Nora Roberts - The Stanislaskis - Taming Natasha

“Are you all right?”

“Yes.” She was now, she realized, when he was holding her like this. Stronger, she pulled back. “I thought you might sleep late.”

“No, I’ve been up awhile. Where have you been?”

She unwound her scarf. “There was something I needed to do.” After peeling off her coat, she hung it in the narrow closet. “Where is everyone?”

“Your mother and Rachel are in the kitchen. The last time I looked, Alex was on the phone.”

This time the smile came easily. “Sweet-talking a girl.”

“Apparently. Freddie’s up with your father, watching the parade.”

“And putting him in heaven.” She touched her fingertips to Spence’s cheek. “Will you kiss me?”

There was some need here, he thought as he bent toward her. Some deep, private need she still refused to share. Her lips were cold when his met them, but they softened, then warmed. At last they curved.

“You’re very good for me, Spence.”

“I was hoping you’d catch on to that.” He gave her bottom lip a playful nip. “Better?”

“Much. I’m glad you’re here.” She squeezed his hand. “How do you feel about some of Mama’s hot chocolate?”

Before he could answer, Freddie came sprinting down the steps again, one shoelace trailing, to throw her arms around Natasha’s waist. “You’re back!”

“So I am.” Natasha bent to kiss the top of Freddie’s head. “What have you been up to?”

“I’m watching the parade with Papa. He can talk just like Donald Duck, and he lets me sit on his lap.”

“I see.” Leaning closer, Natasha took a sniff. There was the telltale fragrance of gumdrops lingering on Freddie’s breath. “Does he still hog all the yellow ones?”

Freddie giggled, casting a quick, cautious look at her father. Spence had a much different view of gumdrops than Yuri. “It’s okay. I like the red ones best.”

“How many red ones?” Spence asked her.

Freddie lifted her shoulders and let them fall. It was, Spence noted with some amusement, almost a mirror image of Natasha’s habitual gesture. “Not too many. Will you come up and watch with us?” She tugged at Natasha’s hand. “It’s almost time for Santa Claus.”

“In a little while.” Out of habit, Natasha crouched to tie Freddie’s shoelace. “Tell Papa that I won’t mention the gumdrops to Mama. If he saves me some.”

“Okay.” She dashed up the stairs.

“He’s made quite an impression on her,” Spence observed.

“Papa makes impressions on everyone.” She started to rise, and felt the room spin. Before she could sink to the floor again, Spence had her arms.

“What is it?”

“Nothing.” She pressed a hand to her head, waiting for the dizziness to pass. “I stood up too fast, that’s all.”

“You’re pale. Come sit down.” He had an arm hooked around her waist, but she shook her head.

“No, I’m fine, really. Just a little tired.” Relieved that the room had steadied, she smiled at him. “Blame it on Rachel. She would have talked through the night if I hadn’t fallen asleep on her in self-defense.”

“Have you eaten anything?”

“I thought you were a doctor of music.” She smiled again and patted his cheek. “Don’t worry, the minute I go into the kitchen, Mama will start feeding me.”

Just then the front door opened. Spence watched Natasha’s face light up. “Mikhail!” With a laugh, she threw herself into the arms of her brother.

He had the dark, blinding good looks that ran in the family. The tallest of the brood, he had to bend to gather Natasha close. His hair curled over his ears and collar. His coat was worn, his boots were scarred. His hands, as they stroked Natasha’s hair, were wide-palmed and beautiful.

It took Spence only seconds to see that while Natasha loved all of her family deeply, there was a separate and special bond here.

“I’ve missed you.” She drew back just far enough to kiss his cheeks, then hugged him close again. “I’ve really missed you.”

“Then why don’t you come more often?” He pushed her away, wanting a good long look. He didn’t care for the pallor in her cheeks, but since her hands were still cold, he realized she’d been out. And he knew where she’d spent that morning. He murmured something in Ukrainian, but she only shook her head and squeezed his hands tight. With a shrug very like her own, he put the subject aside.

“Mikhail, I want you to meet Spence.”

As he took off his coat, Mikhail turned to study Spence. Unlike Alex’s friendly acceptance or Rachel’s subtle measuring, this was an intense and prolonged stare that left Spence in no doubt that if Mikhail didn’t approve, he wouldn’t hesitate to say so.

“I know your work,” he said at length. “It’s excellent.”

“Thank you.” Spence met look for look. “I can say the same about yours.” When Mikhail lifted one dark brow, Spence continued. “I’ve seen the figures you carved for Natasha.”

“Ah.” A glimmer of a smile curved Mikhail’s mouth. “My sister always was fond of fairy tales.” There was a squeal from upstairs, followed by rumbling laughter.

“That’s Freddie,” Natasha explained. “Spence’s daughter. She’s making Papa’s day.”

Mikhail slipped a thumb through one belt loop. “You are a widower.”

“That’s right.”

“And now you teach at college.”

“Yes.”

“Mikhail,” Natasha interrupted. “Don’t play big brother. I’m older than you.”

“But I’m bigger.” Then with a quick, flashing grin, he tossed an arm around her shoulder. “So what’s to eat?”

Too much, Spence decided as the family gathered around the table late that afternoon. The huge turkey in the center of the hand-crocheted tablecloth was only the beginning. Faithful to her adopted country’s holiday, Nadia had prepared a meal that was an American tradition from the chestnut dressing to the pumpkin pies.

Wide-eyed, Freddie gawked, staring at platter after platter. The room was full of noise as everyone talked over and around everyone else. The china was mismatched. Old Sasha lay sprawled under the table near her feet, hoping for a few unobtrusive handouts. She was sitting on a wobbly chair and the New York Yellow Pages. As far as she was concerned, it was the best day of her life.

Alex and Rachel began to argue over some childhood infraction. Mikhail joined in to tell them they were both wrong. When her opinion was sought, Natasha just laughed and shook her head, then turned to Spence and murmured something into his ear that made him chuckle.

Nadia, her cheeks rosy with the pleasure of having her family together, slipped a hand into Yuri’s as he lifted his glass.

“Enough,” he said, and effectively silenced the table. “You can argue later about who let white mice loose in science lab. Now we toast. We are thankful for this food that Nadia and my girls have fixed for us. And more thankful for the friends and family who are here together to enjoy it. We give thanks, as we did on our first Thanksgiving in our country, that we are free.”

“To freedom,” Mikhail said as he lifted his glass.

“To freedom,” Yuri agreed. His eyes misted and he looked around the table. “And to family.”

That evening, with Freddie dozing in his lap, Spence listened to Yuri tell stories of the old country. While the meal had been a noisy competition for conversation, this hour was one of quiet and content. Across the room Rachel and Alex played a trivia game. They argued often, but without heat.

In the corner, Natasha and Mikhail sat close, dark heads together. Spence could hear their murmurs and noted that one often reached to touch the other’s hand, to touch a cheek. Nadia sat smiling, interrupting Yuri occasionally to correct or comment as she worked another pillow cover.