A Child Claimed by Gold

by Rachael Thomas

  Emma’s scent drifted up through the crisp air to meet him and he closed his eyes as summer flowers triggered happier memories. ‘I was happiest in the summer, when we visited my mother’s family.’

  Why had he said that? Inwardly he berated himself for giving her information she could act on. At the thought of the country home his mother’s parents had kept, he realised it was the perfect place to take her. He could hire a troika and sit back and watch as the romance of Russia unfolded. What woman wouldn’t resist such a romantic story? It would be just what he needed to charm her away from the dark secrets he had to keep hidden away.

  ‘Where was that? Close by?’ Her interest was caught and she looked up at him, smiling and looking happier than he’d seen her since she’d arrived on the train. Then she looked vulnerable—beautiful and vulnerable.

  ‘It is, yes.’ He could hardly answer her as the attraction wound itself round him, drawing him ever closer to her.

  ‘Can we go there?’ she asked tentatively, her genuine smile and soft blush doing untold things to him. Why, he didn’t know. He much preferred his women to be bold, dramatic and experienced at mutually beneficial affairs. Instinctively he knew Emma was not like that at all. She was the sort of woman who’d planned out a happy-ever-after, even as a small child. Definitely not for him.

  ‘We will go tomorrow,’ he said, stepping back from the temptation of this woman.

  * * *

  The next morning, as instructed by Nikolai, Emma waited, wearing her warmest clothes and even more excited than yesterday. Somehow they had drawn closer with each passing hour yesterday and, even though he didn’t talk to her about the past and let her into his thoughts, he had shown her many wonderful places and she already had lots of images.

  She also realised she liked him—perhaps a little too much. If she was honest, she was attracted to him in a way she hadn’t known before, not even with Richard.

  ‘Ready?’ he said as he met her in the hotel reception.

  Like a child about to be shown a Christmas tree, she couldn’t stem the excitement and smiled up at him. He was clean shaven this morning, and as wrapped up as she was, but that didn’t stop the pulse of attraction leaping between them. The only difference was this time his smile reached his eyes and they smouldered at her, making her pulse rate soar.

  ‘Yes; are we going to the house you told me about yesterday?’

  ‘We are, yes. The house I spent summers at with my mother and her parents.’

  She wanted to ask if his father had gone there too, but didn’t dare risk spoiling the softer mood he was in. She sensed his father was the cause of the sudden change in his mood yesterday at his childhood home, but didn’t have the courage to ask. Instead she focused her attention on what was happening now. ‘Is it far?’

  ‘No, a short car ride, then something special,’ he said and to her surprise took her hand and led her into the street to the same big, black car he’d driven the previous day. Her heart fluttered as she fought to control the powerful surge of attraction rushing through her; she’d never felt anything like it before.

  Then the something special Nikolai had teased her with turned out to be a ride across the snow in a sleigh, pulled by three proud horses, and Emma was totally blown away by the whole experience—and by the enforced close proximity of Nikolai as they sat snuggled under a heavy throw. ‘This is amazing. I can use it in the article.’

  ‘It’s called a troika; racing them is a tradition from over one hundred years ago that’s enjoying a resurgence.’ She could barely focus on what he was saying as his thigh pressed hard against hers and even through all their layers of clothes her skin felt scorched.

  After a little while the troika driver slowed to a halt, the horses snorting into the cold air, and Emma looked at Nikolai. Again something fizzed between them, but this time he held her gaze, looking intently into her eyes just the way she would have envisaged a lover doing. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered softly, her breath hanging briefly in the air, mingling with his in the most intimate way, and making her blush.

  ‘The pleasure is all mine, Emma.’ The fact that he’d used her name didn’t go unnoticed and a shimmer of pleasure rushed over her, making her shudder, but it wasn’t from the cold. ‘Are you cold?’

  ‘No, not at all,’ she said, shyness creeping over her, and she lowered her gaze, concentrating on the throw which covered their legs, locking them into the small space together.

