Too Proud to be Bought Read online

  ‘Zara!’

  Ignoring him, she tore into the park and then began to run up the hill, past the iconic lamp-posts. It had always been a favourite place of hers for picnics—a long ride on the Northern Line ending in a cute little hill which made you feel you were flying.

  But not today. Today her feet felt leaden and she prayed that Nikolai might have taken the hint and gone back to his party. Leave me in peace to nurse my wounds, she prayed silently. Don’t make it any worse than it already is. Don’t let me keep reliving the moment when I confessed my love for you in a room full of people and you stared at me as if I had just offered you a goblet of pure poison.

  ‘Zara!’

  The voice was closer now. Almost upon her, in fact. And then she could feel his hand on her arm and it was holding her and not letting her go. In fact, he was turning her round as if it were a practised dance move and his face was tense, his eyes dark with some unknown emotion. Furiously, she began to pummel her fists against his chest.

  ‘Let me go!’

  ‘No!’

  ‘Let me go or I’ll scream my head off!’

  ‘I’ll let you go when you’ve heard me out, Zara. Please.’

  It was a word he used so rarely that for a moment she hesitated. ‘Why are you here? To laugh at me?’

  ‘Zara. Zara. My sweet Zara—’

  ‘No!’ she interrupted furiously. ‘I don’t want to hear your lying words!’

  ‘But I’ve never lied to you, Zara. You know that.’

  A sob erupted from the back of her throat as he pulled her closer. ‘Just leave me be, Nikolai,’ she whispered brokenly. ‘Don’t make it worse than it already is.’

  ‘I’m going to make it better.’

  ‘You can’t. You can’t make it better.’

  He took hold of both her shoulders then—so that she couldn’t look anywhere except at his face. ‘Not even if I tell you that I love you?’ he demanded quietly. ‘Or that I’ve been a fool? That I was dumbfounded when you walked into that room—your beautiful face alight with love and excitement? And that I didn’t realise how much courage it must have taken for you to come right out and tell me how you felt.’

  ‘Nikolai—’

  ‘No.’ Shaking his head, he moved his face a little closer, so that their eyes were on a collision course—hers tear-filled and wary and the brightest green he could ever remember seeing. ‘Hear me out. Let me say what I should have said back there. That I didn’t realise the value of what I had until I almost lost it.’ Might still lose it, he realised bitterly as he saw the tremble of her lips. Because mightn’t Zara—his sweet and sexy Zara—have decided that she could no longer tolerate a man who was made of such emotional ice? Could he honestly blame her if that was the way she felt and found herself unable to forgive him—especially as he had failed so spectacularly to even acknowledge her outpouring of love?

  ‘It was a shock,’ he said simply, in as honest an admission of his true feelings as he had ever given. ‘To have you declare your love in front of all those people. After a lifetime of keeping my private life private and of hiding the way I felt, it was—as you once said to me—a bit of a bombshell. But my reaction was something which was bone-deep—the lessons I learned in childhood don’t just suddenly disappear—even if you want them to. Early on, I discovered pretty quickly that it was necessary to block out high emotion. Not to react when a longed-for letter failed to appear. Nor to show fear when you were left alone for days without a word.’

  ‘Nikolai—’

  ‘No,’ he said again. ‘I have to tell you this. After you’d gone, people began to cluster round me—with looks of sympathy on their faces, as if something terrible had just happened. And that’s when I realised that something terrible would happen, if I didn’t find you and admit what’s been building in my heart and in my mind for so long. Only I had to come close to losing it before I could find the courage to express it.’

  He sucked in a deep breath, wanting to do his love justice. To honour the woman who stood before him, after all she had done for him. All she had given him.

  Yet when he fished around his extensive vocabulary he found that the most simple words were the most profound. Maybe that was why they could be the most difficult of all to say.

  ‘I love you,’ he said and then sucked in an unsteady breath. ‘I was lost and lonely as a little boy and I never really learnt how to love because nobody had ever shown me how. And no one did…until I met you.’

  She stared at him and she knew that everything he said was true. He had never lied to her and neither would he squander words he had once thought himself incapable of saying. Mutely, she swallowed down the great lump in her throat.

  ‘I love you so very much, Zara Evans,’ he whispered. ‘A whole lifetime wouldn’t be enough to tell you just how much, and that’s why I was wondering—’ he lifted her fingertips to his lips and his blue eyes blazed ice-fire at her as he kissed each one in turn ‘—if you would do me the honour of becoming my wife?’

