“Here we are.”
She blinked.
Kazimir Savitch was holding open the door to a small restaurant. A rush of warm air and exotic spices engulfed her as she stepped inside.
“It’s Thai,” he said. “Is that all right with you?”
She looked at him. “You mean, I get a choice?”
His face darkened. He put his hand in the small of her back, pushed her forward.
“Mr. Savitch. It is good to see you, sir.”
The hostess was all smiles as she greeted them, then led them to a booth. Katie shrugged out of her coat before Kaz could try to help her. He reached for it, but she shook her head and left it draped around her shoulders as she slid into the booth.
Kaz sat down opposite her. A waiter offered them menus, but he waved them away.
“The red curry is great,” he said, looking at Katie. “So is the pad Thai. And the soups are—”
“It doesn’t matter.”
A muscle knotted in his cheek. He ordered half a dozen dishes. Katie said nothing. Once the waiter was gone, Kaz leaned forward.
On the walk here, he’d rethought the situation. Ekaterina Rostov was what she was. The same could be said for his foolishness in letting Zach lure him into this assignment. They had a couple of days to endure and then they’d be free of each other. It would be easier on them both if they got through those days without constant sniping.
“Ms. Rostov. I am not the enemy.”
“No? Then what are you?”
“I’m the man who’s charged with seeing to it that you don’t get yourself in trouble between now and Sunday, when I deliver you to Sardovia.”
She made a sound that might have been a laugh. He could have sworn he felt his blood pressure rise.
“You find that amusing?”
“Just listen to yourself, Mr. Savitch. You are going to deliver me. An interesting choice of words.”
“It’s even more interesting that you’re the Christmas gift for a man you’ve never set eyes on. Doesn’t that bother you?”
“Doesn’t being my father’s delivery boy bother you?”
So much for getting through this without rancor.
“I am nobody’s delivery boy,” Kaz said harshly.
“Never mind. If it makes you feel better to view your job as routine, who am I to stop you?”
“And how, exactly, do you view it, Ms. Rostov?” They fell silent until the waiter had served their soup. Then Kaz leaned forward again. “You make it sound as if this is the fifteenth century and I’m the villain who will hand you off to an evil warlord.”
Katie looked at him. Then she unfolded her napkin and spread it neatly in her lap.
“You have the century wrong.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Figure it out, Mr. Savitch. “
“I’m not in the mood for games, Ekaterina. And skip the formality. My name is Kazimir. Kaz.”
“Mine is Katie.”
“It’s what?”
“Katie.” She shrugged. “I have lived a good portion of my life in America.”
Kaz sat back. He felt like a man trying to put together a jigsaw puzzle that had pieces missing. Ekaterina Rostov—Katie, of all things—was proving difficult to understand. Maybe she wasn’t the spoiled Queen of Mean. Was that possible? And was it possible she was less upset at having a bodyguard, a babysitter, hell, a delivery man or whatever you wanted to call what he was supposed to be, than she was by the job he was performing?
“I’m confused,” he said. “You’re heading home for your engagement party.”
“I am heading to Sardovia. For something called a betrothal ceremony. It’s much more formal than an engagement party—and it is legally binding.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“Of course. I’m half Sardovian, half American.” He shrugged, offered a quick smile. “There are times I’m not sure which half is which.”
She picked up her spoon, dipped it in the soup and brought it to her mouth.
“Good?” he said.
She nodded. She supposed that it was good, but ever since her father had told her his plans, whatever she ate tasted like sawdust.
“So, let’s start again. I’m taking you to Sardovia. To your betrothal ceremony. To the Sardovian prince. Once the ceremony’s over, you’ll be as good as married to him.”
She looked at him. “There will be no going back.”
“No way to change your mind, you mean. Well, why would you want to?”
The spoon clattered as she dropped it into the bowl.
“This marriage was arranged by my father.”
“But you agreed to it.”
Her eyes flashed. “I did not.”
“Of course you did. This is the twenty-first century.”
“It’s—what did you call it? It’s the fifteenth century for men like my father.”
Kaz picked up his spoon, started to dip it into his bowl, then set it down.
“Let me be sure I understand this. You don’t want to get engaged. Sorry. Betrothed.”
“No.”
“You don’t want to marry the prince.”
“No.”
Kaz stared at her. “Goddammit, are you telling me the truth?”
She stared straight back, her gaze unflinching. Why was she saying all this to him? She didn’t know, but it was too late to take any of it back.
“The absolute truth.”
His expression was one of disbelief. She could hardly blame him.
“Did you tell this to Zach?”
She shook her head. “There would have been no point.”
“But you’re telling it to me.”
“Yes.”
“Because?”
Their eyes met. Held. Her heart thudded, and she broke the connection and looked down at her soup.
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know.” His mouth twisted. “Could it be because you think I’m an easier mark? That I’ll turn my back and let you run?”
“Run?”
“Yes. Run.”
