The Ruthless Magnate’s Virgin Mistress

by Lynne Graham

  ‘And Abbey always thinks the worst of me,’ Nikolai imparted above her head.

  ‘No, of course I don’t,’ she argued for the sake of appearances, but she knew his accusation was the truth.

  ‘We’ll have the DNA results in a couple of days,’ Lysander Metaxis pronounced with a note of finality.

  ‘I know already. I don’t need tests!’ Ophelia proclaimed with irrepressible conviction. ‘I know now in my heart that Nikolai is my brother.’

  Lysander and his wife took their leave and Abbey did not accompany Nikolai to the hall to see them out. She was trying to be tactful and she had a lot to think about. Everything she had assumed when she saw that tabloid photo of Nikolai and Ophelia together had been knocked on its head and shown to be nonsense.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me who Ophelia might be before we went to their party?’ Abbey questioned when Nikolai reappeared.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me that your brother and you were being threatened by thugs?’ he riposted.

  ‘That was a little different. I thought if I told you about it, you would think I was asking you for financial help and I didn’t feel comfortable with that,’ Abbey answered truthfully. ‘I was too proud.’

  His lean bronzed face was taut. ‘I said nothing because I thought there would be no real substance to Ophelia’s belief that we were related-’

  ‘Nor were you prepared to admit how important it was for you to find out who your mother was,’ Abbey guessed.

  ‘That, too. I always assumed that my mother must have been a prostitute,’ Nikolai revealed, shocking her with that blunt admission. ‘In the days when I knew him, my father was well known for consorting with hookers.’

  Abbey could read in his brilliant dark eyes how much that belief had troubled him and her heart swelled inside her. Indeed it was only with the greatest difficulty that she restrained herself from rushing across the room to wrap comforting arms round him.

  ‘But a schoolgirl, his own daughter’s friend,’ Nikolai added with a disgusted shake of his handsome dark head. ‘Kostya was a nasty piece of work. Ophelia’s mother went on to lead a very troubled and unhappy life. Being forced into early motherhood and having to give up her child at that age would have done nothing to help.’

  ‘I’m sorry I thought the worst about you and Ophelia.’ Abbey felt light-headed with relief that all her worst nightmares had failed to come true.

  ‘I don’t mess around with married women and you should have known that.’ Nikolai closed a hand over hers to urge her in the direction of the hall. ‘Now that we have that sorted out, we have a busy day ahead.’

  Abbey had nothing noted down in her diary. ‘Have we?’

  ‘But you’ll have to go home and change first. I’m afraid that you’re not dressed for the occasion.’

  ‘Not more diamonds, surely,’ Abbey muttered uneasily.

  Nikolai laughed out loud at the note of dismay in her voice. He paused to tug down the scarf at her throat and press his expert mouth to the bruise there with a slow, sensual flourish. ‘Who knows what the day will bring? But I’d love to see you wearing something feminine and summery.’

  At the touch of his lips, gooseflesh flared at the nape of her neck. She gazed up at him, marvelling at the potent masculine appeal of his lean, dark, handsome face, her attention lingering to admire the black curling ebony spikes of his lashes and the astonishing beauty of his brilliant dark eyes. ‘What’s the occasion? Where are we going?’ she asked.

  ‘It’s a surprise.’

  ‘Is it work or play?’

  Nikolai banded her close with possessive hands and the proximity of his lean, hard body sent arrows of sexual awareness darting through her slim body. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever looked on you as work and you’re too demanding to fall into the other category.’

  ‘But we’re still faking a serious relationship, aren’t we?’ Abbey wanted to remind herself of that salient fact to keep her feet securely anchored to the ground.

  Nikolai raised a sleek brow. ‘The jury’s still out on that one.’

  ‘No, it’s not,’ Abbey told him in the lift. ‘We’re faking.’

  Just when she wanted him to argue, Nikolai made no comment. He dropped her home and arranged to pick her up again within the hour. The paparazzi took several shots of her smiling face as she got out of his car. She wondered where on earth he was taking her and chose a floral tea dress from her wardrobe, teaming it with elegant high heels and the pearl collar to cover the bruise on her throat. While she was doing her make-up her brother, Drew, phoned her from hospital and told her how generous Nikolai had been and how very grateful he was.

