Tangled Vows

She’d never been that kind of girl. Never one who followed her impulses. All her life she’d been focused and hardworking. She knew the consequences of not completing things to her best ability—knew, also, the rewards that came with achievement. So what had come over her that she was prepared to put all that aside and virtually throw herself at the stranger who waited on the other side of the door? The stranger who was her husband, she reminded herself. Did that make it right? She doubted it.

Yasmin let the gown fall to the carpet in a whoosh of expensive fabric, the hand-sewn crystals on her bodice winking at her reproachfully as she stepped out of the gown and toward the bed. Her hands worked feverishly on the final hooks securing her corset as she kicked off her slippers. When she was finally free of the garment, she let it drop to the floor, too. She rushed into the bathroom and turned on the shower, then shimmied out of her stockings and lace underpants.

Warm water coursed over her, flattening her short-cropped hair to her skull and washing her body free of the tension that gripped her. She wasn’t that blushing bride who’d so intently embarked on this morning’s adventure. That person had been a dreamer, not the doer Yasmin had always prided herself on being. And the man waiting for her outside the bedroom? He was beautiful and appealing and all of the things that made her body react with unseemly eagerness. But he was also the enemy, and she’d do well to remember that.

* * *

Ilya began the final approach, relieved to see the helipad next to his house in the hills overlooking the Ojai Valley coming up ahead in the darkness. Yasmin sat next to him in the cockpit—silent, watching, stifling a yawn every now and then. He knew how she felt. The day had been exhausting, but they were nearly home.

They’d barely spoken since leaving the hotel. She’d taken longer than he expected to pack, and the woman who’d eventually emerged from the bedroom, dressed in long, dark pants, a cream linen blouse and battered leather flying jacket and wearing no makeup, had been a far cry from the bride he’d begun to undress.

His hand clenched on the controls, his fingers tingling as he remembered what it had felt like to undress her—how soft her skin was, how enticing her scent as they’d stood so close. It had taken every ounce of his considerable control not to lower his mouth to the curve of her neck where it flared into the feminine line of her shoulder. But he hadn’t wanted to frighten her. If this marriage of theirs was going to work, he’d take it as slowly as she needed. He had a feeling it would be more than worth it.

He wondered what had brought her to Match Made in Marriage and made a mental note to check with his grandmother. Or maybe he should ask his wife. From now on, in all things she should be his first port of call, shouldn’t she? In all things but their businesses.

Following the directions of the staff member marshalling him from the ground, he landed the chopper on the helipad.

“Welcome home, Mr. and Mrs. Horvath,” Pete Wood, head of his air crew, said as he came forward to open the chopper door on Yasmin’s side. “Watch your head, Mrs. Horvath.”

“Call me Yasmin, please,” Ilya heard his wife say tightly as she unlatched her harness, took off her headset and stepped down from the chopper.

He fought back a small smile. It gave him a surprising sense of pride to hear her called Mrs. Horvath. His wife. It sent a pulse of something powerful through him. As though he was a part of something new and exciting and uncharted. And in many ways, he was. He’d never been married before—hadn’t even lived with a woman—which made the rest of his life with Yasmin pan out ahead of him as very much the great unknown.

How hard could it be? he reassured himself as he completed his shutdown procedures and then removed their suitcases from the rear of the chopper.

“Thanks for coming to marshal us in, Pete.”

“No problem, sir. Congratulations on your marriage, both of you,” Pete said with a beaming smile in Yasmin’s direction.

She ducked her head shyly and a slight smile curved her lips. Ilya had noted that reticence around his family, too, and wondered if it had been just them. It looked as though she was like that with everyone—everyone connected with him, at least.

“Can I take your bags for you, Mr. Horvath?”

“No, it’s okay, Pete. You head on home now.”

Pete tipped his cap to Ilya. “Call me if you need me.”

Ilya gave him a smile. “I’m officially on honeymoon. Hopefully I won’t need to call you again until I’m back at work in two weeks’ time.”

“Sure thing, boss. Happy honeymooning.”

