THREE YEARS LATER, Kat stood at the foot of the pair of cots in the nursery at Danegold Hall, proudly surveying her twins, Petyr and Olga. They were both tiny and dark-haired with their newborn eyes of blue slowly turning green. Her son, Petyr, was lively, restless and slept very little while Olga was altogether a much more laid-back baby.
As far as their mother was concerned the twins were her personal miracle and, even two months after their birth, she could still hardly believe they were her children. After all, after she and Mikhail had married she hadn’t fallen pregnant as she had hoped. It hadn’t happened and eventually after fertility tests that proved nothing conclusive she had gone for IVF treatment in a top Russian clinic. She had found the process stressful and hard on the nerves, and the first time they had been very disappointed when conception failed to take place, but the second time she had undergone the process she had conceived. It would have been hard for her to describe the boundless joy she had experienced when she saw the two tiny shapes in her womb on a scan some weeks later. She hadn’t even realised that tears were running down her cheeks until Mikhail turned her round to dry her face for her.
The twins’ birth had been straightforward, a relief for Mikhail, who had barely let her out of his sight for longer than twelve hours during her entire pregnancy. What had happened to his own mother when she tried to deliver his sibling had still haunted him and had given him the impression that giving birth was the most dangerous thing even a healthy woman could choose to do. Only then had she truly understood why Mikhail had been so careful to tell her that he could be content with her even if they never had children. At the time she had been hurt, worried that he didn’t really want a child, but she had been utterly wrong in that fear. Mikhail had been terrified that something might go wrong and had had so many top doctors standing around when she delivered the twins that she ought to have been delivering sextuplets at the very least. Her eyes still stung when she recalled Mikhail pulling her into his arms afterwards, barely acknowledging the existence of his newborn twins to whisper shakily, ‘Thank God you are safe. That is all that has concerned me this day, lyubov’ moya.’
Even after three years, her husband loved her every bit as much as she loved him. Indeed the depth of the bond between them had gone from strength to strength since they married. Once that was achieved, Mikhail’s sense of security had enabled him to drop what remained of his reserve. And, as he had promised, he had embraced her sisters as though they were his own so that she was as close to her siblings as she had ever been.
‘Gloating again...?’ a familiar accented drawl teased.
‘Sorry, can’t help it, still can’t believe they’re ours,’ Kat confided, her bright head turning to focus on the darkly handsome male poised in the doorway, a flock of butterflies taking flight inside her tummy. Mikhail’s effect on her hormones never faded, she thought, her face warming. And how could it have done? He was drop-dead gorgeous.
A faint smile curving his sensual lips, her husband joined her to stare down at their son and daughter. ‘They do look cute when they’re not squalling,’ he conceded with amusement. ‘This morning they looked like little red-faced dictators when they woke up.’
‘They were hungry,’ their mother proclaimed defensively.
Mikhail turned her slowly round. ‘So am I, laskovaya moya. I am very hungry to have my beautiful wife all to myself for a few days.’
Her sparkling green eyes rounded as she leant up against his lean, powerful body, one hand resting on a broad shoulder. ‘Have you actually taken some time off?’
‘Even better. I’ve arranged a holiday for us on a deserted island.’
‘Doesn’t sound the kind of place you can take babies.’
‘They’re not coming.’ Lean, strong face resolute, Mikhail gazed down at his wife as she parted her generous mouth to object. ‘Your sisters are going to look after them for us. Our third wedding anniversary is an important occasion and I want to do something special.’
‘But, we can’t leave them behind—’
A black brow quirked. ‘Even with two nannies and your sisters and the entire household staff to look after them?’
Kat’s even white teeth worried at her full lower lip in indecision.
‘I need you too,’ Mikhail husked, lowering his dark head to caress her mouth slowly with his in exactly the way she could never resist, leaving her breathless and quivering. ‘And I think you need me in the same way.’
‘Well...’ Kat hesitated. ‘A deserted island?’
‘White beach, blue sea, no clothes,’ Mikhail outlined.
‘So that’s the fantasy?’ Kat laughed, loving his honesty as much as she loved him and the surprise break he had organised.
‘The fantasy I have every intention of turning into fact,’ her husband countered with a lethally sexy look in his black diamond eyes. ‘More pleasure than you can believe...’
‘Oh, I can believe,’ she confirmed dizzily, breathless at the smouldering look of desire in his stunning gaze. ‘You always deliver.’
‘I’m crazy about you,’ Mikhail muttered thickly, claiming her mouth in a passionate kiss that sent her every sense singing.
Kat was too happy and too bound up in that kiss to reply. A second honeymoon on a deserted island, Mikhail all to herself. No, she had not a single complaint about that plan of action.
* * * * *