“Mikhail ordered me to keep my trap shut,” he replied weakly.
“Mikhail!” Tania felt her blood surging through her, culminating in her head like a pounding surf. “Mik ordered you to keep it a secret that my father has been right before my very eyes all these years, and you obeyed him?”
Clay inhaled the fresh country air, relief sweeping him like a sweet breeze after a sweaty ride across the range. It felt good to have it off his weary chest. It felt right, for once. “Well, he didn’t really order me, he suggested…and I agreed.”
Furious, Tania spun on her sole and marched up the hill. We’ll see about suggesting a thing or two, she growled inwardly.
“I was in love with your mother, Tatiana. We were to be married,” he called out to her retreating back.
His words echoed bittersweet in her head, halting her rampageous flight. Turning, she faced him and listened in disbelief to his tale.
“Mikhail was all for it,” he went on, confident he had her full attention. “I was the son he could never have. But she up and left on me in the middle of the night, pregnant and penniless. She had her eyes set on the city and a whole different life than I could give her. My life was here, but I was willing to do what I could to make her happy—until she disappeared. I love this land, the fresh air, the hard work and beauty to be built upon. She didn’t.”
Closing her eyes tightly, Tania’s worst suspicions were being confirmed. Her mother hadn’t been driven away from here. She’d gone willingly—and dramatically altered Tania’s life in the process.
“She said he drove her away,” she weakly protested, tears streaming down her cheeks. She didn’t want to believe that a woman could do such a thing to an innocent child, couldn’t believe it. And now she stood here painfully aware that it had been easier to hate her grandfather than her own mother. He was here, within striking distance, and he was so damned overbearing.
“Not in the sense you’ve always believed.” Clay gazed upon his beautiful, headstrong daughter. It felt so very good to finally acknowledge her as his own flesh and blood. “When Sabina became pregnant with you, Mikhail began rushing the wedding, planning a house to be built for us out in the eastern fields. He was ecstatic about the idea of becoming a grandfather. And I was just as excited about becoming a father,” he said softly. “But your mother didn’t like the idea of being tied down to the ranch when she yearned to be a city girl.”
Tania angrily swiped the tears away. Numbness gripped her like the bitter cold that had been that little girl’s enemy. She stared off across the plains that lay below, where her cottage sat nestled near a small forest, and couldn’t begin to comprehend how someone could run from such ethereal beauty. It was here that her heart was as well, and her mother had deprived her of it for the first ten years of her life. It hadn’t been her grandfather. All these years, she’d treated him with such disrespect and harshness, blaming him for those horrible years spent on the streets with her mother. And all the while, her mother had selfishly kept her there away from her father and a grandfather that loved her from afar. It was devastating, unbelievable, unfathomable.
“Why didn’t you or Mik tell me before now?” she demanded, repressing venom that she now realized was not for them, but for her mother.
“Mikhail loved Sabina. He couldn’t live with the thought of you hating her, his beloved daughter, your mother. He’d rather be the one to take the brunt of your scorn, than to have you hate her. He felt you were too young to explain the sordid details to, too vulnerable to be told that your mother had made such a terrible mistake and sacrificed your well being for her own selfishness. He said, and I tended to agree, that if I were to tell you I was your daddy, then the whole thing would erupt in our faces, and we may lose you like we did Sabina.”
“A terrible mistake?” Tania kicked a large piece of gravel, sending it reeling down the hillside. “You call forcing poverty, filth, fear, and danger upon your little girl, merely a terrible mistake?”
Clay’s hand snaked out and he jerked Tania into his arms. “No, daughter,” he nearly choked on the words. “I call it a terrible tragedy. And I’m so very sorry.”
Tania inhaled the scent of a father, and took comfort in arms that had been there around her all along. “Thank you,” she whispered after a long moment, her ire cooling with each second in his arms. “And thank you for coming after me when I was a little lost girl.”
Clay drew her from him and stared deep into the eyes that were so like her mother’s. “I’d have come sooner if I’d have known where you were all those years, Pumpkin. We never stopped searching, but could never find you or your mother. She was like a ghost, eluding us at every turn.”
