The Bride Who Wouldn't

by Carol Marinelli

“Of course.” He looked at the portrait, and the artist had done an amazing job. There were her freckles, the slight upturn of her nose and this was no Mona Lisa, for she was smiling widely, her lips parted, and when he moved his gaze from the image to the real one, and he felt a stirring. His cock had been rearing for most of the night, reminding its owner it had been neglected of late. God, his mind was in a thousand places, and yet it kept returning to one.

  They walked a little further, and as Kate stopped to look at an old faded theatre, he wanted to go back to the hotel, wanted her in a way he never had any other woman, but instead, they did all the touristy things and sat on the steps of the basilica eating a chocolate crepe. Kate turned and saw a slight look of bemusement on his features as he gazed at the magnificent view of Paris spread out beneath them.

  “Gorgeous, isn’t it,” she said.

  “It is, except…” He looked over at her. “I feel like I’ve seen this before.”

  “You could never get tired of it.” Kate misinterpreted his words.

  “I mean…” Isaak tried to better explain what he did not really understand himself. “I’ve never been here. I’ve been to Paris many times for business, but I don’t usually do the touristy things. I just fly in and out…” He stopped then, could not really explain the deja vu feeling he had had when he had seen the little child on the bus while Kate was getting her portrait done, nor the feeling that had hit him when he had first stepped into their suite.

  It made no sense, Isaak thought as he sat there.

  Even the antique silver crib he had seen in the elevator had unsettled him.

  “Ready to go back?” Kate’s voice broke into his thoughts, and Isaak nodded.

  It really had been the best day and back at the hotel, he poured them two large cognacs and heated them with his palm before handing her one.

  “Tired?” Isaak said as Kate yawned.

  “So tired,” she admitted.

  “You can stretch out on the sofa soon,” Isaak said pulling her in and tasting the cognac on her lips as her mouth moved into a smile.

  “I think…” She hesitated, not sure that if she said she wanted to sleep in the bed, he might take it to mean that sex was okay, because Kate truly didn’t know if she’d be able and was terrified of it all going wrong. “I think that I’m tired of sleeping on the sofa.”

  “Then join me in the bed, not for anything,” Isaak added as his cock almost wept in frustration at his choice of words. “I’m not going to be chasing you around the bed, I just want you to sleep in my arms.” The nod of her head against his chest had his teeth grit at the prospect of a very long night, but there were so many rewards for his patience, for instead of darting to the bathroom to get changed, Kate put her glass by the bed and started to undress.

  Isaak took himself to the bathroom and considered the shower option but decided against it and took ages trying to piss and will down his erection.

  The ringing of his phone was actually a relief.

  “What are you doing?” Roman asked, and they spoke in Russian.

  “You don’t want to know,” Isaak said.

  “Sorry to disturb you on your honeymoon.”

  “You were not disturbing anything.” Isaak’s smile was wry as he pulled on hipsters, headed out, and carried on chatting as he climbed into bed. “How are you doing?”

  “The nursing home called this evening,” Roman said.

  Isaak’s jaw gritted. He did not want blow-by-blow updates on his father’s health, but Roman continued. “His condition is worse and so I am flying there tomorrow.”

  “Okay.”

  “Is there anything you want me to say to him for you?”

  Isaak thought for a long moment. “No.”

  They chatted for a few more minutes and then Isaak turned off the phone, took a long sip of his drink, and then put his arm around Kate so that she lay on his chest.

  “My brother is flying to Russia to visit our father. He is not very well.”

  “Should you go?” Kate went to sit up but he held her down.

  “No,” Isaak said. “There is nothing I wish to say to him.”

  “You’re sure?” Kate asked him the same question he had asked Roman about leaving his house, and his answer to Kate was pretty much the same, too.

  “Very sure, there are no good memories.”

  Kate lay quiet as Isaak continued.

  “He was a violent brute who has turned into a sweet old man, who now sits crying because he knows he’s going to hell. I don’t want to see that.” He took another belt of his drink. “It is far too late for forgiveness.”

