He laughed heartily. “Dat’s right. Many an old man would radder sink himself into a comfy old chair dan be rich.”
“So how long until our next stop?”
He chewed and swallowed. “I’m hopin’ we won’ be makin’ any more stops. At least not ta pick up any passengers. My plan is ta head straight to de Shore Temple. We should be on de ocean for a week or so.”
We chatted casually until he set down his dinner tray. He checked the instruments and said, “Would ja be wantin’ another yarn of de sea today, Miss Kelsey?”
“Have you another one ready?”
“De day dis captain run outta stories is de day I turn in ma cap.”
I grinned and crossed my legs, getting comfortable. “Go on, then. I’m ready.”
He pushed back his hat and scratched his forehead. “Do ya ever watch de seabirds as dey fly out over de ocean?”
“Sometimes.”
“If yer watchin’ real close, ya can see dem carryin’ twigs and branches and sometimes stones. Dey drop ’em in de water.”
“Why do they do that?”
“Listen, and ye will learn. Once der was a beautiful maiden named Jingwei who loved de ocean. She ’ad a little boat, and she spent many hours on de water. She’d row out in de morning and would’n return ’til dusk. For many years de sea accepted her, but dere was a charming sea captain, a good lookin’ man, almost as handsome as meself.”
He waggled his eyebrows, making me giggle.
“Jingwei fell in love wid de captain and wanted ta ride de waves wid him. But he wanted her ta stay home and raise a family. ‘De water is no place for a wooman,’ he said.”
“What did she do?” I asked.
“She told him dat if she can’t be on de water, den neither could he. Dey settled down near de beach, but both of dem longed for de sea. One day Jingwei tell him dat she gonna have a child. Dey were both happy for a while. But when neither of dem was lookin’, dey both stared at de water. De captain, he tink his wife bein’ with child will keep her home. So he go fishin’ early one mornin’. But de ocean, she been waiting for dis. You see, de sea, she’s a jealous mistress and was very angry wit dem.
“De ocean rise up and swallowed de ship. Jingwei, heavy with child waited for her man all day, but he never return. Later she heard he drowned. She took her little boat and rowed offshore. Den she shook her fist at de sea and ask why did she take her man?”
“Then what happened?”
“De sea, she laughed and told Jingwei all de handsome captains belong ta her. She can’t steal dem away.”
“Huh … sounds like Randi.”
Dixon laughed out loud. “Ah, dis much is true. Jingwei argued and treatened de ocean but de ocean sent de laughing bubbles ta the shore. When she tired of listenin’, she sent de big wave ta drown Jingwei, but Jingwei is part magic and changed her body ta a seabird. Dat is why de seabirds screech so noisy at de shore. Dey are still yellin’ at de ocean. Dey drop rocks and sticks into de water ta fill it up so no other men will drown. But de sea? She’s still laughin’, eh? If you listen you can hear dem bubbles. Dis is de story of Jingwei and de boundin’ main.”
“What does the bounding main refer to?”
“De boundin’ main is de waters of de earth. De waters abound over de planet, and dey are de main resource. Much more abundan’ dan de lands.”
“There you are.” Kishan leaned against the doorjamb and smiled.
“Hi!” I stood and put my arm around his waist. “Just getting another story.”
“Good. You can share it with me later.” He looked up. “Mind if I steal Kelsey for the rest of the evening, Captain?”
Captain Dixon chuckled. “Sure ting. Jus’ make sure ya keep her away from de waters tonight. De sea, she listens. Lookin’ ta drown young lovers.”
I laughed. “Goodnight, Dix.”
“Ga’nite, Miss Kelsey.”
Kishan pulled me into a hug after we went down the stairs, and I tucked my head under his chin. “I missed you. Let’s go for a walk.”
It was a very romantic setting. The full moon had just risen, and the black water was as smooth as silk. It lapped softly against the ship and gently whispered secrets as the boat pressed on, slipping into her cold embrace. Thousands of glittering stars hung in the night sky which seemed to go on forever. I imagined they were lanterns left to guide handsome sea captains home to the women who loved them. Some grew dim over the years, but some burned fiercely, demanding to be seen.
