by Tessa Radley
Holly.
The next realization struck her.
Yevgeny wasn’t going to give up. Ever. Last night’s seduction had already proved just how far he would go to get Holly.
As Holly’s biological father, he would be eligible to adopt the baby. The prohibition against a single man adopting a girl child did not apply to a father.
Ella’s lawyerly brain went into overdrive. Hell, he might already be contemplating the first step: applying for guardianship. Ella knew she could challenge that. After all, Yevgeny had not been married to her—or even in a relationship with her. But there was a chance that a judge would grant the order because Holly’s best interests were a stake. Once he’d been appointed joint guardian along with her, Ella suspected he’d waste no time seeking temporary custody of the baby. He was Holly’s biological father; the court might look favorably on it. Unless she fought him. When Holly had been born, Ella would have done anything she could to stop Yevgeny getting the baby.
But now?
Ella bit her lip. He loved Holly. How could she stand in his way?
There would be some formalities to go through—paternity tests—not that Ella doubted that what he’d said was the truth. She could hear it in his voice, see it in his eyes. He was Holly’s father. Even the hard-nosed, skeptical-lawyer part of her believed it. The court would, of course, demand incontrovertible evidence. But Ella knew the tests would prove beyond doubt he was Holly’s father.
And once he’d secured temporary care of Holly he’d launch a formal application to adopt the baby.
“You’re going to use the courts to get Holly,” she breathed.
“This is not—”
“You’re not going to give up, are you? Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
“I hoped to convince you without having to reveal this.”
“You’re ashamed of being Holly’s father?” But that didn’t make sense.
His eyes caught fire. “Never!”
“Of being involved in sperm donation?”
“I’m not ashamed of that—but to be honest, I don’t think my grandmother would have been too keen on the idea.” He shrugged. “But with her recent death that’s not relevant anymore. If Keira and Dmitri had adopted the baby as planned no one else need ever have known the truth.”
“Not me.” Ella made it a statement. “And not even the person who needed most in the world to know the truth—Holly.”
* * *
“Of course I knew Holly would have to know one day. Ella—”
She warded him off with blank, blind eyes. “But when Keira and Dmitri decided they didn’t want Holly—why didn’t you tell me then?” An instant pulsed past.
He took two long steps closer to her, and when she shuddered, he halted. “I was as shocked by the situation as you were. The first day I couldn’t think straight.” He’d expected Ella to do the motherly thing and keep the baby. But he didn’t want to say that now. He wasn’t prepared to risk extinguishing the burgeoning understanding that was forming between them. “We were always at such loggerheads. And I couldn’t tell you...immediately.”
“So when did you intend to tell me?”
By the time it had sunk in that he’d have to tell her, Keira and Dmitri had already flown off to Africa. In his arrogance, he’d believed Ella would be grateful for his offer to take the baby from her unwilling arms; he’d never expected her feisty resistance to his proposition. Well, he’d sure discovered how mistaken he was.
“Once I’d spoken to my brother—”
Ella laughed, a high, hopeless sound that sounded wild and desperate, cutting off his clumsy attempt at an explanation. “Sure. Now you need your brother’s permission? You’ve never waited for anyone else in your life before you act, Yevgeny. Now you want me to believe you needed your brother’s permission?”
Strangely enough he could understand her pain, her anger. She’d stood so firm in her conviction to be transparent, to do the very best for Holly. To the point where she was prepared to keep in touch with the baby as she grew older so that Holly would have a fully developed sense of her own identity.
“And why you? Why not Dmitri’s sperm?”
The first wave of shock had passed. He could see her brain starting to process the information. “I’m trying to explain.”
“Then get on with it.”
God, this was hard. Even though he now knew how it must hurt her, Ella had been determined to be honest with the baby to whom she’d given birth.
He’d been less honorable.
Regret ate at him. But he couldn’t change his actions, couldn’t make them more honest. All he could do was explain what had driven his deception. And be totally honest in his relationship with Holly from now on. “Ella, you need to understand...”
Ella focused on him and the pain in her eyes caused the words to trail away and his heart to clench. Then she raised her eyebrows in a way that brought his feisty Ella back. “I need to understand?”
He had to make her understand. “I needed to clear it with Dmitri—because it involves him.”
“Does it? I’d say that the essence of the situation is that it doesn’t involve him—he played no part in Holly’s conception.” She dropped her head into her hands. “And all the time I thought—” Ella broke off and lifted her face. “Keira lied to me, then—she was part of it.”
Ella had gone white.
Yevgeny started toward her, but stopped when she glared at him.
“Keira had no choice,” he told her. “Dmitri didn’t want anyone to know—although he disputes that now.”
“I don’t believe that she kept this...this...from me. I’m her sister—I offered to carry the baby she wanted. She owed me some loyalty...she and Dmitri.” Her mouth twisted in a rictus of a smile. “Or perhaps Dmitri never wanted a baby—and he was just stringing Keira along.”
“That’s not true!”
