Читать книгу Postcards From… Collection - Maisey Yates - Страница 59
ОглавлениеTHE REST OF the carriage ride had blurred into a shocked haze and now, as she stood in one of New York’s most renowned jeweller’s, that haze was beginning to lift. She couldn’t marry Nikolai. What was she thinking, allowing him to bring her here to buy an engagement ring? It wouldn’t change the fact that this wasn’t what he wanted. Turmoil erupted inside her. She didn’t want to make the same mistakes as her mother, not when she knew what it felt like to be the child whose existence a father denied.
Could she really do this—sacrifice everything to do the right thing by her son or daughter? If she walked away now would her child blame her later, as she blamed her mother for depriving her of a father?
She looked anxiously at the door but had to steel herself against the reaction Nikolai provoked in her as he stood right behind her, so very close she could feel the heat of his body. It reminded her of the night they’d shared in Vladimir. The passion had been so intense, so powerful. Didn’t the undeniable attraction count for something?
‘Not thinking of running out on me, are you?’ The whispered question sent a tremor of awareness down her spine, which deepened as he held the tops of her arms, pulling her back against the latent power of his body.
She shook her head in denial, unable to put a sentence together as his touch scorched through her, reminding her of the passion they’d shared the night their child had been conceived. That thought chilled the fire he’d unwittingly stirred to life just by being near her. She had to remember the cruel way he’d bargained not only with Jess’s future, but her past, exploiting the one thing which had been a constant shadow in her life. Because of that, whatever she did, she had to control the desire he evoked within her from just a touch.
‘No, you have made it perfectly clear what has to be done.’ She turned to face him, wishing she didn’t feel the rush of desire which flooded her as she looked into his eyes. They were dark and heavy with passion, just as they had been that night in Vladimir. Would she ever stop seeing images in her mind of him like that? He’d become imprinted there and he invaded every thought. Had it been because he was the only man to have touched her intimately, the only man she’d made love with or simply the worry of facing him to tell him about the baby?
A heaviness settled over her as an ominous clarity finally allowed her to see that night for what it really was. It had just been a seduction, a way to keep her from whatever it was he was hiding, and for him it most definitely hadn’t been about making love. For him it would have been purely lust.
‘Then I suggest we select the ring that will seal the deal.’ His voice sounded firm and in control. Yet again he was manipulating her, forcing her to accept his terms.
Panic filled Emma. This wasn’t how she’d envisaged the moment she would get engaged. It had been very much more romantic than this demand that she choose a ring. But what choice did she have now? Not only would he provide the funds for Jess, he would be in his child’s life. It was exactly how she’d always envisaged being a mother—supported by the child’s father. The only difference was that in her dreams that man had been there for her too—out of love, not duty to his child.
‘You’re right,’ she said calmly, reluctantly acknowledging this was the only way forward.
Further doubts crowded in on her, solidifying the need to accept Nikolai’s deal, no matter what she felt. What if she couldn’t cope, just as her mother hadn’t been able to do? Would her baby be taken from her, as she and Jess had been? That wouldn’t happen if she was married to the child’s father.
‘So, are we agreed?’ he asked in a calm voice.
‘Yes,’ she replied, seeing no other option but this deal he’d given her. ‘This is the best way.’
Before she could back out of the marriage she’d agreed to, with a man she’d never expected to see again after he’d left her at the hotel, she gave her full attention to the rings displayed before her. The sparkling stones blurred for a moment and she blinked to try and refocus them, horrified to realise it was tears filling her eyes that were distorting the almost endless display of expensive rings.
Once she’d selected one of the rings and was wearing it the deal would be sealed. She would have accepted his terms. She blinked quickly once more, trying to stop the threatening tears from falling. She couldn’t cry. Not yet. She had to be as strong and detached as he was being.
‘I think an emerald.’ He moved to her side and put his arm around her, his hand holding her waist as he pulled her tighter against his body. ‘To match your eyes.’
He’d noticed she had green eyes? That snippet of information shocked her, because it meant he had taken an interest in her beyond the seduction he’d obviously been planning since the ride in the troika. The memory of that day was now tarnished by the reality of the fact that he’d engineered it all—and she’d fallen for it. Had that wonderfully gentle yet powerfully seductive kiss been part of the plan too?
Of course it had and you fell for it.
‘How about this one?’ she asked, tiredness washing over her, brought on no doubt by the stress of everything, combined with the time difference and pregnancy. All she wanted to do right now was get back to her hotel room and rest, but she held the ring up by the delicate diamond-encrusted band, the emerald sparkling in the bright lights of the store.
‘Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer one of the larger ones?’ He moved away from her and sat in a distinctly antique-looking chair to the side of the table. She tried hard not to look at his long legs as he stretched them out before him. He looked far too relaxed when she was as tense as she’d ever been.