There was no land in sight, just endless moonlit water as far as the eye could see. We stood at the railing, looking out. When I shivered, Kishan pulled me against his chest and wrapped his arms around me. Comfortable in his embrace, I found myself relaxing drowsily.
“This is nice,” I murmured.
He ducked his head near mine and said, “Mmm … it is.” He rubbed my bare arms until they warmed and then began lightly massaging my shoulders. I sighed in pleasure and stared vacantly at the moon as my thoughts drifted. In fact, I became so detached from my surroundings that I hadn’t even noticed when Kishan started kissing my neck.
One of his hands stroked my arm and the other was wrapped around the curve of my waist. He pressed soft kisses along my shoulder, then his lips traveled up the arch of my neck. He made slow progress, leaving a tingling trail behind. When he touched my hairline, he reached across my body, took my hand, and gently turned me to face him.
My heart started pounding. He ran his hands up my arms again, cupped my face, and slid his hands into my hair. He smiled, his golden eyes twinkling in the starlight.
“There. You see? Still plenty of hair for a man to bury his hands in.”
I smiled nervously as I fidgeted slightly. He tilted my head, stepped closer, and pressed silky, light kisses against my neck. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to touch you like this?” he murmured softly. I shook my head and felt him smile as his lips grazed my collarbone. “It seems like years. Mmm … it’s better than I imagined. You smell so good. You feel so good.”
He trailed slow kisses from my neck to my forehead. I wrapped my arms around his waist and closed my eyes. His chest rumbled against mine. He kissed my eyelids, my nose, my cheeks with warm, soft lips. He made me feel cherished and treasured, and I enjoyed his touch.
My skin tingled where he grazed it with his fingertips. My heart beat faster when he whispered my name, and I responded to him, involuntarily moving closer. I waited for him to touch his lips to mine but he patiently, slowly kissed every other part of my face and trailed his fingertips over its planes, seeming to delight in each sweet caress. His kisses were tender and loving and gentle and … wrong.
Unbidden thoughts sprang up that I couldn’t push aside, no matter how I tried. Despite my best efforts to staunch my internal struggle— keep it hidden—it surfaced. Kishan paused and lifted his head. I saw his expression change from sweet adoration and happiness, to surprise, and ultimately to resignation and disappointment. Cupping my face, he wiped tears away from my cheeks with his thumbs and asked sadly, “Am I that hard to love, Kelsey?”
I lowered my head and closed my eyes.
He stepped away from me to lean over the railing again while I angrily dashed away the tears from my face. I was very annoyed with myself for ruining this sweet moment between us and especially for hurting him. Regret filled me. I turned to him, ran my hand up his back, and then slid my arm through his. I leaned my head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry. And, no … you’re not hard to love at all.”
“No, I’m sorry. I moved too fast.”
I shook my head. “No, it’s okay. I don’t know what I was crying about.”
He turned toward me, captured my hand, and played with my fingers. “I do. And I don’t want our first kiss to make you cry.”
I smiled lopsidedly, trying to tease. “This wasn’t our first kiss. Remember?”
“I mean the first kiss I didn’t steal.”
“That’s true.” I laughed softly. “You are the wo
rld’s best kissing bandit.” I bumped him with my shoulder and squeezed his arm in apology, but sadness still showed on his face.
He clasped his hands on the railing. “Are you still sure about this? About me?”
I nodded against his shoulder. “You make me happy. Yes, I’m sure about this. Will you try again?” I tried to snuggle closer.
He wrapped his arms around me and kissed my forehead. “Another night. Come on. I’m in the mood for a story.”
We headed downstairs, hand in hand.
We didn’t see Ren all week. According to the GPS tracker, he hid in one place or another in the lower decks of the ship.
Kishan didn’t try to kiss me again, at least not like before. He stroked my hair and held me, rubbed my shoulders and spent whole days with me, but when I stepped close to hug him goodnight in the evenings, he would hold me for a few moments before kissing my forehead. He was giving me more time, which made me feel both relieved and stressed.
We finally docked in Mahabalipuram, or the City of the Seven Pagodas, a week later. We were now on the opposite side of India, the eastern side, floating on the Bay of Bengal on the edge of the Indian Ocean.