  Kate lay thinking for a moment. She could feel his tension and guessed it wasn’t her place to say anything, but then Isaak spoke freely about her issues, and so she took a deep breath.

  “It’s never too late for forgiveness.”

  “Ah, but you’re a much sweeter person than me,” Isaak said and then changed the subject. “Roman sends his regards.”

  “No he doesn’t,” she said. “What did he really say in the church when you introduced me?”

  Isaak smiled at her perception. “He asked if I had completely lost my mind, though not quite so politely.”

  “Are you two close?”

  “We’re brothers,” Isaak said by way of answer, and so she took it as a yes.

  “Can I ask what happened with Roman and Ava?” she asked. “All I know is that, despite what the papers said, there was no baby. Ivor was too upset to elaborate, and I didn’t want to push.”

  Isaak thought for a moment. It was rare that he shared family confidences, but he was glad that his uncle had been able to speak with Kate and so he explained things. “Roman is the same as me in that neither of us have any interest in ever settling down,” Isaak started, and Kate had to consciously not respond to the definiteness of his words though they actually hurt her, and she lay there silently as Isaak continued. “He and Ava had only been going out for a few weeks when he broke up with her. After he ended it, Ava came back and said she was pregnant. Roman married her and while he was away on business, she called and said she had lost the baby. He came straight back…” Isaak sighed at the painful memory. “Roman was devastated. He asked to see the ultrasound, not to check on her at that point, he just wanted to see something of the baby. She couldn’t find it apparently, and one question led to another. There never had been a baby. They had a terrible row, and Ava drove off in temper and was killed in a head-on…”

  “Oh no.”

  “Roman doesn’t want her parents to find out how badly she lied, and that there was a row just before she died. He blames himself for her death, and he is angry at her too.”

  They lay there in silence, Isaak half asleep when he spoke next. “I told him at the time he was mad to marry her. I wish he had listened to me.”

  Kate closed her eyes, not in sleep but at the sudden tears there.

  Roman had said the very same thing to Isaak.

  More and more she had to remind herself that the blissful haven of his arms was only hers for a year.

  Chapter 12

  Isaak stared out of the bus window as they were driven up the hill, and then his eyes fixed on a woman having her portrait done. People spoke words that he didn’t understand, but it was exciting. His legs ached, and he was hot and hungry, but he was hoisted onto male shoulders as they climbed steps, and he had never felt more happy or safe than he did now.

  “What do you see, Isaak?” a male voice asked and he looked out at the lights of a strange city yet he felt at home.

  The taste of sweet crepe was a rare treat, and he held it on his tongue and tried to resist the urge to just swallow the whole thing down.

  He could hear his mother laughing and happy, but in a moment, it all changed to tears. Sobbing, terrified tears that were starting to wake Roman. He wanted to get to his mother, to beg the bastard to stop, but he knew that would only enrage him further. The best he could do was to stop him coming in here for Roman’s te
ars angered him so. Isaak lifted his whimpering brother from the shallow wooden crib and held him, trying to quell his own panic and not scare his brother, telling him to hush that it would all be okay while not believing his own words.

  Kate opened her eyes as Isaak jolted and then lay there quietly as his galloping heart slowed down. She guessed he would not appreciate her knowing he was coming out of a nightmare.

  It did not surprise her—often in her work, people told her they had very vivid dreams as they started to unearth their past.

  It had been vivid. Isaak had actually felt as if he were back there for a moment.

  The feel of Kate in his arms brought comfort, and he buried his face in her hair as the vague scent of neroli chased away the stale alcohol smell of the family home, and Isaak slipped back into sleep as his body awoke to her.

  Kate watched. One hand was on her arm but the other moved down his stomach. Her throat was tight as he slid it into his hipsters and rearranged his cock.

  She lay there staring at the outline as Isaak stirred to get comfortable, his hand came to rest on her breast that had again slipped out of its lacy confines.

