he met Arjumand Banu Begum, a Muslim Persian princess, who was fifteen. It was love at first sight.”

She wondered what it would be like to be swept away like that, to know in an instant you were destined to be with that person. Richard had charmed and blustered and cajoled his way into her affections, offering her the safety of marriage, a safety she’d craved since her dad had died. Their courtship had been quick and she’d fallen hard, but nothing like locking eyes with a person and knowing with the utmost certainty he wasthe one.

“But they were kids,” he said. “That’s not legal?”

She waved away his protest. “Different times. We’re talking about the early sixteen hundreds. Do you want to hear the rest or not?”

He smiled and gave her a gentle teasing bump. “Go ahead. I can see you’re busting to tell me.”

With a mock frown, she continued. “After meeting the princess, Shah Jahan went back to his father and declared he wanted to marry her. They married five years later. When he became emperor eleven years later, he entrusted her with the royal seal and gave her the title Mumtaz Mahal, which means ‘jewel of the palace.’ Though he had other wives—”

“What? That’s not romance, that’s bigamy.”

She rolled her eyes. “That’s allowed in his religion. Anyway—”

He grinned at her obvious annoyance by his constant interruptions.

“—She was his favourite, accompanying him everywhere, even on military campaigns. But when she was giving birth to their fourteenth child—” Ethan winced and she couldn’t blame him,“—there were complications and she died. Legend has it she secured a promise from him with her last breath to build a beautiful monument in her memory.”

She gestured to the Taj Mahal. “And he did.”

Her glance roved over the towering dome, the intricate archways, the Cyprus trees nearby, as she pondered the depth of that kind of love, captivated by the spellbinding romance.

“That’s some story.” He stared at the monument, the sudden tension in his shoulders alerting her that something was bothering him, before he turned to her and fixed her with a probing stare.

“Do you believe in love at first sight?”

At that moment, with his intense blue eyes boring into hers, his forearm brushing her, his heat radiant and palpable and real, she wished she did.

“My parents did. They took one look at each other on Colva beach and fell in love.”

He didn’t let her off that easily. “I didn’t ask about them. I’m asking you.”

Here was her chance to tell him she’d been thinking about pushing the boundaries, seeing where their attraction could take them. But the reservations of a lifetime dogged her.

She’d always done the right thing, been the dutiful daughter, the good wife. She didn’t like rocking the boat or changing the status quo. She’d tried it once before, and was still dealing with the consequences.

Drawing a harsh, shaky breath, she forced her fingers to relax rather than leave welts from digging into her hands.

“I don’t know what I believe anymore.”

He shook his head, disappointment clouding his eyes. “That’s a cop out.”

“Pardon?”

“You heard me. You’re a strong, resilient woman. You’ve coped with losing your husband. You’ve made decisions to move forward with your life. You’ve got plans to return to work.” He jerked his head towards the Taj Mahal. “You’ve come here when you knew it would be tough without your mother.”

He laid a hand on her arm and she flinched. “You’ve made all those major decisions but see how you just jumped when I touched you?”

He shook his head, his mouth twisting with disappointment as he released her. “You’re selling yourself short. You’re not being honest, with yourself or with me. And that’s not like you.”

She leaped to her feet, needing space—a continent’s worth—to flee the truth and the reckless pounding of her heart.

“This isn’t about honesty. It’s about taking a risk, and I hate taking risks.”

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