Tangled Vows

Ever the gentleman, Ilya steadied her. The photographer’s assistant rushed toward them with a massive white umbrella that Ilya accepted and held over them both. He guided her toward the doors leading to the main reception room. As soon as they were inside, she pulled off his jacket and thrust it toward him.

“Thank you. I don’t need this now.”

“It’s okay to accept a little help from time to time.”

“Said the man who has never had to ask for help from anyone, ever.”

She smiled to soften her words but her meaning hung in the air between them. He had been born into a life of privilege. Certainly the privilege had been created by the hard work of previous generations and, she knew well, of the current generation, too. But had he ever truly wanted for anything?

“Besides,” she continued, “you’ll need to look your formal best for the reception.”

He said nothing but shrugged the jacket back on. The resort’s wedding planner hovered at the inner doors to the reception room.

“Are the two of you all ready?” she asked with an encouraging smile.

“As ready as we’ll ever be, right?” Ilya replied with a crooked smile in Yasmin’s direction.

She nodded, desperately trying to ignore the ridiculous sensations that poured through her. Anyone would think she was a sex-starved crazy woman if they knew how easily he sent her senses into overdrive. And aren’t you? a little voice teased from the back of her mind. Okay, sure, she hadn’t had a date in, what? Two years? And as for sex, well, it had been even longer. That didn’t mean she had to melt like an ice cube on hot tarmac in the middle of July with just one look from him. Besides, he didn’t appear to be similarly afflicted, she realized with a burst of chagrin. From now on she’d keep her ridiculous reactions very firmly under control. It couldn’t be that difficult, could it?

* * *

Ilya observed his new wife with amusement. She was working hard to hold herself completely aloof, and yet the endearingly pretty flush of pink on her cheeks and her chest suggested she was just as attracted to him as he was to her. It would prove to be an interesting marriage, he decided. But would it be one that endured? His grandmother seemed to think so. He had yet to hear her reasons as to why, but Ilya knew that he and Yasmin at least had flying in common. The fact that they flew in direct competition with each other was another matter entirely.

Her gray eyes darted from one group of people to the next as they circulated through the room after the announcement of their arrival. He’d felt her entire body go rigid as they’d been introduced as Mr. and Mrs. Horvath.

“I’m not taking your name,” she whispered fiercely as they finally settled at the head table.

“I didn’t expect you to,” he said to defuse her irritation. But mischief prompted him to add, “Would you prefer I took yours?”

Surprise chased the exasperation from her face. “Seriously? You’d do that?”

“If it was important to you,” he answered sincerely. “I want this marriage to work, Yasmin. I don’t yet know your reasons for entering into it, or why we’ve specifically been matched together, but I’d like to think the experts got it right and that we can make an honest go of this. I want a future that includes a family with the kind of companion I can’t wait to see, whether it’s when I wake or just before we fall asleep at night.”

He hesitated. Was that too much, too soon? Judging by the startled expression on her face, perhaps it was. He’d surprised himself with that declaration, too. Still, he was the kind of guy who said what he wanted. He didn’t hold with beating around the bush, and it was true. He wanted a family of his own. A wife who would be his partner in all things.

The reception continued with speeches interspersed between courses of the meal. He noticed she barely touched her food. And only one person stood up to speak for Yasmin. A woman Ilya recognized from the airfield—Yasmin’s office manager, he recalled—who sat in her colorful sari at a table with a handful of others from Carter Air. His wife had no family here, he realized in surprise. He knew the grandfather who’d raised her had died a few years ago, but why hadn’t her parents come today? Was their absence a sign of something deeper missing in her life? Did her reason for marrying stem from a need to create a family of her own?

He knew part of his reason in approaching his grandmother for a bride came from his wish to continue the family tradition of handing control of the corporation over to an heir or heirs. But finding the right woman had eluded him. He’d been engaged once, in college, but that had ended disastrously.

Ever since his father’s death when he was sixteen, and his mother’s subsequent withdrawal from parental duties as she went on a new quest to find love, he’d missed that feeling of being a piece of a small, tight-knit family unit. Yes, he’d had his grandmother, his aunts and uncles and cousins, but it wasn’t the same as what he’d lost and what he craved to be a part of again.

