Maxim reached for her, settling his fingers around the nape of her neck, a neck he could break so easily. She made perfect sense and yet didn't. His life was complicated. The way he felt about her was even more so. She confused him, offering him a future he'd never considered.
He was used to protecting the small part of him that still recognized humanity. He had always protected his brothers. His every instinct told him to protect this woman--from herself if necessary.
"You're beautiful." She was physically beautiful, but it was more than that. She was bright on the inside, shining at him through her blue eyes. "I want you for myself." The admission was difficult for him, but if she was willing to put herself out there, he refused to be a coward. "I want to make certain you're always safe. I don't necessarily think those two things are mutually agreeable."
His thumb caressed the soft, silky skin along her neck. She didn't pull away, but he saw the hurt of rejection in her eyes just before her lashes swept down.
"Don't, Airiana," he whispered, pulling her into his arms. "Don't feel like that. I'm not making excuses. My world is a reality."
She leaned into him, allowing him to enfold her in his arms. "Of course you're making excuses, Maxim. The sad thing is, you believe them. Love is risky. You can lose everything, there's no question about that. We barely know one another."
He closed his eyes and inhaled her. Images of her moving through the ship, the assault rifle steady in her hands, her bright hair tucked up in that silly strip of his shirt, went through his mind. She was risking everything telling him she wanted him, and he could give her . . . nothing. But he would never get her out of his mind or his heart.
"Don't feel sorry for me--I'm not going to wither and die because you choose to stay in this life. It's what you know, and obviously it's more comfortable for you. Who knows, you could be absolutely bored on the farm. It isn't like any of us lead wild lives."
He didn't reply, but stroked her thick platinum hair, allowing it to slide through his fingers. He wasn't feeling sorry for her, more like for himself. She seemed wild and free, a spirit soaring in the clouds not grounded on earth. Some man would come along . . .
His mind slammed that door shut fast and hard. The thought of her with another man made him feel--murderous. She snuggled into him, her head over his heart, her arm around his waist, holding him close to her.
There was no pouting. No protesting. No embarrassment. Airiana accepted that he felt he couldn't be with her, and that left him empty. Lonely. He'd never acknowledged either of those emotions before. He lived. He worked. His way of life just was. Suddenly, she'd changed everything, and now his life didn't seem much at all.
He listened to the sound of her breathing and knew the exact moment when she fell asleep. He had to think about the things she'd said. He had never feared dying, in some ways it would have been a relief. He knew only pain. Heartache. He went through life alone. He faced death alone. It was easier that way.
But she had brought the unexpected. With her asleep he could admit to himself that the need to protect her, the overwhelming emotion he felt each time he looked at her, had to be love. He wouldn't know or recognize the emotion right away. He didn't remember love.
He was afraid Airiana had found her way inside of him and wrapped herself tightly around his heart. He was terribly afraid that love had taken hold and there was no way to remove it. He felt different around her, even in the midst of danger.
He thought to protect himself from pain by separating himself from her, but the feeling inside of him was so deep and strong it wasn't going to go away. It was there to stay. No matter how far he ran from her, where he traveled or what he did, she would be there with him.
Airiana was unexpected. She had exposed his weakness to him. A slip of a woman, and she'd shown more courage than he had. He'd known only loneliness, and he was comfortable in that world. He never wanted to feel the pain of losing a family again, and she'd exposed that as well. She made him vulnerable and he hadn't been able to accept that.
That was what love was. Being vulnerable. Airiana had showed him the way, left him a clear, marked path, and he'd just left her exposed. All along he had asked for her trust when she had no reason to give it to him--and she had. There was no way to hide from himself any longer. She had asked him to trust her, and he'd refused. What kind of man was he? He wanted to be that man for her. The one who would climb impossible mountains and face a future with her no matter what it held.
He bent his head and put his mouth against her ear. He didn't say the words aloud. He couldn't. What he felt was too personal. Too strong. Show me the way out, honey. Show me how to love you.
