The Stanislaskis: Taming Natasha. Нора Робертс
“No, I’m fine, really. Just a little tired.” Relieved that the room had steadied, she smiled at him. “Blame it on Rachel. She would have talked through the night if I hadn’t fallen asleep on her in self-defense.”
“Have you eaten anything?”
“I thought you were a doctor of music.” She smiled again and patted his cheek. “Don’t worry, the minute I go into the kitchen, Mama will start feeding me.”
Just then the front door opened. Spence watched Natasha’s face light up. “Mikhail!” With a laugh, she threw herself into the arms of her brother.
He had the dark, blinding good looks that ran in the family. The tallest of the brood, he had to bend to gather Natasha close. His hair curled over his ears and collar. His coat was worn, his boots were scarred. His hands, as they stroked Natasha’s hair, were wide-palmed and beautiful.
It took Spence only seconds to see that while Natasha loved all of her family deeply, there was a separate and special bond here.
“I’ve missed you.” She drew back just far enough to kiss his cheeks, then hugged him close again. “I’ve really missed you.”
“Then why don’t you come more often?” He pushed her away, wanting a good long look. He didn’t care for the pallor in her cheeks, but since her hands were still cold, he realized she’d been out. And he knew where she’d spent that morning. He murmured something in Ukrainian, but she only shook her head and squeezed his hands tight. With a shrug very like her own, he put the subject aside.
“Mikhail, I want you to meet Spence.”
As he took off his coat, Mikhail turned to study Spence. Unlike Alex’s friendly acceptance or Rachel’s subtle measuring, this was an intense and prolonged stare that left Spence in no doubt that if Mikhail didn’t approve, he wouldn’t hesitate to say so.
“I know your work,” he said at length. “It’s excellent.”
“Thank you.” Spence met look for look. “I can say the same about yours.” When Mikhail lifted one dark brow, Spence continued. “I’ve seen the figures you carved for Natasha.”
“Ah.” A glimmer of a smile curved Mikhail’s mouth. “My sister always was fond of fairy tales.” There was a squeal from upstairs, followed by rumbling laughter.
“That’s Freddie,” Natasha explained. “Spence’s daughter. She’s making Papa’s day.”
Mikhail slipped a thumb through one belt loop. “You are a widower.”
“That’s right.”
“And now you teach at college.”
“Yes.”
“Mikhail,” Natasha interrupted. “Don’t play big brother. I’m older than you.”
“But I’m bigger.” Then with a quick, flashing grin, he tossed an arm around her shoulder. “So what’s to eat?”
Too much, Spence decided as the family gathered around the table late that afternoon. The huge turkey in the center of the hand-crocheted tablecloth was only the beginning. Faithful to her adopted country’s holiday, Nadia had prepared a meal that was an American tradition from the chestnut dressing to the pumpkin pies.
Wide-eyed, Freddie gawked, staring at platter after platter. The room was full of noise as everyone talked over and around everyone else. The china was mismatched. Old Sasha lay sprawled under the table near her feet, hoping for a few unobtrusive handouts. She was sitting on a wobbly chair and the New York Yellow Pages. As far as she was concerned, it was the best day of her life.
Alex and Rachel began to argue over some childhood infraction. Mikhail joined in to tell them they were both wrong. When her opinion was sought, Natasha just laughed and shook her head, then turned to Spence and murmured something into his ear that made him chuckle.
Nadia, her cheeks rosy with the pleasure of having her family together, slipped a hand into Yuri’s as he lifted his glass.
“Enough,” he said, and effectively silenced the table. “You can argue later about who let white mice loose in science lab. Now we toast. We are thankful for this food that Nadia and my girls have fixed for us. And more thankful for the friends and family who are here together to enjoy it. We give thanks, as we did on our first Thanksgiving in our country, that we are free.”
“To freedom,” Mikhail said as he lifted his glass.
“To freedom,” Yuri agreed. His eyes misted and he looked around the table. “And to family.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
That evening, with Freddie dozing in his lap, Spence listened to Yuri tell stories of the old country. While the meal had been a noisy competition for conversation, this hour was one of quiet and content. Across the room Rachel and Alex played a trivia game. They argued often, but without heat.
In the corner, Natasha and Mikhail sat close, dark heads together. Spence could hear their murmurs and noted that one often reached to touch the other’s hand, to touch a cheek. Nadia sat smiling, interrupting Yuri occasionally to correct or comment as she worked another pillow cover.
“Woman.” Yuri pointed at his wife with the stem of his after-dinner pipe. “I remember like yesterday.”
“You remember as you like to remember.”
“Tak.” He stuck the pipe back into his mouth. “And what I remember makes better story.”
When Freddie stirred, Spence shifted her. “I’d better put her to bed.”
“I will do it.” Nadia set her needlework aside and rose. “I would like to.” Making soothing noises, she lifted Freddie. Sleepy and agreeable, Freddie snuggled into her neck.
“Will you rock me?”
“Yes.” Touched, Nadia kissed her hair as she started toward the steps. “I will rock you in the chair where I rocked all my babies.”
“And sing?”
“I will sing you a song my mother sang to me. You would like that?”
Freddie gave a yawn and a drowsy nod.
“You have a beautiful daughter.” Like Spence, Yuri watched them turn up the steps. “You must bring her back often.”
“I think I’ll have a hard time keeping her away.”
“She is always welcome, as you are.” Yuri took a puff on his pipe. “Even if you don’t marry my daughter.”
That statement brought on ten seconds of humming silence until Alex and Rachel bent back over their game, smothering grins. Spence didn’t bother to smother his own as Natasha rose.
“There isn’t enough milk for the morning,” she decided on the spot. “Spence, why don’t you walk with me to get some?”
“Sure.”
A few moments later they stepped outside, wrapped in coats and scarves. The air had a bite that Natasha welcomed. Overhead the sky was clear as black glass and icy with stars.
“He didn’t mean to embarrass you,” Spence began.
“Yes, he did.”
Spence didn’t bother to hold back the chuckle, and draped an arm over her shoulders. “I suppose he did. I like your family.”
“So do I. Most of the time.”
“You’re lucky to have them. Watching Freddie here has made me realize how important family is. I don’t suppose I’ve really tried to get closer to Nina or my parents.”
“They’re still family. Perhaps we’re as close as we are, because when we came here we only had each other.”
“It’s