Page 146 of Tiger's Destiny
“My heart belongs to you, Alagan Dhiren. I would be honored to be your wife.”
He smiled triumphantly, and my heart leapt with joy as he scooped me into his arms. Ren’s happiness swept through me until I laughed, delighting in the knowledge that I hadn’t lost my tiger after all. Building a life with Ren would be an amazing journey, one perhaps even more magical than all of our quests. The future seemed at once bright and hopeful.
I twined my arms around his neck and between soft kisses he asked, “Would you . . . like . . . your birthday present now?”
“Can it wait until tomorrow?” I asked as I pressed my lips against his forehead.
He pulled me even closer, smiled, and said, “Definitely.”
I laughed until he took hold of my face and brought my lips back to meet his.
futami rope
To say Nilima was thrilled about our engagement was an understatement, and she helped organize the wedding in her usual efficient and elegant manner.
Ren put me in charge of the guest list, which was very short, considering there weren’t many people on either the bride’s or groom’s sides to invite.
Nilima was the one who suggested we have our wedding in Japan because the major headquarters of Rajaram Industries was located there. Mr. Kadam had made plans upon his death to bequeath the business to his young grandson, Dhiren Rajaram, with Nilima as the acting head until he finished school. Our wedding was the perfect time to introduce Ren as the new president of the company and, in a social setting, meet those who helped run the business.
Ren set the wedding date for August seventh. It was only six weeks away, but he romantically explained, “It’s when the stars come together this year.”
“Are you talking about the Star Festival?”
He stroked my hair and nodded. “The Sky King must have heard my wish last year.”
“Which one?” I teased. “You put hundreds of wishes on that tree.”
Leaning toward me, he cupped my cheek. “All of them,” he said softly.
After a very thorough kiss, I commented, “If we can’t arrange everything in time, how do you feel about eloping?”
Laughing, he hugged me close as Nilima bustled in, arms loaded with boxes, and leaned down to whisper in my ear, “Don’t tempt me.”
My foster family was flown to Japan a week before the wedding, and we both celebrated our happiness and mourned our losses together. We told them that Mr. Kadam and Kishan had died in a plane crash over the Andaman Islands a few months before. Sarah cried with me and expressed great sadness over Kishan especially, whose life had just begun. I nodded my head and felt the bitter pang in my heart whenever I thought of the golden-eyed prince.
Ren took my hand as I finished my story, and Sarah wiped her eyes and smiled at him. My brilliant diamond and sapphire ring sparkled in the light, catching her eye. Sarah gasped at its beauty. Smoothly exaggerating, Ren made up a story about negotiating with a private dealer, and I laughed as he described the gold dragon Jinsèlóng’s human form and character in great detail.
Nervously, I twisted my ring and rubbed the bare spot directly below it where Kishan’s lotus shaped ruby used to sit. The night before, Ren had asked me for Kishan’s ring, which I reluctantly gave to him.
Knowing what I was thinking, Ren kissed my fingers and winked as he smoothly answered Sarah’s and Mike’s questions.
August seventh approached quickly and late that afternoon I found myself standing in front of a full-length mirror. A beautiful woman looked back at me. My brown eyes sparkled, and I could have sworn my jeweled-slipper-covered feet weren’t touching the ground.
Nilima had done an amazing job choosing my wedding dress. The tight beaded bodice cinched in my waist and was a perfect contrast to the dramatic and voluminous ball-gown skirt. I slid my hands over the ivory satin fabric and its intricate lace peek-a-boo underlay. The edges of the sweetheart neckline and dress’s split were lined with cascading champagne silk roses, and floral appliqués spilled over my shoulders onto the cap sleeves. It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
Nilima fussed with my cathedral train and helped me to put on hair combs adorned with creamy pearls and champagne-colored diamonds. I slipped on a matching pair of dangling earrings next, followed by what Nilima called a traditional Indian slave bracelet. A chain of tiny pearls attached the thick, jeweled bracelet and ring set.
I’d convinced her that I didn’t need themaangtika, a jeweled bindi hairpiece. Ren and I together had decided I would not get the traditional henna bridal tattooing because it reminded us too much of Phet’s tattoo.
Nervously, I spun around and asked Sarah, “What do you think?”
She put her hand to her mouth and smiled widely. Waving her hands over her eyes so she wouldn’t cry, Sarah said, “I think you look like a princess.”
“That’s very fitting, then,” Nilima said with just a bit of smugness.
I clutched her hand and gazed at Nilima’s and Sarah’s satin gold-draped gowns. “You look beautiful too.”
A soft knock on the door turned out to be Mike, who stepped into the room and offered his arm. Nilima handed me my bouquet. It was a gorgeous arrangement of cream and champagne roses, gardenias, sprigs of white jasmine, and buttermilk tiger lilies with little black streaks that reminded me of Ren’s tiger form. The scent was heavenly. Sarah blew me a kiss as she and Nilima left to take their places.
