“It’s a fact that Czar Nickolas stopped the train on the outskirts of Pskov after abdicating his throne. In the wee hours of the morning, he walked in the woods and, of all things, picked mushrooms. According to an account by one of his personal guards, a lone traveler, later connected to a certain monk with close associations to the czar’s family, was spotted near the place where the czar had gone walking. That traveler was Anton Klassen.”
She stepped back, releasing her grip on his shirt. He didn’t move away, struck by the disappointment coloring her face. “Klassen. Don’t you know that name?” he asked.
“No. I mean, it’s on the picture… but I don’t…”
He heard her frustration her voice. “Kat, Anton Klassen had a daughter. I couldn’t find records on his wife, and the last known Russian address for Anton was reported in 1918. We think the two might have immigrated to America. But the daughter stayed here, raised by a woman from their village.”
“So?” Kat shrugged, hands high. Her eyes filled. “I don’t know any Anton Klassen. Or his daughter.”
“Yes you do. Marina Klassen. Marina Antonova Klassen, who, according to the birth certificate of foreign birth filed in Schenectady, New York, 1941, was listed as the birth mother of a baby girl born in Pskov, Russia. The name of the child’s father is listed as Edward Neumann. They named the infant Nadezhda. Hope. Hope Neumann. Your mother.”
“So this Marina Antonova Klassen was my grandmother?”
“Yes.”
“But I thought her name was Magda.”
“Not according to the record of foreign marriage they have on file at the Department of Social Security. Edward Neumann to Marina Antonova Klassen. November 1938.”
To his utter shock, she threw her arms around him.
He hung on tight.
Oh no, what was she doing? Kat’s heart stopped with a thump as she realized she had just leaped into the arms of a Russian FSB agent and was hugging him like a long lost friend.
If the strength of his arms locked around her were any indication, he didn’t mind at all.
She released him slowly, aware suddenly of his smell—fresh soap, cologne, worked leather. “I’m sorry,” she whispered as she stepped away from him. Her knees felt like freshly cooked kasha. She took another step back and met his gaze.
What she saw turned her mouth dry. He stared back, unflinching, his eyes etched with longing. “Vadeem, Captain… I…”
“Don’t Kat. Don’t back away. Don’t say you’re sorry, just don’t… move.” He turned away, and ran a hand through his hair, then cupped the back of his neck, kneading a muscle. “I don’t know what is wrong with me, but I can’t seem to get out from under your spell. You came into my life like a Katoosha rocket, totally knocking me off my feet, and I can’t seem to find my footing. You’re playing serious havoc with my ability to walk a straight line here, and if you come a step closer I’m liable to kiss you.”
Kat blinked at him, shocked still. No, she wouldn’t move. She wouldn’t even breathe. Kiss her? She swallowed and noticed her pulse strummed in her ears. The image of his expression when he’d seen her in the lobby—surprise, and not a little relief—rushed back to her. No, not surprise. Happiness.
He had missed her.
And it had only been fifteen hours.
Worse, she’d missed him. Missed his protective hovering. Missed his gentleness, missed his smile and taut humor.
But she wasn’t ready to kiss him. She’d barely said good-bye to Matthew, although that relationship had died months, maybe even a year ago. Pleasantries, companionship, and mutual dinner dates were all that remained of their college romance. Matthew had been safe, even, at times, tender, but he didn’t make her heart beat…
Not like Vadeem.
What was she thinking? She couldn’t kiss him. Ever. Regardless of their cultural differences, which should be blaring like a siren in her head, Vadeem wasn’t a Christian. Danger. Back away, no, run, while her heart still had a hint of survival.
Vadeem turned back to face her, and his expression was one of reigned desire, hurting and wanting and fear rolled into sharp angles, a rugged shadow of whiskers, and blue eyes that seemed to swallow her whole.
He took her breath away. She stepped back, afraid that she might totter toward him. “How can you want to kiss me? You barely know—”
The expression on his face silenced her. “I know you, Kat. I might not know you as well as I’d like… but I know you.” He ran his hands through his hair, staring at her with eyes that brimmed with raw emotion. “I know that I’ve never seen a more beautiful woman in my entire life. I know that your hair begs me to touch it, that your eyes can look right into my soul, and I cringe, wondering what they see. I know that you’ve come halfway across the world to find a part of your self, and that you’ve got enough guts to dig until it happens, even if it gets you killed.”
“I’m not going to—”
“I know that you’re impossibly stubborn, and that it only makes me want to shake you, or… or maybe wrestle you until you listen to me.” He drew in a deep breath. “I know that you love chocolate, and that you aren’t afraid to be Russian, and oh, I can’t tell you how much that makes me like you. I know that you can poke fun at yourself and smile, and that you smell like sunshine and flowers and hope and that you are incredibly… breathtaking…” His voice dropped. “Especially wearing my jacket.”
She swallowed her heart back down into her throat.
“I know that we are different, and that you can’t possibly know anything about me. But Kat, I can’t dodge this feeling that you’ve stepped into my life for keeps.” He lowered his hands, deliberately crossing his arms over his chest. His expression turned sweet and vulnerable, kneading all the soft places in her heart. “At least, I hope so.”
“You do?”
He reached out and touched her arms. His gentle grip traveled right through his leather jacket and into her bones. “I know that I am probably scaring you with all this. But Kat…did you miss me?”
Had she missed his hovering, his bossiness? Had she missed his domineering protectiveness? Had she missed his tenderness, the smell of him close to her, the feel of his breath on her face, the way his eyes filled with her reflection? She gulped back her confusion.
“Vadeem, I don’t know how I feel, I…” She chewed her lower lip. His gaze fell to her action.
“And I know you chew your lip when you’re scared.” He let her go and backed away.
“Maybe we should go back to the hotel.”
Her eyes widened, and her heart leaped into her throat. “Vadeem, I’m a Christian—”
“Oh, no, Kat… I didn’t mean…” he groaned, cringed and turned away. “I wouldn’t even think of compromising your honor.”
Her heart tugged at his embarrassment, despite her own. “It’s okay, Vadeem, I understand.” She put a hand on his muscled arm and felt him jump.
He turned back, her blue-eyed gaze in hers. “No. I want you to believe me. I’m going to be hovering, as you so delicately put it, until we figure all this out, and I want you to know that you’re safe with me… in every way.” His eyes traveled over her face, looking at her nose, her eyes, stopping at her mouth. “In every way,” he repeated softly. Then he gazed into her eyes and stepped back. “I’m going to take good care of you. I promise.”
She felt warmth flood her heart, soothing, like hot cocoa on a cold night. If she didn’t know it before, the realization that FSB Agent Captain Vadeem Spasonov cared about her honor, as much as her safety, came crashing home with the fragile look on his face. “I believe you.”