"How do you feel?" Martin asked his wife with concerned amusement, watching her tug this way and that at her attire.
"Itchy. Very itchy." Lydia replied irritatedly. "Thank God the wedding is over."
Martin laughed heartily, tugging her close admiring her in the bridal attire. "You look ravishing."
"Easy for you to say. But thank you." She grunted with a resigned sigh.
Martin kissed her forehead smeared with red paint at the center in a dot then withdrew to stare at her shrouded in veil of soft red lace, her long dark fingers painted with intricate henna patterns. Their wedding had caused a controversy no doubt. "You look lovely, mere dil ka pyaar."
Lydia's brows furrowed with a curious smile. "What does that mean?"
"It means 'love of my heart.' That's how much and so much you mean to me, Lydia Sagar." He smiled, capturing her lips in a soft kiss.
Savitri presently came towards them. Her figure wrapped in a sky blue and gold attire almost similar to Lydia's, her dark brown hair with caramel highlights fell past her shoulders with eyes bright with genuine happiness for the couple. "Vikram, mama sent for you."
He left Lydia's side with a fond, longing smile, then moved to find his mother. The Sagar family house was huge with a ridiculously large courtyard crowded with people and festivities of the wedding with many onlookers to see the foreign bride. India was lovely and full of colors.
"Avoiding father, are you?" Savitri asked, tilting her head to the side with impish delight in her eyes.
Lydia laughed. "Eh? Before nko? I'm surprised nothing has happened to sabotage this wedding."
Savitri laughed heartily. "I'll say. I do admire your bravery."
Lydia sobered. "Somehow I feel sorry for slicing his hair at times."
"Don't you think it was deserved?"
Lydia's eyes widened incredulously. "Savitri, he's your father."
"That doesn't mean I won't point out when he speaks out of line." Savitri replied, watching her closely with a soft smile. "I wish you a happy married life, Lydia." She kissed her cheek, then withdrew, masking the longing in her face with a bright smile. "Come. Let's eat and dance. It's your wedding."
∞
Toran stood watching the happy crowd from a pillar with a soft smile tugging his lips. He felt odd and out of place. Didn't really know what to do when he wasn't... It's been three months since he was sacked and he still was picking the miserable pieces of his life.
Brennan...
Fucking Brennan.
That name had hurt lacerating his head and heart. A knot formed in his throat. One he wished to douse with alcohol. A young lady with light caramel skin, dark eyes and inky black hair that fell to her waist found him. He couldn't remember her name but he knew she was related to the Sagars; a cousin, or maybe a family friend. Her bright character, lovely dimpled smile made him cheerful and grateful for her company.
"Won't you dance?" she asked, shouting over the loud merriment of laughter and music.
He shook his head with a rueful smile. "No. Jesus, no. Saraswati, I can't dance for shit."
"There's nothing in it. I'll guide you." She giggled, dragging a reluctant Toran along.
"Excuse me, miss. I'd like to have a word with him. If it's no bother." Brennan's dark voice broke their happy conversation.
YOU ARE READING
Feel Me
Romance"Exhibitionism is something I haven't tried." She whispered, loving the dark wash of jealousy and anger on his face. He seized her by the waist crushing her against his solid frame, his eyes bright with anger. "It took me a long time to forgive you...