Tania saw the pain there in his tired eyes, the anguish of losing a wife-to-be and a baby yet to be born. She saw strength and perseverance, regret and, yes, love. All along, he’d been there. And all along, she’d yearned for someone who’d already existed.
Raising a hand to his cheek, she whispered, “You found me and you brought me home to a place where I was loved, in spite of the fact that I didn’t know it, nor believe it. Thank you…Daddy.”
Clay enfolded his daughter once again in his arms and sighed. He’d longed to hear her call him that since Sabina had announced her pregnancy. “We gotta go, Tania. He’s asking for you.”
Tania nodded and, reaching for her father’s hand, she twined her fingers in his and started up the hill toward the enormous house that she’d spurned over the last sixteen years, not only due to the fear of what it stood for, but because her grandfather lived under its roof. The pain of her own stupidity and selfishness speared her heart, so she rushed to reach him before it was too late.
***
“Grandpa!” she wailed, throwing herself across Mikhail’s labored chest.
“I see…” Mikhail gasped, “he…told you.”
“I’m so sorry,” Tania’s tears rolled down her cheeks and onto the blanket that covered her grandfather’s naked chest.
“Please, miss,” the home health nurse placed a gentle hand on Tania’s shoulder. “He needs room to breathe. He’s already struggling enough as it is.”
Tania jolted her body from Mikhail’s and stared into his pained eyes. The gruff cough and labored respirations instantly alarmed her. Her gaze shot to the nurse. “Is he going to be okay?”
Mikhail chuckled between gasps. “If I’d have known…you would care…so much…I’d have told you a long…time ago.”
“Shh, shh.” Tania pressed her forefinger to Mikhail’s dried lips. She glanced once again at the nurse, as if she were full of miracles, full of all the answers. “Shouldn’t he have his oxygen mask on?”
The petite brunette smiled softly, her eyes tired after nearly completing a twelve-hour shift. “He’s very stubborn. Perhaps you could coax him into putting it back on.”
Tania’s gaze swung to Mikhail, who now appeared to have gone to sleep. She looked from the IV pump, which dripped morphine into his system, to the oxygen set-up and the bag that drained his urine. He was definitely going downhill, and Tania became frantic, realizing that she had very little time in which to repair the damage she’d inflicted on their relationship.
“Grandpa…” She gently shook him.
One blood-shot eye popped open. “What?” he croaked.
She reached for the mask and applied it over his mouth and nose. “You’re going to wear the oxygen mask. And that’s an order.”
“Hm…bossy.” He smiled softly, drifting back into the morphine-induced oblivion.
Tania studied the man she’d resented for so long. He’d been ill for months, and rarely had she spared him a scrap of sympathy. She was a witch of the evilest kind! She’d made his last days hell, and he’d done nothing but love and care for her.
Kneeling beside the bed, she kissed his perspiring cheek. “I’m so sorry, Grandpa,” she choked. “I love you.”
Mikhail’s eyes slowly opened. In his foggy mind, he saw his beloved Sabina for an instant,
before his lovely granddaughter’s image surfaced. He’d been a controlling ass over the years, he was well aware of that fact, but even now, he was not sorry. He’d done it all in the name of love, and he’d done it all just to live for one moment such as this one, to hear those voluntary words from Tatiana.
And she’d finally called him Grandpa!
Tears bulged in the corners of his eyes. Drawing deeply on the oxygen, his gravely voice whispered, “Thank you, Tatiana…for finally saying it.” One lone tear rolled down his cheek and into his gray hair. “I love you…too. It's the only reason…I did…what I did.”
Her chest burned, her eyes blurred. It was like finally removing a painful thorn. It was the first step on the road to recovery. “I know, Grandpa, I know. Now, shh.” She reached for a damp rag and bathed the tears from his face. “You just rest now.”