  Ophelia phoned her as well before she went out again to invite her and Nikolai to dinner at their home that weekend. Abbey was embarrassed, not knowing how to say that she and Nikolai were not such a couple that she could accept or decline invitations on his behalf. She said she would mention it to him, and would very much like to have known how Nikolai had described her status in his life to his potential sister.

  A perfect blue sky and bright sunshine greeted Abbey when she left the limo at a private airfield and boarded the helicopter which Nikolai was to fly. Fierce curiosity assailed her: she could not think where in the world they might be going and conversation above the noise of the rotor blades was impossible.

  Abbey was quick to take in the view when finally Nikolai drew her attention to it. Registering that their journey was clearly coming to an end, Abbey noticed that they were flying over a very large expanse of roof. Nikolai turned the helicopter to head for the landing pad and only then did Abbey appreciate that the property below them was a moated and battlemented castle set in beautiful grounds. She assumed it was a hotel.

  Vaulting down onto the ground in advance of Abbey, Nikolai scooped her out of the helicopter with enthusiasm. ‘I like the dress…I will never tire of looking at your legs.’

  ‘Where are we?’ Abbey demanded.

  ‘Berkshire. Cobblefield House.’

  Abbey recognised the name and tensed. ‘What are we doing here?’

  ‘I told Sveta to arrange a viewing.’

  Abbey literally gnashed her teeth at that announcement. She had worked night and day and trailed round all the estate agencies in search of the elusive country property that would ignite his interest and she had got nowhere! She had seen the details of this same property two weeks earlier and had immediately discounted it from her list of possibles because it contained none of the luxury extras that Nikolai was accustomed to finding in his various homes round the world.

  ‘But it’s a medieval castle,’ she pointed out tartly.

  ‘The heart of the house may still be, but the building was considerably extended and renovated in the nineteenth century.’

  ‘And hasn’t been touched much since then. If I’d known that you liked this sort of place, I could have shown you several,’ Abbey pointed out, furious that she had had no idea that he would even consider a historic listed house as a potential base in the country.

  But Nikolai failed to rise to the bait of that feminine reproach and strode forward to greet the man crossing the lawn towards them. They were ushered into a fascinating, if cluttered, interior in which many generations of the same family had each left their mark. Their guide was the owner and he was selling up lock, stock and barrel because he had no heir. Abbey was quick to admire the massive fireplaces, the very grand oak staircase and the beautifully shaped mullioned windows. The reception rooms were large and gracious and full of light and the same historical charm and sense of elegant proportion ensured that the bedrooms were equally pleasing to the eye.

  ‘What do you think of the house, milaya moya?’ Nikolai enquired as they walked round the walled garden where box-edged borders of roses rioted with glorious romantic abandon.

  ‘Well, it’s not exactly tailor-made for you, is it?’ Abbey quipped. ‘The bathrooms can be counted on one hand. The last modernisation programme ended before the First World War and, b
ecause it’s a listed building, alterations will be a complex issue for there are a lot of restrictions.’

  ‘Are you always so practical?’

  ‘You’re paying me to look out for your interests and warn you of the pitfalls,’ Abbey reminded him.

  Lean, strong face taut, Nikolai expelled his breath with an audible hiss and turned her round. He looked down at her, his shapely hands enclosing her wrists. ‘Did you like the house?’

  ‘Yes, I did, but I can’t see you falling into ecstasies over the quality of the wainscoting and the holes left in the walls by the Cromwellian attack.’

  ‘There’s no accounting for taste,’ Nikolai murmured huskily, lowering his handsome dark head to taste her generous mouth in an explorative kiss that made her shiver, heat flowering low in her stomach. ‘We’re staying in a local hotel tonight. It’s time to leave.’

  ‘Why aren’t we going back to London?’

  ‘I have my reasons.’

  Thirty minutes later they were walking into a magnificent country house hotel and Nikolai was ordering dinner.

  ‘It feels strange to be anywhere without paparazzi,’ Abbey confided. ‘Do you know I haven’t got so much as a toothbrush with me?’

  Nikolai sent her a flashing smile of amusement. The suite was large, opulent and extremely comfortable. Wonderful flower arrangements scented the rooms. Champagne was served when Abbey reappeared after freshening up as best she could in the marble bathroom. She sensed Nikolai’s tension and it bothered her and made her wonder what was wrong.

