A/N: Here it is - the second part of this story, although it's actually the first part, sequentially taking place before my first post. I know you're waiting to read what happens next, but I can't give you the ending without telling you why, can I? 😉 😃
So here it is - for your reading pleasure. Enjoy! And please, silent readers, do come out and like/comment.
Part - II
It had been a mistake. An ill-judged move.
Rudra cursed himself in time with the throb of his bike as he rode into the desert night.
He should never have played the Nandini card.
Every now and then his headlamp, cutting a yellow swathe into the darkness, lit up a pair of unblinking eyes as it caught some small animal unawares, stunned into immobility in the face of imminent death. Just like that crazy, stupid girl, at large somewhere in this vast nothingness, unaware that she was one misstep away from ceasing to exist.
He switched to cursing her.
And he, the masterplanner who'd vowed to protect her and keep her safe from the Thakur's murderous men, was on the verge of losing his star witness, his case against the Thakur, his job, and marring his men's honour - all because of his massive miscalculation. And because of her.
Paro!
The bike surged on a roar.
Nothing had gone right since he'd set eyes on her. Every single time he'd been on the verge of victory, only to have it snatched away, to find himself comprehensively and roundly beaten. Every last tactic he'd deployed resulting only in abject failure, pushing him that much closer to complete devastation.
This time, it was Nandini!
He'd been so certain that playing the Nandini card would bring her to her knees, crush her spirit, have her begging to give testimony against the Thakur. He'd waited until she'd softened towards him just a little to tell her, ever so conversationally, about her sister the pawn, cast aside now that she'd fulfilled her use, languishing in some brothel on the other side of the border, pimped by her 'husband' to unnamed men.
And instead of crumbling at his feet, Paro had turned on him. That slip of a girl had told him off; had had the temerity to end the truce with him. As if he cared.
And when this morning, in a last-ditch effort to stop her going on the damned Jhaanki he'd thrown Jija's fate in her face, she'd run away. Slipped out of the haveli when everyone was engrossed in arrangements for the function and vanished. Bapusa had broken the news to him when the search-party turned up nothing at tea-time.
It was dark now. They'd been searching for hours, he and Aman, going from checkpost to checkpost, hunting as unobtrusively as possible. It would never do to let anyone so much as get a whiff of the fact that Paro had not died in the blast but was well and truly alive.
Her life wouldn't be worth her broken mangalsutra if that came out.
The bike jolted over the uneven track without any noticeable slackening of pace.
He had to get to her before they did.
As if on cue his radio crackled into life.
He eased off the throttle, and stuck a leg out against which to brace the machine. It spoke of his long years of practice that he had his service helmet unclipped and the device clapped to his ear in mere seconds.
"Yes, Aman?" his voice was hoarse even though he hadn't used it all that much in the last few hours.
"Where?" He was already revving as the answer reached him.
His "stay out of sight", was swallowed up by the orange cloud as the bike wheeled around and thundered into the night.
---
After all those agonising hours, kilometres of searching, she was ridiculously easy to find. His eyes, so used to spotting trouble in the specks moving on the horizon recognised her at once.
She was huddled into a large-ish lump in the dark lip of a sand dune, facing the barbed wire fence many metres away. He needed no more than the sliver in the sky to make her out. There was no mistaking the crouch, the shape of her head, the slope of her shoulders, the dip of her waist...
He fought the sudden swell of emotion. Fought his almost overwhelming need to grab her, cuff her, drag her back to the haveli and lock her up so tight that she wouldn't even dream of stepping outside, let alone run away.
Now was not the time to come undone. He'd breathe easy when he had her back home unidentified, with no harm done.
He waited until the shaking ceased, until the sudden sweat dried up, until his breathing levelled out, until he was the Major Rudra Pratap Ranawat he knew. More or less.
And then he waited some more. He wanted to bring her in with the least amount of fuss, with as little commotion as possible. Thankfully, she was far enough from the watchtowers that she was out of the sentry's line of sight. But there was still the search-light and they were in a desert - sounds carried, especially in the still of the night.
He'd wait until she'd relaxed her guard a little more, till he was certain he could approach over the sand and gravel without alerting her. He knew this waiting game; was conversant with its sharp corners and its bottomless pits; knew what to do to avoid being lulled into inattentiveness or into sleep; and how to impose the mind over the body to wipe out the stiffness, shake out the cramps, pay no heed to the itches, and the urges. Plus this was Paro he was watching. He settled down.
As waits went, it was his shortest.
She must have eyes in the back of her head, or some sixth sense or...or something. He could have sworn that he hadn't moved, hadn't made a noise, not a whisper, not a crunch, not even the grit of his teeth, but she made him out anyway.
The first inkling he had was when the gentle line of her back, uncovered by any shawl in the cold desert night, straightened. Then she canted her head at an angle and froze like a doe scenting danger. He was halfway to her by the time she swivelled around, his long strides wading through the sand.
He was upon her before she'd taken more than two staggering steps.
It was her hand that he found first. He gripped it and reeled her in. Hard. So that she thudded against his heart, twined against his body, and burrowed into his throat. If he rested his chin on top of her silken head, it was only to secure her. That was also why he wrapped his arms about her, absorbing her into him - her quick panting breaths, the fine tremors, the half-sounds reverberating through his flesh. And if his eyes glistened it was because of the cold night air.
After a moment, he felt her gather herself. Before she could so much as push against him, he had her locked down, her arms twisted behind her back, her wrists captured in an unbreakable hold.
There would be no more running away.
Edited by tvbug2011 - 10 years ago
Ye Hai Mohabbatein
Mangal Lakshmi
