The watery moon reflected fat and golden on the rippled black surface. Leila was reminded of the moon over Oudh. Her first night there, it had loomed large and golden too, and filled the inky blue night sky, tempting her to stand on her tiptoes and touch it.  

She remembered thinking the fickle moon had been the only constant in her life after Aranya and Grayson died. She stared at it now as she leaned on the railing surrounding the deck of the yacht, dressed in yet another creation chosen by Mira and wondering why Marco’s presence was both torture and bliss. 

He stood beside her, transfixed too by the scene before them. The heat radiated from him like solar flares and she was momentarily distracted from her thoughts.

They had just enjoyed a delicious dinner. Under the velvet sky and winking stars, it had all gone superbly, if Marco could say so himself. From the melt-in-the-mouth lobster bisque, the perfect bottle of wine, sourced from his prized wine collection, to the perfect setting – he had pulled it off. 

Yes, he might have had a little help from the heavens but he didn’t mind taking the credit. Her silhouette against the moonlight, was breath-taking. He could hardly contain the excitement she evoked in him each time he looked at her, or just thought about her. 

Marco had no clue about love, never having been in love before, but if this was what it was about then he knew he should tread carefully. He was in trouble. He’d always kept a solid lid on his emotions. He had always believed emotions were for the weak. He learned that the hard way, hadn’t he?  

But this time he couldn’t help himself. Maybe when they got to Italy, and he saw her among the hills he grew up around, the hills that shaped him into the hard man that he had become, maybe then he’d see her as just another woman. 

“Tell me about Oudh?” he asked as he pulled his thoughts away from the home he both loved and loathed. 

She turned toward him. There was such serenity in her face, he wished it would always remain there. 

“Oudh?” she smiled. “I thought you knew the ins and outs of the place where the ruby originated?”

True, he did.

“I want to hear it the way you see it.”

She smiled again. The dimples on each side deepened. 

“Well, it’s beautiful and annoying at the same time. The first thing I saw when I entered Oudh were the golden domed palaces, they were a mirage against the hazy glow of sunset. But it is the heat that stays with you, especially in summer. It is thick and buries you so that all you want to do is tunnel your way out of it. But my grandmother has this special garden—the shadow garden, she calls it. It has groves of trees, and lush greenery along a stream that leads to the big river. There’s a bench in the coolness and you can sit there under the lemon trees. The scent is soothing as it mingles with the scent of the rosebushes and the climbing begonia. She has tended the garden all her life and still tends it even though she is—well, not strong anymore.’’ She stopped suddenly. “I’m sorry—I tend to forget myself,” she quickly ended.

He reached for her, gentler than he intended. He wanted to crush her to him. And never let her go. If this was love, he thought again, then he was in serious trouble. 

“Oudh sounds beautiful; I can’t wait to see it.” A shadow of guilt crept into his thoughts. He let his hands fall at his sides.

“And your home, aren’t you longing to be there?” The slight breeze teased the locks of hair that escaped the loose pile atop her head. 

He longed to reach out and set it all free, let his fingers run through the silky strands and then watch as her eyes closed in pleasure. His hands firmly gripped the railing. 

“As much as I long for you to see it.”  

 Leila saw something flutter in his eyes. It was doubt, maybe? And then dismissed it because it was preposterous that Marco would ever be in doubt. He always seemed to have the confidence to do as he pleased, no qualms and no regrets. 

She turned her back on the reflection of the calm sea and regarded the romantic setting of their dinner. It had been perfect; she could not fault a single thing. A familiar tune played in the background, she willed her body not to sway to its captivating melody.

As if reading her thoughts, he said, “The perfect date would include some dancing, of course.”  He held out his hand expectantly. She thought it silly at first but the arch of his eyebrow lifted and she could not resist being enveloped in his arms. 

“Oh! We’re on a date, are we?” She smiled.

In seamless synchrony, they fell into step. With his strong arms about her, he led her and she followed. Everything drifted away, all her doubts and fears of the past months faded from mind. 

The cold haunting feeling that she had made the biggest mistake of her life in marrying Marco, the mistake Aranya had warned her about, dissolved into the warm night air. In that moment it was only about being in his arms and knowing that it felt good, even though it may not have been right.