Danielle Steel - Granny Dan

“Good night, Danina,” he said in a voice filled with regret and longing, and then a moment later she heard the door close behind him, and she turned to look at it, sobbing.

She could not believe what they had done, what he had said, and the worst of it was that she also knew she loved him. But he was a married man, and she could not let him destroy his life, or lose his work or his children, for her sake. She loved him too much to let him do that. And she had her obligations to the ballet. She remembered all too clearly a lifetime of Madame Mar-kova's dire warnings. Madame Mark ova had always told her she was different, that she didn't need a man, that she must remain pure, that she had to live for and grow through her art, her dancing had to come before anything else in her life, and it had till now. But now suddenly with Nikolai, she saw that it could be so different. A life with him would mean an eternity of happiness, but not if it cost him everything he held dear to have her. She couldn't let him do that. She knew she should go back to St. Petersburg, but she couldn't bear leaving him now. She couldn't think of not seeing him every day, any more than he could give up seeing her. All they had to do now was pretend this had never happened between them, which would be far from easy. But she was determined to do it. And as she walked into her room, and began to undress, she felt her knees begin to shake violently. She had to sit down, and as she did, all she could think of were his lips on hers, and what she had felt when he had kissed her. But no matter what she felt for him now, she knew with her entire heart and soul that she could never have him. But at least, if she stayed, they could still see each other. She sat looking at her reflection in the mirror, thinking of him, and wondering how they could do it. It was going to be anything but easy.

Chapter 4

Nikolai didn't come to see her at all for the next two days, nor did he go to the palace. But finally he sent her two new books with a message that he had caught a bad cold and didn't want to give it to her. And he would see her as soon as he was no longer contagious. She had no idea if it was true or not, but if so, if nothing else, his absence was at least convenient. And it gave them both time to regain control of themselves, and try to forget what had happened.

But without his visits, she paced uncomfortably around her small house, tried to sleep and found she couldn't, and by the end of the first day had a dreadful headache, and refused to take anything for it. Her nurses found her uncharacteristically short-tempered and fretful, and she apologized to them a thousand times for her ill humor, and blamed it on her migraine. And by the end of the second day, she was despondent. She wondered if he was angry at her, if he regretted what he had said and done, if he had been drunk and she didn't know it, if she would never see him again. She could bear burying their secret and never mentioning it again, but what she realized now with full force, was that she couldn't bear not seeing him.

And when he appeared at last, as she stood in her small living room, watching the snow fall in her garden, she didn't hear him come in. She turned, with tears rolling down her cheeks, thinking of him, and when she saw him, without thinking, she flew across the room into his arms, and told him how much she had missed him. He was not sure what it meant at first, if she had changed her mind and was willing to go forward with him, or simply what she said, that she had missed him.

“I've missed you too,” he said in a voice that still sounded hoarse, so she knew that his excuse for not seeing her had been sincere, and that relieved her. “Very much,” he said, smiling at her. But this time, he was not foolish enough to kiss her. He had taken her at her word two days before, and was determined not to cross that line again, unless she invited him to do so. And she herself made no move to kiss him. She went straight to the samovar, and poured him a cup of tea, and handed it to him. And as she did so, her hand was shaking but she was beaming.

“I'm so glad you've been ill … oh … I mean … that sounds terrible. …” She laughed for the first time in two days, and he laughed too as he sat down near her in the cottage's small, cozy parlor. “I was afraid you didn't want to see me.”

“You know that's not true,” he said with eyes that told her everything she longed to hear but would never allow him to say again. She was desperately happy to see him. “I didn't want to make you ill after all you've been through. But I'm feeling much better.”

“I'm glad to hear it,” she said, feeling a trifle awkward with him, but looking at him intensely. He looked even more handsome to her now, taller and more powerful. In an odd way he was hers now, and she knew it, and it made him even more precious to her, even if they could never have what they both longed for. And with good reason. “Were you very sick?” she asked solicitously, and he was touched. She looked incredibly pretty in a pink wool dress that made her seem even younger than he remembered. She had looked very glamorous and very grown up in the blue velvet gown two nights before, and now she looked like a young girl, which more than ever made him want to kiss her. But this time, he knew he couldn't.

“I was not as sick as you were. Thank God. I'm fine now.”

“You shouldn't be out in the snow,” she chided him, and he smiled at her in answer.

“I wanted to come and see Alexei,” he explained, but his eyes told her something else as well. He had wanted to see her even more than Alexei.

“Will you stay for lunch?” she asked politely, and he nodded and smiled with pleasure.

“I'd like that.” And as he said it, they both thought that they could do this. They could spend time together, just as they had before, without ever divulging their secret, even to each other. But she had already begun to wonder what would happen when she went back to St. Petersburg in a month or two. Would they forget each other, or would he come to see her? Would it just become a cherished memory, and their love for each other fade like the residue of her influenza? It was already hard to imagine leaving.

They talked well into the afternoon, she returned some of his books to him, and he promised to come and see her again on his way home that evening, and everything seemed normal again when he left her. But he did not return that evening after all, and instead sent her a message. Alexei wasn't well, and Nikolai was spending the night at the palace with his patient and Dr. Botkin. Because of his hemophilia, the child needed careful observation, and Nikolai didn't think it wise to leave him. But Danina understood, and curled up in her bed with one of his books, feeling relieved to have seen him that morning. His two-day absence after their drama after the dinner party had been excruciating for her. Her migraine had disappeared the moment she saw him.

And it was a relief to her again when he appeared the next morning to have breakfast with her. But even she was not unaware that there was suddenly a greater intensity between them. Although they had agreed not to discuss their feelings for each other again, it was suddenly clear that his visits meant the world to her, and he himself had begun to feel anxious whenever he wasn't with her. But they were both still convinced that they could control the blaze of what they felt, forever if they had to, and she was determined to keep it in check, and never speak of it again for their entire lifetimes. Nikolai was growing less certain day by day that he could do it, but knew he had to do as she wished, for fear that if he didn't, he would lose her.

He spoke at length of Alexei that day, and explained the nature of his illness in detail to her. And it led them into a discussion about the joys of having children. He told her that she must not deprive herself of that, that he felt certain she would make a wonderful mother. But she only shook her head, and reminded him of her commitment to the ballet. And he told her again that he thought her unnecessary zeal on that subject unreasonable and unhealthy.