Scoundrel's Honor (23 page)

“The bottom floor has four rooms. A front parlor, an office, the kitchens and a pantry. The second floor has six small bedchambers.” He grimaced. “The upper floor contains the attics, but the doors and windows are barred. I assume that if the females are here that is where they are being held.”

“Interesting.” Josef glanced over the edge of the terrace to the shadows below. “Guards?”

“Far too many for a mere brothel. I have counted five so far.”

Josef rubbed the tip of his nose, considering their few options.

“A dangerous situation. Perhaps we should wait until later in the evening. The guards will eventually seek a place to hide from the employers and enjoy a bottle of raki together.”

Dimitri chaffed at yet another delay. He wanted to expose the slavers and rescue the females so he could concentrate on Emma. Surely once he had her sister she would agree to leave the damnable harem and return to St. Petersburg where she belonged?

But he was not a fool.

If he acted too hastily he risked sending the bastards fleeing before they could be captured. Or worse. He could stumble into a trap.

Still undecided, Dimitri shifted toward the edge of the terrace as he heard a noise in the alley.

“What is that?”

Josef peered into the shadows. “A carriage.”

They both tensed, knowing that a vehicle would never willingly choose to travel through the filth of the alley unless there was a need for secrecy.

Was it possible the auction was already beginning?

He scowled, debating how long it would take to convince the authorities to send soldiers. It would be far more efficient to gather his own servants and attack the brothel. Unfortunately, he was not certain that the pasha would approve of a foreigner shedding blood on the streets of Cairo.

Not when the gentlemen attending the auction were quite likely wealthy citizens who could create any number of political difficulties.

Dimitri bent down as a servant hurried toward the carriage, opening the door and reaching inside. His eyes nar
rowed as he heard the low sound of male voices, then the unmistakable shriek of a furious female.

Had they been keeping the women at another location and were only now bringing them to the brothel?

That complicated matters since he couldn't know if Anya had yet arrived.

Leaning forward, he watched as the servant stepped back from the carriage, his arms wrapped around a furiously struggling woman. For a moment he was distracted by the sight of the large Russian who stepped from the carriage, instantly recognizing him as the man from the London warehouse. Then, as he heard Josef suck in a shocked breath, he returned his attention to the female who continued her futile fight for freedom, the moonlight shimmering over her honey curls and delicate features. “Emma.”

All logical thought ceased as he vaulted off the terrace, overwhelmed by his savage need to gut the man who dared to put his hands on her.

God, he had to reach her. He had to…

Without warning, he was tackled from behind, landing awkwardly on the hard ground. He cursed as Josef grasped his arm and wrenched it to a painful angle behind his back, effectively holding him captive.

“Damn you, Tipova, do not force me to hurt you,” the servant hissed.

Dimitri struggled, but the smaller man had the leverage to keep him trapped, not to mention enough force on his arm to threaten to snap it in two. Something Dimitri was quite certain his friend was prepared to do if necessary.

Turning his head, he spit out the dirt and watched in the distance as Emma was hauled into a side door of the brothel, followed by the hulking form of Valik.

Any hope of a hasty rescue was slipping away.

“Let me up,” he commanded.

“You promise you will not do anything stupid?”

He trembled with fury. “Josef.”

“You may release him,” a soft voice ordered. “I promise to shoot him if he takes a step toward the brothel.”

Josef leaped off his back, his gun pointed at Caliph Rajih as he appeared from the shadows of the pavilion. With less grace, Dimitri surged upright, his hands clenched at his side as he glared at the slender man in a dark uniform, a curved sword in his hand.

“I should have suspected you were involved in this vile business,” he rasped, his body rigid with a combination of anger and anguish. Emma was in the hands of slave traders, and while his blind thirst to reach her was being tempered by the realization he might very well endanger her by barging into the situation without considering the consequences, he was still tormented by his frantic urgency. “Your presence in London, not to mention your interest in Emma, was far too convenient.”

Ignoring Josef's pistol pointed directly at his heart, Rajih stepped forward, his expression hard.

