Bound by Love (38 page)

“Then sell it and donate the money to the orphanage. It seems a fitting end to Sir Charles.”

Beneath the force of his dark gaze, she swallowed her instinctive revulsion. He was right. Sir Charles’s taint was gone from the world and the large diamond was worth a great deal of money. She could purchase a number of supplies for the children.

“Yes. Thank you.”

Dimitri settled back in his chair. “I assure you, it was my greatest pleasure.”

She paused, studying the lean, dangerous face with a curiosity she could no longer keep at bay.

“Why?”

“Sir Charles was a rabid animal who needed to be put down.”

She frowned, not surprised at the description. She
already suspected as much. But how would this man even know of Sir Charles?

“He harmed someone you cared for?”

“I care for all those who are not considered worthy of being protected by Alexander Pavlovich and his guards.” A hint of steel edged his voice. “Sir Charles tortured and murdered women for his own perverted pleasure. It could not be tolerated.”

Leonida was wise enough not to protest the man’s disrespect toward his Emperor. It was not, after all, as if she could argue her father’s lack of concern toward the tragedy of the serfs.

Instead, she concentrated on the knowledge that Sir Charles was well and truly dead.

“Did he suffer?”

A feral smile curved his lips. “Very much.”

“Good.”

As if surprised by her fierce response, Dimitri tilted back his head to laugh with rich enjoyment.

“You possess the soul of a warrior and the heart of a saint.” The dark eyes studied her with an unnerving intensity. “A pity I cannot keep you.”

With a sharp motion, Leonida rose to her feet. She was not entirely certain he was teasing.

“If that is all…”

“But it is not.” His voice held a thread of warning. “Please, return to your seat.”

Her heart thundered, but she forced herself to reclaim her place on the settee. It was not as if she could escape.

Not until Dimitri Tipova was prepared to let her go.

If he did intend to let her go.

“What else could we have to discuss?”

“According to my sources, Sir Charles was not alone in his attempt to blackmail your mother.”

Her burst of fear was forgotten as her eyes widened in shock. “How did you…”

“There is very little that occurs in St. Petersburg that does not reach my ears.” He overrode her disbelieving words, his expression unreadable. “And Nikolas Babevich has never been discreet.”

She shivered. Was there any secret this man had not ferreted out? It was uncanny.

“My mother will never pay him the money he has demanded,” she said, her tone defensive.

“Never fear, Miss Karkoff. Babevich has happily joined Sir Charles in the netherworld,” he drawled. “Well, perhaps not happily. As I recall there was a great deal of screaming involved.”

A trickle of sweat inched down her spine. Just how much blood was on this man’s hands?

“What did he do?”

“He was foolish enough to owe my gambling establishments a great deal of money.”

“I…see.”

His smile mocked her barely concealed unease at his callous manner.

“Do not mourn his passing,
ma belle
. He was a liar and a thief who was plotting to murder his own sister to gain her inheritance.”

Her spine stiffened. She was not troubled by the thought that Nikolas Babevich was dead. After all, he had done his best to terrify her mother into giving him an enormous fortune. And any gentleman who would throw his lot in with a man such as Sir Charles was bound to possess his own share of evil.

No, she was far more unnerved by the knowledge that her current companion could shrug aside murder so lightly.

It was hardly reassuring for a woman he had just kidnapped.

“I am surprised you did not wish for him to succeed in acquiring his inheritance if he owed you money,” she muttered.

“My pesky conscience occasionally overcomes my
business sense,” he admitted, smoothly rising to his feet to cross toward the marble fireplace. “Such as now.”

“Now?”

Opening an enameled box on the mantle, Dimitri plucked out a stack of letters tied with a frayed ribbon. He turned, smiling at her suddenly wide eyes.

“I believe these belong to your mother.”

Leonida slowly rose to her feet, her heart refusing to beat.

The letters. So, Josef
had
stolen them from her bag. How else could Dimitri have gotten his hands on them?

Now the question was, what did he intend to do with them?

She forced herself to meet his dark, steady gaze. “What do you demand for their return?”

His brows arched with an inbred arrogance. “I do not barter like a common merchant, Miss Karkoff. I offer you the letters with my compliments.”

Leonida would be the first to concede that she was innocent in the ways of criminals, but she was not stupid.

“You would not have brought me here if you did not want something.”

His soft chuckle brushed over her as he moved with the grace of a stalking panther to stand directly before her.

