The Gift-Wrapped Groom (8 page)

He knew it was Noel who kept him awake tonight. He could not get the image of her out of his mind, the feel of her out of his hands, the very real sense of her lying asleep in the next bedroom out of his consciousness.

He told himself it was because he was a man and she was a woman—a beautiful woman. He told himself that these feelings were to be expected.

Still, he had not expected them. For there had been beautiful women after his heart had died. Many beautiful women. And he had been able to ignore them all.

Why not this woman?

He looked over at the illuminated hands of the clock on the nightstand. Five colon two zero. Twenty minutes of the sixth hour. Only in English it would translate to twenty minutes after the fifth. He still thought in Russian. Probably, he always would. He wrapped his hands under his head and gazed up at the quarter moon captured within the frame of the skylight.

What a wonderful room this was where her parents had slept. Protected from the elements, yet still seemingly a part of the openness of the valley surrounding it. The warm, intimate simplicity of its decor gave off a glow of love. He could almost feel how big the hearts had been that came to this bed each night to lie in each other's arms. Maybe even as big as Russian hearts. He would have liked to have known these people.

But he would only know them through this house and through their daughter—the woman who was now his wife.

“Looks like our little Noel has latched onto a no-backing-down kind of man this time,”
Kurt Haag's voice said again in his head.

“Now, how does she manage to latch onto all the good-looking guys?”
Berna Vane's voice taunted.

It was no use. Nicholas could no longer even doze. He needed physical activity to tire his taut muscles, to drain his mind of those most unwelcome, welling thoughts.

He got out of bed slowly, quietly. Trying to keep that one squeaky mattress spring from disturbing her.

His bare feet padded noiselessly on the carpet, down the hall and through the living room. He opened the front door and stepped outside quickly, silently closing it behind him.

He inhaled deeply. Ah, the cold air in his lungs, against his skin; the snow wiggling through his toes. Yes, this biting, exhilarating cold was good. He would head toward the east where the sun would rise. He would race to greet it. He set off at a fast lope that increased with each stride as his muscles warmed in gratitude to the exercise.

* * *

N
OEL YAWNED
and stretched leisurely, but then got quite a start when she glanced over at the clock. She groaned.

“Oh, no. Six forty-five! Mistletoe, why didn't you wake me?”

Mistletoe jumped off the bed and wagged his tail, letting out a happy bark. Noel swung her legs over the bed, still half-asleep.

“Considering the time, I guess I'd better let you out for your morning constitutional before I hop into the shower. Come on, cutie.”

Noel shoved her feet into her slippers, snatched up her white terry-cloth robe and wrapped it around her as she headed for her bedroom door. When she opened it and stepped into the hall with Mistletoe on her heels, she paused to listen for sounds behind her guest's door. Nothing.

She eased past as quietly as she could and made her way to the front door. She let Mistletoe out and padded sleepily back to her room to begin her morning routine. Thirty minutes later, showered and dressed and nearly awake, she stepped into the hall. She paused once again outside Nicholas's room. Still no sounds.

Well, if even the shower water rattling through the noisy pipes hadn't awakened him, he must be tired, indeed. Which was certainly understandable, Noel thought as she yawned. He was from several time zones away. And it had been a late night. If she didn't have to go to work, she'd probably still be sleeping, too.

Winter. It could be so starkly beautiful, but the short dark days took their toll. An ancient memory as old as the earth always urged her to eat more, sleep more, slow down, hibernate. It was always during winter that she began drinking coffee again for the buzz with which to combat the energy being sapped by the cold, slow, sleepy season.

Thank heavens for Christmas. For its wake-up call of lights and sparkle. For the warmth of its joy and jubilation.

Noel made her way into the kitchen and quickly and efficiently went about her daily coffee-making routine.

Mistletoe barked. She walked over to the front door still yawning and opened it to let him in, bracing herself against the cold blast of freezing air.

But Mistletoe wasn't there. Strange. Noel's eyes darted around. Finally, she spied the little dog standing at the edge of her snowbound yard barking at something on the distant horizon, something silhouetted in the faint strands of early-morning light.