  Even asleep he seduced—his hands idly stroked her soft flesh. Soft flesh that now felt heavy to Kate and she watched as the head of his cock nudged its way out of the hipsters, inching its way up Isaak’s flat stomach.

  She lay watching, fascinated. Warmth spread in her sex as Isaak’s hand left her breast and his palm circled the head for a moment before giving his cock two long slow strokes through the fabric, then his hands slipped in.

  She heard him swear softly in Russian as he started to properly wake and his hand moved out and came to rest on his stomach.

  Kate wanted it to return.

  She could hear his tense breathing, and his hand on her hip pressed in a little as his mouth moved across her curls, and he inhaled them again and then with a soft sigh indulgence won and the hand on his stomach answered his body’s call.

  She was unbelievably turned on, almost as turned on as she had been when his mouth had been exploring her.

  He slid down his hipsters enough that it sprung up and Kate fought from licking her lips, and she fought, too, the urge to touch it, instead just watching the erotic beauty of Isaak caressing himself and she lay there silently gazing as he gave it two long slow pulls and then again ran his palm over the head, and still it grew. But then he halted, pulling his hipsters ups, but that could not cover it. She felt him try to untangle from her but Kate did not simply roll away.

  “I’ll be back,” Isaak said.

  “Stay.”

  “Kate…” He didn’t even try to explain where he had been heading off to, instead Isaak lay in a rather uncomfortable situation, hoping she wouldn’t notice, or just that it would go down. Yet he could feel her eyelashes on his chest and the trip of her breathing, and he realised that she, too, was turned on, and then she pulled her head back and he saw the glitter of her eyes.

  “Show me…”

  “Kate.”

  “Show me what you’d do if I wasn’t here.”

  “If you were not here then I would not be in this situation,” Isaak said, because it was the turn of her to his body and the scent of her that had him aching with arousal.

  “Please.”

  He had said she should not be ashamed of something so natural, and so it was time to walk the talk. In fact, for Isaak it was an incredible turn-on knowing she was watching and that she was near.

  She watched his hand move down and he stroked himself through his hipsters. “First up, I would not be wearing these.”

  He slid them down and in an impressive move, kicked them off and then he lifted her chin, and his mouth searched hers. “I’m so turned on,” he said, his mouth seeking hers, kissing her with a frantic edge, and as his hand left her face, she terminated the kiss, turning her head to see.

  Her leg moved over his thigh as he stroked himself, her lips parted and she could feel the hair on his chest tickling her lips. She wanted to kiss his chest yet she wanted to watch. Briefly, she tasted one flat nipple, and the sound of him moaning his approval as she sucked and licked had a pulse quivering between her legs, and so she sucked more. She liked the salty taste of him and the scent of him—the sensual sexy scent of him—and the sound of his hand and the feel of his tension building.

  His other hand moved from the curve of her hip, roaming her buttock as her own hand moved to his stomach, trailing the snake of hair.

  “Feel,” Isaak said halting, and she ran her fingers down his thick length and tried to imagine how she would ever get that inside, yet it felt alive—both hard and silk, and slowly she stroked it.

  He wanted to tell her to go harder, faster, yet he was locked in the bliss of her tentative hand on him and her slight startle as he started to drizzle pre-come.

  He turned and kissed her, and Kate felt his hand close over hers as his kiss deepened. How badly she wanted to see, yet she was locked in his kiss, a deep sexy kiss that felt as if he was swallowing her, his tongue taking her mind to between her legs as he turned to his side. Her leg moved over his thigh and she could feel him, stroking himself against her, and she pulled back a fraction.

  “I won’t,” Isaak breathed then returned to deep kisses. Kate was kissing him back but she wanted to correct him, for she knew that he could. She was open to the cock nudging at her entrance. She was trying to push down, to offer consent, to beg him to fill her, as Isaak resisted from doing just that, and then there was a low carnal moan from him that finished her and she arched in his arms, hot, sweating, alarmed by the intensity of her orgasm and the sudden still of Isaak. Even his tongue paused, and then he moaned again deep into her mouth, and she felt the jerk of him, the hot pulse of him showering her sex, and her receding come gathered and crashed back again as he stroked the last drops over her.