“Ah, such a clever little minx. I will admit that when I do someone a good deed, I expect the favor to be returned.”

“And what favor would you demand?”

He shrugged. “Who is to say?”

“I have little influence with Alexander Pavlovich.”

“Do not worry. It will be nothing that will be beyond your powers to provide.”

Leonida was not nearly so confident. Thus far, Dimitri had played the role of charming host, but she had not forgotten he had readily admitted to killing two men.

Did she truly wish to be in debt to such a man?

Even if it did mean getting her hands on the damnable letters?

“I…”

Her lips snapped shut as the door to the private chambers was thrust open to reveal Josef.

“There are men approaching,” the servant announced.

Dimitri was swiftly on alert, but his expression was more amused than terrified.

Clearly he assumed he was more than capable of dealing with whatever was approaching.

And Leonida suspected his confidence was hard-earned.

“Guards?” Dimitri demanded.

“A handful. Along with Gerhardt.” Josef’s gaze slid to Leonida, a taunting expression on his narrow face. “And the Duke of Huntley.”

“Stefan?” Leonida made a sound of staggered disbelief. The servant must be mistaken. Stefan was on a ship bound for England. And even if he were not, he had made it painfully clear that he had washed his hands of her.

Why would he put himself at risk to attempt to rescue her?

“Ah. It would seem your escorts have arrived. Be sure and give them my warm regards,” Dimitri said, shoving the letters into her hand before motioning his servant forward. “Josef, please accompany Miss Karkoff downstairs.”

Before Leonida could protest, the servant had moved to grasp her arm and began hauling her toward the door.

“Come with me, Miss Karkoff.”

Unable to battle against Josef’s determined grip, Leonida glanced desperately over her shoulder. Dimitri stood in the middle of the expensive carpet, his arms folded over his chest.

“The favor?” she demanded.

A wicked smile curved his lips. “I will send word if the day arrives when I need your assistance.”

“That is not particularly reassuring.”

His dark chuckle followed her as Josef tugged her out the door and down the steps.

“Au revoir, ma belle.”

T
HE FIGHT BEGAN THE MOMENT
that Stefan appeared on Herrick Gerhardt’s doorstep and continued even after the older man had gathered his horse, along with several grim-faced soldiers, to lead them from the city to the northern island.

It was only to be expected, of course.

Both men were born leaders and harbored a fierce male sense of possession toward Leonida. With their tempers rubbed raw with fear at her disappearance, the sparks were bound to fly. Only their overwhelming need to find Leonida kept them from coming to blows.

They rode ahead of Boris and the other guards who had wisely fallen back to avoid the crossfire, both keeping a close watch on the crumbling warehouses that dotted the rough landscape.

“I have warned you, your Grace, that I will not allow you to meddle in Russian affairs,” Herrick gritted out, angling his horse toward the path leading directly toward the quay.

Stefan’s fingers clutched the loaded pistol in his hand. “And I have warned you that I will not allow Leonida to be used as a pawn in your murky games. You should have told me of Dimitri Tipova’s involvement.”

The dark eyes snapped in his direction. “Just as you should have told me of Nikolas Babevich’s murder,” he countered. Stefan had only grudgingly admitted he had stumbled across the dead body when it was obvious Herrick was considering wasting their time by searching
for Sir Charles and Leonida at Babevich’s house. Of course, when he described the gruesome method of the man’s death, it had in turn forced the older man to confess Tipova’s interest in Sir Charles, and the possibility that the Beggar Czar might at least have some knowledge of Leonida’s disappearance. “Besides, why should I speak to you of Leonida at all? Are you not preparing to leave St. Petersburg? Leonida is no longer your concern.”

A blaze of emotion seared through his body at the older man’s taunt. For once he made no effort to ignore or dismiss the unnerving sensations. He was done pretending.

To himself and to others.

“Leonida will be my concern until the day I die.” His low, husky voice throbbed with sincerity. “No doubt she will continue to plague me even after I am in my grave.”

Herrick’s gaunt face remained set in bleak lines, but the dark eyes flickered with a ready comprehension of Stefan’s vow. Whether he approved or not was impossible to know.

“And your return to England?”

Stefan shrugged. “It will be delayed until I have wed my future Duchess.”

“If she will have you.”