Noel strained to see what it was. The vision was a mere streak at first, flying across the snow-covered ridge. Noel blinked, certain she must be seeing things. Then blinked again. To no avail—Nicholas Baranov did not disappear.

Rather, with every stride, he grew larger and more real. He ran with the strength and ease of the wild things from the woods, his head thrown back, his black hair flying, his feet kicking up snow, his enormous chest and arms and legs pumping and gleaming with perspiration, his entire body absolutely, totally, magnificently...nude.

Noel's mouth fell open. And she stared. At all of him—from the incredible expanse of those thick shoulders, to the mat of black curls on his chest, to their V-line over a rock-hard stomach, right down to the forest of black hair and the steel-solid naked flesh of his thighs...and everything so well-endowed between them. In pure feminine appreciation and awe she stared at the imposing symphony of magnificent male muscle and flesh being played at full measure right before her eyes.

Wow.

It took her at least twenty seconds to latch onto even one coherent thought. Her jaw clamped shut with the impact of that thought.

Damn, he's coming right toward me!

Not even the icy morning air could cool her red-hot cheeks. She slammed the door. Ran into the kitchen. Splashed some freezing well water on her face. Then gripped the tile counter and kept her back resolutely turned toward the front door as she tried to hush the blood beating in her ears.

She heard the front door open and close. Every muscle in her body tensed. She didn't know what she expected, but when something nudged the back of her leg, she jumped at least a foot off the stone floor of her country kitchen and whipped around, her heart fluttering within her breast like a trapped wild bird.

But Nicholas was nowhere in sight. It was Mistletoe who had bumped her and who now cocked his head questioningly at her as his tail waved in eager sweeps for his breakfast.

The sounds of running water from Nicholas's shower reached her ears. Noel sank back against the kitchen counter, her spine a mass of jelly, her knees buckling beneath her. She rested her hand on her chest, still feeling the rapid beat against her rib cage. Well, one thing was certain. She wasn't going to need any coffee to wake her up this morning.

“Not even married twenty-four hours to this guy and I think he's already given me a heart attack. Can you believe it? Running naked in the snow. In ten-degree weather. He's mad, Mistletoe. Absolutely mad. Maybe you and I should head for the hills. Who knows what this crazy Russian will do next?”

* * *

“Y
OU WANT
to do what?”

Nicholas faced his grandfather-in-law across the older man's impressive desk. Winsome had looked surprised, suspicious and somewhat distressed to see his grandson-in-law so early on the morning after his wedding. His discomfort seemed to grow now that he had found out why Nicholas had come.

“I do not understand why my words evoke such a negative response.”

Winsome shook his head. “Nicholas, my boy, our West isn't quite so wild that you can ride a horse to an interview at the national engineering lab in Idaho.”

“You have arranged for my social security number. You have kindly set up the interview with their personnel office for me tomorrow. It is up to me to find transportation to get there.”

“Transportation is not a problem. I have a Cadillac, a Porsche and a new Chevrolet Suburban, all sitting out in the garage. Just say the word and any one of them is yours.”

“I cannot say that word. I must earn what I own. I am sorry I have not made this clear before.”

“Oh, you've made it clear. Too clear. Both you and Noel. Two more arbitrary, stubborn people I've never met.”

“I am sorry, Mr. Winsome, if you find this difficult to—”

“Very well, Nicholas. Then borrow one of the vehicles, if you insist. Which of the keys do you want?”

“No keys. I cannot borrow.”

Winsome waved his arms in frustration. “We're family now. Family members help one another out.”

“A man is no man who lives off his wife's relatives. I am sorry I did not make this clear—”

Winsome interrupted with a tone of pure, impatient exasperation. “...before. Yes, yes, I know. Okay, I'll rent you a vehicle.”

“I cannot afford to rent one of your vehicles.”

“For a thousand rubles a day?”

“That is less than four American dollars. Not a fair price to pay you. I cannot accept.”

Winsome slapped the arms of his leather chair. “Damn if you and Noel aren't a match for just plain cursed stubbornness. Look, Nicholas. You want that job in Idaho?”

