She pretended to be still passed out until they left, hoping Ivan would leave, too.
But she soon had to admit that he never would. The man who’d stayed by her bedside for weeks, then remained by her side since, would stay here forever. He wouldn’t leave her until he made sure she was fine. When she would never be again.
Giving in, knowing that it was better to get this over with, she opened her eyes.
The look on his face translated the gnawing anxiety in his voice, making her almost close her eyes again. It hurt to see him like this, feel him caring, now that she knew the atrocious truth.
The truth that destroyed everything.
He covered her face in kisses, his tremors transmitting to her heart in shock waves of despair. “Moya dorogoya, moya dusha, I’m here. You’re okay.”
Unable to look at him anymore, she averted her gaze and nodded. “Sorry for the scare. One moment I was upright, the next everything just went dark. I’m fine now.”
His fingers, gentle, persistent, caressed her cheek, tried to turn her eyes back to him. “This is my fault. I taxed you.” He bit off a vicious self-imprecation. “I shouldn’t have made love to you, let alone repeatedly long and hard. I’m an animal.”
The shard of agony embedded in her heart twisted deeper, forcing her to look at him. She couldn’t bear him feeling guilty over her, when it was on her account that her mother had consigned him to a horrific fate. She owed him a debt that could never be repaid.
“You didn’t tax me, Ivan, and you know it.” Before he could take her in his arms again, she rose to a sitting position so he had to pull back. “But everything is catching up with me and I do feel tired. I can’t see myself doing much for a while. I—I think we should postpone the wedding.”
Expecting him to argue, he again floored her by the extent of his consideration, agreeing at once. “Whatever you wish. If the wedding is part of what’s putting stress on you, we can always gather everyone right here, exchange vows and send them on their way.”
She was desperate to stop his pampering. If she didn’t make a stand she’d find herself married to him within the hour.
She shook her head. “I just need a postponement. I hope nobody will be too upset.”
His eyes filled with indulgence. “Everyone can cool their heels until you’re feeling up to it. Don’t worry about anything but feeling stronger, moya dusha. The world can stand still or even go away completely until then for all I care.”
Feeling it would hurt less if she were the one to go away, forever, she pretended to nod and fall asleep again.
Knowing he wouldn’t leave, she turned her face away from his vigilance, unable to stop the silent tears from pouring out of her soul.
* * *
It had been three days since Anastasia had fainted.
After he’d had Antonio and Isabella examine her again, and again, to reassure him she’d bounce back given time, Ivan had gathered everyone the very next morning, Christmas Day, what should have been their wedding day, and announced the postponement of their wedding.
She’d spent half that day in bed, and the other half curled in an armchair, barely saying or doing anything. The next day everyone had gone back to their homes.
Anastasia had asked to go home, too. Her parents’ home. Feeling more worried and confused by the second, but wanting to give her whatever she wished for, he’d taken her there. He’d been trying to placate himself that early pregnancy, the revelations, the days among such an overwhelming crowd, had proven too strenuous for her. But every time he went to her, it became clearer, until he could no longer lie to himself.
It now pained her to see him.
But he’d been unable to ask why. He was terrified she’d tell him she was having second thoughts.
It was unimaginable, but the only reason he could think of anymore. That now she realized it was going to be real, and she’d tie herself to him for life, through marriage and through a child, his reality had finally sunk in, and she was horrified about what she’d let herself in for.
But three days in a hell of dread and uncertainty had proved his limit. Though knowing for certain would finish him, he couldn’t let her evade him any longer.
He’d just arrived at her parents’ home and again they weren’t there. The maid had opened the door for him, telling him Anastasia had just gone up to her room.
In a matter of seconds he was knocking on her door. He’d heard her moving inside, and he had a distinctive knock, so she knew it was him. The prolonged silence that answered his knock screamed with her reluctance to let him in, to see him again.
This was it, then.
Whatever it did to him, he couldn’t force himself on her. If she didn’t want him anymore, if it hurt her that much to see him, he had to leave her alone.