Читать книгу Twin Heirs To His Throne - Olivia Gates - Страница 9

Three

Leonid crossed Kassandra’s threshold.

For a second, before she retreated, he almost touched her. It was the last thing he wanted to do. The one thing he couldn’t bear.

If he could have done any of this without seeing her at all, he would have jumped at the chance. But it was out of the question. If he wanted his daughters, she had to be involved. Closely. Suffocatingly.

Mercifully, she’d been averse, keeping him at the distance he needed to remain, in every way. But right now he’d miscalculated his movement, and she hadn’t receded fast enough. A second after he’d advanced, their clothes had whispered off each other. Just being near her caused the slow burn in his every nerve to spark into a scalding sizzle.

Before he could judge if the fleeting contact had disturbed her, too, she turned and strode away, leaving him to follow in her wake, a path filled with her sense-warping warmth and scent.

The glance she threw at him over her shoulder spoke volumes, making it even harder to breathe. The surface layer was annoyance that he’d showed up at all, and at the exact time he’d said he would. Then there was resignation that she couldn’t turn him away. Beneath that lay another sort of anger he couldn’t fathom. And at the core of it all, there was...a threat.

They both knew he wielded power that would give him access to the twins no matter what she did. She’d tried to recruit allies to stop him. She’d picked them well. But after he’d neutralized their threat, she must have realized there was no point in prolonging a losing fight. Being the pragmatic businesswoman that she was, she’d wasted no more time coming to the best course of action. Let him have what he wanted. For now. Until she studied the situation further and decided if she could adjust her trajectory.

But he also knew she wouldn’t use the twins in her struggle against him, not even for a cause as vital as keeping him out of their lives. She’d never do anything to disturb them. So her threat didn’t have any real power behind it.

Still, he couldn’t let her suspect how anxious he was, how uncertain of his ability to conduct himself in any acceptable manner. For what constituted acceptable with eighteen-month-old toddlers? He knew far more about astrophysics and the latest trends in nail polish than about interacting with children. And it was almost beyond him to keep his upheaval in check.

But he had to pretend equanimity as he followed her deeper into her exquisite home, the oasis of color, gaiety and contentment she’d built for her—for their—daughters, taking him to meet them for the first time. After he’d spent every day since they’d been born obsessing over their every detail.

Then she turned a corner into a great room equipped with a short plastic fence, decorative and sturdy, and just enough to keep little feet from wandering without detracting from the wide-open, welcoming feel of what must be every child’s dream wonderland. And it was empty.

“Darling...”

Kassandra’s breathy endearment made him stop. Suspended him in time.

She used to call him darling. Not always, just when she’d been incoherent with pleasure, which had been very frequently. The last time she’d said it to him he’d swiped at her proverbial jugular and severed it.

For heart-thudding moments, he didn’t understand why she’d said it now, once, then again. Then he realized.

From what turned out to be an elaborate playhouse blended into the periphery of the room, a gleaming dark head peeked out of a tiny doorway, followed by an equally shiny golden one. She held out her arms and squeaks of glee issued from both girls as they competed to crawl out first, struggling to their feet as soon as they cleared the entrance. Two young cats, reflecting the girls’ colorings, a black Angora and a golden Abyssinian, slinked out after them.

His heart contracted painfully. They were fast. He knew from his surveillance of them that their toddling had been improving every day. They were now almost running to their mother.

Kassandra went down on her haunches, preparing to receive them in her arms. But her descent only exposed him fully, bringing him into their line of vision. Their eyes rounded and their momentum slowed, both stopping just short of throwing themselves into her arms.

Knowing she was now no longer the focus of her girls’ attention, Kassandra slowly stood up and slid him a sideways glance. Among the messages there was a challenge. He might have gotten what he’d demanded, but now she’d evaluate his performance and decide her consequent actions.

If he’d had any words left in him, he would have asked her to allow him a grace period without passing judgment. He’d fail her every test right now. Being face-to-face with those two tiny entities at last felt like a hurricane was uprooting everything inside him.

Before he could find his next breath, the twins rushed to stand behind Kassandra as she turned to him, each clinging to one endless jeans-clad leg and peeking up at him from the safety of their mother’s barricade.

In contrast to their caution, the cats approached him, sniffing the air. Seeming to decide he didn’t smell of danger, they neared him in degrees until they brushed against legs that felt as if they had grown roots. His throat tightened more as he bent without conscious thought to stroke them and receive head butts and arched backs. Then, seeming to consider this enough welcome for now, they sauntered away and jumped on shelves by the wall to watch the developing scene and groom themselves.

Unfolding with difficulty to his full height again, he found Kassandra with the miniatures of both of them staring at him. Avoiding her eyes, he focused on the girls’. Emerald eyes like Kassandra’s and azure ones like his dominated faces that had occupied his thoughts since they’d been born. Two tiny sets of dewy rose lips rounded in questioning suspense.

“Vy oba...ideal’no.”

It was only when chubby arms wrapped around their mother’s legs tighter and those sparkling eyes widened more that he realized he’d spoken. Saying the one thing that filled his being. They were both perfect.

He waited. For Kassandra to say something. To introduce him. But she was silent, continuing to add the weight of her watchful gaze to theirs.