‘No,’ she said and looked boldly into his eyes, not missing the way his gaze slid down her body before meeting hers. The tingle of awareness was disconcerting and she pushed it aside, determined to be in control of this moment at the very least. ‘No, this is much more my style.’
He stood up and came back to her. He took the ring from her, looking at it, then, to her astonishment, took her left hand in his, raising it up. With deliberate slowness he slipped the ring onto her finger and she was amazed to see it was a perfect fit, as if it had been made for her. ‘In that case, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?’
It was the last thing she’d expected him to do after having all but put a deal to her and she stumbled over her words, aware of the store staff watching the exchange. Was this all for their benefit or his? She looked at him, wondering if she’d be able to speak, but finally the words came out in a soft whisper. ‘Yes, Nikolai, I will.’
He kept hold of her hand for far too long and she watched as he looked down at the square emerald now sat neatly on her finger. Would he keep his side of this strange bargain? Would he provide the funds for Jess to continue on her chosen course in life and, more importantly, be there for his child?
If he doesn’t you only have to walk away; you have nothing to lose by agreeing.
As that rebellious thought rocked through her he stepped closer and lowered his head; she knew, with every nerve in her body, that he was going to kiss her. Right there in the store.
When his lips met hers fire shot through her and her knees weakened and, as her eyes fluttered closed, she forced them open again. He moved slightly and she could see his lips lifting into a smile that was full of self-satisfaction. Then he spoke so softly only she could hear. ‘A very sensible answer.’
* * *
Nikolai opened the door of the car he’d ordered while he’d completed his purchase for the engagement ring—an item he’d never envisaged buying again. But what choice did he have? He couldn’t turn his back on his child. This was his chance to prove to himself he was a better man than his father. His child had not been conceived in the underhand way he himself had been, so didn’t that already make him a better man? But it wasn’t enough. He needed to prove to himself he was not like his father.
He watched as Emma slid into the back of the car, looking weary, and a pang of guilt briefly touched him. He had nothing to feel guilty about, he reassured himself. Emma was here to secure her and her child’s future and, now that he’d also added her sister’s into the bargain, she had everything she’d come for—and more.
She would become his fiancée and, as soon as possible, his wife. He wanted this particular deal sealed long before news of their baby broke. He wanted his mother to think he’d found love and happiness. It was all she’d ever wanted for him and now, due to one night when he’d been less than in control, he was able to give her that.
‘Where are you staying?’ he demanded as he joined her in the back of the car.
‘A hotel on West Forty-Seventh Street,’ she said without looking at him, provoking that twinge of guilt once more as he gave the driver instructions.
‘This is the right thing to do,’ he said as he took her hand from where it lay in her lap. She turned to look at him, her sable hair moving invitingly, reminding him of how soft it had been between his fingers.
‘What if you meet someone you really want to marry?’ The doubt laced in her voice did little to soften the emotions running through him. As far as he was concerned, that would never be an issue. The example of married life his father had set him was one which had stayed with him long after his mother had found happiness. He might have seen her marry for love when he was almost twelve years old but inside he knew he had his father’s genes. The way to avoid testing that theory had been to avoid any kind of emotional commitment. By the time he’d become a successful businessman in his own right, he’d also become cold and cynical and knew he would never think of marrying—at least, not for love.
‘That won’t be an issue. I could, of course, ask the same of you.’
‘Oh, I always dreamed of the fairy-tale wedding. You know—big white dress, flower girls and bridesmaids, fancy location and a honeymoon in a tropical paradise.’ At first he was taken aback by her soft, wistful voice, but the hard glint in those green eyes warned him it was just a cover-up. He knew all about hiding emotions, only he was better at it than she was; but he’d play the game her way. For now, at least.
‘And now?’
‘Now?’ She pulled her hand free of his and glared up at him, defiance adding to the sparks in her eyes. ‘Now I know better.’
‘So you won’t be looking for love and happy-ever-afters?’
‘Never.’ That one word was said with so much conviction he didn’t doubt it for one minute.
‘Then we agree on that too. You see, already we have a good base for our marriage. A child who needs us both and an obvious dislike of anything remotely romantic.’
She looked at him, questions racing across her beautiful face, and all he wanted to do was taste her lips once more. The memory of that kiss in the snow had lingered in his mind for the best part of two months, just as the hours spent making her truly his had filled his dreams night after night. It had been those memories which had made kissing her in the store impossible to resist, that and the smouldering anger, defused by an undeniable attraction in her alluring eyes.
‘We’re here,’ she said quickly, the relief in her voice more than evident.
‘I’ll come with you whilst you check out,’ he said as he got out of the car into the bustle of New York’s streets.
‘I’m not checking out,’ she said sternly as she joined him, defiantly glaring up at him.