  With a gloved hand, Nikolai lifted her chin, forcing her to look at him once more, and what she saw in the inky black depths of his eyes was as terrifying as it was exciting. ‘You are very beautiful, Emma.’

  She swallowed hard, unable to move away from him, trapped with her legs all but welded to his beneath the cover. ‘You shouldn’t say things like that.’

  Was that really her voice? She had no idea she could sound so husky and so trembling at the same time. Deep within her, silly, romantic notions she always shunned sprang to life. Did he really find her attractive? Would he want to kiss her and, if he did, what would it be like?

  ‘It’s the truth.’

  Her heart was thumping in her chest and she was sure he must hear it. Her breathing had become more rapid, and so had his, if their white, misty breath was anything to go by. She searched his face for any hint of teasing, any sign that he was toying with her. She didn’t have any experience with men, but she knew well enough from friends how they could make a woman lose all sense of self, something Richard had never done to her.

  There was nothing, not a single trace of him teasing her, and she knew she was in danger of slipping under the spell that the magic of the moment was weaving around them. If they had been in a hotel lounge, talking in front of an open fire as they had done the afternoon she arrived, would he be saying these things to her?

  ‘I didn’t come here to become mixed up with a man.’ Even as her body yearned for the unknown, her mind kept to the practical issue of keeping her feet firmly on the ground.

  ‘Do we have to get “mixed up”, as you so nicely put it?’ His voice was deep and laden with a hidden agenda.

  She looked away, across the vast, white expanse of the snowy landscape, and asked herself the same question. If she took the kiss she was sure he wanted to give, would that change anything between them? No, because it couldn’t. She had a job to do and then it would be time to move on with her life.

  She’d waited in the hope that Richard would move their friendship to something more intimate and now she wondered if that had been wrong. Or was it just Richard who was wrong?

  ‘No, I guess we don’t.’ She hoped she sounded as though she knew what she was doing, as if she’d been in this very situation many times before. The reality was very different. She’d never had a man look at her with such fierce desire in his eyes, never wanted to feel his lips claim hers.

  He responded by moving closer and brushing his lips over hers very gently and suddenly she wasn’t cold any more as heat scorched through her. She moved her lips against his, a soft sigh of pleasure slipping from her, only to be caught by him. What was happening to her?

  A jolt threw her away from him and she dragged in a long, cold breath as the restless horses shifted in their harnesses. The driver spoke to Nikolai and she blushed, burying her face deeper in her scarf to hide her embarrassment. What was happening to her?

  ‘The driver says snow is on the way and suggests we see what is necessary and head back.’ Nikolai hadn’t intended to kiss her like that; he’d just wanted to make her feel special, to give her the fairy-tale ride through the snow to a beautiful location. He’d wanted all that to distract her—at least, he had, until he’d tasted her lips, felt them welcoming him and encouraging him to take more.

  ‘Yes, yes, of course.’ She sounded flustered as she took her camera out of its protective case. ‘I’ll just take a few frames and then you can tell me about it on the way back. I’d rather be in the warm when the snow arrives.’

  He pushed bac
k the image of that warmth being his bed and forced himself to focus on the task at hand. He had to distract her from the truth of his family history by showing her the façade they had lived behind.

  ‘This,’ he said as he helped her from the troika, ‘Is where my mother and I spent each summer until we left Russia. In the summer, though, it was much greener and warmer than now.’

  He hadn’t thought of those summer days for such a long time, consigning them to the past he wanted to forget, but now, as he began to talk to Emma, it wasn’t nearly as hard to look back on them as he’d always feared.

  ‘And this was your mother’s family home?’ she asked as she lined up the shot and took a photo of the one place he’d been happy as a child.

  ‘It was, but I never saw it like this, all covered in snow. It was always summer when we visited and I’d run with the dogs in the orchard, enjoying the freedom.’