He looked at Yasmin and felt a pull of sympathy. Her family life hadn’t been much better. Ilya had met her irascible grandfather once and was surprised that Jim Carter and Eduard Horvath had been such great friends many years ago. They couldn’t have been more different, from what Ilya could tell. His late grandfather had been a charismatic and driven man who always had an eye to the future and to expansion. He had lived, laughed and loved hard. On the flip side, Jim Carter had been quieter, withdrawn even, and his reluctance to embrace change had set Carter Air back in many ways. While his work ethic had never been in question, he’d lacked the vision and the willingness to expand and adapt to new horizons the way Eduard had. Their very differences had been what had made them such a great team until they’d fallen out over his grandmother and become enemies.

Yasmin, it seemed, had her own way of doing things with a liberal dose of her late grandfather’s caution sprinkled in. Ilya knew one thing for certain—she was a damn fine pilot. He’d seen her in her vintage Ryan PT-22 Recruit at airshows and she’d taken his breath away. The Ryan had a reputation as an unforgiving aircraft but she handled hers as if it was a simply an extension of herself. Which made her an intriguing package, indeed, and begged the question: How many more layers would he uncover as he got to know his unconventional bride?

Three (#u2ffcc786-1dea-53eb-9ca2-469ba06d0dd6)

Ilya leaned over and murmured in Yasmin’s ear, “Everyone seems to be enjoying themselves.”

Yasmin nodded, trying to ignore the frisson of awareness that tracked down the side of her neck as he spoke.

“Everyone except you,” he added dryly.

“I’m fine,” Yasmin insisted even as she clenched a fist in her lap.

She might be fine, but she hated being the center of attention like this. As if she was on display for approval by every member of his family. His cousins seemed nice enough, but she sensed a lot of confusion and perhaps even some veiled hostility from some of their parents’ generation. And then there were the questions—like, where were her parents? Didn’t they approve of her marriage?

Truth be told, she hadn’t even been able to get hold of them to let them know about the wedding. They were somewhere in the wilds of South America the last she’d heard—chasing whatever dream they’d come up with this time. A traditional life filled with predictable choices was definitely not for them. Who knew? Maybe they would have approved of her adventurous approach to marriage, although she doubted it. Her father had tried to fit in to the mold her grandfather had cast for him but the two men had never been close, and in the end her father had left Carter Air, following his dreams with the woman he fell in love with and only returning long enough to leave his daughter in his father’s care so she’d have stability and regular schooling.

She was grateful to her parents that they’d done that for her, even if her granddad had not always been the easiest man to live with. The transient life was definitely not her thing. She was more like the old man than she liked to admit—needing order, consistency, control. All of which had made today very hard to handle.

Ilya interrupted her thoughts. “Let’s get out of here.”

She turned to face her husband. “Can we do that?”

“I don’t see why not. It’s our wedding day. We can do whatever the hell we want, can’t we?”

He held out a hand and she took it. His fingers closed around hers and he gently tugged her to her feet. Was this when their marriage would truly begin? In the honeymoon suite upstairs overlooking the marina and Puget Sound? Her stomach tightened into a knot of anxiety. As powerful as her attraction to him was, she knew she wasn’t ready for this. Wasn’t ready for him.

They managed to slip through one of the French doors to the patio outside. The earlier rain had passed, leaving the evening air damp and cold, heavy with the scent of woodsmoke. Ilya hastened to drape his jacket around Yasmin’s shoulders again. She was grateful for the warmth as she followed him across the patio to another door that led to the hotel’s main foyer.

“You know your way around,” she observed. “It was all I could do today to negotiate my way from my room to the wedding.”

He flashed her a smile. “You probably had other things on your mind.”

Yasmin tried to ignore the way his smile made the corners of his eyes crinkle. It made him look even more impossibly handsome and made her wonder anew just how they were going to approach this first night together. She doubted she would have been as nervous had her husband been anyone other than the man standing before her now.

She squared her shoulders and took a deep breath.

“Let’s go do this, then,” she said with all the enthusiasm of an unrestrained wing walker heading into a double barrel roll.

Ilya laughed. “You don’t need to sound quite so keen,” he commented, as they headed to the elevators.

“I’m sorry,” she said, blushing furiously. “I’ve never done this before. I’m not quite sure what the protocol is.”

“It’s okay,” he assured her, his voice deep and even. “It’s been a difficult day. Certainly not what I expected.”

“What did you expect?” she asked as they stepped into the elevator.

“Not you, that’s for sure. Not that I’m complaining,” he added hastily.

“Well, I wasn’t expecting you, either, if that’s any consolation.”

“Yeah, I think that was pretty obvious by your reaction,” he teased.

Yasmin felt her lips tweak into a smile. It was the first genuine moment of humor she’d appreciated all day.

“You have a beautiful smile,” Ilya commented as the doors swished open and they stepped out on her floor.