“I knew him before I knew you.” Amused, Sydney turned and looked jealousy in the eye. “And I didn’t let you kiss me, as I recall. You just did.”

He did so again, ruthlessly. “You won’t let him again.”

“No.”

“Good.” He drew her to the sofa. “Then he can live.”

With a laugh, she threw her arms around him for a hug, then settled her head on his shoulder. “None of it’s his fault, really. Or my mother’s, either. It’s more a matter of habit and circumstance. She’d set up the evening after persuading Channing that the time was ripe to propose.”

“Propose?” Mikhail spun her around to face him. “He wants to marry you?”

“Not really. He thought he did. He certainly doesn’t want to marry me anymore.” But he was shoving her out of the way so he could get up and pace. “There’s no reason to be angry,” Sydney said as she smoothed down her jumpsuit. “I was the one in the awkward position. As it is I doubt he’ll speak to me again.”

“If he does, I’ll cut out his tongue.” Slowly, Mikhail thought, working up the rage. “No one marries you but me.”

“I’ve already explained…” She trailed off as breath lodged in a hard ball in her throat. “There’s really no need to go into this,” she managed as she rose. “It’s late.”

“You wait,” Mikhail ordered and strode into the bedroom. When he came back carrying a small box, Sydney’s blood turned to ice. “Sit.”

“No, Mikhail, please—”

“Then stand.” He flipped open the top of the box to reveal a ring of hammered gold with a small center stone of fiery red. “The grandfather of my father made this for his wife. He was a goldsmith so the work is fine, even though the stone is small. It comes to me because I am the oldest son. If it doesn’t please you, I buy you something else.”

“No, it’s beautiful. Please, don’t. I can’t.” She held her fisted hands behind her back. “Don’t ask me.”

“I am asking you,” he said impatiently. “Give me your hand.”

She took a step back. “I can’t wear the ring. I can’t marry you.”

With a shake of his head, he pulled her hand free and pushed the ring on her finger. “See, you can wear it. It’s too big, but we’ll fix it.”

“No.” She would have pulled it off again, but he closed his hand over hers. “I don’t want to marry you.”

His fingers tightened on hers, and a fire darted into his eyes, more brilliant than the shine of the ruby. “Why?”

“I don’t want to get married,” she said as clearly as she could. “I won’t have what we started together spoiled.”

“Marriage doesn’t spoil love, it nurtures it.”