Married By Christmas: His Pregnant Christmas Bride / Carter Bravo's Christmas Bride. Christine Rimmer

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      Suddenly the indulgent gleam in his eyes dimmed, tension replacing it as he got out of bed.

      He was going to say goodbye now.

      She sat up, her heart suddenly thudding so hard she felt it rattling her whole body.

      He looked breathtaking yet haggard. Longing almost stopped her pounding heart as his heavy-lidded gaze raked her, filled with disturbed and disturbing emotions. And she realized.

      He didn’t know how to say goodbye.

      But neither did she. She couldn’t say it. She needed him. In whatever way she could have him.

      Not knowing how to tell him that, she rose on stiff legs, tried to postpone the inevitable. “You shouldn’t have let me sleep all this time. And it doesn’t seem you’ve had any sleep.”

      His jaw clenched. “Anastasia, we need to talk.”

      She groped for lightness, even though she was going to pieces. “That sounds ominous.”

      He clenched his fists, unclenched them. Then he squared his shoulders and stood straighter, as if he was readying himself for a frontal assault. “I tried, Anastasia. Tried to leave you alone, so you can restart your life. But you can’t start again. Not yet. And I—I can’t leave you.”

      Her heart did stop this time. Then it stumbled into a gallop of brutal anticipation. Did he mean...?

      His next words ended all speculation. “Tell your family you need time to heal, which you do, and come with me.” Before elation took hold, he added, “Let me do all I can to heal you.”

      The plummet from the heights of hope left her unable to breathe for long moments.

      When she could finally draw breath, her voice was a rasp. “Is that what this is about? You feel responsible? Sorry for me? Guilty?”

      He took an urgent step toward her, his eyes like emerald fire. “I sure as hell feel responsible. For your well-being. And I’m so sorry for what happened, I can barely breathe. And I feel so guilty it erodes my sanity. Guilty that I wasn’t good enough or fast enough to prevent it. I want you to come with me so I can take care of you to my obsessive heart’s content. But if you’re asking if that’s all, then no. I would want you with me without any of that. I’ve never stopped wanting you. I don’t think I ever can.”

      Anastasia gaped up at him, this man she now needed more than life itself. Though he couldn’t want her nearly as much, she believed he did want her, as much as he was capable of.

      And he was right. She couldn’t restart her life yet, couldn’t resume her research without Alex, couldn’t go back to the same place of work. He’d also been right to try to shield her from the world. It hurt even more being among her family now. And if there was anything she’d ever wanted, the one thing she’d been deprived of, it was being with Ivan.

      His eyes seemed to seethe with anxiousness as he waited for her response. But before she gave it to him, she asked, “How long?”

      “As long as it takes. As long as you want. Say yes.”

      Was there really any other answer?

      “Yes.”

      His sharp inhalation said her acceptance took him by surprise. He’d actually expected her to refuse, or at least not to succumb right away.

      “Don’t you want to know where I’ll take you?”

      “It doesn’t matter if I’m with you. If you want me...”

      He gathered her to him, and she felt a tremor in those hands that were powerful enough to crush monsters. “I don’t even have words for how much I do.”

      She fitted into his burning body, felt hers ignite. “Then I’ll be with you, for as long as you do.”

       Five

      A frisson of unease slithered down Anastasia’s spine.

      With a last look at her phone after she ended her latest call with her parents, who called almost every day, she exhaled.

      It had been ten weeks to the day since she’d come with Ivan to Russia. And the ten-week mark didn’t have a fond correlation in her mind. Not when it came to Ivan. It had been exactly ten weeks into their first relationship that he’d suddenly ended things. Just days before Alex and Cathy’s wedding.

      Not that she thought he was about to end it now. This time Ivan seemed bent on being with her, being there for her, for as long as she needed him. His constant dedication to her well-being seemed to be unlimited and unending. She had to continuously try to dial down his indulgence, pull him back from extravagant gestures. To generally convince him she no longer needed any special care.

      And though he now let her do things for herself, and for both of them—cooking dinner had become her enthusiastic responsibility almost nightly—she kept learning what it meant to be with one of Russia’s, and the world’s, premier oligarchs.

      Sure, she’d known he was a billionaire, had seen evidence of his wealth and power in so many ways, but the more she saw, the more it shocked her all over again.

      Entering his mansion had been like stumbling into a level of existence she’d only dreamed of. She made—or had made—what she’d considered a very good living being a top researcher for an elite private conglomerate, had lived her life in her parents’ million-dollar house, but this... This was just mind-boggling. His wealth had multiplied a hundredfold since she’d been with him in the past. And it made her...uncomfortable, feeling this unbridgeable gap between them.

      This place alone cost forty million. When she’d said she’d never thought he would go for such extravagance, he’d confirmed that. He’d bought this baronial castle with its own lake, sweeping grounds replete with pine trees and a staggering forty thousand square feet of living space only after she’d agreed to come to Russia with him. So she’d have all the space and facilities to be entertained without leaving home.

      He’d dropped forty million just so she didn’t have to go out!

      But she’d realized he’d been right. For weeks she’d been unable to contemplate being out in public, to see even strangers on the streets. The idea of meeting any of his acquaintances and interacting with them made her break out in cold sweat.

      She had, however, insisted he go out alone. He’d refused. He’d locked himself up with her, so that he even worked across from her in the same room, or in the room he’d made into the nerve center of his cyber tech empire, running one of the major tentacles of Black Castle Enterprises right next to her favorite living room. Apart from the fleeting presence of Fyodor and his team of guards and hired help, Ivan had had no one for company but her.

      He assured her he was a loner, with the only company he’d ever had in his life Dr. Balducci and his other partners. Even them he saw only sporadically since they were all so busy with their businesses and now with their families. And he insisted he didn’t want anyone else’s company but hers anyway.

      But even if none of his assurances were to make her feel better, he couldn’t enjoy being cooped up in the same place for that long, not even if it was acres wide. But her efforts to get him to go out met with dismal failure. He wouldn’t budge from her side.

      But for the past couple of weeks, she’d been feeling much better, regaining the desire to actually walk the streets and see people, and yesterday she had actually done it. He’d taken her on a tour of Moscow. She’d been predictable and chosen to start with the famous attractions.

      The whole morning yesterday had been spent visiting the Krasnaya Ploshchad, or Red Square, followed by the nearby and stunningly beautiful St. Basil’s Cathedral, which exemplified Russian architecture. The two landmarks, now starting to get covered in snow, seemed to embody everything she’d ever imagined as Russian. The land she was born