His mind crowded with everything he’d longed to do since they’d taken their first breaths. To swoop down and scoop them up in his arms was foremost among those urges.

But he knew there was no way this would be welcomed by Eva and Zoya, who were hanging on his every breath, bracing for his every move. They probably hadn’t scurried back into their hiding place only because their mother was showing no signs of alarm, calmly facing him as if he was no threat, or at least one she was capable of protecting them from. It was as if they’d never seen anyone like him. Which was strange. He knew for a fact that their world was filled with big and imposing-looking men. The three men Kassandra had sent after him, and Kassandra’s male relatives.

So why did he feel such total surprise emanating from them? Could it be they instinctively felt the bond between them?

Unable to decide, he emptied his mind, let his instincts take over. He trusted them now far more than he trusted his messed-up emotions and stalled logic.

He moved away from the trio training all their senses on him, circumventing them in a wide circle that took him to the playhouse the girls had exited. His aching gaze took in the evidence of their play session and of Kassandra’s doting care. The strewn toys, coloring books and crayons, the half-built castle, the half-eaten finger foods and half-finished smoothies.

He’d missed all that. Everything, from their first day. He hadn’t held them or comforted them or cleaned or served them or played with them or put them to bed. Kassandra had been alone in doing all that. Would any of them ever accept him into their lives, let him into their routines? Or even let him in any way at all? When he didn’t deserve to be let in?

Feeling all eyes in the room on him, he went down on his knees, one of the hardest moves for him now. As he felt their surprise spike, he started to gather the toys and books.

Without looking back, so he’d give the girls respite from his focus, give them a sense of control and security, he started to order everything they’d knocked off onto the lushly carpeted floor on the low, sturdy plastic table. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Kassandra moving toward the long couch that dominated the opposite side of the space, with both girls still flocking around her legs, their gazes clinging to him.

Sampling one of the thin pineapple spears that were laid out on a cartoon-character tray among other healthy and colorful foods, he said, “That’s very tasty. Can I have some more? I haven’t eaten all day.”

In his peripheral vision he could see the girls exchanging a glance, as if they understood his words and knew they were meant for them. Then they both looked up to their mother, as if seeking her permission to react. He stole a glance at her, found her giving them an exquisite smile. A special one he’d never seen, no doubt reserved only for them. Then she nodded, and they simultaneously let go of her legs and advanced toward him tentatively.

As they approached, he sat down on the ground, another challenging move, putting himself more at their level. This appeared to reassure them even more as their steps picked up speed. He pointed at a blunt skewer of cheese, cucumbers and strawberries, making direct eye contact with one girl, then the other. “Can I have that?”

The girls stopped on the other side of the table, eyes full of questions and curiosity. Then after what seemed to be serious consideration, Eva, the mini-Kassandra, reached out and grabbed the skewer in her dimpled hand...and leaned over to give it to him. Zoya, who’d held back, clearly more reserved like he was, took her cue from her older-by-ten-minutes sister, and repeated her action.

Throat closing, Leonid looked down on those two skewers, offered by the girls he’d fathered and hadn’t been there for, until this moment. They were his life’s biggest reward. And responsibility.

With hands that almost trembled out of control, he reached out and took both offerings at the same time. “That’s very kind of you to share your snacks with me. Spasiba.”

As if both recognized he’d just said a word in a language different from the one they’d been hearing and processing since birth, they looked at him questioningly.

“That is Russian. In English it means ‘thank you.’” Then he repeated it a few times. “Spasiba...thank you.”

Eyes gleaming at recognizing thank-you and clearly making the connection between the two words, looking triumphant, Eva parroted him, “Patheba...thakyoo.”

His heart thundered, its chambers just about melting at Eva’s adorable lisp.

And that was before Zoya delivered the second punch of a one-two combo as she enthused, “Aseba...ankoo.”

Before he could gather his wits, Eva picked up another skewer and proceeded to nibble at it, looking up at him, as if encouraging him to eat. Zoya at once did the same. When he didn’t follow suit immediately, Zoya reached out and pushed his hand up, urging him to partake of their offering.

He raised the food to lips that had gone numb, unable to taste anything as he chewed. Swallowing was an even harder feat, pushing the food past the blockage in his throat. All the time he could feel Kassandra’s gaze on him, scorching layers off his inflamed skin. It took what was left of his control not to turn to her, ask for her intervention.

But she didn’t intervene. She didn’t make a single move, as if she was trying to blend into the background to make them all forget she was there.

While that was what he’d asked her to do, now that he had the girls’ full attention and interest, he would have given anything for her to dilute their focus. Which was pathetic, since this was the opportunity he’d badgered her for, what he’d been dreaming of for so long.

Inching closer now that they literally had him eating out of their hands, the two girls started handing him their favorite toys as more evidence of their acceptance, naming each one to show off their knowledge.

It became clear the second time they waited after naming something that they were waiting for him to provide the Russian equivalent. And so it started, a game of translation.

The Russian word they loved the most was the one for doll. They both kept giggling and reiterating, “Kukla...kukla!”

They then moved on to testing him. One of them presented a coloring book and the other the crayons. When he colored a pony in a color scheme that was different from all the examples in the colored pages, they got more excited, and tried to emulate him in other books. After a while, dissatisfied with their own results compared to his impeccable ones, they reverted to the name-and-translate game.