***
Sam stood above her and memorized every detail, each curve of her face, every golden eyelash that swept her cheeks. He noted the sleepy rise and fall of her chest as she sat curled in the chair at Mikhail’s bedside. He watched almost thirstily as, in sleep, her head rested against the back rim of the chair while she gripped Mikhail’s hand.
She’d been there for days now, Clay had informed him, eating the bare minimum, spooning broth into Mikhail’s stubborn lips. Only leaving the room for necessity’s sake, she catered to Mik's every need, leaving the nurse to merely monitor his oxygen level and IV pump and then observe from the sidelines while reading a paperback novel.
He reached down and ran a finger along her jaw, then traced her full lips. Her eyes fluttered open, and he was nearly brought to his knees by the vivid blue of them.
“Good morning, angel,” he whispered, kneeling beside her chair.
Tania’s gaze swept him, suddenly realizing there was more than one form of starvation in this world. “Hi.”
“Can I get you something to eat?” His hand softly trailed down her arm and curled tightly into her free one.
“No,” she whispered and glanced at Mikhail, assured he was still breathing, though raggedly. “I’m not hungry.”
“You’ve got to eat,” he protested, standing to hulk above her. “I’m going to go and get you a tray.”
Tania was too exhausted to object. Nodding, she said huskily, “Thank you.”
He returned with a tray of fresh fruit, muffins and steaming coffee. The aroma induced a growl from her stomach. Combing her hands through her hair, she quickly plaited it, then rose to sit at a nearby table. Loading the mug with creamer, she stirred it briskly, then bit into a plump blueberry muffin.
“Good?” he asked, pouring himself a cup.
Nodding, she sipped the coffee, eyeing him over the rim. “The trip has got to be postponed,” she attested, fully expecting resistance.
Sam reached for a muffin and peeled the paper away. “No problem. I wouldn’t dream of asking you to go away right now.”
Tania paused in her chewing and gaped at him. “Really?” she asked, her mouth now stuffed with a mixture of muffin and cantaloupe.
“Really,” he assured her. He chose a fat strawberry from the bowl and popped it into his mouth.
Tania chomped loudly and swallowed the wad of food. “But your book…”
“My writing and research are very important to me, Tatiana.” He smeared a pat of butter on a steaming roll. “But not nearly as important as you and your personal needs at the moment. So my editor has given me an extension.”
She remembered those three stunning words he’d uttered to her during their amazing lovemaking. Had he truly said them, or had she dreamed it? Did he truly love her? The thought had her squirming in her seat. “You can’t possibly mean that.”
Peeling a banana and breaking off a sizable piece, he popped it into her mouth before tearing off a large piece for himself. “I mean every word I say, sugar.” He leaned over and planted a smacking kiss on her lips, now moist with the juice of the many fruits she’d gorged on. “Every word.”
Mikhail stirred. “You two…should get a…room,” he growled weakly in mock disgust, coughing heavily after each phrase.
“Grandpa!” Tania swallowed the banana bite and deposited the muffin on the tray. She raced to his bedside. “How are you feeling today?”
“Like a…spring…chicken.”
The day nurse, a hefty woman that one wouldn’t care to reckon with, entered the room, rolling a new oxygen tank in and carrying a box of drugs and IV supplies. “It’s time for his bath, Tania. Why don’t you go and stretch your legs.”
“Go.” Mikhail waved a bony hand and jiggled his eyebrows. “Give me time…with the dame.”
Appalled, Tania glanced between the mammoth nurse and her helpless grandfather. He didn’t stand a chance. “I’ll be back in ten minutes,” she warned, gathering up the tray and exiting the room with Sam on her heels.
“He’s embarrassed for you to see him naked,” Sam concluded, following her to the enormous kitchen with its elaborate tile, stainless steel appliances, and every gadget and whistle one would only dream of in a kitchen.
“No, he’s not,” Tania protested. “He thinks I’m embarrassed to see him naked.”
“Well...” Sam snatched the tray from her and placed it on the nearby island. “Are you?”
Face flaming hotly, she turned her back on him and began unloading the muffins and mugs. “Of course not.”
