"Nothing's going on, Cuz."
"Then where's your watch?" I demanded before I could bite my tongue. Hadn't I decided to eighty-six the overanalyzing? The prejudgment of men? Yes, but, damn it, I'd been getting some strong gambler vibes off him. Was his car really still in the shop after two weeks?
He averted his gaze as he said, "Went swimming with it the other day."
"Let me guess. It's in the shop too?" No watch: pawned? No car: hocked?
Was my cousin a gambler in deep?
"In the shop. You got it."
I peered up at him. He didn't seem to be worried about it whatsoever, so I supposed I had enough on my plate without fretting over my cousin's foibles. "You'd let me know if I could do anything?"
"Of course. You're a good egg, Cuz. You know that, huh?"
The groom brought out our mounts then. I fell head over heels for my mare all over again. With her glossy gray coat and black stockings, Alizay was stunning. The posh tack just highlighted her lines. Though western riding was preferred in Nebraska, I'd taken English riding lessons, and was thankful for it now.
I gazed into her lustrous eyes, seeing my own adoring reflection. Okay, maybe I did like money, if only for the horses it could buy.
When the groom brought out a third mount, I asked Filip, "Are you expecting someone?" I frowned to see a rifle stowed in a saddle holster.
Filip scowled, muttering, "Bloody Siberian."
As if summoned, Sevastyan entered the stables, his towering body briefly shadowed as he strode into the aisle. He wore black riding pants of a modern cut and a sharp all-weather athletic jacket that he could just as easily have worn to play rugby.
Filip's style: Barneys high fashion. Sevastyan's? Bespoke--and moneyed.
His gloves and clothes covered any tattoos, but that slim scar down his lips and the hardness of his features belied any gentlemanly appearance.
As he approached, he moved like an athlete; I could see the powerful muscles in his legs flexing with each of his steps, reminding me of when his thighs had quaked around my ears as I'd swallowed him down. . . .
Focus, Natalie. "Are you going with us?" I asked him, flushing at how throaty my voice sounded.
Sevastyan told Filip, "Kovalev wants to see you."
"Just taking Natalie out for a ride," he said smoothly. "I'll catch him later this after--"
"Now."
Filip's lips thinned. "Nat, let's go back to the house. We can come back for our ride when I'm done."
What if the weather didn't hold? I didn't bother hiding my disappointment.
Sevastyan said, "I'm taking her."
Why would he offer to be alone with me? Maybe he'd mastered his attraction to me, and was now in no danger of plighting. But why was he forgoing work? Had the difficulties been resolved?
Curiosity, my kryptonite, had me jonesing for answers.
The tension between the two men seethed. "You? Taking little sis out for a ride? How brotherly. But she's not interested." To me, Filip said, "Come, Natalie."
I stiffened, not liking his tone at all. Strange, since I'd loved when Sevastyan had ordered me around in bed. Or in a maid's closet.
Even after everything, I . . . missed the man. What harm could come from one little ride? I told Filip, "I've been waiting for this for two weeks."
He gazed from Sevastyan to me and back. In a disbelieving tone, he said, "You want to go--with him?"
Sevastyan bit out the words, "Ona so mnoi." She is with me.
Comprehension seemed to dawn in Filip's expression. Then a disturbing flash of anger surfaced on his face, reddening his cheeks. He turned that look of wrath on me. "Are you? With him?"
His words were rife with undercurrents that I found difficult to accept. Because right now, it seemed like the guy who'd ignored me for weeks and the guy whose face could make angels weep were in a pissing contest.
Over me.
"I just want to go riding, Filip."
He appeared to be grinding his molars to dust. Finally he told me, "I'll be waiting for you back at the house." With a black look at Sevastyan, he strode off.
Disquieted, I glanced up at Sevastyan, but his piercing gaze was trained on Filip's back. I said, "Do you want to tell me what's going on between you?"
"Nyet." That word--when spoken by him and addressed to me--might as well be translated: Dead end, Natalie.
"Why are you taking time off work? Has the issue with Travkin been resolved?"
He shook his head, repeating, "Nyet."
Dead end. He'd tell me no more--because I wasn't a member of the inner circle.