Ilya walked over to Yasmin, who stood on the outer perimeter of the helipad. Behind him he heard Pete start the helicopter back up.

“If you don’t want to be blown about, we’d better start walking toward the house. We’ll take that path there,” he suggested, nodding toward a path off to one side lined with garden lights.

“Are we stranded here?” Yasmin said, her eyes not straying from the helicopter.

“Does that bother you?”

“Should it?”

Ilya laughed. “No, it shouldn’t, and no, we’re not stranded.” He gestured to the multicar garage off to the side of the house they were now approaching through the garden. “You can take your pick of vehicles in there should you feel the need to flee.”

“Flee?” She arched a finely shaped brow as she looked at him. “What makes you think I’d want to?”

“Oh, perhaps the way you’re twisting the strap of your bag.”

She looked down at her hands. “I’m just nervous. Like I said before, I’ve never done this.”

“Nor have I,” Ilya assured her swiftly. “So let’s agree to remain open with each other about how we’re feeling, okay? Let me know, so I can relieve your nerves. Well, here we are.”

Ilya approached the portico of his home. He’d fallen in love with the Mediterranean-style property nestled on forty acres of land the moment he’d seen it. It was a half-hour drive from the airport and Horvath Aviation—less time, of course, if he took a chopper—and now he’d get to share it with Yasmin. He set the suitcases down and pressed a finger on the reader at the front door before pushing the double doors open to reveal the entrance.

“Welcome to our home, Yasmin.”

She started to move forward but he stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. “Allow me,” he said and stepped closer to swing her up into his arms.

She stifled a squeak of surprise and hooked her arms around his neck as he crossed the threshold. She felt ridiculously light in his arms, but the press of her body against his had all the impact of a jumbo jet blast when it came to his senses. One hand curved around her ribcage, just beneath her breasts. Oh, yes, for all her slenderness she had curves, all right. What would she do if he followed tradition even further and kissed her again?

The brief peck on her lips after their ceremony had been both a tease and a torment for him. The second he’d felt her lips beneath his he knew he wanted to explore her further, but with a room full of family and friends looking on, he’d been forced to acknowledge there was a limit to what was acceptable in public. Even now that they were alone, her obvious apprehension about the day meant he would have to take things slowly, he reminded himself, as he set her back down on her feet again.

But then she shifted and leaned closer to him. His arms closed around her, pulling her against him, and he lowered his mouth to hers.

He felt a shock ricochet through him as her lips parted beneath his. She might be slight, but oh boy, did she pack a punch when it came to kissing. For a moment all Ilya could think of was the sweet taste of her, the softness of her lips, the texture of her tongue as it swept against his. He deepened the kiss, taking his time to relish the moment, to relish her. If this was a sign of things to come, they had a great deal to look forward to. She made his head swim with need, or maybe it was the blood heading to other parts of his body that made him so lightheaded.

He drew her lower lip between his teeth, sucking on it gently before tracing its fullness with his tongue. He wanted to do that all over her body. From her gorgeous, beautiful mouth to her breasts and lower. Just thinking about following his instincts left him aching with need—to pick her up again, take her upstairs to his bedroom and show her exactly how good their marriage could be.

But he felt her hesitation, that infinitesimal withdrawal. With the greatest reluctance he pressed one final kiss against her lips then let her go, steadying her on her feet as he did so. Yasmin’s eyes were bright and her cheeks flushed.

Ilya walked to the entrance and picked up their suitcases, bringing them inside and closing the large wooden front doors behind him.

“Do you want the full tour now?” he asked. “Or would you rather wait until the morning?”

He watched her as she looked around the entrance and past it to the formal dining area and living room before turning back to face him again.

“I didn’t expect your place to be so big,” she said. “All this for just one person?”

“Well, when I bought it a couple of years ago I kind of had a vision of filling it with a family.” He still had that vision and it grew sharper and clearer with every moment he spent in her company, even if it might be too soon to be thinking along those lines just yet. “How about you? Have you always wanted kids?”