“You don’t understand. My mother is dying. She thinks this match is perfect. How could I run?”
“You tell me.”
She jerked her chin up and Kaz felt the breath rush from his lungs. Her eyes were bright with tears and even a cynic like him knew damn well that the tears were real.
A sob tore from her throat. Then she tossed her napkin on the table, shot to her feet and, just as he’d predicted, she ran.
CHAPTER FIVE
Kaz cursed and took off after her.
“Put it on my bill,” he told the startled hostess as he ran out the door… And stopped.
Now what?
Fifth Avenue was more crowded than the Long Island Expressway on a Friday night. Finding Katie would be like finding the proverbial needle in a haystack.
Fear plucked at his gut. He told himself it was because she was his responsibility, that he had taken on the assignment of delivering her safely to her bridegroom—and, goddammit, there really was something wrong with using that word—but when he suddenly spotted her standing only a few feet away, he knew his fear had nothing to do with that.
It had nothing to do with his assignment.
It had to do with her. With a beautiful, strong, complex woman and the sorrow he’d seen in her eyes.
Kaz felt lightheaded, as if he were back in Afghanistan, standing on the edge of a mountain, looking down into a valley thousands of feet below. The age-old sensation that went with steep heights made his throat constrict.
One step, and he would fall.
Fall forever.
“Kazimir?”
He stared at her. Her eyes were tear-stained, her face pale. Her mouth was trembling.
He wanted to yell at her. Tell her she was not to run from him again. Tell her that if she didn’t behave, he’d tie their wrists together…
Liar.
What he really
wanted was to take her in his arms and comfort her.
The realization scared the crap out of him and he dealt with it the only logical way possible: he closed the slight distance between them, grasped her by the shoulders, and hauled her to her toes.
“Dammit,” he said, “don’t try that again!”
She looked up at him. Despite her tears, he could see her spirit, her bravery, shining through.
“A thousand dollars an hour,” she said. “Is that the going rate?”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I’m talking about money. I’ll pay you to let me go. I’ll vanish into the crowd. You can tell my father that I deceived you.”
His hands tightened on her. “Stop it!”
“I have jewelry. It’s worth a lot. What I have on right now—my ring, my earrings, my necklace… And I have more. All you have to do is let me go and give me a little time to get at it.”
“Are you trying to buy me? Dammit, what kind of man do you think I am?”
Her eyes searched his as the crowd swept past them. Somewhere in the distance, he could hear a bell ringing, a Christmas bell rung by a sidewalk Santa. It made everything that was happening even more surreal.
“That’s just it,” she whispered. “I don’t know what kind of man you are.”
“I am not doing this for money. I’ve already told you that.”
“Then, why? Why do it at all?”
“Because I said that I would. I gave my word.”
She laughed. At least, it sounded like a laugh, that choked little sound she made even as tears rolled down her cheeks.
“Yes. And so did I. Forget what I said. You can’t let me go. Even if you did, I can’t run away. The betrothal ceremony, the marriage… They are my duty.”
“Jesus.” His voice roughened. “Ekaterina. Katie. I’m lost. You have to tell me what’s happening. Does your father know how you feel about this marriage?”
“He knows.”
“That you don’t want to go through with it?”
A shudder went through her. ”Yes.”
“Then why are you doing it?”
“I have no choice.”
“Of course you have a choice! This is America. And even if we were in Sardovia—”
“My father has told my mother that this marriage is everything she ever wanted for me.”
“Well, dammit, tell her the truth.”
“She is dying.” Her voice broke. “She is dying, Kaz, and I cannot break her heart. She would hate my father; she would die hating him and worrying about my future.”
The sorrow in her lovely eyes was like a knife to his heart. She began to weep. He felt his last bit of control slip away. It was gone, beyond his reach and he didn’t even try to get it back.
Instead, he slid his hands into her hair, lowered his head to hers, and kissed her.
For one terrible moment, he thought he’d made a mistake.
Then he felt the sweet sigh of her breath. Her lips parted, and she kissed him back.
* * * *
They walked to the Plaza.
It was only a few blocks away, and it was faster than trying to find an empty cab. Kaz kept his arm tightly around Katie’s shoulders, not to keep her from fleeing but because he needed the feel of her against him.
Crazy as it was, she belonged there, at his side, in the protective curve of his arm.
The hint of snow had gone from being a possibility to a reality. Feathery flakes drifted from the sky and fell lightly over Fifth Avenue and Central Park.
The hotel doorman smiled as they entered the enormous, elegant lobby.
Katie was cold, but she knew she was trembling because of more than that.
She had shocked Kaz with the story of what awaited her in Sardovia, but she had shocked herself even more. She had no really close friends—it had always been best to keep people at a distance—and even if she had, she’d never have told them the truth of what was happening to her.
What was the point? No one could help her. They’d offer pity, and pity was the last thing she wanted.
And yet she’d told this stranger everything, this stranger charged with delivering her into the hands of the man who would control her life.
