watching every move she made, every breath she took.
Emma’s knees almost buckled beneath her and she moved to the side of the bridge, clutching at the ornate balustrades for support. She’d been talking about him, not Richard, but he’d interpreted it as something quite different. No wonder he’d become distant to the point of coldness since that day. The closeness they’d begun to share, which she’d hoped would give rise to love, had vanished—because of what she’d said.
Waves of nausea rushed over her and her head swam. She couldn’t think any more, could barely stand. She hadn’t eaten anything yet, too anxious earlier to face anything, and now it was all too much. She couldn’t do this now.
She felt as though she was falling then strong arms folded around her as Nikolai wrapped her in the safety of his embrace. To feel his arms around her, holding her against his body, was almost unbearable. It was like coming home—and it broke her heart a little bit more.
‘You’re not well.’ The deep, seductive timbre of his voice radiated through her and she closed her eyes, allowing herself a brief moment in the haven of his embrace.
‘Maybe we can talk later.’ She clutched at the lifeline the moment had given her, not wanting to have this discussion any more. It was bad enough that he didn’t love her, that he was about to reject her, but to accuse her of loving Richard was too much.
‘No, we talk now—or not at all.’ She looked up into his dark eyes and saw myriad emotions swirling in them, emotions she’d never seen in them before. ‘It’s your choice, Emma.’
She didn’t want to talk now, didn’t feel well enough to think, let alone talk, but she couldn’t walk away and say nothing. Not when he held her so gently and looked at her so longingly. Was it possible he did feel something for her? Could it ever be love?
She needed to make herself clear, to let him know how wrong he’d got it all. She looked up at his handsome face, fighting the urge to reach up and touch his cheek, feel the smoothness of his freshly shaven face. ‘It wasn’t Richard I was talking about that day.’
* * *
Nikolai had moved quickly, taking Emma in his arms, holding her against him before she’d slithered completely to the floor. He’d inhaled her sweet scent, felt the warmth of her body, and his senses had exploded despite the worry he had for her health. How had he not seen it before? How could he not have known he loved her?
Because you shut your heart away.
She leant against the balustrade and looked up at him, as if waiting for him to say something, expectation mingling with desperation in her eyes. She’d just spoken, as his mind had whirled and his body had gone into overdrive just from holding her. Whatever it was she’d said, she obviously expected a response, but his ability to think rationally had left him the moment he’d held her.
‘What did you just say?’ he asked gently, unable to resist the urge to brush her hair from her face and then stroke the silky length of it down her back.
She looked up at him, tears beginning to brim in her eyes. ‘I said that it wasn’t Richard. When I said that on the boat, it wasn’t him I was talking about.’
His hand stilled at her back and he held his breath, willing her to say more, but she looked down, her head dipping against his chest. If it wasn’t Richard, who was it that didn’t love her in the way she loved him? Had she been referring to him? Was it possible she loved him?
‘Emma,’ he said and lifted her chin forcing her look up at him. ‘Have you ever told that person you love them?’
Still he couldn’t say that he loved her, couldn’t admit his deepest emotion. She searched his face, her gaze flicking over every part of him, as if committing him to her memory in the same way a camera did at the touch of a button.
She shook her head. ‘It’s not what he wants to hear. He doesn’t believe love exists—at least, not for him. I could never tell him. I just can’t.’
There was nothing else to do. He had to prove he loved her by telling her right now just how much. He had to risk having got it wrong, risk making a fool of himself. If he didn’t tell her he loved her now, he’d lose her for ever.
‘Maybe he just has to tell you,’ he said as he looked deep into her eyes, the tears now dissolved and hope glowing from them. ‘Maybe he needs to be bold and admit something he’d never thought possible.’
‘Maybe he does,’ she said as she watched his lips, as if willing him to say it, and his heart began to thump hard with trepidation.
He took a deep breath and swallowed, trying to instil calm into his body. This was the one thing he thought he’d never say. ‘I love you, Emma Sanders. Completely and utterly.’
She closed her eyes, her body relaxed in his embrace and he couldn’t resist her any longer. The temptation to kiss her was too much and he lowered his head and pressed his lips against hers. The soft sigh which escaped her did untold things to his body, but passion and desire could wait. This was a kiss of love.
* * *
Emma sighed as Nikolai kissed her, so tenderly it almost made her cry. He loved her. It wasn’t only that he’d told her, but it was the way he was kissing her which proved it more than anything else. This kiss was different. It wasn’t hot and filled with lustful desire that stoked the fire of passion within her. This kiss was very different. It was gentle and, more importantly, it was loving.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back, finally allowing all the love she felt to pour from her. He stopped kissing her and pressed his forehead to hers, the gesture so unguarded emotionally she couldn’t say what she wanted to say for a moment.
‘I thought you didn’t want love.’ She smiled, her voice teasing and light.
‘That was before I met you. Everything changed the moment you stepped off that train in Vladimir.’ His eyes were so tender, so filled with love, it was heart-rending and his voice broke with intense huskiness that sent a wave of pleasure breaking over her.
She closed her eyes and revisited the memory of the day they’d met, but even more importantly the knowledge that he had felt something for her from the moment they had met seeped into her. It had been no different for her. There had been something between them from that very first moment at the station in Vladimir, and he’d admitted that had turned to love even before she’d been carrying his child. That could mean only one thing.
‘So our child was conceived out of love, Nikolai.’ She breathed the words against his lips as he once more claimed them in a deep and meaningful kiss, his hands holding her face as if he couldn’t bear not to kiss her.
Around her life went on: voices of people in the park, the ripple of the water beneath them and birds singing their joy of spring all blended into the most perfect backdrop for the moment the man she loved with all her heart confessed his love for her.
As he pulled back from her, she let her palms slide down to his chest, feeling the beat of his heart beneath her right palm, a heart which was filled with love for her. He’d had the courage to admit his love even though he’d been convinced she was going to walk away from him. How had she got it all so wrong?
‘I love you, Nikolai Cunningham—with all my heart.’ She smiled up at him as he smiled back at her, then kissed