  The emotion of the moment was so great—the shock of his declaration so moving—that words were still stubbornly refusing to come. Again Zara nodded her head, blinking back tears and realising that this great burning feeling in her chest was her heart on fire with love for her darling Nikolai.

  But Nikolai didn’t need words. Tenderly, he gathered her close and bent his mouth to hers—and her kiss gave him the only answer he really wanted.

  EPILOGUE

  NIKOLAI and Zara were married in the Russian church in London—with Zara repeating some of her vows in the language she had vowed to learn, even though her new husband warned her that the Cyrillic alphabet wasn’t easy.

  ‘Ah, but I like a challenge,’ she’d answered, raising her lips to be kissed.

  ‘Do you?’ he murmured back.

  ‘I agreed to marry you, didn’t I? ‘

  He laughed. ‘You certainly did.’

  For the ceremony, she wore a simple, silk-satin dress designed by Emma, who had finally managed to persuade her mother that the Gourmet International staff needed a brand new uniform. Consequently, the waitresses now looked chic as well as professional and bookings had soared—though, as Emma’s mother sighed, she seemed to have lost some of her best girls to their millionaire clients because of it!

  But none of her friends were working on the day the newly-weds took over the famous mirrored ballroom of the Granchester Hotel for their wedding reception. Zara had been too dazed with love to really care about table plans and favours, or whether she wanted chocolate wedding cake, or a traditional fruit version. Her only specification had been that the flowers should be country blooms—as if they’d just been picked from a cottage garden. Which was why the vast room was scented with masses of blowsy roses, which were far more fragrant than the hothouse variety.

  Security was tight because the best man happened to be a US Senator—and Sergei arrived with a new—and younger—blonde on his arm. The day went without a glitch and hearing the excited chatter of the guests was strangely gratifying. It was, Zara realised, the first real party they had thrown.

  But for the new Mrs Komarov, the best bit of all was when Nikolai stood up to make his speech—looking unbelievably gorgeous in his morning suit with his dark gold hair gleaming beneath the spangled light of the chandeliers.

  He thanked Emma for designing the dress and for being such a wonderful bridesmaid and he made a few jokes about the differences between Russian men and English men. But then his face grew solemn as he turned to Zara, and, although everyone in the room could hear what he said, he seemed to be speaking just to her.

  ‘I’ve been trying to work out words which would do my new wife justice,’ he said slowly. ‘But it’s proved a tough call. There’s no need for me to tell you that she’s beautiful—because you can all see that for yourselves. I could tell you that she’s hard-working and strong and independent—but those of you who know her will already realise that. I could tell you that she makes me laugh more
than anyone I’ve ever met. That she lights up a room when she walks into it and every minute spent away from her leaves a little ache in my heart. I could tell you that she has taught me so much about life that is important. But most of all …’ at this he smiled into her eyes and raised his glass of champagne ‘… she has taught me the meaning of love. And I love her,’ he said simply. ‘I love her so very much. So I ask you please to raise your glasses to my wonderful wife and to drink to Zara.’

  ‘To Zara!’ the room echoed and then burst into rapturous applause.

  But Zara was too busy scrabbling inside her white satin handbag to fish out a crumpled-up tissue. Had Nikolai—the notoriously private Nikolai—just stood up in front of a roomful of people and told them how much he loved her?

  Nikolai laughed softly as he took the tissue from her trembling fingers and began to dab at her cheeks. ‘Better now?’ he murmured.

  She sniffed. ‘Much better.’

  ‘Should I ask why you’re crying?’

  ‘Because I’m so happy.’

  ‘I thought so.’

  She thought his own eyes looked suspiciously bright as he pulled her close against him. But that was okay. Everyone knew that people always cried at weddings.

  All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all the incidents are pure invention.

  All Rights Reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Enterprises II BV/S.à.r.l. The text of this publication or any part thereof may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, storage in an information retrieval system, or otherwise, without the written permission of the publisher.

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the prior consent of the publisher in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  ® and TM are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.

  First published in Great Britain 2011

  by Mills & Boon, an imprint of Harlequin (UK) Limited,

  Eton House, 18-24 Paradise Road, Richmond, Surrey TW9 1SR

  © Sharon Kendrick 2011

  ISBN: 978-1-408-92561-4