“I think so,” the nanny replied. “Mrs. Blackstone wants him trained not to need a bottle before bed, but he suffers so. He’s been crying for over an hour, and I couldn’t deny him any longer.”
Alexander’s eyelashes were still wet and spiky, but he looked calm and happy in the dim light of the nursery. Natalia approached, loving the way he rotated his head to look up at her and the quick flash of a smile when he recognized her.
“Can I feed him?”
Miss Felicity carefully stood, and the transfer was managed with ease. Soon Natalia was settled in the rocking chair, admiring the way Alexander was able to hold his own bottle in place. She assured the nanny that she would properly burp the baby and lay him down once he’d had his fill.
Then the nanny left, and Natalia had the baby all to herself. These moments were so rare, and a calming, simple joy settled over her. It didn’t take long before Alexander started dropping off to sleep even before he had finished the bottle. She set it aside and draped him over her shoulder, gently rocking as she patted his back, waiting for a burp or two before laying him down.
She wanted this someday. She turned her head to breathe deeply of his soft baby scent. It was a dangerous game, but she closed her eyes and dared to pretend that he was hers.
Dimitri got lost twice trying to follow Natalia through the winding corridors. At first he feared she was storming out of the house over the way Poppy had been fussing over him, but then he found the nanny, who directed him to the nursery where Natalia was visiting with the baby.
The mansion had the finest of everything, including electric sconces made to look like candles adorning the hallways. No expense had been spared in the acres of fine carpets in the hallways or the sculptures gracing the wall niches every few yards.
When he finally found the nursery, he stood silently in theopen doorway, rendered breathless by the aching love on Natalia’s face as she stroked the baby slumbering over her shoulder.
“This is your brother?” he asked quietly.
Natalia beamed, gently shifting so he could admire the child. The tender pride on her face was laden with adoration, and he sank down onto his haunches to be on the same level as she and the baby. He set a hand on her knee.
“I feared you were leaving,” he whispered. “I couldn’t let you escape without saying good night. And to thank you for bringing me here.”
He loved looking at her with the baby even though it was exquisitely painful. He would never see a woman cradle his own child with the look of contentment on Natalia’s face. Her maternal pride looked like a da Vinci masterpiece. Her allure was like a Botticelli. Her fusty sense of humor was pure Natalia Blackstone. The compulsion to claim her as his own was growing stronger each day he was with her.
“Put the baby down,” he said softly.
She met his eyes in surprise. “Why?”
“Put the baby down.”
She didn’t say anything else; she simply rose and carried the boy to the crib. He held his breath as she lowered the sleeping child, settling a blanket over him with infinite care. Her motions were timeless. For millennia, mothers had performed such motions with breathtaking grace, and he felt privileged to witness it.
They tiptoed out of the room, and he held his hand over the doorknob to muffle the sound as he closed the door. He reached out to catch Natalia’s elbow when she turned to head down the hall. He wasn’t ready to let her go yet.
“Why did you leave the table so abruptly?” he asked quietly.
A hint of mutiny appeared in her expression. “I needed to see Alexander. And I was tired of watching you flirt with Poppy.”
It was as he suspected. “Were you jealous?” He braced an arm on the wall above her, enclosing her within the shelter of his body.
“Of Poppy? Don’t be ridiculous.”
Shewasjealous, and it pleased him. His vow not to pressure Natalia unless she decided to pursue a courtship with him was becoming increasingly difficult. She was everything he wanted in a woman. Smart. Principled. She was deeply passionate but masked it beneath a veneer of cool logic, and he adored that about her. Nevertheless, he’d come to New York on a mission, and he couldn’t forget it no matter how badly he wanted her. He needed more allies, and Poppy could help.
“Poppy knows people who may be able to open doors for me,” he said. “Senator Lansing sounds like the sort of man—”
“He’s not. And quit talking so loudly. The baby is sleeping.”
He lowered his voice and tried again. “Senator Lansing seems well positioned to communicate with the czar. We can use him—”
“Dimitri, please,” she quietly implored. She cupped his face between her palms, looking up at him in appeal. “We already have a plan. Don’t let Poppy sway you from it.”
The touch of her palms sent a thrill through him. Every nerve tingled, made worse by the longing he saw in her face as she locked gazes with him. He remained motionless as he fought to control his breathing.
“Dearest Natalia, I would prefer if you did not lay hands on me unless you wish for a far greater intimacy, because I am dangerously close to pressing you up against this wall and kissing you until we are both mindless.”
She sucked in a breath and jerked her hands from his face. “You wouldn’t.”
