Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
As he took a seat, the hostess looked from Maggie to Anatoly and started to protest again, but a stern look from Maggie was all it took to silence her. The girl sighed, muttering something about getting a towel, and then strode off.
Anatoly couldn’t help but notice that Maggie looked breathtaking in the glow of the candlelight. He was powerless to resist admiring her natural beauty, thinking back to the night not so long ago when he had met her for the first time.
She looked much the same, except her lipstick had been red then, and tonight it was a soft pink that matched her sweater. Whoever was supposed to meet her was missing out, even if Anatoly did say so himself.
“I am afraid I am poor substitute for proper date…” Anatoly started to say, but he paused when Maggie shook her head. “Nyet? You think soggy priest is adequate date?”
The way she smiled at him made his mouth go dry and his undead heart hammer wildly in his chest. He would need to reflect on these strange feelings, but he couldn’t bear to do it now. Not when she was sitting across from him, eyes aglow with unshed tears.
She turned her head to hide them, but it was too late, he had already caught the glassiness of her gaze. It was a strange thing she did and he wasn’t sure if it was out of frustration or not.
Without a second thought, he reached across and laid his palm on her hand, which was resting on the table top. He heard her sniff and he rumbled soothing words in Russian until she finally looked over at him again.
“I’m just glad you’re here…” she confessed and a warm tingle spread outward from his chest. “Why do you keep showing up for me?”
Her question took him by surprise, and he paused to consider his answer. Meanwhile, his thumb idly rubbed the back of her hand. He barely realized he was still making the soothing gesture, but she must have appreciated it as she didn’t pull away or ask him to stop.
“I am not fully sure. All I know is my heart and spirit went out to you, especially on night we met.” He gave her a sheepish grin, but continued his own confession regardless of the dangers it posed.
“I heard you speak to Father Abram, heard oath you made to him. It was moment of compassion for one who could no longer comprehend and yet to me it spoke volumes. You have great sense of justice, Maggie, and also deep well of sadness. I found kindred spirit in you.”
He felt as though truer words had never come from his lips and yet he couldn’t stop the twinge of guilt that there were still secrets between them; his secrets.
Maggie’s eyes never left his face. She stared so intently at him that for a moment he feared his words had been misunderstood, but he soon realized she was fighting tears for the second time.
He was quick to apologize. “Maggie, Izvinite… I did not mean to upset you.”
She just shook her head again, her fingers lacing with his on the table for all to see. It was like crossing an invisible line, edging into dangerous territory, and while he knew he should remove his hand, Anatoly found it wouldn’t budge.
He didn’t want it to. The feel of her soft, warm skin against his was confusing, frightening, and alluring all at once, twisting him up until all he could do was sit there.
“You didn’t upset me,” she finally found her words. “I’m touched.”
Then suddenly confusion furrowed her brow. “How did you hear me though? I was in the other room…”
A chill ran down Anatoly’s spine and he finally found the strength to slip his hand back to his side of the table. “Church is old building. It has strange acoustics.” He had no choice but to lie. Even if he wanted to confide his secret with her, he couldn’t do it in a crowded restaurant.
She shifted on her chair and a gleam of metal caught his eye, drawing it to the silver crucifix at her throat.
Shame washed over him at the reminder of his vows, of his role as a man of the cloth.
He should not have been sitting here at all and yet he’d come without hesitation, leaving his duties behind in order to rescue the woman that in just a matter of days had shifted his steadfast priorities.
When he dared to glance at her face, he saw concern there. Had she said something and he missed it?
Now it was her turn to bridge the divide and lay her hand over his. Maggie’s warmth was like a lifeline in the storm, a tether grounding him to the shore. These feelings might be new and strange, but they weren’t wrong. She was changing him and he was certain it had to be for the better.
“Anatoly? Are you okay?” Her words washed over him, finally registering and he mentally shook himself back to the moment.
“Da, I am fine,” the priest replied, smiling gently at her. “I did not mean to drift away. Sometimes my thoughts have way of running wild. Especially when in presence of very enchanting woman…”
“Maggie! I’m so sorry I’m late!”
The sound of a man’s voice from behind made Anatoly jump. He snatched his hand off the table and into his lap like a boy caught stealing from the cookie jar.
Meanwhile, Maggie audibly cleared her throat and offered a smile to the newcomer. “Desmond, glad you could make it,” she said, sounding far too pleased to see him for Anatoly’s tastes.
Jealousy was not an emotion he was used to experiencing and in fact he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt the cloying, queasy sensation stir to life in his gut.
He immediately stood up, certain it was time for him to leave.
Not forgetting his manners, he hurried to introduce himself, offering his hand to the man named Desmond.
“Dobryy vecher, I am Father Anatoly. I ran into Maggie and wanted to say hello,” he explained, guilt wedging itself in his chest at having told yet another lie. He shook hands with Desmond, but quickly pulled away and started toward the door.
“Wait, Anatoly,” her voice nearly stopped him. “Do you want to join us?”
For the first time since meeting her, he felt the need to put space between Maggie and himself. He immediately shook his head. “I will not keep you from date, Detective, do svidaniya.” Anatoly waved over his shoulder and didn’t look back lest his resolve fail him.