Chapter 49
“I’m not sure if the power will be on,” Emma said as she punched in the code written on the paper instructions from the envelope. The keypad beeped and the gates slid apart with a small hiss. Emma closed the passenger window and drove slowly up the driveway, the headlights bouncing yellow orbs onto the concrete ahead. The lights picked out the trees, making them look like forbidding sentries stood to attention.
“Where are we?” Nicky asked.
Emma pulled up next to the front door, trepidation blossoming in her heart at the darkened house and blank, faceless windows. Rohan watched her with the same expectation as his son and Emma took a deep breath. “This was Uncle Anton’s house,” she said, hearing the waver in her voice. “He’s given it to me.”
“Wow!” Nicky unclipped his seatbelt and stood in the foot well, tripping and falling over the crutches. “Can I see ‘im? I love Uncle Anton!”
Emma’s chin wobbled as she glanced sideways at Rohan. He put his hand over hers and turned in his seat to face his son. “Climb through, syn.” His strong arms caught the boy as Nicky clambered through the gap, turning him to sit sideways on his knee. Nicky looked down at the space where Rohan’s leg should be but tactfully said nothing and Emma felt a moment of pride in her son.
Rohan waited patiently for Nicky’s attention and then began. “Anton was my rodnoy brat, you understand?”
Nicky sniggered and shook his head. “That sounds naughty!” He put his hand up to his mouth to stifle the escaping giggles.
“Brother,” Emma whispered, overwhelmed by the moment and Rohan clasped her hand with gratitude.
“Da, brother,” he repeated. “Nikolai, I was sad when Anton Stepanovich got sick because he was full of life and love and I knew I would miss him. The last thing he said to me was that I must find your mother. And you.” Rohan ruffled Nicky’s hair with his left hand, keeping Emma’s fingers under his right.
Nicky thought for a moment. “So you’re a good boy then? You done as you was told?”
“Da, kind of.” Rohan nodded slowly. The child accepted his answer but his face crumpled with sadness.
“But I want to see ‘im now!” His voice hung between them in the darkness.
“He gave me this house,” Emma repeated, looking up at the hulk of brick with a feeling of exhaustion lacing her voice. She sighed. “Would you like to look inside?”
They exited from the vehicle into freezing cold darkness and Emma was gratified by the care Nicky gave his father. The small boy fetched the crutches one at a time and made sure Rohan was stable before slamming the car doors. After struggling with the lock, Emma ran her hand along the wall in search of a light switch while the boys waited patiently just inside the door. She found it miles away from where she expected and the click echoed in the empty hallway as light flooded the area from an ornate overhead chandelier.
“Wow!” Nicky squealed.
“Der’mo!” Rohan exclaimed and Emma glared at the expletive. Her husband eyed the staircase to the right of them, solid oak and angular as it doglegged twice before sailing to the upstairs level. The balustrade betrayed a gallery over the entrance hall. Rohan glanced down at his crutches and wrinkled his nose.
“Want to look around downstairs?” Emma asked, keeping her tone casual. Rohan nodded and Nicky bounced on the spot with valiantly restrained eagerness.
The little family wandered the many rooms and spaces of the downstairs. The front of the house faced the main road and the back, open fields and what looked like a forest in the distance. A small single storey spur ran off beyond the kitchen with a downstairs bathroom, boot room and empty storage spaces. The light ebbed away, making a trip outside inadvisable but Nicky skipped from room to room with increased excitement. He seemed to be searching for something, spending little time in each space when it failed to reveal the thing he sought. “Upstairs now?” he said, turning hopeful eyes on Emma as she clicked off the last light switch.
“Let’s look upstairs tomorrow,” she said softly.
Rohan hauled himself along the corridor behind Emma and she glanced back at him, fearing condemnation from his silence. It seemed she was damned no matter what she did. Concentration was etched into his face, growing more pronounced with each click of the rubber pads on the floorboards. “Ro? You wanna head home now?” Emma asked, raising a finger to tell Nicky to wait for her at the end of the hall. “He doesn’t get it. I need to actually explain Anton’s gone. He’s looking for him.”
“What, sorry?” he asked, looking up from his task.
“I said did you want to leave now?” Emma asked.
“What about upstairs?”
Emma experienced a flush of awkwardness and deliberately didn’t look at Rohan’s leg or crutches. “I thought you might be tired.”