“Isn’t it? Then why the elaborate charade?”
“Because my brother is sterile!” he announced.
There was a deathly silence.
Then Ella said, “Oh.” After a moment she said, “But why such a big secret? Everyone knew from the outset Keira couldn’t have babies. There was no big secret about that.”
“It seems that it is my fault.”
That got her attention. “Your fault?”
He sighed and rubbed a hand over his hair. “Yes.”
“Was there an...accident?” she asked carefully.
It took Yevgeny a moment to realize that she’d taken him literally. “I didn’t cause my brother’s sterility,” he said broodingly. “But apparently I caused him to be ashamed of his lack of manhood.”
Ella stared at him without responding.
He laughed without humor. “So it would appear you are right. I am the big-brother bully. My brother didn’t want anyone to know because he feared I would be angry—while I thought he didn’t want anyone to know because he would feel...awkward.”
“You were trying to protect him.”
Yevgeny shrugged. “Except he doesn’t see it that way.”
“Of course he doesn’t. He only sees it from his side—because that’s what you’ve allowed him to do all his life. You’ve allowed him to be selfish. You created a monster.”
He opened his mouth to object to the attack on his brother.
But Ella was already speaking. “Don’t worry—I’ve done the same thing.” She lifted her hands and shrugged. “I’ve indulged Keira so much that she doesn’t need to take responsibility for anything. She simply needs to dump it on me and swan off secure in the knowledge that I will take care of it.” Ella hitched her purse up. “Whatever ‘it’ happens to be at the moment.”
“And right now it is Holly.”
“Exactly.”
It took a minute of silence for that to sink in. Yevgeny found himself smiling at her as a newfound sense of truce surrounded them. “We’re a fine pair, aren’t we?”
Ella glanced at her watch. “Good grief, the meeting. I need to fly.”
“I am coming with you—don’t even try to keep me away.”
* * *
Ella was relieved that today was over.
Jo Wells had dropped her home. Ella had been extremely grateful. She had a headache and it had taken all her energy to persuade Yevgeny that she didn’t want him taking her home. She needed nothing more than to sleep—which she’d done, while Deb had tended to Holly.
Now she sat curled up in the rocking chair in Holly’s nursery, watching the baby sleep in her cot while the night nurse took a coffee break in the kitchen.
This morning’s meeting had been unspeakably difficult, despite the fact that Yevgeny had behaved like a saint. And, to make things worse, Jo Wells had been right.
The family was delightful—everything Ella had once wanted for Holly.
Holly. It was all about Holly.
Only Holly.
Too soon Holly would be gone....
Ella knew she shouldn’t be thinking about herself. About how she was going to feel once Holly had gone. But she couldn’t help herself.
She’d taken all possible precautions to stop this from happening yet still it had happened. She’d grown attached to the baby lying in the cot only feet away.
One thing had become clear to Ella—Yevgeny wanted to adopt the baby with his whole heart. He might not be listed on the birth certificate as Holly’s father, but she didn’t need to have blood tests run to confirm his paternity claim. She believed him—even though the lawyerly side of her would force her to cross the t’s. His desire to keep Holly wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment whim driven by impulse. He loved Holly—he was her father. Holly was his daughter, a part of him.
An ache filled Ella. Holly was a part of her, too. Her daughter.
Their daughter.
Her heart was telling her Holly belonged with the father who already loved her...even though he was far from perfect.
Could she forget about the plans—dreams—she’d had for Holly to go to the perfect family? And give Yevgeny what all his billions would never buy him?
That way there would be no messy, turbulent court battles...no legacy of bitterness.
Ella rose to her feet and went to stand by the cot. Inside Holly slept peacefully.
“What do you want, my angel?” she asked the baby.
* * *
It was Christmas Eve.
Using the excuse that his brother and her sister were both away in Africa, Ella had invited Yevgeny around for dinner. She hadn’t been surprised when he’d leaped at the opportunity to spend time with Holly.
Ella had decorated the table with cheery green-and-red place settings for her and Yevgeny. There was a place for Holly, too, and Ella planned to draw her stroller up to the table for dinner to participate in the event.
This Christmas Eve was special.
It was Holly’s first Christmas Eve. And, Ella knew, it would be the only Christmas she would ever spend with the baby. At the moment the baby was lying on her back on the carpet wearing a cute Santa’s elf outfit.
She looked absolutely adorable.
Ella had spent the afternoon since returning from work taking photos. One day Holly would be able to look back through the album that Ella would put together for this day. In fact, Ella had decided to keep a duplicate copy of the album for herself...to form an invisible bond between her and Holly.
Forever.
A secret they would share.
The doorbell interrupted her musings.
That would be Yevgeny.
Opening the door, she found him standing outside in the warmth of the evening sunshine, his arms piled high with goodies and gifts.
“You shouldn’t have.” She laughed, ushering him in. “Put the presents under the tree. Actually, let me help unpack the top items first.”
