Claimed for Makarov's Baby

He waited until Leo had gone through his bedtime routine and, once he’d been embraced in a sleepy bear hug, Dimitri went downstairs to wait for Erin in the library while she read a bedtime story.

He lit a fire, which crackled magnificently—the light from the flames flickering over the rows of books which lined the room, while Shostakovich played in the background. He spoke to Svetlana and soon two crystal flutes were standing beside a bottle in an ice bucket, but Erin’s footsteps were so quiet that he didn’t realise she was in the room until she was standing right in front of him.

She had changed and brushed her hair, so that it gleamed like a dark waterfall around her shoulders, and a soft woollen dress was hugging her slender hips. He noticed that she frowned slightly when she saw the bottle standing on the table next to the peach blossom bonsai tree.

‘Champagne?’ she said lightly. ‘Why, are we celebrating something?’

‘I don’t know.’ He lifted the bottle from the ice bucket and cold droplets slid onto his fingers. ‘At least, not yet.’

‘Is this some sort of guessing game?’

‘Do you want to try guessing?’

‘Okay.’ She screwed up her face. ‘We’re celebrating a successful trip?’

‘That’s one thing we could drink to, I agree. It has been a very successful trip.’ He peeled away the foil and let it flutter to the table. ‘Which is why I think we should get married.’

Erin stared at him.

‘Did you say married—just out of the blue like that?’

‘Why not?’ There was a hissing little pop as he eased the cork from the bottle. ‘What do you say?’

What did she say? Erin swallowed. She didn’t have a clue how to respond. She felt perplexed—and bewildered. This had come out of nowhere with no warning whatsoever. And now he was pouring champagne, which was fizzing up the sides of a flute so delicate she was terrified her shaking hand might snap off its fragile stem. She shook her head as he held the flute out towards her.

‘Not right now, thanks. This has come as a bit of a shock,’ she said, aware of the glaring understatement in her words. She tried to rid her voice of any hope or expectation. ‘I mean, why? Why do you want to marry me, Dimitri?’

‘You don’t know?’

‘If I knew, I wouldn’t have to ask.’

He smiled. ‘Because of Leo, of course.’

Of course.

Erin nodded. The logical part of her brain had known that all along but that didn’t protect her from the sudden stupid lurch of disappointment which chilled her skin. And she didn’t want to be disappointed. She wanted to be cool and calm and impartial. Just like him. She wanted to treat a proposal of marriage with the same kind of careless interest as it had been offered. ‘And how would that work?’ she said.

‘Isn’t it obvious?’

‘Not to me, no. I’m not in the habit of getting random proposals of marriage from men who only a short time ago were barely able to look at me without being furious. You’ll have to talk me through it.’

He turned the swell of music down by a fraction and one of the logs in the fireplace spat out a shoal of bright sparks. ‘You must realise that I’ve grown very fond of Leo.’

She nodded. ‘That’s good.’

‘And I consider you an excellent mother. I told you that.’

‘Again, that’s very good. But neither of these facts are reasons enough for us to get married, Dimitri.’

‘No, they aren’t. But there are other considerations, too. Financially you cannot deny that you struggle, while, fortunately, I do not. And my wealth could help make both your lives considerably more comfortable.’

She tried to smile. ‘You realise you don’t have to put a gold band on my finger in order to pay maintenance?’

The second movement of the concerto came to a finish and the fire spat again—a hissing and angry sound this time.

‘Damn you, Erin Turner.’ Dimitri’s words fell softly and fervently into the short silence which followed. ‘Do you really want me to spell this out for you?’

She met his eyes. ‘I’m afraid you’re going to have to.’

‘It’s more than just about the money. I want to be there for him,’ he said, his voice growing deep, and passionate. ‘To be there for the ordinary things—not just the high days and holidays. I want grumpy mornings as well as Christmas morning. I want to be hands-on—not absent for most of the time. To give him what I never had.’

Erin stared at him as a bubble of hope began to rise inside her—even though she was doing everything in her power not to get ahead of herself. In case it was futile. In case it hurt her in a way she’d vowed she would never let herself get hurt. ‘And you would marry me in order to achieve that?’