A dark, ruthless pain slashed through Stefan’s heart, but he refused to give in to despair. He would not believe that he had ruined all hope. It was…unbearable.

“Until I met Leonida I considered myself excessively clever, now all I can claim is an ability to learn from my mistakes,” he said. “She will have me, even if I must devote the rest of my days to earning her heart.”

Herrick’s brows lifted. “Heart?”

“Yes.”

“Perhaps you are not quite so dim-witted as I first supposed,” the older man muttered.

Stefan ignored the insult, his gaze narrowing as he realized they had passed by most of the buildings until there was only one unkempt structure huddled near the quay.

“Is that the warehouse?”

“It is.”

“Then why are we dawdling?”

“Huntley, wait.” Herrick reached out to grasp Stefan’s arm. “It could be a trap.”

“I do not care.”

Yanking away from Herrick’s grip, Stefan dug his heels into his horse to send him bolting down the street to the warehouse. He had not lied. If Dimitri Tipova knew anything of Leonida’s disappearance then he would risk any trap to discover the truth. What meaning did his life have without the woman he loved?

Passing through the broken gates, Stefan was charging across the paved yard when the door to the warehouse was shoved open and a small, golden-haired woman stepped into the fading light.

“Leonida.”

Not waiting for his horse to come to a halt, Stefan leaped from the saddle, running toward Leonida the moment his feet hit the ground. He absently noted that the door to the warehouse had been closed behind Leonida and that Herrick and his guards had spread out to ensure that no one could approach without warning. A wise precaution that he was delighted to leave in Herrick’s capable hands. His only concern was the beautiful woman who walked toward him with an uncertain expression.

“Stefan?”

At last reaching her side, Stefan ran desperate hands over her body, frantic to assure himself that she was not injured.

“Are you hurt?”

“I am fine.”

Gripping her shoulders, his anxious gaze seared over her upturned face. “You are certain?”

“Quite certain.”

The vicious tightness clenching his chest eased as he at last accepted she was safe.

“What happened?” he rasped. “How did you get here?”

“Josef appeared in the garden and forced me into his carriage.” She grimaced, but it was more a gesture of aggravation rather than lingering fear. “I do wish people would stop doing that.”

His fingers instinctively tightened on her shoulders, his gaze turning toward the warehouse.

“I will kill the bastard.”

Her hands lifted to press against his chest, genuine fear flashing through her beautiful eyes.

“No, Stefan. It is too dangerous.”

His brows snapped together. Did she not comprehend his primitive need to punish any man foolish enough to threaten her?

“He cannot be allowed to escape,” he snarled.

“I would bet my entire fortune he has long since disappeared. Besides, I have assured you he did me no harm.”

“He kidnapped you.”

“Only to bring me here so I could meet with Dimitri Tipova,” she said, as if that excused the bastard. “I will admit that I was frightened, but he did nothing to hurt me.”

His brows snapped together. “Why would Dimitri Tipova wish to meet with you?”

“He wanted me to know that Sir Charles is dead.”

Stefan sucked in a sharp breath. During the long, harrowing afternoon, he had been ravaged with thoughts of Leonida being in the hands of Sir Charles.

Now a sharp, biting relief raced through him.

He could not bear the thought of Leonida enduring more anguish.

“Tipova killed him?”

“Yes.” She shuddered, her arms instinctively wrapping around her body in a protective motion. “I was not the only woman he hurt. He had to be stopped.”

“That doesn’t explain why he kidnapped you.”

“He wanted to give me these.”

She lifted her hand, and for the first time Stefan noted that she clutched a small box along with a stack of letters tied with a ribbon. It did not take a great deal of intelligence to speculate what they were.

“My mother’s letters.” He captured her guarded gaze. “Tipova had them?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

She wrinkled her nose. “Josef stole them as we suspected, but he never truly worked for Sir Charles. He was a spy for Dimitri Tipova.”

Stefan possessed little interest in Josef or his loyalties. He was far more concerned with Tipova and why the leader of the underworld had felt compelled to kidnap Leonida to return a handful of letters.

Such a man did not do things out of the kindness of his heart.

“And what did he demand for them?”

“I am not entirely certain.”

“Leonida…”

“Stefan.” Before he could guess her intention, Leonida had lifted a hand and placed it across his mouth, effectively silencing him. “I want to know what you are doing here.”

It was not the fingers that halted his demands to know precisely what Dimitri Tipova had required of her. Instead it was the uncertainty that shimmered in her eyes.

