Page 7 of Dimitri
"Such a lovely young woman." The wistful tone of her voice had her husband coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her trim waist.
Leaning back, she closed her eyes as she felt his solid frame against her.
"I've invited her to the party."
Bending, he kissed her on the top of her head. "Are you certain Dimitri will want to be bothered?"
"Of course." She continued to stare out the window at Allison. An idea had begun to form and had taken flight. "Our grandson is single. It's a shame for a man his age to be without someone significant."
Alvin stifled the sigh. "Darling, you cannot be thinking of playing matchmaker. His father would never allow him to become involved with an American."
"Then he would be labeled a hypocrite." Pain blossomed inside her heart. "He married our baby, didn't he? And despite his uncouth manner and arrogance, he loved her dearly. He swept her off her feet. Dimitri could benefit from someone like Allison. He's only two years older than she is." She nodded and watched as the vehicle made its way along the winding driveway. "She's lovely, exceptionally so and smart as well as very strong. He needs a woman who will not allow him to walk all over her. Our grandson is very handsome and used to having things his way."
She turned in his arms, her expression softened with love. They had been married for almost sixty years now, and she was still in love with him. Not the giddy madness of their youth where they had a tough time staying away from each other, but one that was mature and mellow.
They had wanted more children, but the Lord had seen fit to deny her that desire. Angela had been her baby. She had produced two very handsome boys who were now men. Alexei had a son, but aside from seeing him twice, that was it. If Dimitri happened to fall in love and stayed, she was praying that he would stay. She wanted a part of her daughter right here with her.
Alvin lifted his hands to frame her face, his fingers gentle. "I don't want you to get your hopes up."
A smile curved her lips. "Too late." Lifting her hand, she touched his weathered face lightly. "And you know how determined I am." She gave him a speculative look. "You like her."
A sigh left his lips. "I do. She is an exceptional young woman. I cannot talk you out of it?"
She shook her head, eyes twinkling. "Not at all." Going on her toes, she brushed her lips against his. "I have to do some paperwork, and you have to see to the new mare."
Tightening his arms around her, he held on for a minute more before letting go.
Chapter 3
The enthusiastic greeting and the incredible warmth more than made up for the icy demeanor and disdain from his father when he left Russia. His brother and sister-in-law had been supportive and kind, but that had not been enough to temper the incredible hurt Dimitri had felt when he left the place he called home.
Yes, one of the private jets had been at his disposal, and it would never have been if Ivan Petrov had not sanctioned it. God forbid a Petrov would ever deign to ride on a commercial flight! So it was more about guarding the family name than seeing to his comfort.
And it had been the least luxurious of the four jets, he thought grimly. The ride had been bumpy and inexorably lengthy. But he was here, wasn't he? He had stood his ground and was now at his grandparents' place, being enveloped by slender yet surprisingly strong arms. Even though it was icy outside, indoors the place offered a warmth and coziness that was unmistakable.
"I'm sorry I wasn't able to come and get you personally." Elizabeth was holding onto her composure by a thread—a very thin one. "We had some unexpected business turn up and had to deal with it promptly." She led him into the dazzling gold and white salon where the fire was crackling inside the hearth, lending the room warmth and comfort. A tea tray was already set out with sandwiches and cakes. "Your grandfather is tied up with some out-of-town associates and is chafing to come home to seeyou." She turned to face him, bottle-green eyes moist. "I swear you've gotten even more handsome than the last time I saw you."
"And you, Babushka, grow more gracefully beautiful with age." His smile was genuine, his touch gentle as he cupped her cheek and bent to kiss her. She was tiny like his mother, slender-boned, with the white skin of her Irish heritage. He had often mourned the fact that he never inherited the blonde hair and green eyes from this side of the family. He was strictly a Petrov; there was no mistaking it.
Elizabeth's eyes glowed with approval and a love that threatened to overflow. This tall and darkly handsome man was the baby of her baby. Hugging him again, she held on for a minute before gesturing to one of the padded chairs in front of the fire.
"You must be exhausted."
"The flight wasn't too bad." He gave her a quiet stare from his very intense dark eyes. "I'm happy to be here."
Emotions overwhelmed her again, and she had to take a breath before responding. "Consider this your home, because it is."
He nodded. In an effort to distract them both, he picked up the delicate cup in one large hand and contemplated the design in amusement. "You're risking your Meissen china."
She laughed as he had intended, and relaxed. She had not spent enough time with her grandsons to know them very well, but was about to remedy that, at least with Dimitri. "I'll risk it. Now, tell me about my darling great-grandson."
The conversation focused on the family, and time flew by quickly. When they could not wait any longer for his grandfather to make his appearance, she insisted on showing him to his suite.
"We had it especially tailored for you," she murmured when they stepped into the tan and gold room. A sitting room with a large fireplace and comfortable furnishings led into a huge bedroom with all the comforts of home.
She touched his arm lightly. "I called Alexei, and he gave me some ideas. We want you to be comfortable."
"You've gone to a lot of trouble, Babushka." Unfamiliar and unwelcome emotions made his throat ache. His chest tightened even more when he saw the large portrait of his mother above the mantel.