“You ever again accuse me of being involved with the slave trade and I will have your head on a pike,” he warned, the sharp edge of his sword glinting in the moonlight. “Believe me, that is not an empty threat.”

Dimitri stepped forward, his hands clenched with the fierce need to strike out.

“You think we are stupid enough to believe your presence here is a mere accident?”

“I could ask the same of your presence, Tipova. What are you doing at this brothel?”

The two men glared at each other, both seeking to prove their dominance. Like dogs snarling and snapping at one another. At last it was the realization he was wasting precious time that Dimitri swallowed his pride.

He would sacrifice whatever necessary to save Emma.

“My servant heard rumors that a large Russian man was seen in the neighborhood,” he confessed, his tone pitched so it would not carry on the night air. “He investigated and found that this particular brothel had supposedly suffered a fire.”

Rajih glanced toward the building that was shabby, but unmarred by flames.

“A fire?”

Josef shrugged. “So I was told.”

“Not a particularly convincing lie,” Rajih said.

Josef rolled his eyes. “The servants did not impress me with their swift wits.”

“I have explained my presence, Caliph.” Dimitri folded his arms over his chest. “Now I will hear your story.”

“There is no…story.” The dark eyes narrowed. “I returned to my home after enduring a tedious dinner party, which I believe I have you to thank for my invitation.”

Dimitri could not halt the cold smile from curling his lips. He had considered himself quite clever in arranging Rajih to be absent from the palace so he could spend the evening in Emma's arms.

“I sent no invitation,” he protested.

“We will settle that debt at a more convenient moment.”

He waved aside the threat. “You said you returned home.”

“Yes, and when I discovered Emma was missing I gathered my servants so I could question them.”

“What did you learn?”

“I learned that I had more than one uninvited guest during my absence,” Rajih said, his tone promising retribution. “Yet another grievance I intend to settle with you later. For now it only matters that one of my female servants confessed to accepting a bribe to lead Emma to a carriage waiting near the stables.”

“Perhaps you should take greater care in hiring your staff.”

Something like remorse flared over the dark face. “Samira was jealous of my obvious affection for Emma. She now deeply regrets her behavior.”

“Not so deeply as she will regret her behavior if Emma is harmed.”

The caliph moved the sword just enough to remind Dimitri it was in his hand. A subtle warning.

“I am capable of punishing my own servants.”

“Tell me precisely what she said.”

“She knew very little.” Rajih shook his head. “A Russian man approached her in the bazaar earlier in the day and urged her to join him at a local café. Samira knew it was wrong, but she was angry and agreed to his request.”

“Valik,” Josef muttered.

“Whoever he was, he offered Samira several drachmas if she would lead Emma to the carriage at precisely ten o'clock,” Rajih continued. “He told her that Emma was his sister who had fled from home and he was anxious to return her to Russia and her family.”

Dimitri glanced toward the house, every passing moment grating against his nerves.

“That still does not explain your presence here,” he snapped.

“The carriage left only moments before my arrival. Once I had a description of the vehicle, it took little effort to catch up with it in such heavy traffic.”

“This makes no sense.” Josef interrupted the conversation without warning.

Dimitri glanced at his servant in surprise. “What do you mean?”

“Why would Valik kidnap her?”

“Obviously, he discovered Emma had followed him to
Cairo and was afraid she would reveal his sordid business to the pasha.”

“If he had managed to find out that Emma was in Cairo, then he most certainly knew you were here,” Josef reasoned. “After all, you have made no effort to hide your presence while the woman has been hidden in a harem. Considering you pose the far greater danger to him, Valik would be a fool to hazard stealing Emma from the caliph's palace when he could quite easily shoot you in the back.”

“Not to mention the pure satisfaction,” Rajih murmured.

Dimitri shot him a dark scowl before returning his attention to Josef.

“Just say what is on your mind, Josef.”

“The only reason a man is willing to risk his neck is for love or—”

“Hate,” Dimitri finished for his companion, his thoughts racing.

