“Yes,” she lied, not wanting him to know how she had lain awake until the early hours, tossing and turning restlessly—and thinking of him. She should tell him right off—straight out—that she had decided not to go through with their marriage, she told herself sternly. But to her dismay, as she looked at him, the words somehow stuck in her throat.
“Sit down, baby.” Throwing a kitchen towel carelessly over his shoulder, Nick pulled out a chair at the table for her. “Are you hungry?”
“Yes, I am.” To her surprise, Caroline found that she actually was, although she did not normally eat a big breakfast. “But you didn’t have to fix all this, Nick. Really, I generally just grab a cup of coffee and a piece of toast in the mornings.”
“I suspected as much,” he replied. “However, food is like a fine wine or a good woman. It should be enjoyed and appreciated. We will therefore make every attempt to avoid eating breakfast on the run in our home.”
Caroline was so nonplussed by this last comment that she didn’t know how to respond. On the one hand, he appeared, however pleasantly, to be issuing a wholly dictatorial command and fully expecting that since he was a man—and, because of that, the natural, undisputed head of the household—his word would be obeyed as law. That notion filled her with indignation.
On the other hand, however, it had not escaped her notice that his statement had also contained words like we and our home. And although she insisted to herself that that meant nothing, had merely been a figure of speech, Caroline still could not repress the strange, unexpected thrill that shot through her, the sudden, wild hope that leaped in her breast.
Was he, in essence, trying to hint that he intended theirs to be a real marriage, after all? She didn’t know, was afraid to ask.
At last, torn between her principles and her longings, and not wanting to start an argument at the breakfast table, she contented herself with answering, “Yes, Nick,” wondering uncomfortably if with those two simple words, she had just betrayed every feminist tenet in the entire world.
Adding to this sense of conflict was the fact that upon hearing her reply, Nick smiled at her with both approval and satisfaction, as though she were a puppy who had successfully complied with its master’s command. Caroline almost expected him to reach over and pat her on the head. She thought that if he did, he was shortly going to have egg all over his face—literally. Fortunately—and she had the oddest sensation that he had somehow read her mind in this regard—he did nothing so untoward but diligently applied himself to the meal instead.
“Are you planning to continue to do all the cooking after we’re married, Nick?” Caroline asked, curious, as she, too, attacked her plate.
“No. Since we both work, I thought we’d share all the household chores equally—except that I won’t expect you to mow the lawn in the summer or plow snow from the driveway in the winter.”
“Well, that’s real big of you!” she retorted dryly.
“Yes, I certainly thought so.” Nick grinned impudently at her scowling face. “Do you know how many women till the fields of Russia?”
“Plenty of them, no doubt—since their husbands are probably passed out in a corner somewhere, sleeping off the ill effects of a drunken vodka binge!”
Nick laughed out loud at that. “Let me set your mind at ease, baby. While there are, indeed, some things I perhaps enjoy to excess, vodka isn’t one of them.” His eyes raked her licentiously, making his meaning plain and her pulse race. She could feel the hot color that crept into her cheeks. “Do you want butter or jelly on your croissant?”
“Butter.” Caroline thought she should have known better than to try to match wits with him. He was always one step ahead of her, it seemed. And where she was concerned, that was rare for a man. Only Paul had managed to fool her, because she had loved him. She mustn’t make that same mistake with Nick; she must remain on her guard and not allow her emotions to overwhelm her good judgment. “Why do you keep calling me that—baby, I mean?”
“Because that’s what you’re going to be this morning: my baby.”
“I—I don’t understand….”
“Well, then, let me make it clear to you. We’re going to get married today, before we go into the office.” Casually, Nick buttered her croissant, as though oblivious of the effect his words had upon her.
“What?” she cried, stricken.
“Caro…” He laid down his knife, wiped his hands on his linen napkin, then continued as patiently as though speaking to a child. “Your secretary saw us leave together yesterday afternoon. You spent the night here with me last evening. You’ve seen that I don’t bite. So there’s no reason for us to wait…for you to be exposed to any speculative or unsavory rumors on the job. If we go into work this morning and announce that we’re married, all the gossip will center on that. We’ll be congratulated for being so clever at concealing our relationship and snatching each other up.”
