The Christmas Love-Child

She wanted him for the fire he sparked inside her. For the way he’d somehow made her become the woman she’d always dreamed she could be. For the dreams suddenly coming true around her, like roses blooming full and red amid the breathless hush of winter.

Grace walked back through the empty salon. Painted cherubs looked down at her from the two-hundred-year-old painting soaring high above the enormous chandelier.

This house was beautiful, large…and lonely.

No one lived here, Maksim had told her. He’d bought it to use as his weekend escape, but he’d been too busy with work to bother visiting. The caretaker and his elderly wife, who resided in a nearby cottage, were the only ones who’d entered the estate for the last several years.

Until now.

The house seemed happy to finally have company, she thought, then nearly laughed at her own ridiculous thought. The house was happy?

What was it about houses that made people so batty?

Grace wiped her eyes as she approached the dining room. She felt like an idiot for crying because she was happy, but as foolish as it sounded, she felt as if her family—as long as they had their home—could survive and be strong.

She entered the dining room, then stopped in shock.

The room was dark, lit by the fire in the marble fireplace—and by dozens of white pillar candles of various sizes and shapes on the floor.

Maksim was lighting the last candle as she entered. He was darkly handsome, wearing a black shirt and black pants. He looked up at her, then straightened as the expression on his handsome face changed to concern.

“You were crying,” he demanded.

“Houses,” she sniffled, looking with wonder at all the candles. “They don’t make a family, except they do, don’t they?”

He frowned. “You’re not making any sense.”

Laughing through her tears, she shook her head. “I’m just happy. I needed money for my house. Thanks to the raise, I’ll have it.”

“Good,” he growled. “About time you moved out of Barrington’s basement.”

He’d misunderstood her, but she didn’t correct him. Moving out of Alan’s house was a good idea, and as soon as her family’s home was secure, that was exactly what she intended to do.

Blowing out the match and tossing it aside, he put his arms around her. “Now leave his office and come work for me.”

“Mixing business and pleasure would be a bad idea,” she whispered.

He stroked her chin. “I’ll buy you a house as your bonus. Any house you want.”

She looked around the eighteenth-century country mansion mischievously. “Really? Any house?”

He laughed, then he kissed her. His lips were warm and passionate. She felt his rough chin against her skin as his tongue stroked hers, luring her, intoxicating her. She pressed her body against his. When he pulled away, a little sigh escaped her.

“Let me take care of you, Grace,” he murmured against her skin.

“I don’t want you as my boss,” she managed to say. “And I don’t want your money. I just want you.”

His eyes flickered.

“And I take care of what is mine,” he growled.

She was his? The idea of his possession was like a warm blanket wrapped around her. He cared about her. Hadn’t he proved that last night when he’d let her go? He could have easily made her a one-night stand, but instead he was wooing her. Courting her in this romantic way.

And she was starting to care about him more than she wanted to admit.

He sat down on a thick white blanket on the floor near the fire. He patted a spot next to him. “Sit down,” he said, quirking a seductive eyebrow. When she did, he handed her a flute of champagne.

“Sure, you have champagne,” she teased. “But what about furniture?”

Reaching into the hamper, he held out a chocolate-covered strawberry. “I don’t need a bed for what I intend to do to you.”

She opened her mouth obediently, and he fed it to her. Then she took the next strawberry from the basket and returned the favor. As he suckled the rich chocolate from the lush fruit, he never took his gaze from hers.

She shivered. When she finished the flute of champagne, he took it from her without a word. Gently brushing her hair aside, he kissed her neck. She closed her eyes, shuddering with desire as he nibbled his way down her throat.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured.

And for no good reason, she felt like crying.

“Thank you,” she said, opening her eyes to look directly into his. “Thank you, Maksim.”

His dark eyes looked surprised. “For what?”

She looked past him, to the translucent white curtains and lead-paned windows overlooking the winter twilight. Shaking with the force of her emotion, she looked into his face.

