Claimed for Makarov's Baby

Dimitri inclined his head. ‘Thank you.’

‘My lawyers will be in touch. But, Dimitri—’

Dimitri had been about to rise from the chair until the monarch’s unfamiliar use of his first name made him pause.

He raised his eyebrows. ‘Majesty?’

The Sheikh paused, as if he was about to start speaking in a language unfamiliar to him. ‘I recognise in you someone with demons,’ he said softly. ‘The demons which seem to plague all successful men. And sometimes the only way to rid ourselves of them is to confront them without fear.’

The Sheikh’s words echoed around his head as Dimitri made his way back to his suite. It was a curiously personal remark for a king to make—especially one with the stony reputation of Saladin. Was the bond forged between them over that near-fatal race responsible for such an uncharacteristic statement, and was it true? Dimitri shut the door behind him. Were his demons still dominating his life because he had failed to reach out and confront them?

He realised that it was not just Erin’s deception which had angered him, or the powerlessness he’d felt about being presented with a fatherhood he had not chosen. It was the fear of fatherhood itself. Would his inability to love or nurture damage that laughing little boy whose life was materially poor but emotionally rich? And Saladin’s words came back to him again. Surely he had to try.

He went to Erin’s suite to take her to dinner and she looked up from the book she was reading. The gleam of the chandeliers shone on her dark hair and the claret silk dress caressed her slender body, and automatically he felt his body stiffen with desire. But desire could cloud your judgement. It could distract you from the things which really mattered—and right now he knew what mattered most.

He stared into Erin’s green eyes, knowing how incompatible their two lifestyles were. He hadn’t known precisely what it was he wanted, or how he was going to go about the daunting task of discovering fatherhood.

Until now.

The idea hit him with a sudden resolve. A primitive and bone-deep certainty, which seemed to have been inspired by Saladin’s words. It felt like a distant call to his own ancestry—yet how could that make any sense when his past was so tainted and warped?

But sometimes instinct could be stronger than reason and there was no waver in his voice as he spoke. ‘I want to take Leo to my country,’ he said.

The book slipped from her fingers.

‘You mean, to Russia?’

Something stirred deep within his heart as he nodded.

‘Da. To Russia,’ he echoed, and saw the uncertainty which clouded her face.

CHAPTER NINE

A DISTANT DOOR slammed and a little boy came running into the room, pulling off his waterproof jacket and shaking his head like a puppy. Raindrops showered down over the worn carpet as Erin stepped forward to take the jacket from her son.

‘Hello, darling,’ she said, trying to act as normally as possible, but it wasn’t easy. How could she act normally when Dimitri was standing there staring at Leo—his blue eyes burning with what looked like a distinct sense of ownership? She thought how out of place he looked in his expensive grey suit, dominating the small room at the back of the café. She wished she’d asked her sister to stay for some moral support, but had decided against it at the last minute. She needed to do this on her own. With Leo. Just the three of them. Swallowing down her anxiety, she replaced it with a bright smile as she looked at her son. ‘Darling, I want you to meet a friend of mine.’

Leo, a child who always seemed to be in perpetual motion, stood and stared up at the man with all the unembarrassed curiosity of a child.

‘What’s your name?’

‘Dimitri. And you’re Leo.’

‘Who told you that?’

‘Your mummy did.’

A silent look passed between them.

‘Why do you talk in that funny voice?’

‘Because I am from Russia.’

‘Where’s Russia?’

Dimitri smiled. ‘It is a vast and magnificent land which straddles both Europe and Asia. We have lots of snow in winter and very beautiful buildings which are like no others you will ever see. I could show you where it is on a map if you would like that.’ He lifted his gaze to Erin’s. ‘Do you have any maps around the place, Erin?’

‘I’m sure I can find one,’ she said, but her heart was beating very fast and she wasn’t sure why.

It turned out to be one of the most bizarre evenings of her life. During occasional moments of wistfulness or vulnerability, she’d sometimes tried to picture Dimitri with his son but had found it impossible to imagine the icy oligarch being warm and loving towards a child. Maybe she had misjudged him, or he was a better actor than she’d thought—because soon Leo was sitting happily up beside him as he pointed out seas and rivers on the map.