Why?
Was it something in his eyes, a way of looking at her as if he saw beyond the icy exterior that had always kept her safe? Was it that amazing combination of tough and tender in the way he spoke?
She didn’t know.
The only certainty was that they were alone now, that when he had kissed her a little while ago she’d wanted the kiss to go on and on and on…
He closed the door after them.
She felt his hands on her shoulders, drawing her coat away.
Her heart was pounding. What would happen next? What would he do? What did she want?
He tossed her coat on a chair. Swept her hair away from the back of her neck. She felt the warmth of his breath against her nape, then the whisper of his lips.
Her lashes fell to her cheeks.
“Kazimir,” she murmured.
He lifted his head. Turned her to him. His eyes were deep and dark.
He kissed her. Lightly. Gently. Then he stepped back.
“I’m going to phone down for something to eat. And something hot to drink. Coffee? Tea?”
It wasn’t what she’s expected. He could see that in the widening of her eyes. Well, hell, it wasn’t exactly what he’d expected, either. That kiss outside the restaurant had put a knot of desire in his belly that room service wasn’t going to assuage.
But she was frightened. Shaken and shaking. She needed time to think.
So did he.
He had accepted the responsibility of bringing her to her bridegroom. His uncle. Jesus H. Christ, his uncle, who had turned out to be as dissolute as his own father, but with an added touch of viciousness that made his servants cower.
Was what she’d told him true? Was this all her father’s idea? Was she what she now seemed to be, a gentle woman with a sweet smile and a kind heart?
Or was she the arrogant bitch Zach had handed over to him?
She was beautiful. And bright. He wanted her. The understatement of a lifetime. He had never wanted a woman as he wanted her.
But what was truth and what was fiction?
That kiss. God, that kiss…
Anything was possible.
For all he knew, the kiss, the tears were all an act. Maybe she was trying to win him over. Or misdirect him. Get him in her pocket and then take off.
Food. Something hot to drink. And, more important, time to try to sort things out.
Kaz forced a smile as he reached for the phone.
“Go on,” he said briskly. “Change into something warm. A sweater. Pants. Heavy socks.”
Katie stared at him.
What was this?
That kiss. Had it meant nothing to him? Had it been to gain her compliance? She was twenty- one, yes, but the truth was that she hadn’t been kissed all that many times.
The truth was more embarrassing than that.
She hadn’t been with a man. Ever. She’d never had sex, never slept in a man’s arms. Not even when she was away at college, supposedly on her own because she’d known damn well she wasn’t really on her own, that her father surely had people watching her. “Looking out for her,” he called it, but she knew it was more like looking out for himself. She was, always had been, a kind of commodity to him.
That was what she was now.
A commodity. A thing he was gifting to someone with power and wealth in exchange for even greater power and wealth—
“Katie.”
She blinked. Kaz was watching her, his gaze intense.
“Get into some warm clothes. You’ll feel better, sweetheart. You’ll see.”
She nodded, went into the bedroom, closed the door and stripped off her boots, her gray dress, everything but her panties, and put on, instead, a soft cotton T-shirt, a heavy white fis
herman’s sweater that fell to her hips, black tights and soft knee-high black suede boots. She scrubbed her face, put her hair into a thick single braid that hung down her back.
She looked at herself in the mirror.
She was pale. She needed makeup. Some blusher. Lipstick.
But she wasn’t in the mood for makeup, for trying to look a way she didn’t feel. She reached for the doorknob, hesitated, took a breath and opened the door.
The room service waiter had just finished setting a small round table beside the window.
Automatically, she hurried across the room to sign the check, but Kaz pulled out his wallet, took out several bills and handed them to the waiter.
“You look beautiful,” Kaz said, once they were alone.
She blushed. “Thank you.”
“I didn’t know what you’d want, so I ordered sandwiches and salads.”
“That’s fine.”
“Come on,” he said gently. “Sit down. Let’s eat and watch the snow, and plan what we’re going to do next.”
He pulled out her chair. She started to slip into it, but he caught her wrist and when she tilted her head back and looked at him, he bent his head and kissed her.
She sighed; her lips parted. She brought up one hand and wrapped it around the nape of his neck and he turned her fully toward him and drew her close.
His body was hard. Wonderfully hard. And aroused. She’d never felt a man’s arousal against her, she’d never let a man get close enough for such a thing to happen, and though she’d had some curiosity about it, she’d never been tempted to do anything to satisfy that curiosity.
Now, feeling the pressure of Kaz’s erection against her belly, she wanted to wrap herself around him. Her arms. Her legs. All of her, every inch of her in contact with him.
A soft moan escaped her throat. Kaz groaned. He drew her even closer; she could feel the race of his heart or perhaps it was hers; she could feel the tension radiating through his body.
She had to stop this from going any further.
But she didn’t want to stop it. She wanted this. Wanted to learn. Wanted to come alive under his touch…
The Gift: A Novella Page 4