  It hadn’t been just the freedom of running free in the summer sun, it had been the freedom from the terror of his father: from not having to hide when his filthy temper struck; of not having to worry about his mother as his father’s voice rose to aggressive shouts. It had been freedom from pain—for both of them. He’d realised much later on that his mother’s parents must have known what was going on and it had been their way of offering sanctuary. He just couldn’t understand why his mother hadn’t taken it permanently.

  ‘And is your grandmother here to talk to us now?’ Hope was shining in her voice. She thought he meant the grandmother who had started this whole nonsense off.

  ‘No, they passed away before my father. Marya Petrushov is my father’s mother. The one who contacted World in Photographs. She lives in Vladimir.’

  ‘So we can see her?’

  She turned her attention to packing away the camera, obviously happy with the photos she’d taken, and he was glad she couldn’t see his face—because right now he was sure it must be contorted with rage and contempt for the woman who had done nothing to help him or his mother. Instead she’d preferred to make excuses for her son and for that he could never forgive her.

  ‘Tomorrow. But right now we should return to the hotel.’

  Just as he couldn’t put off returning to the hotel because of the impending snow, he knew he couldn’t put off meeting his grandmother again any longer. Maybe facing her for the first time would be easier with someone else at his side. It might also be the worst possible decision he’d ever made.

  CHAPTER THREE

  NIKOLAI LOOKED OUT of the window of the hotel bar as darkness descended. The snow was falling ever harder and he couldn’t help but feel relieved. At this rate they wouldn’t be able to get to his grandmother’s home before Emma had to return to London. He’d almost given away the secret himself when he’d taken her to his childhood home; but at least she now had something for her story, and he could relax, maybe even enjoy the evening with her.

  ‘It’s snowing really hard.’ Emma’s voice, soft and gentle, held a hint of anxiety as she joined him in the hotel bar.

  ‘That is normal for these parts,’ he said as she sat down, unable to drag his eyes from her. She wore a black dress which moulded to every curve of her body, but when she removed her jacket, exposing her shoulders and slender arms, that spark of attraction he’d been trying to ignore roared forward, more persistent in its need for satisfaction.

  She sat down opposite him in the comfortable chairs of the lounge area and crossed her legs, affording him a tantalising view of her lower leg, now deliciously on display, and the black high heels she wore only reinforced his need to feel those legs around him. Was she doing it on purpose? Was she trying to distract him?

  ‘Thank you,’ she said firmly and he looked at her face, liking the extra make-up she wore. It accentuated the green of her eyes and he wondered how they would look filled with passion and desire. ‘For what you have shown me, I mean. It can’t have been easy seeing your childhood home in ruins.’

  The sincerity in her voice made him curious about her childhood and he remembered what she’d said within those first moments of meeting him: life has taught me that, Mr Petrushov. Had life been equally unkind to her?

  ‘What of your family home?’ he asked, instantly recognising the way she tensed and the tightening of her jaw. He wasn’t the only one with secrets which still hung over him.

  ‘A family home isn’t something I was lucky enough to have. My sister and I were put into care when we were young.’ She looked away from him; he watched her swallow down her pain and had to fight hard against the urge to go to her and offer comfort—sure it wouldn’t be comfort for long.

  ‘I didn’t intend to upset you.’ He leant forward in the chair and her perfume weaved itself around him, increasing the desire for her which pumped around his body. Desire he couldn’t act on, not if he wanted to keep this whole situation free of complications.

  ‘Maybe it’s only fair, after what you endured yesterday. It must have been heart-breaking, seeing your family home like that.’ She turned to look at him and suddenly they were very close. He held her gaze, looking into those green eyes and seeing an array of emotions swirling within them. He watched her lips move as she spoke again. ‘I feel responsible for that.’

  She looked down again at her hands clasped in her lap. For a moment he followed her gaze and then something he’d never experienced before pushed him on. He needed to touch her so he reached out and with his thumb and finger lifted her chin, forcing her to look at him.

