Prince of Dreams (Stokehurst #2)(84)

To begin with, Nikolas had cut back his business dealings, and devoted a part of each day to Jake. The boy seemed to blossom under his attention. Nikolas took his son with him everywhere…on walks through London, on carriage rides in the park, on visits to the sawmill, the carriage-house, and any other place Jake found interesting. Jake no longer took his meals alone but ate with Nikolas and Emma in the formal dining room, and when Nikolas worked at his desk in the library, Jake sat nearby with a pile of toys. Most astonishing of all, Nikolas's drinking had stopped, except for an occasional glass of wine at night.

Emma was invited to join them on every excursion, but she refused most of the invitations. She was bewildered by what was happening, and she was doing her best to cope with the way Nikolas had turned their life at the Angelovsky estate upside down. He bought a shiny black pony for Jake—named Ruslan, after his favorite fairy-tale hero—and also a little lacquered carriage to pull behind it. He filled the nursery with toys and furniture, and played cards or board games with his son in the parlor each night.

Emma was disgruntled at how quickly Jacob had taken to Nikolas. Children gave their trust with such frightening ease, and Jacob was clearly beginning to adore his father. There was a bond between them, albeit fragile, that came from an intrinsic likeness. Both of them were independent, perceptive, mistrustful of the world; both of them seemed to crave security. And they apparently found it in each other.

Lately Nikolas had begun to interview a parade of nannies and tutors, consulting Jake in a way that offended or amused almost everyone. Adults were never supposed to ask a child's opinion about anything, especially significant matters, but Nikolas didn't seem to know or care about that. Jake reveled in his new life, laughing, yelling, becoming more unruly with each day that passed, but he was so endearing that no one was inclined to complain about it. Finally Emma decided to suggest that Jake needed some discipline.

Privately she approached Nikolas, after Jake had been put to bed at ten o'clock in the evening. “I just want to point out that children need some regulation in their lives,” she said, hovering in the doorway of her husband's bedroom. “It would be better for Jake if he had a consistent bedtime. Last night he went to bed at nine, and tonight, ten. And not only that, you let him eat three helpings of cake at tea this afternoon, and he had no appetite at supper—”

“He's had enough limits in his life. For a while he's going to enjoy himself.”

“You're thinking only of your own guilty conscience, and not of Jake's welfare,” she snapped. “That's a disservice to everyone involved. You must stop indulging him like this!”

“But then I'll have no one left to spoil,” he said softly, his eyes suddenly touched with small twin flames that disconcerted her terribly. “Unless you're volunteering for the position.”

“Don't be ridiculous.”

Nikolas smiled slightly at her confusion, and gestured toward the pair of velvet-upholstered chairs next to the glowing fireplace. “Come in, ruyshka. We'll talk and have a drink—”

“No,” she said, trying to look anywhere but at her husband. He wore a velvet robe of rich mink brown, and his sun-streaked hair was in disarray. Rotten husband or no, he was still one of the most attractive men she had ever seen in her life. “I'm tired. I'm going to bed.”

He moved even closer to her, and picked up a long red curl that lay over her shoulder. “Don't worry about Jake,” he murmured, toying with the lock of her hair. “He'll be fine.”

Emma wet her lips nervously. It felt as though her hair were a living rope, a conductor of sensation. She imagined his hands on her skin, the caress of his fingertips, and her heart beat madly. “I can't help but worry,” she said. “It's been very confusing, watching you spend so much time with Jake when you couldn't stand the sight of him before.”

“Yes, I know.” He wound the red coil around his fingers and held it tightly. “When I first saw Jake, all I could see was how much he looked like Misha. It hurt to look at him and remember my dead brother.” His gaze became shadowed, the thick gold lashes concealing his emotions. “Do you remember when I told you how my father abused us? The worst of it was done to Misha, perhaps because he was more helpless than me. I would try and console my brother when I found him crying and bleeding after my father's attacks. You can't imagine the rage and guilt I felt, seeing such a vulnerable creature being hurt—” He stopped and smiled crookedly. “Well, perhaps you can. Anyway, I could do nothing for Misha. I was too young to protect him. But I can take care of my son, and give him everything he needs to be happy. It's like having a second chance.”

Emma didn't move, imprisoned by the silence between them, the yearning that hung heavy and warm in the air. Nikolas had always known how to make her respond to him. She hated him for this charade, and at the same time she desperately wanted it to be true. He was pretending to be the kind of man she could have fallen in love with, the kind of man she had once dreamed of. And he was so damn good at his performance that every now and then she caught herself believing him for a few moments. Her heart ached from the strain of wanting to love a man who wasn't worthy of it, who would scorn and betray her when it suited him.

“Why are you doing this to me?” she asked in a pained whisper, betraying tears coming to her eyes.