His arms came around her from behind, and she merely sighed and leaned into him. Whether she cared to admit it or not, she needed this now more than ever.
“You’re an adorable liar,” he said huskily as he nibbled on her ear. “And I think you love your grandfather more than life itself.”
Tania shivered, her toes curling with the scalding heat that was oozing through her. “Yes, I’ll admit. I love him. He sacrificed a lot more for me than I was aware of at the time I was brought here.”
His arms tightened about her. Inhaling the sleepy morning scent of her, he replied, “I know. Clay told me all about it.”
Whirling in the circle of his arms, she gasped, “He told you?”
Sam swallowed a lump, realizing his mistake too late. “Yes. The first day I introduced myself to him as your husband.”
Spinning on her heel, Tania gripped the tray and sailed across the room. She slammed it resoundingly on the tiled countertop. “Why is it that everyone but me has a hand in manipulating my life?”
Sam studied her rigid back. “This coming from the woman who set up her own prison wedding just to get her inheritance?”
His words had the effect of slicing her pride and stirring her ire. Still, she realized, he could not see that her motivation had not been riches, but the assurance of the basic comforts that he, no doubt, took for granted. Gripping a leftover muffin like a baseball, she turned and winged the sweet heap across the room. It smashed promptly between his eyes.
“What did you do that for?” he demanded to know, looking incredulously at the mess that trailed down his shirt and onto the gleaming tile floor.
“Because you’re a bumbling idiot!” she retorted, this time hurtling a plump, ripe strawberry at him.
Ducking behind the island, the berry whizzed through his hair leaving a red streak before it splatted against the dishwasher. “Idiots don’t speak the truth, babe,” he returned pointedly from his hiding place.
“I’m not your babe!” she ground out, rounding the structure to tower over him as he cowered behind the island.
His gaze swept her from the bare feet, up the long legs clad in snug black sweatpants, to the tight little T-shirt that emphasized every lush curve. Her eyes tossed snapping gray sparks at him, while her luscious strawberry lips trembled with rage. She was lovely, exotic, the most gorgeous creature he’d ever laid eyes on—and she was his!
Whistling low, he rose to his full intimidating height. “Yes, you are a babe.”
“When this is all over,” she protested as his arms shot out and slammed her against him. “I will be my o
wn babe, got it?” she snarled, attempting to evade his mouth as he swooped in for a devastating kiss.
And devastating it was. Tania felt her heart slam against her breastbone, her blood boil into a sweet, aching ambrosia. One large hand came up to press against the back of her head until her mouth was soldered like steel to his. His other hand slid into the back of her sweatpants and cupped her buttocks, pressing her against the hard length of him.
“Sam…” she breathed heavily, fighting the urge to surrender to the honeyed taste of him. “I need to get back to Grandpa.”
“Yes,” he panted, trailing kisses down her throat as she accommodated him by throwing her head back. “I know.”
Placing her trembling hands on either side of his further descending head, Tania lifted his face to hers…and burst out in a melodious fit of laughter.
“What?” Sam’s limpid green eyes struggled to clear the fog that her womanly wiles had inflicted upon his vision. “What’s so damn funny?”
“You look like a Cyclops,” she snorted, stepping out of his weakening embrace.
“A Cyclops? Well, thanks a lot.” He planted his hands on his hips.
“Right there,” she snickered and pressed a finger to the center of her own forehead “Right smack-dab in the middle, you have a lovely blue eye to go right along with your stunning green ones.”
Sam recalled the blueberry muffin that had come sailing toward him at a deadly velocity. “Funny,” he replied blandly. “Real funny.”
Tania reached for a paper towel and wet it under the faucet. Dabbing at his forehead, she ignored the arms that came around her, the eyes that snared her.
“You really think my eyes are stunning?” he asked, rather liking the attention she was bestowing upon him.
“You really think I did it for the money?” she shot back, sidestepping his question by asking one of her own, and drawing the topic back to the one that had gotten him the third eye to begin with.
“I think—”
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