right. Her grandfather had done so, starting from when she was in diapers, and her mother would object, half laughing and half serious, a little scared that her adventurous baby girl would try it on her own. He’d continued to sit her on the banister until she was five and then he’d let her slide on her own with him running next to her. She told them the remembrance.
Sevastyan flashed her one of his rare smiles. “I’ll bet you loved that.”
She nodded, the memory adding to her warmth. “I did. As I got older, Mom always pretended not to see us, but we made way too much noise for her not to know.”
They had reached the top of the stairs. The long landing overlooked the first story. Mitya kept his arm around her as they walked to her bedroom.
“I love hearing the stories of your childhood, kotyonok. If we’re going to learn how to provide our children with such a thing, it will have to come from you and your experiences. Your grandparents and parents knew how to love.” He brushed a kiss on top of her head. “I’m thankful you do too.”
Sevastyan slid in front of them smoothly, so smoothly that Ania hadn’t realized Mitya had slowed their steps in order to allow his cousin the time to get around them so that he was the one in front of the door. Her heart clenched. Sevastyan was so willing to risk his life for Mitya—and now for her. She didn’t want that for him. She didn’t want him to feel as if his life wasn’t worth as much as theirs.
He opened the door cautiously, although his leopard had to have told him the room was empty. Still, when he stepped inside, he did so alone, sweeping the room and the impressive bank of windows Ania had always loved. She wasn’t certain how she felt about them now. Anyone could be lying up in the hills with a sniper rifle and easily see into the bedroom if the lights were on. Clearly, Sevastyan thought the same thing.
“You didn’t put blackout screens on the windows?” he inquired.
“The remote’s in the nightstand drawer,” Ania offered. “I rarely used the screens, so I almost forgot they were there.”
Sevastyan held up his hand to stop them from entering the room, stalked across it, found the remote and lowered the screens before beckoning them inside. Mitya went first, his hand in hers, tucking her close to him.
“Beautiful home, Ania,” Sevastyan said. “You can actually feel the joy here.”
It was the first time Ania had ever heard him with expression in his voice, other than command or reprimand. She glanced at him curiously. He was a difficult man to understand. All of the Amurovs were.
“I loved living here,” she admitted. “We laughed all the time. That’s what made it so difficult after I lost Mom and my grandparents. Then my father was shot, and he became bedridden. He could barely speak most of the time. Until we just now started talking about it, I think I’d pushed all the good memories aside and focused on losing them. Thank you both for giving those memories back to me.”
Mitya hugged her. “I think Sevastyan’s right, Ania. I think this house has so many good memories filling it, that when you go into each room, you can feel the happiness. I want that for our children, to fill our house with so much laughter that when anyone comes in, they can feel it.” He stood in the middle of the darkened room. “Sevastyan’s right. We need to keep the two properties together.”
Sevastyan snapped on the small lamp beside her bed. “It doubles the size of the area the leopards can run. It isn’t only our leopards that need to run. Our men have to allow theirs out as well.”
Ania hadn’t thought of that, and it made her feel a little selfish, especially when the men were there to guard Mitya and her. “I don’t necessarily want to sell it,” she admitted. “I’m just not ready to live here, especially alone.”
Mitya glanced at her sharply. “I think we’ve established that you’re living with me.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re such a goof, Mitya. I wasn’t implying I thought I’d be living alone now. Sheesh.” She tried to let go of his hand, but it was impossible.
Sevastyan smirked at his cousin. “I think that’s a very good word to describe him, Ania. Goof. I’ll let the others know.”