Josef's words made sense. He better than anyone understood the effectiveness of manipulating others with threats to their families. A man might refuse to pay a gambling bill even after a savage beating, but he would beg, borrow or steal the necessary funds to protect his wife.

And if you wanted to sincerely hurt a man…

Well, you threatened his lover, not him.

“He no doubt holds you to blame for interfering in his profitable affairs,” Rajih pointed out the obvious.

“Yes.” His gut twisted in icy fear. If something happened to Emma he would be destroyed. “What better revenge?”

Josef stepped forward to grab his arm, his face tight with concern.

“Or trap.”

“Yes,” Dimitri slowly agreed, his gaze shifting toward the brothel as a plan began to form. As much as he might long to charge into the house and shoot anyone who might
stand in his path, he had enough sense to know that Emma would be killed before he could ever reach her. No, he had to convince the damnable Valik to release her unharmed. And there was only one means of persuading such a man. “Of course, it ceases to be a trap once you recognize it for what it is,” he husked.

“Damn,” Josef muttered. “You're going to do something stupid, aren't you?”

Dimitri turned back to meet his companion's accusing glare.

“Yes, and you are going to assist me.”

“O
W.”
E
MMA GLARED AT
the large servant who carried her through the filthy brothel, his expression stoic despite the fact he had just smacked Emma's head into the door frame of the parlor. “If I must be carried then could you at least not ram me into the walls?”

Leading them past the low divans and stacks of pillows tossed about the bare floor, Valik glanced over his shoulder with a mocking smile.

“You are wasting your time if you hope for a response from my servant. I cut out his tongue when I hired him.”

Emma fought to control her panic. “My God, you are demented.”

“Cautious.” The large man shrugged, angling toward the narrow staircase. “No matter how much I might be willing to pay a man to keep my secrets I can never be certain of his loyalty. It is far more effective to make certain he can't speak at all.”

The man carrying her through the dark room with a low ceiling and heavy scent of incense appeared indifferent to being discussed as if he were no more than an animal. Perhaps his spirit was too broken to care.

“The world will be a far better place when Dimitri hunts you down and kills you,” she hissed.

Valik chuckled, pausing at the base of the stairs to turn and regard her with a smile of evil anticipation.

“If he is reckless enough to seek me out, then he will quickly discover that he is the prey, not the hunter.”

“You are…” Realization hit with shocking force and
Emma felt her stomach clench with an icy dread. “Oh, my God. You are hoping he will come after me.”

The man's smile widened, his hand waving about the seemingly empty room. No doubt he had a dozen guards hidden about the place.

“Let us just say that I am prepared should he choose to rescue his woman. And if he doesn't…well, I at least have the satisfaction of knowing that for the remainder of his life he will blame himself for your painful and degrading destiny.”

She struggled to hide her fear, knowing that was precisely what he desired.

“You know nothing of Dimitri. He will kill you and there is nothing you can do to stop him.”

“Such faith in your lover,” he taunted. “It's heart-warming.”

“I have faith in the knowledge you are not half the man that he is.”

Fury flashed through the beady eyes, and turning on his heel, Valik stomped heavily up the stairs.

“It's no wonder your sister was so eager to flee your sour nature,” he growled. “I would have smothered you in your sleep.”

“Anya? Is she here?”

“You wish to join her? It is my pleasure,” he muttered, continuing up a second flight of stairs to the attics. He paused to unlock a heavy door, pushing it open to climb yet another short flight of stairs. At the top there were two doors on either side of the narrow hallway. He unlocked the one on the right-hand side, thrusting it open with a grim smile. “Enjoy your reunion. It is to be of a short duration. You are both to be sold tonight.”

Emma cursed as the servant dumped her over the threshold, slamming the door shut and locking it before she could
react. Rising to her feet, she rubbed her bruised hip and glanced around the cramped room.

There was not much to see.

The ceiling was low and flat with a small ladder that led to a narrow opening in the roof. There were a few pillows scattered over plank wooden floor and an oil lantern billowing smoke and a grudging light on an upturned barrel in one corner, but no furniture and nothing to ease the bleak emptiness. Across the narrow room a piece of fabric was hung in a doorway, concealing the room beyond.

