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Lucas chuckled, kissing her brow. ‘What was that all about?’ He could remember nothing about the argument and everything about the way she’d caressed his body, teasing him until he’d begged her to finish it, vowing that he’d never cross her again.
‘No idea. Probably something that didn’t matter.’
‘It all matters, Thea. You keep me honest. Don’t ever stop nudging me back into shape when I need it.’
‘Nudging?’
‘Wrenching. Twisting.’
‘Kissing?’ She brushed her lips against his.
‘That I particularly like. You bring me joy, Thea. You always have.’ He whispered the words into her ear and felt her snuggle against him.
‘Lucas.’ She murmured his name, and it was all he wanted to hear. That, and the little sound she made just before she came.
He reached across her for the little bottle of lavender oil on the nightstand, putting it in her hand. She took off the top, carefully dropping some into his palm. It was time to take things slowly.
Just before the dawn, as she broke in his arms, she said it. The words he felt in his heart but that he still felt he had no right to hear.
‘I love you.’
* * *
They walked together silently along the wide pathway that led to the Taj Mahal. Not so much as the brush of a finger’s touch. Thea wore a long skirt and a scarf slung around her shoulders in a gesture of respect for the place. She seemed serene, almost ethereally lovely, and Lucas was proud to be the one walking by her side towards the marble dome, pale in the morning sunlight.
‘It’s beautiful.’ Lucas knew she had a camera in her bag but, unlike most of the tourists around them, her first instinct wasn’t to take it out. Thea seemed to be content with drinking in a moment that couldn’t be captured digitally.
‘Yes.’ He slowed his pace and she fell into step beside him. As she moved, the almost imperceptible scent of lavender floated towards him on the breeze.
* * *
They’d explored everything. Stopped to look at the detail of the magnificent carvings and inlay work, marvelled at the curve of the red and gold ceiling. The dome had turned from pink against a clear morning sky to pure white as the clouds had gathered and the last of the monsoon rains had freshened the air and made the marble terraces sparkle. Finally shades of amber and red as the sun had begun to set, reflections shimmering in the water of the reflecting pool.
‘We missed the market.’ Lucas was looking out of the window of the minibus as they sped along the highway back to the hotel.
‘I’d rather have done what we did. You can’t rush a place like that.’ Next time, maybe they’d see the market. Thea dared to wonder if maybe she would see the Taj Mahal again with Lucas, and resolved that if that wasn’t to be, she’d never come back here again.
‘Yeah.’ He stretched in his seat, stifling a yawn. ‘You’re right. We’ll have to come back to see the rest.’
She dozed for most of the two-hour journey back to the hotel, and they ate a late supper together in the quiet dining room. Then up to her room to throw off her clothes, shower and fall into bed.
The click of the latch on the balcony doors, and she smiled.
‘Okay, honey?’ Lucas’s body, curling around hers, warm and comfortable.
‘Yeah. Sleepy.’
‘I know. It’s been a good day, hasn’t it?’ His fingers brushed her cheek, and he leaned over to kiss her forehead.
‘A wonderful day.’
‘Sleep now.’ He twined his fingers around hers and Thea fell asleep, holding his hand to her heart.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
HE WAS SPRAWLED on the bed in the morning light, tangled in a sheet and sleeping soundly. The kind of image that you wanted to keep for ever, locked away in your heart in case the sunshine made it fade. Thea ran her finger lightly along his arm, careful not to wake him. The contour of his shoulder. The valleys and ridges of his biceps and triceps. Perfect. He was undeniably perfect.
The only mark on his body was the tattoo, and that was something he’d done out of love, to reassure a grieving child. When he was old, maybe the ink would have spread and it would blur a little, but it would still be a reminder that Lucas’s heart was the truest she’d ever known. If only she could help him believe that. If only she could persuade him that all the good things in life were his to take, if he’d just reach out.