Deep down inside, Caroline knew he was right, that his logic was irrefutable. Still, feeling the same sense of panic that had engulfed her last night, she protested. “Oh, Nick, I don’t know. This is all so sudden. I’m—I’m just not sure I’m ready.”
“Waiting a few more days isn’t going to rid you of that uncertainty, baby. You had a bad experience with Andersen, and it’s left you distrustful of all men. You’ve admitted that yourself. So what you’re feeling has nothing to do with me personally, but with men in general. Our marriage will probably actually be good for you, Caro. You’ll have a chance to live in close proximity with a man—with me—to experience a relationship without being pressured by societal expectations and emotional commitment. It’ll give you the opportunity to learn that all men are not like Andersen and so that not all of your relationships with a man will follow the same grievous pattern.”
“I thought you were a doctor of chemistry—not of psychology, Nick,” Caroline observed stiffly, even though she knew in her heart that he had properly diagnosed what ailed her and prescribed what seemed an appropriate medicine.
“Chemistry is my chosen profession, yes. But that doesn’t preclude my having an astute grasp of human nature, baby. So make up your mind—and then let’s have no more discussion about this. Do you want to marry me or not?”
Here was her chance to escape, Caroline thought, her heart pounding. She had only to answer no. “Yes,” she heard herself say instead.
“Good. Now finish your breakfast, and then we’ll go.”
When they were done eating, they cleared the table together, scraping the dishes and loading them into the dishwasher. Then, after rolling down his sleeves, Nick inserted his cuff links into his French cuffs, arranged his tie and shrugged on his suit jacket. He assisted her into her camel wool coat, put on his own heavy black topcoat and picked up both his briefcase and her own. After that, he flicked off the lights.
In the semidarkness of the kitchen, illuminated now only by the wintry gray light that filtered in through the uncurtained windows, he caught Caroline’s chin in his hand, tilting her face up to his. “Poor baby.” He smiled down at her gently, ruefully. “You look just like a lamb being led to slaughter. Do you really find me such an ogre as that?”
“No,” she admitted softy, startled and touched by the kindness and comprehension she saw in his eyes. “Nick, before we go, I just want to tell you that although I know I’m not the wife you would have chosen for yourself, I’ll at least try to be a good one to you for however long we’re married.”
“And I will be a good husband to you, Caroline. I understand and appreciate the sacrifice you’re making for me, and you’ll never have cause to regret this day, I swear.”
Because Minnesota was a northern state, accustomed to long, hard, cold winters, the Twin Cities were well equipped to deal with even the worst snowfalls and did so efficiently. The plows had been out early that morning, so the freeway into Minneapolis was clear, and presently, Nick was pulling the car to a halt at the courthouse. He shut off the ignition, then turned to C
aroline.
“Are you ready?” he asked, smiling at her encouragingly.
She took a deep breath. “Yes.”
“No, you’re not, actually…not quite.”
Then, before she realized what Nick intended, he leaned over, caught hold of her hair wrapped up in its customary French twist, and began to tug the pins from it, so it spilled down below her shoulders in a long, shining tangle of rich sable.
“Nick! Nick, what are you doing?” Caroline cried, aghast, attempting unsuccessfully to make him stop.
“I don’t like your hair that way, so I’m fixing it,” he stated coolly, calmly ignoring her protests and struggle against him.
She tried to seize the pins from his grasp, but, pressing the button on his automatic window, he hurled them out into the parking lot. After that, he snatched her tortoiseshell glasses from her slender, finely sculpted nose. Holding them up to his eyes, he drawled, “Just as I thought. You don’t really need these to see at all. Why, if these are prescriptive lenses, I’ll eat my lab coat.” Then, to her mortification and outrage, he pitched her glasses into the parking lot, as well.