It was time to start our third quest, and the idea of dealing with dragons both excited and frightened me. I was also itching to go ashore again. Kishan obliged by taking me sightseeing on his motorcycle. We spent the day strolling shops. He bought me a beautiful bracelet decorated with diamonds clustered like lotus flowers. Slipping it onto my arm, he said, “I had a dream of you wearing a lotus blossom in your hair. This bracelet reminds me of you.”
I laughed. “You probably dreamed of lotus because you sleep right next to the table where I put Durga’s lotus garland.”
“Maybe,” he said with a smile, “but a good dream’s a good dream. Please wear it.”
“Okay. But only if you let me buy you something.”
Kishan grinned. “It’s a deal.”
I made him sit at an outdoor table while I went into a shop. Several minutes later, I nervously sat down. He leaned forward to snatch my bag, but I pulled it away.
“Now wait a minute. Before I give this to you, you have to promise to let me explain what it’s for and try not to be offended.”
Kishan laughed and held out his hand for the bag. “It’s very difficult to offend me.”
Eagerly pulling my present from the bag, he held it in the air, stared at it in confusion, and then looked at me with a raised eyebrow. “What is this supposed to be?”
“It’s a collar for a very small dog.”
He dangled the black leather collar between his thumb and forefinger. “It says Kishan on the side in gold letters.” He laughed. “Did you think this would fit me?”
I took the collar from his hand and walked around the table. “Hold out your arm please.” He watched me curiously as I wrapped the collar around his wrist and buckled it. He didn’t seem upset, only puzzled.
I explained, “When Ren changed to a man for the first time, he had been wearing a collar. He held it out to me to prove that he was the tiger I’d been traveling with. He was quick to discard it. To him, it was a physical reminder of his captivity.”
Kishan frowned. “You are giving me a gift and talking about Ren?”
“Wait, let me finish. When I first met you, you were wild, a true creature of the jungle. You had ignored your human side for many years. I thought a collar would be a different symbol, a symbol of becoming reclaimed, a symbol of rejoining the world, a symbol of belonging. It means you’ve come home. That you have a home … with me.”
I dropped his hand and shifted to my other foot, waiting for his reply. I couldn’t read his expression. Kishan stared at me thoughtfully for a few seconds. Suddenly, he took my hand, yanked me onto his lap, and brought my hand to his lips.
“It is a gift I will treasure always. Every time I look at it, I will remember that I am yours.”
I pressed my forehead to his and sighed in relief. “Good. I was worried you’d hate it. Now that that’s settled, shall we head back to the boat? Mr. Kadam wants us all to meet an hour before sundown so we can go to the Shore Temple together. Unless you think I’d better go back to buy a leash. You might wander off,” I joked lightly.
Somberly, he took my hand, “Leash or no leash, I will never leave your side. Lead on, my proprietress.” He smiled contentedly as he draped his arm across my shoulders.
At the ship, we found Mr. Kadam waiting on the dock. Ren soon came down the ramp from his most-recent hiding place. After Kishan stowed the motorcycle, the four of us climbed aboard the motorboat.
The snap of the wind blew my hair back from my face, and I beamed happily at Kishan when he looked back to check on me. My gaze drifted, and I suddenly found myself staring into Ren’s blue eyes.
“New bracelet?” he asked.
I looked down at the twinkling diamonds and smiled. “Yes.”
“It’s … pretty. It suits you.”
“Thank you.”
“I—” he hesitated and shifted in his seat.
“What is it?” I prodded gently.
“I’m happy for you. You seem … content.”
“Oh. I guess I am.”
Despite the happiness I felt in being with Kishan, I realized there was a leak somewhere in my heart, a hole that wouldn’t close over. It seeped a bitter disappointment that trickled into my limbs, and being near Ren like this was like drizzling lemon juice into the hole. It stung.
I nodded noncommittally and let my eyes drift to the water. Holding out my hand, I let it splash against my fingers. I felt Ren watching me still. Something tangible sparked between us but only for an instant. A tug that was there one second and gone the next.
