The Bride Who Wouldn't

by Carol Marinelli

  “Never,” Isaak shook his head. “Not for a moment. I can remember, one time in Russia, my uncle and mother were in the kitchen, and he was pleading with her to get away. I was a teenager and even then, I just thought he was speaking as an uncle. I wished my mother would take Ivor’s advice though I also knew she would never have left my father.”

  Isaak turned and looked at Kate. “The shame of an affair with her husband’s brother would have been hard enough to bear for her, but the thought of people, the church finding out… it would have been the same for my babushka.”

  “It’s sad.”

  “It is,” Isaak said, “but at least they did know love. That helps.”

  Kate nodded.

  “It would seem I come from a long line of adulteresses rather than abusers,” Isaak said, starting to take it all in. “Now I have more reasons than ever to find out who my babushka’s lover was—you might be married to someone and—”

  “I wish you luck,” Kate broke in.

  “Kate, stay…”

  She shook her head. “I can’t.”

  “Aren’t you going to ask where I’ve been?”

  “It’s no longer my business, I ended it last night.”

  “I’ve been walking and thinking—”

  “Isaak,” Kate interrupted, “I don’t need to know. I’m not doing this anymore.” She wasn’t scared of her feelings anymore, in fact she could admit them now. “Thank you for the flowers but I don’t want false romance, I don’t want a wonderful year, and I don’t want to fall further in love with you than I already am.”

  “Oh you will,” Isaak said assuredly. “You’re going to fall so deeply in love with me that you’ll look back and laugh that you ever considered it possible to leave.”

  Kate started to cry because that was exactly what she was terrified of, falling deeper and deeper into this man, and then she frowned as he reached in his pocket and pulled out a velvet pouch and tipped a ring into her hand.

  Kate stared at the emerald-cut diamond.

  One stone that was so magnificently set and so divine she assumed he’d found another piece of history for if it were for her, shouldn’t he be slipping it on her finger? Then she chided herself because a diamond of this magnificence could never, truly belong to her.

  But then he spoke. “I’m going to tell you this diamond’s history—it came from a Russian mine and for years, the best way to cut it was discussed. It was purchased by the jeweller whom I have been discussing my past with, and he told me that it took him another two years to decide on the best setting. It is his finest piece—he takes it to work each day and brings it to his home at night. He showed it to me the other day when I took the jewels in, and I have just met him on the steps of the basilica. That is its history, nothing sordid, no affairs, no secrets—every step of the way the people who have dealt with this stone have wanted the best for it, as I want to do my best for you.”

  Kate looked from the jewel in her palm to the dark sapphire of his eyes as he said what she so badly needed to hear. “I love you. I didn’t want to, and I never really expected to, but I think I have loved you from the start. I think I loved you the day I met you, even if I didn’t know it at the time. There is not another person on this earth I would even consider being bound to for a year, yet I had no hesitation with you. You make me happy,” Isaak said. “I was a miserable, cynical bastard, and I have been all my life, but I’m not now.”

  She thought of all the photos she had seen of him—always scowling, surly, and cross which was nothing like the man she knew, and although she was sure sex would not be an issue, she was suddenly scared to let him down, “What if I can’t…”

  “We’ll work it out, but I believe it would be impossible for you to give yourself to me, to trust in me, to believe in me, with a contract that states the date of our divorce.”

  “But what if I can’t?” Kate asked again.

  “This isn’t about sex,” Isaak said. “Our marriage is about love, and any problems we have, from now on we work on them together.”

  He didn’t need to prise her finger out from her palm this time when he slipped the ring on.

  “Anyway, maybe I’m nervous about it too.” Isaak’s smile told her he wasn’t in the least. “I’ve never had a virgin, so in a way it’s both our first time.”

  “That’s such a distortion of facts.” Kate started to giggle and then looked at a man who made her laugh, who made her cry—who made her a million things.

  “I’m not even on the pill…” She shared her guilty truth. “Last night was beyond foolish, what if—”

  “You’ll be The Pregnant Virgin.” Isaak just smiled and took her in his arms, and his kiss chased away all her fears. A deep, loving kiss where Kate didn’t need to hold back. Her hand moved to his head and her body pressed into his, loving the lean strength of him as his hands roamed her bottom and he pulled her in, but surprisingly it was Isaak that halted the kiss. “Don’t worry, we’ll get you pregnant by more traditional means, sometime soon, I am sure, but only when the time is right, and to show you this isn’t just about sex—” Isaak smiled and looked into her eyes and shamelessly lied because, no way was Kate leaving Paris a virgin, “—I really need to sleep.”

  He stripped off shamelessly as they chatted while Kate wished he would get back to kissing her, more than a little turned on and confused because Isaak was going on about her family when she’d rather be pushed onto the bed.

  “I’ll sort out your family,” Isaak said. “I’ll offer them my services to get them back into the black without a handout.”

  “Oh, I doubt even you could,” Kate said and then paused. “Actually, I don’t.”

  “Do you want to have another wedding service,” Isaak asked climbing into the bed but Kate shook her head.

  “No,” she admitted, for it had possibly been the same for her, she had loved him even then. She frowned as Isaak closed his eyes.