Caroline would have scrambled from the car to retrieve them, but before she could get her door open, an automobile happened along, its right front tire running right over her glasses, crushing them. “My God. I do not believe what you just did.” She stared at Nick as though she had never really looked at him before, shocked and stricken. “Why did you do it?”
“Because you’ve got gorgeous hair—it reminds me of Russian sable, thick, sleek and so incredibly soft and touchable—and big, beautiful brown eyes that are like molasses melting over a flame. I want to see your hair and eyes, Caro. As your husband—which I will be in just a few short minutes—I have that right. And since I didn’t think you’d change your appearance for me, I took it upon myself to do it for you. Now you look the way a woman should—lovely, feminine, vulnerable and inviting—the way I want my bride to look. Shall we go?”
No matter how sorely provoked she might be, Caroline realized there was no point in arguing with Nick. Despite his claim to the contrary, he had had no right to do what he had done. Still, his words about her hair and eyes had thrilled her, flattered her, appeasing her as much as his actions had angered her.
She nodded tersely. “Yes, let’s get this over with.”
Although there was normally a waiting period, it turned out the presiding judge was a friend of the Fortune family, and was glad to issue a waiver. After that, the entire ceremony took less than a quarter of an hour. Once they were husband and wife, Nick caught hold of Caroline, drew her to him and kissed her lingeringly, thoroughly, his tongue following the curve of her mouth before insinuating itself inside. When he finally released her, she was faint and trembling with arousal. She marveled that he had only to kiss her to make her feel so. She had never felt like this with Paul.
“Come on, Mrs. Valkov.” Nick’s voice startled her from her dazed reverie. “Time to go to work.”
Mrs. Valkov were the only two words that registered. Unconsciously, she glanced down at her left hand. Yesterday on his lunch hour, Nick had bought her a set of wedding rings. Caroline had not expected that. If she had given the matter any thought at all, she had vaguely imagined he would bestow a plain gold band upon her. But now, the resplendent rings—exquisite, lavish with diamonds—glittered up at her, letting her know this was no dream, that she truly was Ms. Fortune no longer, but Mrs. Valkov instead.
“Caro?”
“Yes, Nick, I’m coming.” Good heavens, Caro thought even as she spoke, I must be out of my mind to have gone through with this. I sound like some poor woman with no will of her own. “Yes, Nick” this and “Yes, Nick” that. I’m in a state of shock. That’s what it is.
But it was not her, but Kate, Jake and Sterling whom that condition more appropriately described when Nick and Caroline finally arrived at Fortune Cosmetics.
“What?” Kate exclaimed upon learning the news of their marriage. Staring at the two of them, her mouth agape, she abruptly sat down so hard in her desk chair that the gold charm bracelet she always wore jingled like Christmas bells. The bracelet had been given to Kate by her late husband, Ben, and with the birth of each child and grandchild in the family, a new charm had been added, so that the bracelet was now quite heavy and valuable. “What do you mean…you got married this morning? For Pete’s sake, Caroline, what in the world were you thinking of? You’re a Fortune, by God! My eldest granddaughter!” Kate’s blue eyes snapped sparks of fury, and her cheeks were flushed. “You deserved a huge, splendid wedding—not some ten-minute trip to the courthouse, as though this were some hole-in-the-corner affair!”
“Well, isn’t it?” Nick asked sharply, wholly un-intimidated by Kate’s wrath. “This is our marriage—Caro’s and mine—and we did what we thought was best under the circumstances.”
“Best for you, you mean!” Jake growled, siding with his mother and glaring at Caroline and Nick. “You knew that one of the things that Sterling was doing this week was drafting a prenuptial agreement, so my daughter’s personal wealth would be safe!”
At Jake’s insulting intimation, Nick swore softly, viciously, in Russian—the same words Caroline thought she had heard him speak last night, so she knew he was furious. “I don’t want any of Caro’s damned money!” he retorted hotly in English, a muscle flexing in his hard, set jaw. “Because of a number of extremely smart investments I’ve made over the years, I have plenty of my own, thank you very much! So I have every intention of signing whatever papers you want me to, Jake. You just send them down to the lab whenever you’re ready!”
