week ago, she had
accepted never knowing her father. Now that she knew differently and had a
chance to know him, she didn’t want to waste it by imposing needless barriers
and giving life to resentments accrued during a fatherless childhood.
She held her breath, awaiting his reaction.
Her stomach clenched as the ticking of the clock seemed to grow louder. She was
near apologizing for being so forward when he gathered her in his arms again
and hugged her with bone-crushing strength.
When he released her, he didn’t say anything
about it. He seemed to be determined to ignore the tears clinging to his
lashes. Valdemeer cleared his throat. “Dinner is waiting.” He held out his arm.
Anca linked hers through his and walked with
him through the salon. Her eyes locked with Demi’s as they passed him, and she
gave him a small smile. She tried to say, “Thank you,” with her eyes. If he
hadn’t come after her, she never would have known about her father.
As he fell in step behind them, his breath
caressed her neck. “You’re welcome,” he whispered.
Her eyes widened. He had interpreted her
thoughts just from her expression. A shiver raced up her spine. Demi seemed to
know her intimately. How could that be? Was there such a thing as love at first
sight, or was it just an instant attraction for both of them?
She was distracted from her thoughts as they
entered the dining room. It was resplendent, with ecru silk wall hangings,
thick carpets, and a cherry-stained, rectangle table long enough to seat
thirty. Chippendale chairs lined each side of the table. Someone occupied the
chair at the head of the table.
A stunning woman with cinnamon-red hair slid
from the cushioned chair. She wore a flowing ebony caftan that did little to
hide the voluptuous curves of her body. Her skin was olive, and her brown eyes
glittered with green specks as she walked toward them. She seemed familiar, yet
alien.
“Papa.” The smile that flashed across her
face did nothing to soften her hard expression. “I had heard your other child
arrived.”
Valdemeer inclined his head in Anca’s
direction. “This is Anca.”
Anca swallowed heavily as those disconcerting
eyes—so much like her own, she realized with a start—met hers. She forced a
smile. “Hello.”
The older woman stepped closer, stopping
just a few inches away. She held out her hands. “Anca, my dear sister.”
Anca’s eyes widened. She didn’t protest as
the other woman folded her hands in a tight grip. “S-s-sister?”
She nodded. “Am I a surprise?” She looked
sad. “Mother didn’t tell you?”
How could her mother not tell her she had a
sister? How could Kathryn have left her other daughter behind when she fled Corsova?
What about protecting her too? Anca opened her mouth, but she couldn’t find
anything to say.
Demi stepped forward, and again, it was as
if he sensed her thoughts. More likely, he sensed her tension. “This is Nikia,
your half -sister. Katrine wasn’t her mother.”
“That’s a beautiful name.” She shook her
head at the inane comment. What did one say to a sister she hadn’t known about?
Nikia nodded. “It was my mother’s choice.
She insisted I have it. That was the last thing she said before she died.” She
spoke matter-of-factly, but her eyes darted to Valdemeer and stayed on him for
a long second. “She was so young.”
Anca frowned as the undercurrent of tension
permeating the room suddenly increased. “I…uh, I’m sorry for your loss.”
Nikia shrugged. “It was long ago, and I
never knew her. Papa did though.” There was a hint of slyness in her gaze. “He
was there when she died so…unexpectedly.”
“Women still die in childbirth,” Valdemeer
said stiffly. “Given Illiana’s state, it wasn’t entirely unexpected.”
Nikia nodded, but she didn’t dispute her
father’s words, as she so obviously wanted to. Instead, she leaned forward and
kissed Anca’s left cheek, and then her right cheek. “Welcome to
accepted never knowing her father. Now that she knew differently and had a
chance to know him, she didn’t want to waste it by imposing needless barriers
and giving life to resentments accrued during a fatherless childhood.
She held her breath, awaiting his reaction.
Her stomach clenched as the ticking of the clock seemed to grow louder. She was
near apologizing for being so forward when he gathered her in his arms again
and hugged her with bone-crushing strength.
When he released her, he didn’t say anything
about it. He seemed to be determined to ignore the tears clinging to his
lashes. Valdemeer cleared his throat. “Dinner is waiting.” He held out his arm.
Anca linked hers through his and walked with
him through the salon. Her eyes locked with Demi’s as they passed him, and she
gave him a small smile. She tried to say, “Thank you,” with her eyes. If he
hadn’t come after her, she never would have known about her father.
As he fell in step behind them, his breath
caressed her neck. “You’re welcome,” he whispered.
Her eyes widened. He had interpreted her
thoughts just from her expression. A shiver raced up her spine. Demi seemed to
know her intimately. How could that be? Was there such a thing as love at first
sight, or was it just an instant attraction for both of them?
She was distracted from her thoughts as they
entered the dining room. It was resplendent, with ecru silk wall hangings,
thick carpets, and a cherry-stained, rectangle table long enough to seat
thirty. Chippendale chairs lined each side of the table. Someone occupied the
chair at the head of the table.
A stunning woman with cinnamon-red hair slid
from the cushioned chair. She wore a flowing ebony caftan that did little to
hide the voluptuous curves of her body. Her skin was olive, and her brown eyes
glittered with green specks as she walked toward them. She seemed familiar, yet
alien.
“Papa.” The smile that flashed across her
face did nothing to soften her hard expression. “I had heard your other child
arrived.”
Valdemeer inclined his head in Anca’s
direction. “This is Anca.”
Anca swallowed heavily as those disconcerting
eyes—so much like her own, she realized with a start—met hers. She forced a
smile. “Hello.”
The older woman stepped closer, stopping
just a few inches away. She held out her hands. “Anca, my dear sister.”
Anca’s eyes widened. She didn’t protest as
the other woman folded her hands in a tight grip. “S-s-sister?”
She nodded. “Am I a surprise?” She looked
sad. “Mother didn’t tell you?”
How could her mother not tell her she had a
sister? How could Kathryn have left her other daughter behind when she fled Corsova?
What about protecting her too? Anca opened her mouth, but she couldn’t find
anything to say.
Demi stepped forward, and again, it was as
if he sensed her thoughts. More likely, he sensed her tension. “This is Nikia,
your half -sister. Katrine wasn’t her mother.”
“That’s a beautiful name.” She shook her
head at the inane comment. What did one say to a sister she hadn’t known about?
Nikia nodded. “It was my mother’s choice.
She insisted I have it. That was the last thing she said before she died.” She
spoke matter-of-factly, but her eyes darted to Valdemeer and stayed on him for
a long second. “She was so young.”
Anca frowned as the undercurrent of tension
permeating the room suddenly increased. “I…uh, I’m sorry for your loss.”
Nikia shrugged. “It was long ago, and I
never knew her. Papa did though.” There was a hint of slyness in her gaze. “He
was there when she died so…unexpectedly.”
“Women still die in childbirth,” Valdemeer
said stiffly. “Given Illiana’s state, it wasn’t entirely unexpected.”
Nikia nodded, but she didn’t dispute her
father’s words, as she so obviously wanted to. Instead, she leaned forward and
kissed Anca’s left cheek, and then her right cheek. “Welcome to
Similar Books