“Yes.”

“Then trust me. You can't go riding in on horseback like the Lone Ranger.”

“I do not know this Lone Ranger, but I am used to being alone and riding long distances on horseback.”

“Nicholas, my boy, for the sake of the one or two last dark roots in this old man's head, please listen to me. This engineering facility in Idaho is an up-to-date lab in a modern building filled with professional people. You're going to have to wear a business suit.”

“I am aware of this. I have a proper business suit.”

“And you'll have to drive over modern freeways to get there and arrive in a proper vehicle. Horseback is most assuredly out. You're going to have to accept a vehicle. It's the only way.”

Nicholas straightened. “I cannot.”

Winsome's tone approached pleading. “Look, Nicholas, I owe Noel and you a wedding present. Take one of the cars. Or the van.”

“What you suggest is kind, Mr. Winsome. Most kind. But I cannot take such a present. A man cannot—”

“Oh, all right, I know. A man cannot live off his wife's relatives. So rent the blasted thing. I'll keep track of your usage and charge you the same as any car rental agency. When you get a job, you can pay me back. In the interim, I'll set up a credit account for you. Even make you pay interest. Happy?”

“You suggest to extend me credit? You will allow me to repay the money and interest to you?”

“If that's the only way I can get you to take one of the damn vehicles.”

Nicholas paused to give this suggestion serious thought.

“It's the great American way, Nicholas. Believe me, you'll be taking one of your biggest steps to becoming a citizen by plunging into debt.”

“You will keep a strict accounting?”

“I'll make you pay back every red ruble, pun intended. So, do we have a deal?”

Nicholas held out his hand. “Yes, this will be fair. We have this deal. Thank you, Mr. Winsome.”

Winsome rose, taking Nicholas's hand almost reluctantly. “Whatever happened to the children who were willing to be happy bums and live off their relatives?”

Nicholas smiled. He knew Winsome was not really disappointed. Rather, Winsome looked proud, just as he'd looked when he spoke of Noel's also refusing his money. Nicholas had been surprised, but not disappointed, to learn that Noel had done this.

His grandfather-in-law reached for his cup of coffee and took a thoughtful sip. “Your international driver's license should get you by, of course, but there are a few rules of the road—particularly the freeways—that you may want to bone up on first.”

“Bone up on?”

“Become familiar with. I'll get you a state driving guide from Missoula. In the meantime, I've another suggestion for how you can get to that interview.”

“Please explain this other suggestion.”

“Tomorrow, Pete, my ranch foreman, is flying to Idaho in the helicopter to look at a quarter horse filly for me. You could hitch a ride with him. He could drop you at the engineering lab on his way, and then he could pick you up on the way back, after your interview. It won't cost me a thing since he's going that way, anyway. And since it won't cost me anything, it shouldn't cost you anything. Right?”

This sounded reasonable. Nicholas nodded. “Yes. I would like to ‘hitch' this ride. But I will also need to rent a horse to get around the valley. The walk over here this morning took much time.”

Winsome almost dropped his coffee cup. “You walked? But it's fifteen miles. I just assumed Noel dropped you off in the truck.”

Nicholas smiled as he remembered his last glimpse of his wife that morning, standing at the door to her home, her face the color of her hair.

The return of suspicion to his grandfather-in-law's voice brought Nicholas's thoughts quickly back to the present.

“Nicholas, is everything...all right?”

“Noel overslept. She left for work late.”

Winsome cocked a pleased eyebrow at Nicholas as he leaned back in his chair, obviously misinterpreting the reason for Noel's oversleeping and being late for work.

Nicholas filled in the silence quickly. “I do not wish to depend on Noel and her truck. My marriage contract says I must live in her home. But I do not wish to be...”

Nicholas grappled for the right word, but could only find a French phrase that was very distasteful to say and which he did not think Winsome would understand.

Surprisingly, his grandfather-in-law came to his rescue. “It's okay, Nicholas. American men—particularly Montana men—aren't the type to let themselves be kept, either.”