“I expect you to keep your word about that, Nick!” Jake asserted fiercely.
“Dad…Dad, please,” Caroline entreated, upset by the argument, even though she knew her father was only trying to protect her. “I know you’re mad, but Nick wouldn’t steal my money. He’s not that kind of a man.”
Jake snorted derisively. “I’ll remind you, pumpkin, that that’s exactly what you said about Paul Andersen—and look how disastrous that affair turned out!”
“Don’t you even think about dragging that slimy snake into this, Jake!” Nick hissed, his dark eyes narrowed. “Paul Andersen is a contemptible fool! Besides which, I’ll remind you that it was your and Kate and Sterling’s idea for Caroline and me to get married in the first place. But just because I permitted the three of you to arrange our marriage doesn’t mean I intend to let you run it! Caro and I are perfectly capable of managing our own affairs.”
“Perhaps you’re right, Nick,” Kate declared unexpectedly, her eyes now gleaming intensely with curiosity and fascination as she gazed thoughtfully at the bride and groom.
It had not escaped Kate’s notice that despite the fact that Caroline and Nick were not in love and had been wed barely an hour, they nevertheless seemed already to have formed a solid partnership. They had banded together to justify their impetuous action of visiting the courthouse this morning, and each was defending the other’s character, as well.
Further, Caroline’s left hand sported a set of diamond wedding rings that any female would have envied—and that Nick need not have purchased, either. Nor had it eluded the older woman’s observation that for the first time in more than five years, her granddaughter had appeared at work with her hair down and without those ridiculous tortoiseshell glasses she always insisted upon wearing.
Caroline actually looked this morning like the beautiful young woman she was, Kate thought as she studied her granddaughter fondly. The older woman could not help but believe Nick had been responsible for this welcome change. All in all, her scheme looked to be off to a great start, Kate decided, secretly as pleased as punch now that her ire over their having taken matters into their own hands had abated.
“I agree that we three have no right whatsoever to meddle in your and Caroline’s business, Nick,” she noted briskly. “However, I would be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed not to be able to give Caroli
ne the lovely send-off she deserves. So perhaps you’ll indulge me by agreeing to keep your marriage as quiet as possible for the time being. That way—even though it may be a few months later—we can still plan a big wedding ceremony and neither of you will have missed out on what ought to be one of the most wonderful, memorable events of any person’s life—second only to the birth of children. What do you say, Nick?”
He glanced at Caroline silently, then back at Kate. “That’ll be fine—and I know I speak for both of us when I say how much we appreciate both your offer and your understanding, Kate.”
“Good. Now, in the meanwhile, why don’t you and Caroline take the remainder of the week off, have a short honeymoon together? I’ll have my secretary make you a reservation, why don’t I?” Kate suggested, going on to propose a quiet but lovely place across the Canadian border, which she thought would be an ideal location for a honeymoon. “You can fly up in the corporate jet, and you’ll be there in no time at all.”
“Thank you, Grandmother,” Caroline said warmly. For although the prospect of going off somewhere alone with Nick, ostensibly for a honeymoon, unsettled her, she was glad to escape from the inevitable gossip that was bound to circulate at Fortune Cosmetics, no matter how quiet she and Nick attempted to keep their marriage. “If that’s all, then Nick and I will go on now to make arrangements to keep things running smoothly in our departments during our absence.”
“Fine.” Kate nodded approvingly. “You do that. I’ll see you both later.”
Once the newlyweds had departed, Jake turned to his mother, frowning. “What are you thinking of, Mother? You’re positively beaming now—when, earlier, you were fuming. And you all but came right out and gave Caroline and Nick your blessing. Do you believe that was wise? After all, other than what we discovered during our background check of him, what do we really know about Nick? What if the INS is right and he really is a former KGB agent? What if he decides not to keep his word and refuses to sign the prenuptial agreement?”
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