He never desired for this woman to doubt him again.

Gently he grasped her wrist, tugging her fingers from his lips to press them against his cheek. “I think it should be obvious I was searching for you.”

“You are supposed to be on a ship to England.”

“So I was.” He shook his head. Christ. He had come so close to destroying his future. “Thank God, Pyotr came to warn me of your disappearance. I might have been well out to sea by the time I came to my senses. Boris might never
have forgiven me if I forced him to swim miles back to St. Petersburg.”

Her expression remained guarded, as if she feared he was playing some cruel trick. The sight made him flinch with regret.

“Did you take a blow to the head?” she demanded.

“The blow, my dove, was to my heart.” He lightly kissed her fingers before placing them in the center of his chest. “A blow that I no doubt richly deserve, but one I hope you will heal.”

“Stefan?”

Indifferent to the numerous gazes watching them with avid curiosity, Stefan abruptly wrapped his arms around her slender waist and buried his face in the curve of her neck. He needed to feel her warmth melting away the icy fear that had gripped him for the past hours.

She was safe.

Now he had to convince her to take yet another risk.

“Bloody hell, I have been such a fool.”

She trembled, but thank God, she made no effort to pull away.

“I have no intention of arguing,” she muttered.

“No, I do not suppose you do.” He breathed deeply, savoring the sweet jasmine that filled his senses. How had he ever thought he could survive without this woman? “I have known since the moment you crossed my path that I wanted you. Hardly surprising. You are astonishingly beautiful. But I could not understand why you fascinated me more than any other woman I have ever known.”

The box and letters fell to the ground as she raised her hands to rest them tentatively against his chest.

“Because you thought me a liar and a thief.”

He pulled back, willing her to see the sincerity that was etched on his face.

“True, but even when I suspected that you were in my home under false pretenses, I could not halt my obsessive
need to make you mine.” His smiled ruefully. “I should have known in that moment you were a danger to more than my sanity.”

“So you decided to take me as your mistress?”

He grimaced at his blind arrogance. Not that he hadn’t paid a painful price for his conceit. This woman had led him on a merry chase from England to Paris to St. Petersburg.

“That was the only means to have what I desired without confessing the truth,” he said.

She frowned. “The truth of what?”

“That I was terrified.”

She blinked, clearly taken aback by his blunt honesty. “Of me?”

“Of acknowledging the feelings that you stirred deep inside me,” he admitted without hesitation. The time for dissembling was long past.

A lingering hurt darkened her eyes. “Because I am not the Duchess you envisioned for yourself?”

He swallowed his disbelieving laugh. This beautiful, clever, frustratingly courageous woman was even more wondrous than he had ever hoped to have as his Duchess. Instead he concentrated on soothing her painful doubts.

“Because loving you forced me to consider my future rather than clinging to my past.”

“Love?” she whispered.

The last rays of sunshine stroked over her face, shimmering in the brilliant gold of her hair. His arms tightened around her as his blood stirred and his muscles hardened with awareness.

She was so damned beautiful.

“It was ironic, really,” he said, his voice thickening. “I devoted years to fretting over Edmond’s guilt at my parents’ death while blindly ignoring my own ghosts. It was not until you entered Meadowland and filled it with your golden light that I realized how dark it had become.”

Her expression softened. “You mourned your parents.”

Stefan shook his head. He was not so forgiving of his years of willful deceit.

“I hid behind my duties so I would not have to accept their loss. They would have been vastly disappointed in me.”

Her hand lifted to gently touch his face. “I refuse to believe they could ever be disappointed in you.”

“But it is true,” he insisted, leaning into her touch. He craved it with a wrenching force. “As you said, Meadowland is not just a house. It is a home meant to be filled with a family.” He deliberately paused. “
Our
family.”

He felt her stiffen beneath his hands, a wary hope darkening her eyes. “Are you proposing, your Grace?”

“I am offering you my name, my worldly possessions and my heart, Miss Karkoff.” He lowered his head to murmur against her lips. “I promise to always keep you warm no matter how cold the weather. I promise you will always have books and quiet evenings, and I promise that you will always be first in my life. I love you. For now and all eternity.”

With a low cry, Leonida threw her arms around his neck and pressed her face to his chest, just over his pounding heart.

“And I love you.”

Happiness exploded through him at the simple words. “So will you be my Duchess?”