The sun had gone down by the time we reached shore. The brothers leapt out of the boat, dragged the prow onto the sand, and using a long rope, tied it to a sturdy tree limb.
I studied the temple as we walked toward it. It was cone-shaped but had two structures instead of one. Mr. Kadam fell back to walk with me as Kishan and Ren strode boldly forward. They both carried weapons, just in case—Kishan the chakram, and Ren his new trident.
“Mr. Kadam, why does this temple have two buildings?”
“Each one is a shrine. This particular temple has three, but you can’t see the third from here. It’s nestled between the other two. The taller one is roughly five stories.”
“Who is worshipped here?”
“Shiva mostly, but historically, others would have been worshipped here as well. The Shore Temple is the last of the seven still above water.” He pointed to the wall. “Do you see those large statues there?”
“The cows?”
“Actually, they’re bulls. They represent Nandi, the servant of Shiva.”
“I thought Nandi took the form of a shark.”
“He did, but he is also known for taking the form of a bull. Come over this way. There’s something I want to show you.”
We walked across the stone porch and approached a statue that looked like a large tiger with a doll clinging to his paw.
“What is it?” I asked.
“It’s Durga with her tiger.”
“Why is Durga so small?”
He leaned forward and traced the carving with his finger. “I’m not sure. Just the design, I suppose. Do you see this cavity in the tiger’s chest?”
I nodded.
“It was probably used as a shrine as well.”
“Should we make an offering here?”
“I’m not sure. Let’s explore the temple first and see what else we can find.”
We entered the temple through an arched vault. Mr. Kadam told me it was called a gopuram, an ornate temple entrance designed to awe and impress. Its function was similar to the Japanese spirit gates. People entering the temple would feel they were stepping away from worldly things to enter a place considered sacred.
We caught up with Ren and Kishan and walked into the dark temple together. Its inky gloom was made even denser by
the overhanging eaves blocking the moonlight. Kishan turned on his flashlight so we could navigate.
“This way,” Mr. Kadam said. “The inner sanctum would rest directly under the central dome.” We explored the smaller of the two structures first and found nothing out of the ordinary. Mr. Kadam pointed to an uncarved rock set in the middle of the room. “This is the murti—the idol, or icon, of the shrine.”
“But it isn’t carved to symbolize anything.”
“An uncarved icon can represent something just as much as a carved one. This room is the garbhagriha, or the womb of the temple.”
“I can see why they call it a womb. It’s dark in here,” I said.
We all stepped to the walls to study the carvings. We’d only been at it a few minutes when I caught a flash of white at the door. I turned my head, but nothing was there. Mr. Kadam said it was time to move to the next shrine. As we passed an arch that opened to the outside, I looked down at the ocean. A beautiful woman, dressed in white with a gossamer veil over her hair, was standing on the shore. She pressed a finger to her lips as she gazed up at me before melting into a nearby mulberry tree.
“Kishan? Mr. Kadam?”
“What is it?” Kishan asked.
“I saw something. A woman, she was standing there. She was dressed all in white, and she looked Indian or maybe Asian. She sort of disappeared by actually walking inside that mulberry tree.”
Kishan leaned out and scanned the grounds. “I don’t see anything now, but let’s stick together.”
“Okay.”
He took my hand as we walked into the next shrine. We passed Ren, who I hadn’t noticed standing in the darkness behind us. His arms were crossed over his chest in one of his classic “watching me” poses. In the next shrine, I stayed close to Kishan while we scanned the carvings on the wall together. I found a carving of a woman weaving at a loom and traced the outline with my finger. At her foot rested her thread basket, and one of the threads had become unraveled. Curious, I followed its thin line through several more carvings.
The thread was wrapped around the ankle of a farmer, and then a cat toyed with it. The thread trailed on through a wheat field, where I lost it and had to search several carvings before finding it again. It joined a scarf wrapped around a woman’s neck, and then wove itself into a thick rope that blazed with fire. It became a fishing net, it wrapped around a large tree, it tripped a monkey, it was held in a bird’s talon, and then … it stopped. It ended at the corner of the room, and, though I searched the adjoining wall, I couldn’t find a place where it continued.