Olivia Gates – Twin Heirs To His Throne (страница 8)

So why did he feel such total surprise emanating from them? Could it be they instinctively felt the bond between them?

Unable to decide, he emptied his mind, let his instincts take over. He trusted them now far more than he trusted his messed-up emotions and stalled logic.

He moved away from the trio training all their senses on him, circumventing them in a wide circle that took him to the playhouse the girls had exited. His aching gaze took in the evidence of their play session and of Kassandra’s doting care. The strewn toys, coloring books and crayons, the half-built castle, the half-eaten finger foods and half-finished smoothies.

He’d missed all that. Everything, from their first day. He hadn’t held them or comforted them or cleaned or served them or played with them or put them to bed. Kassandra had been alone in doing all that. Would any of them ever accept him into their lives, let him into their routines? Or even let him in any way at all? When he didn’t deserve to be let in?

Feeling all eyes in the room on him, he went down on his knees, one of the hardest moves for him now. As he felt their surprise spike, he started to gather the toys and books.

Without looking back, so he’d give the girls respite from his focus, give them a sense of control and security, he started to order everything they’d knocked off onto the lushly carpeted floor on the low, sturdy plastic table. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Kassandra moving toward the long couch that dominated the opposite side of the space, with both girls still flocking around her legs, their gazes clinging to him.

Sampling one of the thin pineapple spears that were laid out on a cartoon-character tray among other healthy and colorful foods, he said, “That’s very tasty. Can I have some more? I haven’t eaten all day.”

In his peripheral vision he could see the girls exchanging a glance, as if they understood his words and knew they were meant for them. Then they both looked up to their mother, as if seeking her permission to react. He stole a glance at her, found her giving them an exquisite smile. A special one he’d never seen, no doubt reserved only for them. Then she nodded, and they simultaneously let go of her legs and advanced toward him tentatively.

As they approached, he sat down on the ground, another challenging move, putting himself more at their level. This appeared to reassure them even more as their steps picked up speed. He pointed at a blunt skewer of cheese, cucumbers and strawberries, making direct eye contact with one girl, then the other. “Can I have that?”

The girls stopped on the other side of the table, eyes full of questions and curiosity. Then after what seemed to be serious consideration, Eva, the mini-Kassandra, reached out and grabbed the skewer in her dimpled hand...and leaned over to give it to him. Zoya, who’d held back, clearly more reserved like he was, took her cue from her older-by-ten-minutes sister, and repeated her action.

Throat closing, Leonid looked down on those two skewers, offered by the girls he’d fathered and hadn’t been there for, until this moment. They were his life’s biggest reward. And responsibility.

With hands that almost trembled out of control, he reached out and took both offerings at the same time. “That’s very kind of you to share your snacks with me. Spasiba.”

As if both recognized he’d just said a word in a language different from the one they’d been hearing and processing since birth, they looked at him questioningly.

“That is Russian. In English it means ‘thank you.’” Then he repeated it a few times. “Spasiba...thank you.”

Eyes gleaming at recognizing thank-you and clearly making the connection between the two words, looking triumphant, Eva parroted him, “Patheba...thakyoo.”

His heart thundered, its chambers just about melting at Eva’s adorable lisp.

And that was before Zoya delivered the second punch of a one-two combo as she enthused, “Aseba...ankoo.”

Before he could gather his wits, Eva picked up another skewer and proceeded to nibble at it, looking up at him, as if encouraging him to eat. Zoya at once did the same. When he didn’t follow suit immediately, Zoya reached out and pushed his hand up, urging him to partake of their offering.

He raised the food to lips that had gone numb, unable to taste anything as he chewed. Swallowing was an even harder feat, pushing the food past the blockage in his throat. All the time he could feel Kassandra’s gaze on him, scorching layers off his inflamed skin. It took what was left of his control not to turn to her, ask for her intervention.

But she didn’t intervene. She didn’t make a single move, as if she was trying to blend into the background to make them all forget she was there.

While that was what he’d asked her to do, now that he had the girls’ full attention and interest, he would have given anything for her to dilute their focus. Which was pathetic, since this was the opportunity he’d badgered her for, what he’d been dreaming of for so long.

Inching closer now that they literally had him eating out of their hands, the two girls started handing him their favorite toys as more evidence of their acceptance, naming each one to show off their knowledge.

It became clear the second time they waited after naming something that they were waiting for him to provide the Russian equivalent. And so it started, a game of translation.

The Russian word they loved the most was the one for doll. They both kept giggling and reiterating, “Kukla...kukla!”

They then moved on to testing him. One of them presented a coloring book and the other the crayons. When he colored a pony in a color scheme that was different from all the examples in the colored pages, they got more excited, and tried to emulate him in other books. After a while, dissatisfied with their own results compared to his impeccable ones, they reverted to the name-and-translate game.

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