Valery and Stiva were riveted—and it wasn’t to what Maisy was saying. When had she become this sophisticated woman? Had he not been paying attention? Or was it that it suited him to see her as sweet little Maisy, the girl he had collected from Lantern Square? Nothing ever stood still, and her words came back to smack him up the side of the head: To have come to where you are, when someone like me wouldn’t have had the resilience to even survive.
Maisy underestimated herself. She had something he’d been lacking all his life: the courage to give of herself to others. He watched her—not only with Kostya, the child who wasn’t her own yet whom she had taken into her heart, but with his friends, cheerful and generous despite her appalling day.
He’d been an absolute idiot.
Maisy kept an eye on Alexei as the evening wore on, but she didn’t go out of her way to approach him. He needed to come to her, but as time wound away she was starting to feel as if that would never happen.
It was a revelation seeing him with people he cared about. This was how he had been with her and Kostya in these last weeks—generous and warm and loving. He got Sasha and Nicky, Ivanka’s boys, set up with a games console in the entertainment room, and he scooped Kostya up to fly him through the air and fed him grapes, all the while carrying on a discussion with Valery about some American baseball team and a foolproof betting system.
He had a whole life she was only getting a glimpse of.
Well, he might not think she fitted into this life, but she had no intention of letting him go that easily.
After dinner, Maisy excused herself as coffee was served and sought the seclusion of the terrace. She could only hope Alexei would have the sense to follow her out—although given his unpredictable behaviour over the past couple of days she couldn’t be sure.
Leaning against the railing, she took in deep sustaining breaths, trying to concentrate on the enviable view of blue sea. Lap it up, Maisy, a little voice taunted. It’s not going to last. Your days are numbered.
Not without a fight, she responded, fisting her hands on top of the stone.
‘Maisy.’ His deep voice washed over her and she almost slumped with relief. She shut her eyes, wanting the peace to last, wanting him to be part of that peace but knowing he couldn’t be.
He was too scared to love her.
‘Go inside, Alexei. You’ve got guests.’
‘Why are you out here on your own?’
‘I just wanted some time out, okay?’ She opened her eyes and made herself look at him. He was at least a metre away, arms folded, typical I-am-an-island stance. It was the same stance he had taken so many weeks ago, on that strange night when he had burst into her life. It was as if the past weeks had never happened. As if they had never even been lovers.
‘Fine.’ He didn’t shift.
The cold sea wind had picked up and Maisy shivered. She could feel Alexei looking at her body, not very modestly wrapped in white silk and nothing else. She knew her nipples were prominent. She felt self-conscious about it now that his desire for her had so obviously cooled. Goose flesh had risen on her arms and she rubbed them.
Alexei shrugged off his jacket with a single movement and drew it around her shoulders, but otherwise he didn’t touch her.
Maisy released a shuddery sigh, wondering why his gesture should touch her so deeply.
‘You should be wearing more clothing,’ was all he said, his head bent, his eyes intent upon hers.
Suddenly the wind was gone, the view blotted out. There was only Alexei, blocking out the world, and Maisy was thrown back to Lantern Square when she had stepped into his arms and he had picked her up and branded her. There was no other way to describe it, and she was still wearing that brand. She was his. From then on she’d always been his.
‘Please talk to me, Alexei.’
‘It’s not the time or place, Maisy.’
Her temper snapped. ‘Too bad—because I’ve got a few things to say. First of all, I love you. I’m in love with you. And I’m stupid with it—because, honestly, any other woman would have seen the writing on the wall long before I did.’
He was silent. Maisy almost swore.
‘You don’t have anything to say to me?’
‘This “stupid” love …’ his voice was low, almost fractured ‘ … did it make its appearance after Ivanka told you my sob story or before? Don’t tell me you fell for me when I burst into the kitchen at Lantern Square and terrified the life out of you?’
How on earth had they arrived back at that? Maisy shook her head. It was either that or shake him.
‘Right now I have no idea why I love you,’ she slung at him heatedly. ‘Maybe it’s the multiple orgasms.’