  “Isaak…” She didn’t know how to say how badly she’d wanted it, she just lay there, hot, sated, breathless as he massaged it in, and she lay there, eyes closed in pleasure as his fingers explored her, warm and wet from their intimate spilling, and she knew—Kate just knew—that soon they’d be lovers.

  It was what she wanted, Kate told herself as she lay in his arms.

  Yet why was she trying not to cry?

  Chapter 13

  Kate awoke with Isaak spooned into her and she opened her eyes to the knowledge that last night had been foolish beyond belief.

  How to tell Isaak that she wasn’t even on the pill?

  She had been so adamant, so sure that the marriage would never be consummated. Kate wasn’t naive enough not to know that last night had crossed too many lines and as his mouth started nudging her shoulder, as she felt him stir into life, Kate knew that soon this marriage would be consummated.

  And then what?

  “I’m going to have a shower,” Kate said and moved from his embrace.

  In the bathroom, she pulled off her nightdress and jumped into the shower, wondering if last night could have consequences, if she should find a pharmacie but then what? She could barely order coffee in French, how the hell was she going to get the morning-after pill.

  Perhaps she should tell Isaak, but she could just imagine the roll of his eyes, or his hiss of irritation at her neurosis.

  She remembered his condom jibe, about it being nice to have a year off them, and Kate was suddenly doing her best not to cry as she stood in the shower, because she couldn’t hand herself over to him for a year—it wasn’t just her body that she’d be loaning out to him, but her heart.

  “It’s our last full day here,” Isaak said as she came out in her bathrobe. “And our last night.”

  “I know,” Kate said. She couldn’t believe it had gone so quickly, four days and nights had seemed like forever at first, but now their honeymoon was almost over, and suddenly it seemed far too soon.

  “What would you like to do?” Isaak offered.

  “I’m easy.”

  “You are so far from easy,” Isaak te
ased pulling her down onto the bed.

  “What would you like to do?” Kate smiled.

  “The truth?” Isaak checked, and she nodded. “Top of my list is not doable yet,” he said kissing the top of her head, “but I have high hopes it soon will be. Second on my list, I want to find out more about my babushka’s lover. Tell me what you know.”

  “Your grandmother had a sister…”

  “She died years ago,” Isaak said.

  “Yes, but she had a niece and Ivor wanted to see if she knew anything, whether or not your great aunt might have known anything and passed it on to her.”

  “And did she?”

  “We tried to trace her but she’d moved a few times. In the end, we found her and Ivor called and asked if he could come and visit.”

  “And did you?”

  “No,” Kate said. “She said there was no need to visit, that she didn’t know anything. Her mother had never spoken about her sister taking a lover. She was very offended.”

  “Why tell me this,” Isaak said, and Kate smiled at his irritation. “Why tell me this if it goes nowhere? For a moment, I thought you had found something out. I don’t need to know what hasn’t worked.”

  “Yes you do,” Kate corrected, “or you’ll end up covering the same ground that I have.” She could feel his impatience. “Isaak, you might never find out. Ivor didn’t.”

  He hated that the most.

  “Imagine dying and not knowing who your father was. I am determined to find out.” He took her hand. “With you working on it full time…”

  “I shan’t be working on it full time,” Kate said. “We agreed that I could keep my job.”

  “But…”

  “But what?” Kate challenged, removing her hand from his. She simply couldn’t do it, could not immerse herself in the Zaretsky family history for a year. Examine their past, live with Isaak, sleep with Isaak, get more and more into Isaak, knowing that in the future, she’d be discharged with a golden handshake.

  “We’ll discuss it later,” Isaak said.

  “There’s nothing to discuss,” Kate said and Isaak, who was far too used to getting his own way, even if he had to pay for it, let out an irritated breath. “If you want a full time genealogist on the case, of course I’ll work with them, but Ivor and I agreed I would help him in my spare time. I’m not giving up my job.”