Scoundrel's Honor (Russian Connection 3)

Of course, nothing before had ever been so important.

“So I can teach our children,” he said, his voice thick.

Her mouth opened, but nothing came out but a tiny squeak of shock.

“Oh.”

“You do want children, do you not, Emma?” he asked, gently.

“Yes.” She blinked back sudden tears. “Yes, I want children very much,” she husked.

He grimaced, gazing into her hazel eyes and knowing that he would never truly deserve this beautiful, courageous woman.

“I know I would not be the man that most females would choose to father their children.”

Her brows snapped together, her chin tilting. She was always determined to see the best in others.

Which was no doubt one of the reasons he found her so endearing.

“You are wrong, Dimitri.”

“Impossible, I am never wrong,” he teased.

“I cannot imagine a more worthy man.”

He shook his head. “I was raised on the streets, hating the man who raped my mother. I know nothing of how to be a decent father.”

Her wariness faded, her hand lifting to cover his hand that was pressed to her cheek.

“You have been protecting and caring for others since your mother’s death,” she said. “Besides, there is only one thing a father truly needs to offer his children.”

“And what is that?”

“Love.”

With a groan he wrapped her in his arms and hauled her tight against his body.

“If I love them half so much as I love their mother, then I shall be the greatest father in all of Russia.”

“Oh…Dimitri.” Arching back her head, she regarded him with all the emotion she had been hiding behind her brittle composure. “I love you, too.”

His heart swelled, the years of bitterness forgotten. Never had he th

ought to ever feel such overwhelming joy.

Certainly not with a headstrong, spirited, independent woman who refused to leave him in peace.

“I always suspected that you were a woman of intelligence,” he retorted with a smug smile.

She rolled her eyes. “So modest.”

“You still have not answered my question, moya dusha.” He paused, his smile fading. “Will you marry me?”

Breathlessly awaiting her response, Dimitri was unaware of the elegant, silver-haired gentleman who stepped in the room in a claret jacket with a black waistcoat trimmed in silver buttons.

At least he was unaware until the man had the audacity to interrupt the precious moment.

“You might wish to hear what I have to say before you give your response, Emma.”