‘We are now engaged—you will not stay here alone; besides, we have a party to plan.’ Did she really expect him to leave her here after the news she’d given him today? He wasn’t going to give her any opportunity to run out on him again, which he suspected was exactly what she wanted to do.
‘What party?’ The shock in her voice angered him more than he was comfortable with. It seemed everything today was out of his comfort zone.
‘Our engagement party. I’ll call the planner as soon as we get back to my apartment. I think the weekend would be best.’ Before she could say anything, he took her arm and propelled her into the sleek interior of the hotel. ‘But first you need to collect your luggage and check out.’
* * *
Emma couldn’t believe how things were going. She’d had no idea what to expect when she’d made the journey to New York, but it wasn’t this. She walked across the spacious apartment which gave stunning views over Central Park and that feeling of disbelief that he’d insisted she check out of the hotel intensified. ‘There was no need for me to leave the hotel.’
‘There is every need, Emma. Apart from the engagement party, which is scheduled for the weekend, I want you to rest.’ The authority in his voice was unmistakable. She wanted to rebel against it but, just as she had done when she and Jess had moved from one foster family to another, she held it back. It was a skill she’d become adept at over the years.
Nikolai strode across the polished wooden floor to stand looking out of the large floor-to-ceiling windows and seeing his solitary figure reminded her of the photo she’d taken at his family home. He’d looked desolate and alone then. Now the firm set of his shoulders warned her he was far from desolate and very much in control of the situation and his emotions.
She wished she had her camera in her hands right now but instead walked softly across the floor to join him, her footsteps light. Just remembering him like that had calmed her emotions, made her want to find again the companionship they had experienced in Vladimir before they’d spent the night together. Maybe, if they could find that, then this marriage she was about to make had a chance of success.
She was fully aware the attraction was still there, the chemistry that sparked to life from just a single touch. His kiss as they were buying the ring had proved that, but if they were to make this work they needed to be friends; they needed to be able to hold a simple conversation without being on guard.
‘That’s quite a view,’ she said as she stood next to him, hoping to make light conversation about something neutral. He didn’t look at her and she glanced at his strong profile. ‘I’d like to take some photographs, perhaps as the sun sets.’
‘So that you can sell them?’ Harshness had crept back into his voice and he turned to face her. ‘Is that what this is all about? Extracting yet more from me and my family? Exposing even more details to bargain for money?’
As his words sank in she realised with shock what he was asking. ‘It’s not about that at all, Nikolai, I just wanted to take the photographs for my own enjoyment. I’ve never been to New York, let alone in a swanky apartment with views over Central Park.’
‘I haven’t yet seen what you submitted to World in Photographs.’ He turned to look at her, his dark eyes black with veiled anger.
‘That is easily sorted,’ she said as she headed to the room he’d had her small amount of luggage delivered to. She’d been relieved to discover that he had no intention of spending the night in the same bed as her, but to her dismay that relief had been tinged with disappointment.
When she returned to the large open-plan living space of the apartment, he was still looking out of the window, his shoulders more tense than ever. What was he so worried about? What could a few photographs and a small piece about his family really do?
She put her laptop down on the table and fired it up, the question as to what he was so worried about going round in her mind. All families had troubles they kept hidden from the world. She knew that more than most. She opened the piece she’d written for World in Photographs to go with the stunning images she’d taken and stepped away from the table.
‘It’s there for you. Richard liked it,’ she said softly and sat down on the large cream sofa which dominated one corner of the apartment.
‘Richard has seen it?’ From across the room, Nikolai glared at her.
‘He’s been very helpful, and I wouldn’t have got that contract without his help.’ She fixed her gaze on the view of the park, not daring to look at him as he walked towards her laptop and began reading.
After five minutes of heavy silence he turned to look at her, his handsome face set in a forbidding frown. ‘This is what you submitted?’
‘Yes; what did you expect, Nikolai?’
‘Not this light-hearted, romantic stuff about life in Russia. You have turned what I told you into something quite different.’
He walked towards her, his footsteps hard on the polished wooden floor, and she wished she hadn’t chosen to sit down. He was too imposing, too dominating. ‘You told me very little, Nikolai, and as I didn’t get to meet with your grandmother I had to come up with something.’
‘None of it true.’
‘What is the truth, Nikolai? Why were you so worried I would meet your grandmother?’
He sighed and sat down next to her on the sofa, the air around them suddenly charged with something she couldn’t yet fathom out. ‘My family’s story is complicated.’
‘I know all about complicated, Nikolai. Jess and I have experienced it first-hand.’ Why had she said that? She wanted to find out about him, not spill out her own sorry story. Would he still want her as his wife if he knew what kind of upbringing she’d had?