  Shouldn’t he be adoring her right now?

  “I’m going to have a bath.”

  “Enjoy.” Isaak yawned, “Ring down for someone…”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  He watched her flounce off and Isaak smiled.

  No way was she leaving Paris a virgin.

  *

  Kate lay there in the soft, warm water. It had never been the man on the other side of the door she was scared of on her wedding night, just her own reaction to him, the terror of being turned on.

  And she was now.

  She looked down at her swollen nipples and ran a hand over them and there was an absence of a bolt of lightning to chide her.

  God but she was turned on.

  Kate dried herself, put on her nightdress, and crept out into the dark bedroom and into bed where she lay beside him, trying to examine his face in the darkness, still trying to believe he was her husband, but in the real sense.

  And they were on their honeymoon.

  Which meant she could reach over and kiss him, even if he were asleep. Kate kissed him, exploring that beautiful mouth, rubbing her face on his stubbly jaw, closing her eyes in bliss as his hands started to roam her.

  “Sorry to wake you,” Kate whispered.

  “You can wake me anytime for a kiss,” Isaak said. “So long as you are not wearing this.” Isaak slid the nightdress off and then tore it down the middle and threw it out of the bed. “I hate that fucking thing,” he said and made her laugh as he got back to kissing her. “I need to shave.”

  “You do,” Kate smiled, “but not yet.”

  He kissed her, trying to restrain from tearing her face to shreds and so then he pulled back and kissed her eyelids gently and then her forehead and then his mouth moved to her ear.

  “I have a secret…” Isaak said.

  “You have many.”

  He started to rain her face with kisses, soft scratchy ones, he covered her eyes, her nose, her cheeks and then down to her ear which tickled as he breathed into it as he teased her again. “No, I really d
o have a secret…”

  Chapter 15

  “Tell me…”

  “There was no photographer,” Isaak whispered.

  His voice in her ear made her squirm in the nicest of ways and his words had her mouth open in surprise.

  “When we were in the park? I made it up.”

  “You didn’t!”

  “I did,” Isaak said and she gave his back a small slap.

  “You let me think we were being watched just so you…”

  “No,” Isaak said, “I wanted you to be turned on.”

  She lay there remembering that lovely sunny afternoon, the flutter in her stomach, the heat between her legs, and how badly she had wanted him to take her back to the hotel.

  “It worked,” Kate said.

  “I know,” Isaak replied. “You were soaked…”

  “I wasn’t.”

  His hand moved between her legs stroking her thigh as he kissed her, creeping ever higher up and then tracing his fingers around her labia slowly. “You were—like you are now,” he said as he slipped his fingers in.

  God, it felt nice, Kate thought as he stroked her from the inside, deeper and deeper, building her up to come. She could feel his cock drizzling on her thigh as his mouth claimed hers and she just gave into the lovely sensations, the deep, noisy kisses, that rhythmic probe of his fingers. Isaak felt the clamp of her thighs around his hand but she remained soft and warm inside and he moved faster, deeper, till her mouth tried to move from his just so that she could breathe, just so she could concentrate on the feel of his fingers and the pressure of his palm but his mouth would not leave her. Kate could feel her face all hot and the friction within her had her thighs start to tremble, and she tried to pull her hips back, but he held her from the inside and would not give her space and he would not relent. She came to his hand, and Isaak stroked her through the deep contractions with both his fingers as his mouth caressed her and till her flushed face fell to the pillow.

  Isaak felt her come abate and removed his fingers and took a breath and inhaled her scent and then moved over where Kate lay catching her breath, sated but slightly shocked as he pressed his fingers to her lips so she could both taste and smell herself. Then his mouth came over them, tasting her too, smelling her intimate scent, their tongues searching for each other from behind his fingers till she was frantic for his kiss, and when finally he removed them, wild, as his mouth claimed her, rolling her onto her back with Isaak over her, and he kissed her in a way she had never been and with a want she had never known.

  He was up on his elbows, which anchored her head and his mouth made no allowance for breathing as he kissed without restraint, the way he wanted to, the way he possibly shouldn’t, if he wanted to take things slowly, as had been his intent.

  His weight was deliciously consuming, and she craved more of it, his cock wedged between them, his balls smothering her sex that ached and lifted itself and silently pleaded as her hand slid between then and held him. Her legs parted, guiding him down, feeling the power and wanting it within. He moved her hand away and held onto her wrists, and there was no question if she was ready, her sex was pouting and slick and to Isaak it felt like it kissed his head as he nudged it in.

  He said something low in Russian, something sexy and, Kate was quite sure, dirty and bad because as their mouths met, he laughed. “Don’t ask.”

  “Okay…”

  He was a little way in and yet it felt huge, nudging and squeezing inside to a place where he was very welcome.

  “How do you describe your husband?” Isaak panted, trying hard not to come, his cock jerking as if someone had a foot on the hose, his balls already lifting as he tried to hold back while inching inside.

  “Hot,” Kate said because that was how she felt, hot and sore and stretched but delicious. “Amazing,” Kate offered her hips raising and starting to move with his.