There was a bouquet of flowers, chocolates, an iced Christmas cake...and crackers.
“This wasn’t necessary,” she scolded.
“What? And deprive me of the opportunity to spoil Holly rotten?” He started to pack the gaily wrapped parcels under the tree. Ella couldn’t help noticing how well his black jeans fit
his narrow waist and long legs, and how the T-shirt clung to his muscular shoulders.
Oh, my. All he needed was a red bow and some ribbon to be someone’s perfect Christmas present.
But she had to remember he wasn’t intended for her.
She swallowed. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“There’s a bottle of red wine somewhere in here. Or it may still be in my car— I’ll go check.”
“I’ll find it,” Ella said. “Look, here it is.”
But Yevgeny had already disappeared through the front door. He returned minutes later without the wine—but this time he carried an enormous boxed gift as tall as he was.
Ella did a double take. “What is that?”
“A playhouse—one to set up inside, until I get the one in the tree built.”
Ella couldn’t help herself. She laughed.
* * *
They had eaten dinner. Lazy now, Ella sat on the carpet in the living room leaning against the sofa, her legs stretched out in front of her with Holly cradled in the crook of her arm sucking sleepily at the last dregs of her bottle, while Yevgeny sprawled in front of the Christmas tree with his head propped up on his elbow, watching them both through pale, wolf eyes.
“Holly is almost asleep,” Ella said softly, bending her head.
The baby was heavy and relaxed in her arms.
For so long Ella had been at pains not to hold or feed Holly, to keep her distance. Yet tonight she was eager for the experience. With Deb gone home to enjoy Christmas with her family it seemed like the right time. Ella knew that she was going to spend plenty of time with Holly over the next two days, and that she’d grow fonder of the baby with every hour, making the final wrench of separation so much harder. But she’d accepted that.
With the pain came immense pleasure. The joy in watching Holly’s mouth twitch as she sucked. The satisfaction of stroking a finger along the baby’s velvety skin. And these precious days would give her a chance to say goodbye to the baby.
But tonight there were three of them—herself, Yevgeny and the baby.
Almost a family.
To escape that delinquent thought she glanced back at Yevgeny, and asked, “What was your first Christmas memory?”
The flickering red-and-green lights on the tree reflected in Yevgeny’s colorless eyes.
“The Christmas season would run from the last day of December to around the tenth of January. When I was a boy, on New Year’s Day we would hold hands and form a chain around the tree and call out for Grandfather Frost—not Santa Claus. He would hand out presents helped by his granddaughter, the Snow Maiden. There were always tables laden with food, a total contrast to the food shortages that my parents had grown up with. Things denied us during the rest of the year appeared. A goose. Cakes. Meatballs. Pineapple— My mother queued for hours to get pineapple. I’d almost forgotten about that. And no celebration would be complete without kutya.”
“Kutya?”
“A kind of porridge made from wheat berries, honey, poppyseed and nuts. My babushka would make it a few days in advance because that way, she used to say, the flavors had time to develop. But the best part, the part I couldn’t wait for, was watching my grandmother hurl a spoonful of kutya up at the ceiling in the hope that it would stick.”
Ella found herself laughing. “She sounds like a character.”
“
Everyone did it—it was a tradition. The theory went that if the kutya stayed stuck to the ceiling, a successful honey harvest would follow. And that is good for everyone—because honey represents happiness and success.” His mouth softened into a smile, and even the hard angles of his cheekbones disappeared as he lost himself in the memories.
“Your grandmother must’ve been a wonderful woman.”
“Oh, she could be a tartar, too.” He reached out and grasped the hand resting on Holly’s cheek. His fingers tightened around hers. “But she made Christmas special.”
Who would make Holly’s Christmas special?
The sudden question flitted through Ella’s mind with the speed of light, causing her to stare down at the little angel in her arms. Not her—she wouldn’t be around to be Holly’s mother. Yevgeny had a wealth of tradition that she would never have expected. But where would the mother figure in Holly’s life be?
Yes, she would visit—but would that be enough? Ella shook her head, her throat tight. Why was she worrying? Yevgeny loved the baby, and he’d clearly forged a strong bond with Holly. What did it matter that Holly would have no mother figure? She would have a father who loved her.
“Ella?”
She looked up.
“What are you thinking?” he asked softly.
The tightness in her throat made it impossible for her to speak. She shook her head instead.
“You love her, don’t you?”
She hesitated, then nodded. It was true. Holly had crept into her heart against Ella’s will and twisted herself around it. She bit her lip, struggling to hold back the tears that threatened.
“You’ve come to a decision,” he prompted.
The tears spilled over. She nodded. Only once. Then her face puckered up. Ella knew she was going to disgrace herself by sobbing all over Yevgeny.
She found her voice. “I think I’ll take her upstairs and put her to bed.”
His hands clenched hers. “You’re running away.”
“No!” She simply wanted to get herself under control. Ella rose to her feet, and his hand slipped away. “I won’t be long. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”