He brushed his gloved hand down the neck of his mount. "You wanted to go riding, so I'm taking you."
The stallion looked high-strung, and Sevastyan didn't strike me as a natural rider. Recipe for disaster? "Have you done a lot of riding?"
"Unfortunately, work precludes it."
"We don't have to go."
In answer, he moved behind me to help me into Alizay's saddle.
"Oh. Okay." Had he let his hands linger on my waist?
Then I watched, enthralled, as Sevastyan hoisted his muscular frame into his own saddle and brought his horse around.
My fears had been unfounded. Though he'd been plucked from the streets in his teens, he rode like he'd been raised in the saddle, with an arrogance that only came from excellence.
Again, the contradictions in this man were fascinating. As we set out, I stared at him with such absorption that I barely registered what a smooth ride Alizay was.
But how could I not stare? He was captivating, with the bright fall sun making his jet-black hair gleam. His physique when riding was a sight to behold.
A body like that was good for two things that started with f. And fighting was the other one.
Dragging my gaze from Sevastyan, I surveyed the breathtaking estate. A cool breeze finagled stray leaves from the birches surrounding the stables.
In comfortable silence, we rode, and as we gained distance from the manicured gardens and the tennis court, the guest houses and the garage, we saw more wildlife. A fox, two martens, numerous speckled squirrels.
When we crossed a babbling stream, Alizay gave a restless snort. Though I'd never ridden such a fine horse, I could tell she wasn't satisfied with this mild walk. I patted her neck. "This one's hungry for more." I bit the inside of my cheek; could that have sounded more suggestive? Wow, I might as well have pointed at my crotch as I said that.
"Then let's give her more." Sevastyan lightly swatted Alizay on the rump, sending her speeding forward.
He quickly caught up, and we galloped over what seemed like miles, the bracing air filling my lungs, invigorating me. I was unable to contain my laughter, and even Sevastyan's lips curled, almost a smile. Oh, yeah, if he ever did hit me with a real smile, I'd tumble off the back of this horse.
I caught myself wondering what it would be like if he were mine. In some mad moments, I could envision us together. It'd never be dull.
No, it'd be dark. And deep. I swallowed. In any case, the ball was no longer in my court. I couldn't have made it clearer to him how I felt, and he'd made no moves.
Until now? Or was this a platonic outing? He'd told Filip that I was with him. For the duration of this ride? For longer?
Our mounts matched paces, drawing even closer as we headed toward a distant birch forest. Once we'd reached that thick grove, we slowed to a walk. I loved watching the leaves flutter all around us, caught on the breeze like little kites. "This place is amazing."
"I used to explore here as a boy."
"It must've been an incredible place for a kid." Especially compared to what he'd known before then. Had he recuperated from that beating here? Gone from abject poverty to this wonderland of plenty?
From having no one to having a father in Kovalev?
"Paxan wanted me to feel that this was my home, so he made me read all about it." Gauzy light streamed through branches, hitting Sevastyan's face, his eyes. The gold was s
o vivid, it was like the sun had rendered them aglow from within. Spellbinding . . .
When I found my voice again, I said, "Tell me some of the things you learned."
In his gruff way, Sevastyan began describing the construction and renovation of Berezka. But as he talked about the people and the lands, he grew more animated, his passion for this place clear.
He caught me staring at him.
"What?" Color tinged those cheekbones.
Since learning he'd been a prizefighter, I'd longed to touch his face. Since Paxan had told me of his beating as a boy, I'd yearned to kiss this fighter from forehead to chin. "You adore it here."
He shrugged, but I could tell how proud he was. "Don't you?" When I nodded easily, he said, "Then why haven't you decided to stay?"
"It's a big decision. Living in a foreign country, changing schools." I knew nothing would make Paxan happier, and I wanted to give that to him. But not at the expense of my own happiness. "Though you might not think I liked my old life, I did. I even liked working, just as you clearly do. I don't want to say I'm a hayseed or anything, but I enjoy a simple life." We'd slowed to a stop. "Enough about me. Why don't you tell me about how you came to be here?" Paxan had said Sevastyan might confide in me.