  “And,” Isaak added, “very, very into you.”

  He was, Isaak was very into her, and he gave her that moment to adjust to the sensation, then almost out, and then deeper in. He meant to be gentle. He meant to go slow and did for a few tender thrusts. Then when he released her hands, they moved down his back and to his buttocks and dug her nails in and then the bite of her mouth on his chest. With Kate he could be who he was at the time and right now, hearing her moan, feeling her move, Isaak gave in.

  Kate felt the tension rip through him and she wanted more of it, the sensation of Isaak taking her beyond any point she could ever have imagined.

  It hurt. Love hurt, but it was a delectable pain as he stripped her of shame and took her as she deserved to be taken—unreservedly. Deep, rapid thrusts that had her legs wrap around him, that had her mouth say things it had never because the more he claimed her, the more she wanted him.

  Energy gathered, shooting down her spine and up her thighs, joining in her hot centre, pulsing, gripping, begging, and then the reward of Isaak, the final swell and then the groan of release as he shot into her.

  “My Katia…” he used the Russian version of her name though it meant pure in either language, and pure was their love, pure the passion, and pure their need for the other.

  They lay there breathless in a bed that was all tangled, her nightdress torn and dangling from a chair and on their last morning in Paris, finally it looked like a honeymooners’ room should.

  “You swore,” Isaak said.

  “I didn’t.”

  “Oh, baby, you did,” Isaak said.

  “A bad habit I picked up from you, perhaps.”

  “I’ve got so many more for you to pick up,” Isaak smiled and then cussed as the door knocked.

  “Who the hell ordered breakfast,” Isaak said.

  “You did.”

  “Ah that’s right.” He kissed her naked shoulder. “Just so I could have you creep into my bed in the morning.”

  He called for them to wait and he more suitably arranged the sheets and she remembered that very first morning and the care he had taken even them and how lucky was she to be the real Mrs Zaretsky.

  Chapter 16

  A silver bed tray was placed on her lap and the coffee smelt divine. As she reached for a croissant, she saw that beneath the plate there was another thick cream envelope, which she picked up. “I don’t need another spa day…” Kate started and then turned to his voice.

  “It’s addressed to me.” His voice was husky and Kate looked at the writing on the envelope and saw it was written in Russian. “That is my uncle’s handwriting,” He could hardly breathe let alone open a letter. “Open it.”

  Kate did and took out a letter, which Isaak asked her to read out loud.

  Isaak,

  I have kept my word to your mother and taken our secret to the grave but, with much thought, I choose to speak from it.

  I asked the staff here to give you this note near the end of your stay in Paris as I hoped that by then, with Kate’s help, you would have worked some things out about your past.

  “With Kate’s help?” Kate didn’t understand and turned to Isaak. “How did he know that I’d be helping you?”

  “He set us up,” Isaak said, a slow smile spreading on his lips, understanding now what Ivor had done. “That contract was written with you and me in mind.”

  “How could he have known we’d see it through?”

  “He was astute,” Isaak smiled. “I thought he had lost his mind when I found that contract, I honestly thought he was an aging fool, and yet he was so much ahead of me—that clause about leaving things to my discretion was no accident.”

  Kate read on.

  If you are not in Paris while reading this, that means, on my instruction, my lawyer has forwarded this letter to you on the anniversary of my death and this shall come as a shock. I am sorry for that.

  Kate took a deep breath before reading on. She was just so glad that Isaak wasn’t reading this alone one year from now, that they had already worked it out.

  You and Roman are my beloved sons.

/>   I need you to know that neither of you were ever considered a mistake—you were both deeply wanted and loved.

  Two mistakes were made though.

  One is that your mother would not leave your father. Once when he was in prison, I brought her to Paris to show her how good life could be in the hope that she would change her mind.

  She would not.

  The second mistake that was made—and it is the one I shall regret forever—is that I could not find a way to protect you both from his brutality. I returned to Russia as often as I could but your mother always said that it made his temper worse and pleaded with me to stay away.

  Kate swallowed the tears at the back of her throat; it was not her place to cry now, though she struggled for a moment to read on.

  Those were the toughest years of my life though I know it pales in comparison to what you boys had to go through.

  When you both joined me in England, life began again. Finally I had my sons with me—two strong, independent men who have made me endlessly proud. You have brought such joy to my life and I love you both with all of my heart.

  Isaak, I thought I would die knowing that Roman was happy with Ava but then came the terrible events. I trust you to look out for him and to tell him the truth about his past at a time you think right.

  My beautiful sons, you were never my possessions yet, at the end of a rich life, I know that you are both my proudest achievement and my greatest legacy. I wish you the most wonderful futures. Please know that you have always had my love and I leave you with but one suggestion—use yours wisely.

  With love always,

  Ivor/Papa x

  Isaak was very quiet for a long time after he read the letter, and then he read it again and then folded it and put it by the bed.

  He lay back on the pillows and thought for a while.

  “Come to Russia with me?” Isaak said, picking up her hand, kissing it and for a second she thought he meant to search his history. But then, with one word, Kate realised what Isaak meant. “Today.”