“It has been a hard few years for my family.” She took a deep breath. “I didn’t know what to cling to anymore. Didn’t know what to believe in.”

Maksim looked at her steadily above the shimmering firelight. His eyes were deep smoke, his strong jawline shadowed with bristle. Surrounded by the flickering white candles on the floor around them, he looked like a dark king from a medieval fantasy.

“Now I do,” she said softly, then took a deep breath. “I can believe in you.”

He blinked. Hard.

Clenching his jaw, he looked away.

“I’m no saint,” he said in a low voice. “I told you from the beginning. I’m selfish. Ruthless.”

“You’re wonderful.” Reaching her hand up to his rough chin, she gently turned his cheek until he looked at her. “I’ve never met a man like you before. You claim to be selfish and even cruel, but you’re not. You’re a good man, Maksim. You don’t want anyone to know it. You think it’s weakness,” she said softly. “But I know your secret.”

She felt him tremble in her arms. He took a haggard breath, briefly closing his eyes before he looked down at her. His dark gaze shot through her soul. “I’ve never met anyone like you, Grace. So determined to see the best in people even if they don’t deserve it.”

“Because of you.” She licked her lips with sudden nervousness. “For the first time in my life, I feel brave. Brave enough to…”

Her words dwindled off as the expression in his dark gaze changed, became fired with heat. He stroked her cheek, looking down at her. Their bodies were so close. She could feel every inch of hard muscle, all the strength of his power. Their eyes were interlocked, and in that moment she could hardly say where her soul ended and his began.

“Grace…”

Lowering his mouth to hers, he kissed her. It was a kiss of anguish and longing and such tenderness that a little whimper escaped her.

Then a Russian curse exploded from his lips. He suddenly pushed away from her.

Rising to his feet, he paced in front of her, clawing his hands through his dark hair.

“What is it, Maksim?” she whispered, staring up at him from the blanket. It was the second time he’d pushed away from her. Was something wrong with her? Something about the way she kissed that he didn’t like?

Insecurity went through her. She thought of what Alan had told her, that Francesca only agreed to a fake engagement to make some other man jealous.

What if Maksim still loved Francesca?

“It’s all right,” Grace said miserably. “I understand. I’m not the one you want.”

When he spoke, his voice was low. Harsh. “You think I don’t want you?”

“It’s all right, truly.” She shook her head, trying to keep the tears from her eyes. “I’m not remotely your type—”

Falling to his knees, he grabbed her upper arms so tightly that they bruised.

“Not want you? God! Not want you?” he exploded. “All I can think about is taking you, Grace. In the bed, against the wall, on the floor! Not want you? I want to spread your thighs beneath me. I want to caress and suckle and taste you until you explode and shake around me. I want you and every second I physically hold myself back from making love to you is killing me!”

His voice echoed against the soaring ceilings of the empty dining room as it slowly sank in. He wanted her.

“Then why do you keep pushing me away?”

He cradled her face in his hands. “Because you are the only sunlight I’ve known for years,” he said in a low voice. “I can’t extinguish that warmth in you, Grace. I can’t let the world go dark and cold without your light.”

“You’re afraid to hurt me?”

Clenching his jaw, he nodded.

“Don’t be.” She took a deep breath. “After my bad experience with Alan, I’ve decided love is totally overrated.” She wouldn’t be stupid enough to risk her heart again. No matter how Maksim made her feel. She reached out to stroke his rough cheek, tracing her fingertips down his throat. “I promise you can’t hurt me…”

He grabbed her wrist. “Don’t,” he said harshly.

“Please,” she whispered. “Just kiss me.”

Their eyes locked.

With a groan, he surrendered.

His lips brushed hers, then bruised her. The rush that spread through her body was unimaginable. He yanked off her coat. He pulled off her oversize brown cardigan. His hands moved urgently over her plain white shirt, undoing the buttons rapidly, pulling the last one until it ripped. He dropped the shirt to the floor and looked at her in the firelight.