The Bride Who Wouldn't Read Online Free PDF Page A

the ring.”
    They had had their lenses aimed at Roman. He too was wearing dark glasses and his face was grey with tension as they approached.
    “This is Kate.” Isaak introduced her.
    Roman glanced at the glittering ring. “Is there something you forgot to tell me?”
    Isaak had not wanted to trouble Roman with the details of his uncle’s estate and so he gave his brother a grim smile. “We did not want to rub our happiness in your face at a time when you are grieving but I wanted Kate here with me today.”
    “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Roman said in Russian. “Have you lost your fucking mind?”
    “ Doveriye ko mne. ” Isaak gave a wry smile and told his brother to trust him.
    “What did he say?” Kate asked as they moved into the church.
    “He wishes us happiness.” Isaak responded as Roman, walking behind them, actually managed a brief smile at his brother’s smooth lie.
    They took their places right at the front of the church, so close that she could smell the lilies on the coffin and Kate looked around as the pews filled, anything rather than staring at the coffin ahead. She saw a few of her students and gave them a watery smile, which was returned.
    “Who are they?” Isaak asked.
    “They’re friends of your uncle.” She tried not to cry as she recalled the laughter and good times that had been shared in her classes.
    Isaak frowned, for it would seem that she really had been a part of his uncle’s life. It unnerved him a little, but then he corrected himself. He was not jealous of Ivor and had no qualms sleeping with her also.
    Or possibly he did.
    He could not think of that now.
    It was a long service and in Russian and so Kate stood and knelt as others did. Isaak stood and knelt rigid beside her. He rarely displayed emotion and certainly not for public view, but he had loved his uncle very much. He counted the lilies on the coffin checking that it was an even number, a tradition in Russia for a sad occasion such as this one. Over and over he counted them, just so that he could hold on to his emotions but at the end of the service, as they left the church, it was the zvon that almost finished him.
    Every ring of a bell in the funeral perebor hit Isaak like a fist to his gut. In the Russian orthodox tradition, each bell struck once to indicate the stages of life. There was so much that Isaak did not know about the man he loved. A man who had left Russia and made his fortune but had often returned. A man who had saved his nephews from their brutal beginning and had given them their start here in London.
    He stood at the graveside and could hear Roman’s harsh breathing as he surely recalled his wife’s funeral. Then he heard Kate’s quiet tears as the coffin lowered down. Was it for show or did grief briefly unite them? Neither was sure, yet he took her hand.
    For Kate, at first the contact was welcome—Isaak’s hot dry hand around hers actually anchored her, but in the next second it was shocking, not that it was Isaak, but more that a touch consoled when it never had before.
    The wake he did not inflict on her, instead Isaak’s driver took her to her home and again Isaak walked her to her door.
    “Can I come in?” he asked. “And go over a few details.”
    She didn’t answer but held the door open and Isaak stepped in.
    “Much tidier than your office,” he said, looking around and liking the full bookshelves and the intricate rugs on the floor and the scattered cushions softening a heavy leather sofa.
    “I don’t need to hear your opinion on my housekeeping skills.”
    “No,” Isaak said.
    “What was it that you wanted to discuss?”
    “I’ve just looked online and already the word is spreading about our engagement. Have you told your family?”
    “I have.”
    “You will need some money to prepare for the wedding. If you give me your account details…”
    “That won’t be necessary. Don’t worry, Isaak, I shan’t embarrass you.”
    “We leave on the night of the