Rohan’s eyes flashed with danger. “I’m not sick, Em. I’m still the same person I was last week. I just took my bloody leg off so life got a whole lot harder. That’s all. And I’m trying to work out why my brother lived a few miles away from me and never thought to mention it! He knew everything about me! Pity he never thought to return the favour.”
Emma exhaled in frustration, irritated at him but also herself. She recognised the presence of pity in her attitude towards Rohan’s disability and understood his resentment. “Sorry,” she replied defensively and turned to leave.
There was a crash as Rohan’s left crutch hit the floor and he reached out for her, his fingers hard on Emma’s shoulders. She thought at first he was falling, until he maneuvered her against the wall with surprising skill. A dado rail dug into Emma’s back as Rohan pressed her backwards. Then he bent and kissed her. His lips conveyed passion and hunger and demanded loyalty and healing.
Breathless, Emma pulled away, leaning her head against the wall, her breasts rising and falling against Rohan’s hard chest muscles. “Don’t leave me, Em.” Rohan’s whisper was filled with fear and pain and Emma screwed her face up in confusion.
“Leave you?” Emma heard the patter of Nicky’s shoes as he skipped round and round the huge entrance hall. She searched Rohan’s handsome face for an answer. “Why would I leave you now?”
Rohan’s fingers stroked her face as he studied her like an artist about to put brush to canvas. It was as though he read every contour and shadow of her skin so he could do it from memory. “Anton left you this. Why would you want to live with me back in Harborough now? Unless you plan to sell it and I don’t believe that was my brother’s intention.” He looked up at the high ceiling, his blue eyes sparkling in the light from the bulb. Emma wanted to reach up and touch the firm line of his jaw and kiss him until he understood how she felt. When Rohan’s glittering eyes settled on her again, he smiled sadly. “You don’t remember? All the times we hid from Mama and Anton would make up stories. He would say, ‘I buy a big house for us to hide in. And you, dorogaya Emma, you will be printsessa.’ This is it, Em. This is his gift to you and you’ll be queen here. You don’t need me.”
Emma squeezed her eyes shut against the remembered pain. Each beating from the cruel woman, each bout of sickness or diarrhoea, only served to drive the child Emma deeper into a world filled with Anton’s ridiculous fantasies. Teenage pregnancy and poverty ensured their illusion never resurfaced. To understand they lived on in Anton’s mind and he actively worked to see them happen, was a warped twist of fate, especially as he never survived to see their fruition. This house represented another brick in his fantasy world of endless kindness and joy. Emma felt the impossibility of owning another’s dream.
“Emma?” Rohan called her back to him with a stroke of his fingers on her cheek. His warm breath stirred her fringe. “What is it, dorogaya?”
“Rohan,” Emma swallowed hard. “Do you love me?”
His eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled, his dark lashes casting long shadows under his eyes. “Ya tebya lyublyu.” His voice came out low and husky. “You know I do. I tell you all the time.” His top lip lifted on one side and E
mma felt a flush of love which overwhelmed her chest and made her gasp.
“Then stay here with me,” she asked him. “Be my tsar?”
Rohan ran his thumb under Emma’s eye so gently, a sensuous flush embarrassed her and she looked away. He leaned in close so their foreheads touched and whispered, “Opredelenno, my tsarina. I feared you wouldn’t ask.”
Emma moaned as Rohan’s lips touched hers and she clasped her fingers around his neck, feeling the spiky hair at the back of his head against her palms. His breath came in quick gasps as their passion wound free and he slipped questing fingers inside Emma’s sweater, raising her tee shirt from her pants in excitement.
“Oh no!” Nicky’s wail of dismay sent them skittering apart, Rohan grabbing at the wall and balancing on one crutch. Emma’s heart sank as the words inappropriate and stupid ran through her mind waving switchblades.
“Er, Nicky, I...Rohan and I...we...” She gulped and collected herself, faced with her son’s disapproving eyes. “Nicky, I love Ro...Daddy. I always have and...”
“I know all that!” His small face screwed up and he began to gasp, tears leaking from his eyes and refueling from his clearly broken heart. He rubbed at his face with rough, angry hands, while Rohan leaned against the wall, his fingers white against the handle of the crutch and his eyes dark and unreadable. “But I wanted to be a wise man so bad!” Nicky wailed from the other end of the corridor. “My best friends, Other Mo and Kaylee are wise mens and I wanna be a wise man.” His voice hitched and Emma’s face turned from rebellious and guilty to mystified in the seconds of silence after Nicky stormed off to the other end of the darkened house.