by Lucy Ellis
Then she fell to her knees in front of him and wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him.
‘That’s my yes,’ she said against his mouth, ‘in case it wasn’t clear.’
Then she kissed him again, and Nik wrapped her up in his arms and breathed freely for the first time since he’d driven out of Edbury.
He had her; he was home.
*
The four of them made their way down the hill towards the carnival atmosphere of the village.
Fleur on Nik’s broad shoulders, Sybella holding his hand, Meg picking her way through the field in her heels.
Sybella’s heart was overflowing with all of her blessings.
Later in the afternoon when family had been told, impromptu champagne had been drunk, her father-in-law Marcus had taken a walk with Nik from which they’d returned somewhat late, having ended at the pub, only then did Nik propose they go up to the Hall.
It was nearing the four o’clock raffle of celebratory hampers and Nik borrowed a megaphone from the guy who was going to call the prize. He walked out onto the lawn and people started to naturally gravitate towards him.
Sybella took Fleur’s hand and his arm came around her.
‘For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Nikolai Aleksandrovich Voronov. I’m caretaker of this house.’
Sybella beamed at her daughter.
‘Edbury Hall is forthwith reopened to the public—not just the west wing, but the entire estate.’
His voice carried over the assembled heads of the small crowd and a small cheer went up, interspersed with plenty of ‘it’s about time’.
‘I’ll be taking up residence in Edbury but let me put your minds at rest. I will not be turning the Hall into a compound and setting dogs on trespassers.’
Some of the children laughed but Sybella noted the arrested look on Fleur’s face at the mention of a dog. She’d have to head that one off when things were a little more normal and she wasn’t feeling so loved up. She looked up at her Norse god and didn’t think that would be any time soon.
‘And just so it’s clear,’ Nik said, grinning down at her, ‘Sybella and I are getting married.’
*
At the end of the summer the bells of St Mary’s pealed as the happy couple emerged into the glorious sunshine.
Sybella, in an off-the-shoulder gauze and white satin gown, her bridal veil set back on her head, and Nik, in a grey morning suit, came first, and then Fleur and her friend Xanthe swinging their baskets of rose petals, the families and friends of both bride and groom spilling out of the church behind them.
The bride had invited Marla Mendez to the wedding, as long as she brought her young son.
Twelve months along almost to the day Leonid Nikolaievich Voronov came into the world in the beautiful local stone house on the wold Nik had moved them into after the wedding.
Leo was christened in the Russian Orthodox Church in London in the presence of his Russian great-grandfather and his English grandparents, but not his parents as custom dictated. He was again christened in the village of Edbury at St Mary’s and was carried in the arms of his proud older sister.
There was high tea at the Hall and the whole village attended.
Old Mr Voronov toasted his great-grandson and announced the Hall was being gifted to the National Trust and he was going to live in the new house on the wold with his grandson and his wife. The house was big enough to fit them all and small enough no one would be lonely.
Afterwards Sybella, holding her new baby to her breast, sat on the terrace in the summer sun, watching Fleur tumbling on the lawn with her friends and the absolutely ridiculously large sheepdog Nik had insisted on buying her when they’d first got married. A year down the track it was growing as big as a pony.
‘What are you thinking, moya lyuba?’ Nik’s dark voice ran through her senses like dark chocolate and honey, all the things she’d craved while she was pregnant. He hunkered down beside them, stroking the fine pale quiff of hair that was all Leo currently had on his small head.
‘How fortunate we are. How fortunate I am.’
‘It was fate,’ said Nik, a true Russian.
And Sybella was disposed to believe him.
‘Although one thing still haunts me,’ he mused.
She angled a curious look at him.
‘What if Sasha had been the brother who came down that weekend?’
‘I can’t say I haven’t given it some thought,’ she said lightly, rubbing a finger consideringly over his lower lip.
‘What did you come up with?’ he growled, snapping playfully at her finger.
‘Sasha’s so friendly, he never would have thrown me down in the snow and shaken me like a rattle and sent me on my way.’
‘Did I do all those things?’ Nik’s eyes kindled with hers. ‘Shameful. You can never tell our son.’
‘I will. I will tell him, when he’s old enough to find the right girl, just so he’ll know what to do.’
‘He’s a Voronov. He doesn’t need advice about finding the right girl. It’s in our blood. He’ll know when the time comes.’
So spoke her alpha male. Sybella smiled indulgently.
‘When did you know?’ she asked.
‘I believe it happened when I took off your ski mask, Rapunzel, and I looked into your eyes, but I definitely knew when I kissed you.’
‘Like this?’ She stroked his jaw with the backs of her fingers and Nik lost his train of thought, moving his mouth over hers once more, careful not to dislodge their small son, who was fiercely guarding his nourishment.
‘Exactly like that, moya lyubov.’
She looked into Nik’s grey eyes and wondered at the idea she’d ever found them chilly. She cocked her head to one side.
‘Did I ever tell you? When we first met I thought you were a bear…’
*
Coming soon
BOUND TO THE SICILIAN’S BED
Sharon Kendrick
Rocco was going to kiss her and after everything she’d just said, Nicole knew she needed to stop him. But suddenly she found herself governed by a much deeper need than preserving her sanity, or her pride. A need and a hunger which swept over her with the speed of a bush fire. As Rocco’s shadowed face lowered towards her she found past and present fusing, so that for a disconcerting moment she forgot everything except the urgent hunger in her body. Because hadn’t her Sicilian husband always been able to do this—to captivate her with the lightest touch and to tantalise her with that smouldering look of promise? And hadn’t there been many nights since they’d separated when she’d woken up, still half fuddled with sleep, and found herself yearning for the taste of his lips on hers just one more time? And now she had it.
One more time.
She opened her mouth—though afterwards she would try to convince herself she’d been intending to resist him—but Rocco used the opportunity to fasten his mouth over hers in the most perfects of fits. And Nicole felt instantly helpless—caught up in the powerful snare of a sexual mastery which wiped out everything else. She gave a gasp of pleasure because it had been so long since she had done this.
Since they’d been apart Nicole had felt like a living statue—as if she were made from marble—as if the flesh and blood part of her were some kind of half-forgotten dream. Slowly but surely she had withdrawn from the sensual side of her nature, until she’d convinced herself she was dead and unfeeling inside. But here came Rocco to wake her dormant sexuality with nothing more than a single kiss. It was like some stupid fairy story. It was scary and powerful. She didn’t want to want him, and yet…dpg!
She wanted him.
Her lips opened wider as his tongue slid inside her mouth—eagerly granting him that intimacy as if preparing the way for another. She began to shiver as his hands started to explore her—rediscovering her body with an impatient hunger, as if it were the first time he’d ever touched her.
‘Nicole,’ he said unevenly and she’d never heard him say her nam
e like that before.
Her arms were locked behind his neck as again he circled his hips in unmistakable invitation and, somewhere in the back of her mind, Nicole could hear the small voice of reason imploring her to take control of the situation. It was urging her to pull back from him and call a halt to what they were doing. But once again she ignored it. Against the powerful tide of passion, that little voice was drowned out and she allowed pleasure to shimmer over her skin.
Continue reading
BOUND TO THE SICILIAN’S BED
Sharon Kendrick
Available next month
www.millsandboon.co.uk
Copyright ©2018 Sharon Kendrick