  The spark of attraction that had been between them from the moment she had got off the train mutated into desire as her gaze locked with his. It arced between them, pulling them together. He pressed the pad of his thumb along her bottom lip and he knew he’d already crossed the line, already passed the point of no return. All he could hope for now was that she would stop this madness from going further. She didn’t. She stayed still, her eyes wide and beautiful, and when his fingers caressed her soft skin again her eyes fluttered closed, long lashes spreading out over her pale skin.

  Did she have any idea what she was doing to him?

  ‘Maybe we should eat.’ Her voice was husky as she looked back up at him, her eyes full of desire. Food was the last thing he wanted, but he couldn’t give in to the hot surge of lust racing through him, not when he’d decided this woman was off limits; he’d always prized himself on control.

  As she closed her eyes slowly, her lips parting slightly, he wondered how the hell he was supposed to hang on to any sense of decency. She was so alluring, so tempting. When she opened her eyes again the mossy green was swirling with the same lust-filled desire which coursed wildly through his veins and he knew it was too late. There was only one way this heated attraction could be calmed now.

  ‘It is not food I hunger for.’ He leant even closer, still holding her chin, and pressed his lips briefly against hers, leaving her in no doubt what it was he hungered for. Was he insane? He’d gone past caring. Somewhere in the recess of his mind he knew this was so wrong, but the thought of kissing her, making her his, was so very right.

  * * *

  Emma could hardly breathe. The message in Nikolai’s eyes was so very clear she couldn’t miss it. He wanted her. She had no idea how she knew that, having done nothing more than kiss a man. But on a primal level that she’d never known existed within her she recognised the hunger in those inky-black eyes.

  Hunger for her.

  After years of believing she was unattractive to men, this powerful, dominating man wanted her. Worse than that—she wanted him too. She wanted to taste his kiss and feel his arms around her. She was so far from home, and everything she’d hoped this trip would bring looked in doubt, but right now none of that mattered. Only the searing hot attraction between them mattered. Only the promise of being desired for the woman she was.

  What was it her last foster mother had always said? Live for the moment. She let the advice swirl in her mind, pushing back the cruel words her father had taunted her with the one and only t
ime she’d met him.

  She looked again at Nikolai, at the intensity in his eyes. She’d never done that before, never taken the lead with a man, even though she’d always hoped she and Richard could be something. Now she knew why. What she felt for him was purely friendship, whereas what she felt for Nikolai, and had done since the moment they’d met, was far more intense. She had no choice but to live for the moment. If she kissed him, allowed herself to step into the sanctuary of his strong arms, would that be living for the moment?

  ‘Neither am I.’ Her whisper was so soft she wondered if she’d actually said anything, but the slight rise of his brows and the deepening intensity in his eyes told her she had—and he’d understood.

  In answer he lowered his head and covered her lips with his, moving them gently until hers parted, allowing him to deepen the kiss. Heat exploded through her and she knew this was far more than a kiss; this was a prelude to something she’d never done before. He deepened the kiss again, setting light to her whole body. They couldn’t do this here. Anyone could see them.

  She pulled back, alarmed at how her heart raced, thumping in her chest like a horse galloping across the finishing line. Except this wasn’t the end. This was only the beginning. Empowered by that knowledge and the need to let go of restraint and become a real woman, one who knew desire and passion, she smiled at him. ‘Let’s go upstairs.’

  He looked down at her, his eyes searching hers, and she hoped he wouldn’t be able to tell how inexperienced she was. A man like this must have had many lovers and the last thing he’d want would be a shy virgin. Although she couldn’t change the fact that she’d never done more than kiss a man lightly on the lips, she could stop herself from being shy. All she needed to do was let go and live for the moment.

  ‘It can’t be anything more than this night,’ he said as he took her hand. ‘I don’t want a relationship and commitment. I’m not looking for love and happiness. I want to know you understand that, Emma.’