Her breathing remained slow and even as it was meant to. There was a part of him that recognized he was angry with her for making him fall so hard, so fast. For offering him a way out, something he would think about endlessly. She had made certain he would feel every lonely moment without her for the rest of his life. Worse, she actually had made him question his motives.
10
THEODOTUS Solovyov was a big bear of a man with a bushy beard and piercing blue eyes behind glasses that sat low on his nose. He caught Airiana's face in his hands and kissed both cheeks before she could pull away. He didn't seem to notice her discomfort but turned to Maxim and pumped his hand enthusiastically.
"You did it. You brought my daughter to me. How can I ever thank you?"
How could I possibly be his daughter, Maxim? Look at him. Look at me.
Theodotus dwarfed Airiana. He made two of her easily.
Look at his eyes. Really look at them. You have your mother's build--and his mother's. But you have his eyes.
She didn't want it to be true. She felt nothing at all for Solovyov. If he had loved her mother so much, why didn't he leave his wife, who by all accounts was treacherous, and take care of Marina and his daughter? As Russian's top physicist, it stood to reason that even if his wife, Elena, had political clout, he would have even more. She didn't understand why Maxim and Gavriil didn't get that.
Theodotus reached for her again, and she stepped back, slipping behind the long, ornate table. The yacht was a luxury vessel and equipped with every modern convenience.
"Why did you bring me here? I was kidnapped and taken from my home and family," Airiana said. "If you're my father as you claim, and I'm not convinced you are, why didn't you simply write to me or pick up a phone and say you're coming to visit?"
She didn't look at Maxim. She didn't want to see if he approved or didn't approve. He'd said to trust him no matter what happened, and she would, but she would also rely on herself--her own judgment. She had questions, and the answers had to be satisfactory or she was going to be the most uncooperative daughter Solovyov had ever met.
Theodotus smiled and nearly rubbed his hands together. "You're definitely my daughter. No one has ever dared push me around, other than your mother. So young. So sad. She had no direction in spite of her brilliance."
Airiana's chin went up. "My mother was a wonderful, intelligent person."
"Yes, yes, of course she was. I loved her very much. Her mind was . . . extraordinary." Theodotus turned to the liquor cabinet and pulled out a bottle of Scotch. He looked at Maxim and raised his eyebrow.
Maxim shook his head.
"Oh, surely this one time, you can dispense with your no drinking rule. We're safe now and my daughter is home. Have a drink with me."
"No thank you, sir," Maxim said, his voice firm.
Theodotus sighed. "You really must learn to have fun." He held up the bottle of Scotch. It was nearly empty. The physicist shoved that bottle beneath the bar and pulled out another full one to pour himself a drink and waved his hand at the two of them to take a seat.
Airiana took the chair facing the couch, not wanting to sit too close to either man. If Theodotus had loved her mother, he certainly hadn't felt deeply for her. "When was the last time you spoke to my mother? Or wrote to her? I didn't find any letters from you in her things."
"Well, of course not. We had to be careful. She burned them."
"She burned the letters from the man she loved all these years and remained faithful to, but you didn't burn yours? Maxim informed me that you had letters from Marina. You had a wife who could find them. Why didn't you burn them?"
"I couldn't bear to let go of them. She had you. I had my letters." Theodotus took another drink of the Scotch. "Elena never came to my office or my laboratory. She preferred a far more luxurious environment. I have several photographs of you Marinochka sent as you were growing up."
"When did you last have contact with Marina?" Airiana persisted, emphasizing the name she knew her mother by.
Where is this going? I saw the letters and pictures. You were a teen, the last picture he showed me, although you looked very young. A mop of white hair and a long skirt and matching vest.
She'd been fourteen in that picture. She remembered the skirt. Marina had sewn it for her. She loved the fabric, and her mother had made the outfit for her birthday. She felt very elegant in it, and they'd gone out to dinner, a rare occurrence for them. It had been a wonderful night. They'd gone to the mall and had their pictures taken together in one of the machines. It had been a fun night she'd always remember. She still had the outfit her mother had made for her.
Airiana, what is it? Maxim asked.
She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them tightly, setting her chin on top. She felt safer drawn in as she was. She kept her eyes glued to Solovyov's face.