Ruthless Russian, Lost Innocence - Shaw Chantelle (читаем книги онлайн бесплатно полностью TXT) 📗

She glared at him, her pride still smarting. ‘You’re right-we won’t,’ she said sharply. ‘The staff flat has its own separate entrance, and the door between the flat and the main house will be locked at all times.’

She knew from the way his eyes narrowed that she had angered him, but his voice was level when he spoke. ‘What do you think I’m going to do-barge my way into your room and force myself on you? I have never taken a woman against her will in my life,’ he assured her coldly. ‘You have nothing to fear from me, Ella. But may I remind you that yesterday you made it clear that you hoped I would spend the night with you.’

Scarlet with embarrassment, Ella was forced to bite back her angry retort when Lily dashed back up the garden and threw herself onto her lap. ‘Mummy’s had a new baby,’ the little girl announced.

‘I know. His name’s Tom, isn’t it?’ Ella ruffled her goddaughter’s curls and thought briefly of her cousin Stephanie, who had given birth to her second child three days ago. ‘Is he tiny?’

Lily nodded and held up her doll. ‘I’ve got a new baby too. Her name’s Tracy.’ She paused, her attention drawn to the big, dark-haired man sitting opposite. ‘What’s your name?’

‘Vadim,’ he replied, his smile deepening when the little girl frowned.

‘You sound funny.’

Ella shot him a lightning glance, but to her surprise Vadim appeared quite at ease talking to a young child.

‘That’s because I come from another country,’ he explained, in the gravelly accent that brought Ella’s skin out in goose bumps. ‘I am from Russia.’

Lily’s eyes were as round as saucers as she regarded Vadim for several seconds before nodding her approval. ‘You can hold Tracy if you like.’

‘Thank you.’ Vadim stared down at the rag-doll Lily had placed on the table in front of him, and closed his eyes briefly as pain swept through him. It was incredible how after all this time the sight of a doll could open up the floodgate of memories. His mind flew back across the years and he saw another doll, another little girl.

‘You hold my dolly, Papa. Sacha’s scared on the swing.’ He could hear Klara’s sweet, childish voice, speaking in Russian, as clearly as if she had just uttered the words. ‘Promise you’ll take care of her, Papa?’

‘Of course I will, devochka moya. I’ll take care of both of you.’

But he had broken his promise, Vadim thought grimly, pain slicing his insides like a knife in his gut. He hadn’t taken care of his little daughter, nor her mother. He picked up Lily’s beautifully dressed doll, with its bright golden curls, and thought of the raggedy doll with brown wool hair that Irina had so painstakingly mended each time the stitching had broken and more stuffing had spilled out.

‘When the business does better I’ll buy Klara a new doll,’ he had told Irina as she’d squinted to thread her needle in their poorly lit apartment.

‘She likes this one.’ Irina had stared at him, her pretty face troubled. ‘And she’d rather see her papa more often than have a new doll.’

It was a pity he hadn’t listened. The guilt would be with him for ever.

‘Do you like Tracy?’ Lily’s voice wrenched him back to the present. ‘I got her for my birthday.’

‘She’s a beautiful doll,’ he assured her gravely. ‘How old were you on your birthday, Lily?’

‘Five.’

The knife sliced again, deeper; the pain no longer the dull ache that served as a constant reminder of the past but so agonisingly sharp that he inhaled swiftly. Klara had been just five years old. It was no time at all, he brooded dully. She should have had so much longer on this earth, but instead she had been buried by the tons of snow that had hurtled down the mountainside and all but wiped out Irina’s home village.

Ten years had passed since that fateful day when his wife and little daughter had been killed by an avalanche, and he had learned to contain his grief. But Lily, with her cheeky smile and halo of curls, was an agonising reminder of all he had lost. And the limp rag-doll, which travelled with him wherever he went in the world, was a poignant link with the only two people he had ever loved.

CHAPTER SIX

‘WELL, Vadim, I think we’d better give you some peace to settle into Kingfisher House,’ Rex Portman gasped, panting and pink-faced from chasing his granddaughter around the garden. ‘There’s not much else to show you, apart from the summerhouse down by the river. If there’s anything else you need to know, Ella will be able to help. She’s lived here for-what is it now, Ella-four years? She was responsible for most of the interior decoration too. I’m sure you’ll admit she’s done a classy job.’

‘The house is delightful,’ Vadim murmured, replacing his sunglasses on his nose so that his expression was unreadable. The demons that haunted him were too private and personal to be shared, and he had never spoken of his past to anyone.

‘Oh, I almost forgot. Photos of the new baby.’ Rex extracted a packet of photographs from his pocket and handed them to Ella. ‘Handsome little chap, isn’t he? Steph says he looks a lot like me.’

Ella stared at the round red face and bald head of her cousin’s newborn baby son, glanced at her uncle’s sweat-beaded pate, and conceded that there was a strong resemblance.

‘He’s very sweet,’ she said softly, surprised by the pang of maternal longing that gripped her.

Uncle Rex nodded. ‘I expect you’ll want to settle down and have a couple of kids of your own soon.’

She shook her head firmly. ‘I doubt I’ll ever have children. For one thing, I believe children should grow up with two parents who are committed to each other,’ she explained, when her uncle gave her an incredulous look, ‘and as I never want to get married I’m just going to have to enjoy being a godmother.’ She gave Lily a hug, and was rewarded when the little girl squeezed her so hard that her ribs felt in danger of cracking. It wasn’t that she did not like children, she mused. She adored Lily, and loved spending time with her, but music and her career put huge demands on her time and she had always thought it would be selfish to have a child when she spent five or six hours a day playing.

‘Well, there’s plenty of time for you to meet a chap and change your mind,’ Uncle Rex assured her cheerfully, patently believing she needed reassurance that she wouldn’t end up a childless spinster. But she wouldn’t change her mind, she thought fiercely. She accepted that not all marriages were the route to hell-Rex and her mother’s sister, Aunt Lorna, had been happily married for thirty years-but they were the exception rather than the norm. Many of her friends had divorced parents and split families, and she would never put herself or a child through all that misery.

But if she was certain she did not want to get married, what did she want? Ella brooded later that afternoon, asking herself the same question that Jenny had posed when Vadim had sent her the bouquet of red roses. Until now music had dominated her life and she hadn’t given men or relationships much thought. But all that had changed when she had met Vadim in Paris. Since then he had invaded her mind far too often, and when he kissed her and touched her… She bit her lip and tried to dismiss the erotic fantasy of their naked bodies intimately entwined.

Suddenly her life, which had been plodding along quite nicely, was in turmoil, and she no longer knew what she wanted. She could not remain at Kingfisher House when Vadim would be an unnervingly close neighbour, but she had no choice until she found another flat, she debated with herself. There was only one way to deal with the confused thoughts in her head, and that was to lose herself in music. Her violin was a faithful friend, and a sense of calm settled over her when she settled her chin on the chin-rest and drew her bow across the strings.