“Yes,” she answered emphatically. “Like you, I grew up an only child, but I didn’t have cousins to fulfill a pseudo-sibling role as I understand yours did. I always swore that if I ever had children I would have more than one. I guess that’s one of the reasons we were paired.”

He breathed an inward sigh of relief. Some of his relationships had failed in the past because the women weren’t at all interested in starting a family. It was vitally important to him that Yasmin be on the same page.

“So, the house—do you want to see more now? Maybe pick out a nursery?” he teased.

“It’s probably a little too early for that,” Yasmin answered with a chuckle. She stifled another yawn. “I’m sorry. Perhaps we can wait on the tour until morning.”

“Sounds good. I’ll show you your room. Follow me.”

He led her up the stairs and a short way along a landing. He stopped outside the door to a guest bedroom and opened it. He gestured for her to precede him in and set her suitcase down on the blanket box at the foot of the large sleigh bed.

“You should be comfortable here. There’s an en suite bathroom and my housekeeper will have stocked everything you need in terms of toiletries.”

“We’re...um...we’re not sharing a room?”

“Not yet. Unless you’d like to?”

“I...” Yasmin’s voice trailed off again.

“It’s okay. I think you’d probably prefer that we get to know each other a little better before we take that step.”

The words tripped glibly off his tongue, but inside his body protested strongly. He’d like nothing better than to whisk her down the hall to the master suite, lay her gently on his massive bed and show her exactly how well he wanted to get to know her. But the relief that spread across her face was about as effective as a cold shower.

“Thank you, I appreciate it.”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t wish you a good-night, though. Sweet dreams.”

Before she could say another word, he bent to kiss her gently, sweetly on her lips. He felt her lean toward him, but this time, rather than lose himself in the caress, he forced himself to keep it brief—to pull away and to leave them both wanting more. If he had to go to bed in a state of torment, then so could she. It was only fair.

He hesitated in her doorway on his way out. “My room is just down the hall if you change your mind.”

And with that parting comment he left her alone.

Four

It took Yasmin longer to get to sleep than she’d expected, considering how exhausted she’d been when Ilya had left her. But weariness aside, his kisses had fired up her imagination and as she lay between the cool crisp sheets of her lonely bed she couldn’t help wondering what her wedding night could have been like if she’d just been brave enough to reach for him after that sweet goodnight and beg him to show her more.

She had no doubt he would be a consummate lover. From what she could tell, the man was incredibly accomplished in all that he did. And now she was married to him. She had the rest of her life to discover just how skilled he was. If they went the distance.

The next morning she rose and went downstairs, following the sound of a blender to a large kitchen. Ilya stood at the granite kitchen counter, oblivious to her entry. She took a moment to watch him—to appreciate the way his Henley hugged the muscles of his shoulders and skimmed his pecs. A decrepit pair of jeans hugged his hips and she felt that all too familiar tingle through her body as she noticed how the denim had faded in certain areas. The blender stopped and Ilya looked up, a smile creasing his face as he saw her hovering in the doorway.

“Good morning,” he said. “I hope you slept well.”

“Thank you. I did, eventually.”

Yasmin perched on one of the bar stools that lined the counter and watched as he poured two smoothies into tall glasses. Ilya pushed one toward her.

“I figured if we were so perfectly matched, you’d probably like one of these for breakfast,” he said with a crooked grin. “But if you’d prefer bacon and eggs, I can do that, too.”

“No, this is fine. I don’t usually have breakfast anyway.”

“Well, you’ll need the energy for what I’ve got planned this morning.”

“Oh?” She looked up at him, raising one brow.

“I love the way you do that,” he said, reaching out and stroking her brow with a fingertip.

The sensation of his skin against hers made her hand tremble and she set her glass down on the counter with a sharp click. Ilya laughed and turned his attention to his smoothie, downing most of it in one gulp.

“And what is it you have planned for the morning?” Yasmin asked, picking up her glass again and taking a sip. “Oh, that’s good,” she exclaimed in surprise. “What did you put in it?”

“First question first. We’re going for a hike. Have you got hiking boots or something suitable in your suitcase? If not, we can do something else. As to the smoothie, that’s a closely guarded secret,” he said with a sly wink. “One day I might let you in on it.”