‘Then we have that in common at least.’ Sadness tinged his voice and her heart constricted, just as it had done when she’d taken the photo of him outside the ruins of what had once been his family home. She wanted to reach out to him, but kept her hands firmly together in her lap.
‘Do you want to talk about it?’ she asked, knowing full well he didn’t, that he wanted to keep it all hidden safely away. It was what she’d done all through her childhood, mostly to protect Jess, who didn’t know half of it.
‘No but, as you are soon to marry into my family, then you should know.’
Her mouth went dry with fear. Would that mean he too would want to know about her childhood, her family? ‘You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.’
‘You should know something of how I came to be living in New York and why I no longer use Petrushov, the surname I was born with.’
She looked at him, unable to stop herself from reaching out to touch him. She placed her hand on his arm, trying to ignore the jolt of something wild which sparked between them from that innocent touch. ‘We don’t have to do this now.’
He ignored her and continued, his face a firm mask of composure. ‘My mother’s marriage to my father was not happy, neither was my childhood, and when he died it was a release for both my mother and I.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she said softly but her words didn’t seem to reach him. Instead they only brought forward her own painful childhood memories—and she wasn’t ready to share them yet.
‘My mother was helped by a business acquaintance of my father and I guess it was one of those rare moments when love conquered all.’ He looked down at her hand, still on his arm, and frowned, as if he’d only just realised she was touching him. Obviously her touch didn’t do to him what his did to her.
‘You say that as if you don’t believe in such a concept.’ She pulled her hand back and kept it firmly in her lap.
‘I thought we’d already established that love is something neither of us believe in.’ His dark eyes bored into hers, accusation and suspicion filling them, and she recalled their conversation in Vladimir. She remembered being blasé about looking for a fairy-tale wedding and happy-ever-after. She knew no such thing would ever happen to her, but from the way he was looking at her now he thought she wanted such things.
‘We did; you just threw me when you said it was one of “those rare moments”. As if you really believe they happen.’ She smiled at him, injecting lightness into her voice. It was far better he thought she didn’t believe in love in any shape or form. The last thing he needed to know right now was that she did believe in love and happy-ever-afters; she just didn’t believe it would ever happen to her. It never would now she’d agreed to marry him as part of a deal.
‘Well, whatever you believe, it happened for my mother. She changed from the constantly scared woman who lingered in the shadows of her marriage and blossomed into someone very different—and it’s all thanks to Roger Cunningham. Even in my early teens I could see that, and at sixteen I changed my surname legally to his, although I’d already spent all my years here in New York as Nikolai Cunningham.’
‘I did wonder,’ she said, remembering his insistence that his name wasn’t Petrushov when she’d first met him, and the card he’d tossed on the bed just before walking out on her. She pushed the pain of that moment aside and focused on the present. ‘And now your child will take that name too.’
‘As will you when we are married.’ He looked at her hand, at the emerald ring on her finger, and she wondered if he was regretting what had seemed an impulsive move, telling her they would be married.
‘We don’t have to get married, Nikolai. I would never keep you from your child, not after having grown up without a father myself.’ She swallowed down the nerves as she waited for his response. He looked into her eyes, as if he was trying to read her thoughts, and as much as she wanted to look away she held his gaze.
‘Is the idea of being my wife that abhorrent to you?’ His voice had deepened and a hint of an accent she’d never noticed before came through. The idea of being married was terrifying, but the idea of being this man’s wife was less so. Was that because he was the only man she had truly known?
She shook her head, not able to speak.
He lifted his hand and pushed her hair back from her face. ‘I will never do anything to hurt you, Emma; you do know that, don’t you?’
The words were so tender she had to swallow down the urge to cry. His fingers brushed her cheek, bringing their night together vividly back to her mind. ‘Yes, I know that.’
He leant towards her, his hand sliding round beneath her hair, holding her head gently, and before she could say or do anything his lips were on hers, the same gentle, teasing kiss as in the store. Her resistance melted like ice-cream on a hot day and she kissed him back. He deepened the kiss, sending a fury of fireworks around her body, reviving all the desire she’d felt for him and, if the truth were told, still felt even though she’d supressed it well.
She still wanted him, still yearned for him.
‘We still have the passion we found in Vladimir,’ he said as he broke the kiss and moved away from her, leaving her almost shuddering from the heat coursing through her. ‘And that at least will make our marriage more bearable.’
She blinked in shock at his words. He’d been toying with her, proving his point. He obviously would never have chosen her to be his wife if it wasn’t for the baby, but he’d told her he’d never wanted to be married when he’d first met her. She’d already accepted it was what she had to do for Jess as much as the baby. ‘It will, yes.’
He smiled at her, but the warmth didn’t reach those black eyes. ‘Then we shall marry in three weeks. But first, there is the small matter of an engagement party.’