  ‘Just one more diamond,’ Nikolai murmured softly, extending a small jewellery box to her.

  ‘Another?’ Abbey exclaimed in dismay, flipping open the lid, and then freezing to stare down at the huge diamond solitaire ring. ‘What am I supposed to do with this?’

  ‘You really are making this a challenge.’ Nikolai sighed. ‘I couldn’t get down on one bended knee and keep my face straight, but I always assumed that most women are programmed to recognise an engagement ring at first glance.’

  Abbey’s smooth brow indented. ‘It’s an engagement ring?’ she gasped in shock.

  ‘Will you marry me?’ Nikolai asked, tugging the ring out of the box and trying to put it onto the wrong finger.

  ‘Oh, my gosh…yes!’ Abbey told him, extending the correct finger to be helpful.

  ‘You don’t want time to think about it?’ Nikolai checked, his dark gaze liquid with emotion as he studied her.

  ‘What’s there to think about?’ Abbey whispered in a wobbly voice as shock began setting in hard on her and tears clogged her throat and stung her eyes like mad. ‘I love you loads.’

  ‘Do you?’ Nikolai was staring down at her hard enough to strip paint. ‘So why are you crying?’

  ‘I’m so h-happy!’ Abbey hiccupped.

  Nikolai was holding on tightly to both her hands as if he was working up to saying something. A muscle jumped at his tense jaw line. ‘I meant it when I told you I’d never felt like this before. I didn’t even realise what love was until I fell for you-’

  Abbey squeezed his hands. ‘You fell for me?’

  ‘A head-on collision. Crash-bang-wallop, as you Brits would say,’ he mocked. ‘I was so jealous of what you felt for Jeffrey.’

  Abbey was studying him wide-eyed. ‘You…were?’

  ‘It drove me crazy.’

  ‘I was just a teeny bopper when I loved Jeffrey. It was different,’ Abbey admitted ruefully, freeing one of his hands to reach up and trace the angle of one hard masculine cheekbone, rejoicing in her freedom to touch him. ‘You should appreciate the fact that I fell for you, warts and all! You paraded all your faults and I still managed to love you.’

  ‘What faults?’ Nikolai fielded.

  Abbey rested her palm on his shirt front. ‘I don’t think we should go there tonight. You know, I’m not perfect either. I was just trying to point out that even though you bribed me into dining with you on our first date and I knew that was very wrong, I still fell head over heels in love with you.’

  Nikolai covered her hand with his. ‘I had to fight just to get time with you and then I took advantage of you that first night and knew I would pay for it-’

  ‘Of course you took advantage,’ Abbey said ruefully, knowing that Nikolai would always make the most of any opportunity to get what he wanted. He was built that way and aggressively set on winning and nothing would change him.

  ‘You hated me for it,’ Nikolai growled. ‘It wasn’t worth it.’

  ‘I have one question I have always wanted to ask. And you must be honest. Sveta, Olya and Darya-what’s the score there?’ Abbey enquired gently.

  ‘I founded a business school in St Petersburg and I offer jobs to the top graduates. They’re terrific workers. Sveta and I grew up in the same neighbourhood. I have never slept with any of them,’ Nikolai completed with an honesty that she found compellingly attractive.

  ‘But I’m not sure I could accept them staying with you, because they all want you,’ Abbey responded with equal frankness.

  ‘I’ll deal with the situation,’ Nikolai asserted. ‘I promise.’

  Abbey looked at the ring glittering on her finger and curved her arms round his neck. ‘How long have we got before dinner?’

  A wolfish grin slashed his sculpted mouth as he read her expressive face. ‘Long enough, lubimaya,’ he asserted, bending down to lift her and carry her through to the bedroom.

  Happiness was racing through Abbey like an ongoing electric shock. She still couldn’t quite credit the ring on her finger and the idea that she was loved. ‘I thought you only committed to sex-’

  ‘You made me want much more. I wanted to be the very special guy that you had the worthy, important relationship with. I’m hopelessly competitive,’ Nikolai teased. ‘Why do you think I gave you that file on Jeffrey?’

  Abbey stiffened and pulled a face. ‘That was awful, but I was glad I finally found out.’