She chuckled. “Well, in the meantime I shall just appreciate your culinary expertise. And, as to shoes, I have something suitable for a hike. What time do you want to head out?”

“Probably in half an hour or so. Think you can be ready by then?”

“I was born ready,” she answered, finishing off her smoothie and hopping down from her seat.

“Good to know,” Ilya responded.

His voice was deep and reverberated through her in a way that sent her senses scrambling. She had the distinct feeling they were speaking along completely different lines. Yasmin took her glass over to the sink and rinsed it out. It was easier to fake being busy with something than it was to acknowledge exactly what kind of an effect her new husband had on her.

“This is a nice kitchen,” she said, striving for more neutral conversational territory. “Did you have it installed or did it come like this when you bought the house?”

“I bought the house pretty much as you see it,” he said. “With the exception of the furnishings and art. Why don’t I show you the rest before we head out?”

She nodded and followed him as he led the way out of the kitchen and through to a casual sitting area. A massive television dominated most of one wall.

“Wow,” she exclaimed. “All you need is a cooler in the side of your chair and you’ll be living every man’s dream, won’t you?”

“Hey, when I watch the air races I want to feel like I’m in them, not just a spectator.”

“I understand. Although nothing quite beats the real thing.”

“Speaking of which, are you going to take me up in your Ryan anytime soon?”

“I heard you don’t like being a passenger—that you prefer to hold on to the controls yourself.”

She said the words lightly, but she understood them on her own level. She’d spent years side by side with her grandfather restoring the Ryan to flying condition and had worked really hard to earn her rating to fly it. No one took that plane up but her.

“Where did you hear that?” Ilya asked, his brows drawing into a straight line.

“Oh, it’s pretty common knowledge around the airport. You know how people talk.”

“What else do they say about me?” Ilya asked, moving closer to her.

She could feel the heat that emanated from his body. It was like a magnet, drawing her closer. She nearly always felt cold, but with him around, she doubted she’d ever need an extra layer again.

“Oh, that you’re a hard worker and a reasonable boss.”

“That’s it?”

“Hey, you wouldn’t tell me what was in the smoothie, so I’m not sharing all my secrets. A girl’s got to hold something back, right?”

He laughed again and Yasmin felt her lips kick up in an answering smile.

“So I’m an overbearing pilot, a hard worker and a reasonable boss.”

Her grin widened at the chagrin with which he said the word reasonable. “I never said overbearing. But if the shoe fits...?”

He reached out to catch her shoulders with his hands. Heat seared through her top and penetrated her skin. Her heart rate kicked up a notch. Was he going to kiss her again? Part of her hoped he would, while the other... The other part wasn’t ready to face the tumult of sensation he set off in her. It was a weakness she needed to learn to shore up, and swiftly, if they were to remain on an even playing field when it came to this marriage. She had too much to lose otherwise.

To a lot of people, marrying sight unseen just to save her business was an extreme measure. Heck, even to her it was extreme. But to win the Hardacre contract, she had to be married. It was as simple as that. It was frustrating that, in this day and age, her business was held hostage by Wallace Hardacre’s wandering eye and his wife’s jealousy. But if getting married meant she’d win the five-year exclusive contract ensuring her company had the income stream to not only keep it afloat but eventually allow it to expand and create more jobs, she was prepared to do it.

All she’d had to do then was find a husband. Fast. She’d just never expected that husband to be Ilya Horvath.

Ilya snapped his fingers, dragging her out of her reverie.

“Earth to Yasmin. I feel like I lost you there for a moment.”

She forced a smile. “Sorry, just thinking about my grandfather,” she fibbed.

“I never met him but I heard he was a wizard mechanic. Not an aircraft engine he couldn’t fix, right?”

She nodded. “Yeah. He was always better at mechanics than people.”

“Was it hard growing up with him?”

“Yes and no. Obviously I missed my mom and dad. They’d cruise by when they were in the area, still do occasionally. But Granddad gave me stability, which I didn’t have with them. And he taught me the value of silence.”

