A Child Claimed by Gold

by Rachael Thomas

  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.’

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  THE WEEK HAD flown by in a whirl of party arrangements and now it was time to face not only Nikolai’s friends as his fiancée but his mother and stepfather. Emma’s nerves jangled as she waited and she thought back to those two kisses on the day they’d become engaged. She had thought they were a positive sign, that he did at least feel something for her, but for the last week he’d withdrawn into his work and she had spent much of the time out with her camera.

  Just this morning she’d been shopping in a store Nikolai had instructed her to visit for a dress suitable for the glamorous event the engagement party had turned into; now she stood looking out over a city which never slept, wearing the kind of dress she’d never imagined possible and feeling more like Cinderella every minute. The only thing she needed was Prince Charming to declare his undying love and sweep her away for a happy-ever-after but she doubted Nikolai would be willing to play that role.

  She’d been in the beauty salon for the early part of the afternoon, nerves building with each passing hour. The cream dress, encrusted with beads, fitted to perfection and when she’d looked in the mirror before leaving her room she hadn’t recognised herself. The woman Nikolai had met in Vladimir had gone, replaced by someone who looked much more polished and refined. What would Nikolai think of that? Or had it been his intention all along to mould her into the woman he wanted her to be?

  She heard Nikolai’s footsteps and nerves filled her so quickly she didn’t want to turn round, but knew she would have to. When she did her breath caught in her throat. She’d seen him in a suit, but never a tuxedo, and the image he created stirred more than just her creative mind.

  The fine black cloth hugged his broad shoulders, caressed his biceps and followed his lean frame downwards. The crisp white shirt set off the black tie to perfection, but it was his face which drew her attention far more. Stubble which had been tamed to look effortlessly sexy covered his jawline, emphasising the firm set of his lips. Dark hair was styled into conformity but a few locks were already breaking free and forming curls at his temples.

  ‘You look...’ he said softly as he stood and fastened his cufflinks, the movement showing off his wrists and designer watch. His dark eyes were full of controlled anger as he sought the words he was looking for.

  ‘Very different.’ She didn’t want to hear what he thought and finished the sentence for him. All she wanted was to get his charade over with. She hated the pretence of it all.

  He stepped a little closer, dropping his arms by his side, making the cloth of the tuxedo cling even more provocatively to him. ‘I was going to say very beautiful.’

  ‘I’m not so sure about that.’ She blushed beneath his scrutiny and clutched her bag ever tighter.

  She was about to walk past him when he caught her arm, the look in his eyes heavy with desire; as much as she wanted to look away, to avoid the way her body sizzled with pleasure, she boldly met his gaze. She stood there, locked in time, waiting for him to say something. He didn’t and finally he let go of her, the connection gone, snuffed out like a candle, leaving a lingering scent in the air.

  ‘We should go. My mother will be expecting us.’ He turned away from her, as if he’d made a mistake even touching her, and she wasn’t sure what worried her the most: the thought of meeting his mother and stepfather or that he couldn’t bear to look at her.

  ‘I’m looking forward to meeting her,’ she said as she fiddled with her bag, anything other than witness his obvious discomfort at being around her.

  ‘There is one thing I need to ask from you.’ He stopped at the door of the apartment and looked down at her. ‘My mother knows nothing of the baby and I’d like to keep it that way. For now, at least.’

  He was ashamed of her, ashamed of the child she carried. That hurt her more than anything, but it also showcased the fact that this marriage was nothing more than a deal and she must never fall into the trap of thinking it was anything else.

  She frowned and tried to smile, but she couldn’t help but ask, ‘Why?’

  ‘She believes I am in love. We are in love. I want to keep it that way. I want her to believe we are marrying simply because we fell in love.’ Each time he said the word ‘love’, his voice became harsher, as if he couldn’t bear even naming such an emotion.

  So he was ashamed he was to be a father. Was that why he wanted to get married as soon as possible—so that he could make it look like something they’d planned or at least wanted?

  She shrugged, trying to hide her hurt at what he’d just said. ‘If that’s what you want.’

  * * *

  Nikolai watched as his mother hugged Emma, then held her hands and stood back to look at her, as if shocked that he’d finally brought a woman home to meet her. His gaze lingered a little too long on Emma’s glorious body, encased in a gown which caressed her figure in a way that evoked memories of kissing her all over before making her his—truly his.

  ‘I am so pleased to meet you.’ His mother’s words dragged his mind back from the erotic path they had taken, forcing him to concentrate on the present. ‘I never really believed I’d see this day; and such a gorgeous ring.’

  ‘A gorgeous ring for a very beautiful woman.’ Nikolai spoke his thoughts aloud before he had time to evaluate them, but when Emma blushed and his mother smiled he knew they had been exactly what was needed.

  ‘You must of course stay here tonight,’ his mother offered Emma, just as she had done with him earlier in the week, but he’d refused, claiming a need to work the next day.

  ‘Emma and I will be travelling back tonight,’ he said sternly and felt Emma’s gaze on him. Was she pleading with him to extricate them both from the invitation?

  ‘I won’t hear of it. How can you enjoy your engagement party if you have to travel back tonight? Besides, I’ve already had a room prepared, so there is no excuse.’

  ‘I need to be
at the office first thing in the morning.’ Nikolai knew his voice sounded abrupt and, if the curious glance Emma cast his way was anything to go by, his mother would know he was making excuses.

  ‘Nonsense. You work far too hard, and besides, it’s the weekend and you should be spending it with your fiancée. Isn’t that right, Emma?’ His mother smiled at him, using her charm and tactics as she always did to get what she wanted, but he didn’t want Emma pushed into a situation that she clearly didn’t want. Also, staying here at his mother’s house in The Hamptons would almost certainly mean sharing not only a room with Emma, but a bed. The fact that his mother had made a room ready suggested she’d already planned it all out.

  ‘I don’t have anything with me, Mrs Cunningham.’ Emma’s soft voice caught him unawares, as did the way it sent a tingle of awareness down his spine. He looked at her, at the worried expression on her face, and something twisted inside him, as if his heart was being squeezed.

  He couldn’t be falling for her. He didn’t want that kind of complication, especially when she was here to celebrate their engagement only because he’d made a deal which would secure not only her baby’s future but her sister’s. A deal she’d been more than happy to agree on once he’d made her see that refusal would leave her child without a father. Something he knew she was all too familiar with.

  ‘Well, if that’s the only reason, I can soon sort that out. My stepdaughter is here with her husband and between us both we can loan you anything you need.’

  Nikolai’s control on the situation was slipping through his fingers and he was torn between saving Emma from being forced to spend a night in the same room as him and allowing his mother to continue with the illusion that he’d finally succumbed to love.

  ‘I couldn’t do that...’ Emma began, but before she could finish he spoke over her.