Page 40 of Dimitri
He had seen the confused look on her spectacular face when he treated her with detached courtesy. He had to take a step back. She had hurt him with her protestations and refusal to acknowledge her feelings for him.
Not to mention the name of the man she had thrown in his face. She had suffered a terrible loss, yes, he would never simplify what she went through. But he knew without a doubt that she felt something for him. The body does not lie. But she clearly was. Pushing the lever of the seat, he leaned back and closed his eyes.
From now on, he would play it cool. He could not take back what he said to her, but he could be detached and play by his rules. He was going to continue seeing her of course, because God help him, he could not stop. Even the thought of staying away was making him anxious.
A determined light came into his eyes as he started the engine. Ms. Allison Dionne Trent was going to know what it was like to be mowed down by a Petrov.
*****
"Why don't we take a break?" Elizabeth suggested.
Before he could disagree, she pulled off her gloves and slid her hand through his arm, forcing him to abandon the task of dragging out weeds. The bitter cold had driven them indoors, the leaden sky heavy with the threat of snow.
"I'll ring for tea, and you can tell your old grandma what's bothering you."
Shaking his head, he pulled out a chair for her to sit before going to the handwash sink to get rid of the dirt.
"And if I tell you nothing is bothering me, you'll try and force it out of me."
"Darling, you know me so well." She smiled as the maid came in with a tea trolley. "Thanks Bertha, we'll help ourselves."
She waited until the woman had left before pouring water over the pouches and handing him one. Picking up her cup, she took a sip and looked around the jonquil yellow room.
"I love flowers."
"I never would have guessed," he teased, causing her to laugh.
Her gaze settled on a pot of daisies, the flowers cheerful against the white pattern of the silk wallpaper. She had filled the farmhouse with flowers, ones she had tended with her very own hands. No doubt it was a talent she had inherited from her dear mother and grandmother. Nothing soothed her soul like diggingin the dirt and watching something she had started spring to life. It gave her a sense of peace and contentment. After her daughter had left, she had turned to plants, and it had healed the hurt and pain of losing her only child to a man who had taken her out of the country. She believed she had loved her enough to let her go.
"I'm here for you darlin, I hope you realize that. I know you're an adult and prefer to keep certain things to yourself, but I want to be able to help when you're troubled."
He lifted the cup and sipped tea, musing that he was getting accustomed to the taste.
"And I look troubled."
"You look... sad."
A smile tugged at his lips. "I'm going to have to work harder to hide my feelings."
Stretching his legs out, he turned his head to stare out at the view. And even though the day was gray and dreary, it was still a very pretty view. The room faced the pergola and from his vantage point he could see the stream gliding smoothly over rocks.
"I think I, how do you say it? Jumped the gun."
He swung his gaze back to his grandmother as she patiently waited for him to speak.
"I'm in love with Allison." A wry smile curved his lips. "I foolishly thought that if I told her how I feel, she would reciprocate by saying it back to me."
Her heart took a slow plunge before righting itself and she had to steel herself from happiness pouring into her heart. It was what she had hoped and prayed for.
"What did she say?"
"That she refused to fall in love." He put the cup down, betraying his agitation by the impatient flick of his hand. "That she was involved with someone, and he was killed."
Elizabeth nodded. "She confided in me some years ago about that particular tragedy. He was her fiancé. They were supposed to get married, and she kept putting the young man off. She blamed herself for putting her job first. If that wasn't enough, she also lost her parents at a young age. We can both identify with the devastation of losing a loved one. She lost three people, plus her paternal grandfather."
He assimilated the facts quietly and nodded. "I cannot fight a ghost."
"And you think you are?"