  ‘That was the night I realised I loved you, because I felt like such a bastard for hurting you like that. I was really worried about you, as well.’

  ‘I think I shifted from lust to something more that night as well. You were very caring,’ Abbey confided, planting a kiss on the corner of his mouth as she wrenched off his tie and attempted to extract him from his suit jacket.

  ‘Is this lust or love?’ Nikolai’s eyes were bright with wicked amusement.

  ‘Does it matter?’

  Just then it didn’t. Nikolai claimed her mouth with feverish hunger and for quite some time there was no sensible conversation whatsoever. Clothes were discarded in careless heaps. Passion blazed between them. He made love to her with all the natural fire of his temperament, but there was a new tenderness in their joining. Afterwards she was in tears of happiness again. Suddenly her whole world seemed drenched in sunlight and she was full of bright hopes for the future.

  ‘What made you pick Cobblefield House?’ Abbey whispered curiously while she still lay in his arms, but carefully arranged so that she could continue to feast her gaze on her glittering engagement ring.

  Nikolai groaned out loud. ‘Didn’t it remind you of anything?’

  Bemused by the question, Abbey shook her head.

  ‘The centre portion looks like your doll’s house…’

  Her eyes opened very wide. ‘Oh, my word…is that why?’

  ‘My inspiration…didn’t you realise that’s where I got the idea that you liked Siamese cats?’

  ‘Lady,’ Abbey sighed comfortably. ‘She was one terrific present. I love that little cat to bits-’

  ‘When I saw you with the kitten, I thought you would make an amazing mother,’ Nikolai confessed. ‘For the first time ever, I thought of becoming a father without freaking out and I realised that you were different.’

  ‘I’m not sure I’m ready to be a mother yet,’ Abbey admitted. ‘I’m only just adjusting to the being engaged, and then getting married and living in a giant castle.’

  ‘I love you. I
’ll wait. Whatever makes you happy,’ Nikolai intoned.

  Abbey gave him a radiant smile. ‘You make me happy,’ she told him with supreme confidence.

  ‘Stay still, darling,’ Ophelia Metaxis urged her three-year-old daughter as she adjusted the focus on her camera. ‘I want to get a picture of you beside your baby cousin.’

  Little, blond, dark-eyed Poppy was stationed beside Abbey, who was holding her infant son, Danilo, on her lap. The baby, black-haired and blue-eyed, dressed in his magnificent christening robe and shawl, was fast asleep.

  ‘He really is gorgeous,’ Ophelia remarked and she patted her slightly protruding tummy. ‘I hope my next is a boy.’

  At Caroline’s request, Abbey settled Danilo on her sister-in-law’s knee for another set of photos for her side of the family. The DNA tests had been positive: Ophelia and Nikolai were half-brother and sister, the children of the same mother, Cathy. Ophelia had told Abbey about her little sister, Molly, who had been adopted when Ophelia was a teenager. Nikolai was as keen as Ophelia to track down Molly, but so far their enquiries had failed to establish any leads.

  Two years had passed since Abbey and Nikolai had got married. Lysander and Ophelia had staged the wedding for them at Madrigal Court, their beautiful Tudor country house, which lay only thirty miles from Cobblefield House. The wedding had been a fantastic day, which had served to wipe out all Abbey’s unhappy memories of her first tragic wedding day. Now she lived very firmly in the present with her attention centred squarely on the husband she adored and her first child.

  Caroline and Drew were a good deal happier than they had been, for they had more time to spend together as a family. Nikolai owned a share of Support Systems now, and Olya managed the business, ensuring that expenses never got out of hand and everything ran like clockwork. Darya was based in New York and still working for Nikolai, as was Sveta, who had taken charge of Arlov Industries in London. Nikolai had other very presentable St Petersburg business graduates working for him, but none of them ever seemed quite as dangerously adoring and possessive of their handsome employer as the original threesome.

  Abbey’s miniature doll’s house castle had been rear-ranged and refurbished as a more suitable home for a medieval knight. The lady of the house now wore a Tudor bed gown and there was a hip bath by the fire with her fanciable husband inside it. Abbey reckoned that a warrior just home from battle would probably need a good wash. She believed that the moment Nikolai confessed to having attended the Kensington Doll’s House Festival to buy her presents was the same moment that she should have worked out that he loved her.