“Is that a hint?”

“Oh, heavens, no. Not at all. It’s just some people seem to need to fill a silence with noise, rather than simply letting the silence fill them for a change.”

Ilya nodded. “I think I know a few people like that. Come on, let me show you the rest of the place, then we can head out in the hills.”

* * *

She was fit and strong, Ilya thought appreciatively as they reached the crest of the hill that would afford them the best view across the valley. And she didn’t complain, either.

“That was quite a climb,” Yasmin said, as she stopped and put her hands on her hips.

Her breathing was only slightly labored and she’d barely broken a sweat even though the temperatures had begun to climb into the seventies very soon after they’d started hiking.

“It’s worth it for the view,” Ilya commented as he came to stand beside her.

And he wasn’t just talking about the stunning Ojai Valley vistas, either. The woman standing next to him was a picture of perfection. She glowed with natural good health and vitality, a far cry from the kinds of women who moved in his circles. At the back of his mind he couldn’t help but feel there was something familiar about her, too. But of course there had to be, he told himself as he turned his gaze from her to the valley that spread before them. They worked at the same airport. They’d both been fed stories of how their families had been friends then feuding rivals. They knew of each other, even if they didn’t actually know each other. Even so, the little niggle persisted that he knew her from somewhere else.

“You were so lucky last year’s fires missed your home,” Yasmin said, looking around at the flora fighting to regenerate on the hills around them.

“I was luckier than a lot of people.”

“Your property looks like an oasis from up here,” she commented.

“It certainly feels like it after a hard day in the office.”

He heard her breath hitch. “We agreed not to talk about work, remember?”

“Right. My mistake.”

He clenched his jaw. It had only felt natural to mention work. After all, it had taken up more than half of every day of his adult life. It was going to be harder than he thought to compartmentalize things, to exclude her from what was essentially the core of his world. But then again, he reminded himself, in time she would become the core of his world—wouldn’t she?

A tiny animal sound came from somewhere behind them.

“Did you hear that?” Yasmin asked, looking around.

“Yeah. There it is again.”

Ilya walked cautiously toward the source of the noise, wary in case the animal was unfriendly. Yasmin showed no such care. She pushed past him into the undergrowth.

“Oh look, it’s a puppy. The poor baby.”

She scooped the mess of dirt and multicolored fur up into her arms and cradled it to her. The puppy whimpered.

“Is he hurt?” Ilya asked, stepping forward.

It maddened him that people could be so cruel as to abandon their animals, and this one looked very definitely abandoned. The puppy bore a narrow blue collar, which hinted that at some stage it had had an owner who cared enough to buy it one. There was a road that passed not too far from this point. It had probably been dumped along there. Possibly even thrown from a passing car if the grazes on his paw pads were anything to go by.

“Not too badly, I think. But he’ll be thirsty, poor baby. I wonder how long he’s been up here.”

Ilya poured some of the water from his bottle into the palm of his hand and offered it to the puppy. The animal weakly lapped it up. The little guy was probably dehydrated. Ilya kept adding a little trickle of water until the puppy stopped drinking.

“What are we going to do with him?” Yasmin asked, stroking the puppy’s grubby head.

“I guess we’ll take him to the vet to be checked out and maybe see if he was stolen before he was dumped. There might be someone missing him. If he was stolen we’ll know more.”

“And if he wasn’t?”

She looked at him with such an expression of yearning in her eyes that it made him wish he could grant her every wish.

“Then we’ll keep him.”

“I’ve never had a dog,” she admitted, pressing a kiss to the top of the puppy’s head and earning a sloppy kiss in return. “But I’ve always wanted one.”

“First, let’s get him to the vet.”

Ilya put out his hands to take the puppy from her. The animal really was a sad little bag of bones and hair. Ilya only hoped that it didn’t have any underlying problems. He could see that Yasmin had already lost her heart to the little guy. He didn’t want to see it broken if the puppy had to be euthanized. It didn’t matter how much money it took, he decided. They’d be bringing this little one back home.