Where were Anya and the girls that Valik was holding hostage? If they were near she should surely hear something from them?

Were they bound and gagged? Were they being forced into silence by guards?

Were they…

She squashed her increasingly panicked thoughts, stepping toward the center of the room.

“Anya?” she called softly. “Anya?”

There was a rustle of fabric and Emma watched as the curtain across the door was thrust aside and her sister stepped into the room.

She sucked in a sharp breath, her anxious gaze running over her sister's loose curls that were several shades lighter than her own and the pale face with a pair of large blue eyes that Emma had always envied.

Despite being clad in odd baggy trousers and a small embroidered vest that left her stomach exposed, she looked precisely as she did the morning she had disappeared and Emma felt a pang of surprise tug at her heart.

Perhaps she had expected Anya to look…different.

As if her terrifying adventure should have altered her in some visible manner.

Instead, she regarded Emma with a familiar petulant expression, her chin jutted to a stubborn angle.

“Emma?” Her voice was sharp. “What are you doing here?”

Emma blinked back her tears of joy, telling herself that Anya's less than welcoming reaction was merely shock at her unexpected arrival.

“It was my intention to rescue you,” she said, her voice choked with emotion. “Unfortunately, it would appear that I am to be hoisted on my own petard.”

“Hoisted on a what?”

“It does not matter. Where are the other girls?”

Anya shrugged. “They are being prepared for the auction in the rooms across the hall.”

Unable to reign in her need to touch her sister and assure herself that she truly was unharmed, Emma rushed across the room, wrapping her arms around the startled Anya. “Oh, dear Lord, it is so wonderful to see you.”

“Emma, release me,” Anya commanded. “I cannot breathe.”

“Forgive me. I am just so relieved to know you are alive. You cannot imagine how terrified I have been.” Emma pulled back, her hands running over her younger sister as she had done when she was little and had taken a tumble from a tree. “Come, let me look at you. Are you hurt? Have they…”

“For God's sake, Emma, would you just stop your tugging on me?” Anya snapped, shoving away from Emma's lingering touch with obvious impatience.

Emma bit her lower lip, wondering if Anya was fearful that she was about to be scolded on being so foolish as to have run off with virtual strangers. Her sister resented being in the wrong and tended to strike out in defense.

“Of course,” Emma said, gently tucking one of her sister's curls behind her ear. “At least assure me that you are well.”

“I am perfectly well.” Anya pushed Emma aside. “Or I would be if you would stop fussing over me.”

Emma wrapped her arms around her waist, attempting to hide her pain at Anya's dismissive manner. She did not expect her sister to gush in delight that she had risked her life to come in search of her. Or even to offer a simple gesture of gratitude.

But should Anya not be at least a tad relieved she was no longer alone with the bastards who had kidnapped her?

“I cannot help myself,” Emma said slowly. “I have been frantic to find you since you left Yabinsk.”

“Well, as you can see, I am fine.”

“Yes, I suppose so.” Emma shook her head, accepting her sister's words. Which allowed her to turn her thoughts to the question that had plagued her since she had discovered her sister missing. “Anya, why did you…”

“You know why I left, Emma,” Anya interrupted the hesitant question, pacing the small space with jerky steps. “You might have been content being an eccentric spinster who everyone mocks behind your back, but I would rather die than be cursed with your fate.”

Emma winced at the brutal description. “I never expected you to share my fate. There is no reason you cannot wed a decent man and have a home and family of your own.”

“A decent man?” Anya tossed her head, her golden curls shimmering in the lamplight. “You mean Boris Glavori who buried his first wife after forcing a dozen children on her? Or perhaps the butcher who came to call on me with blood beneath his nails?”

“Surely anything would be preferable to being taken captive by slave traders?”

“You know nothing.”

Emma shook her head in growing confusion. “Then explain it to me.”

Anya hunched her shoulders, refusing to meet Emma's gaze. “It is true that Count Tarvek and his brother proved to be hideous creatures who should be beheaded without delay. I do not comprehend how they could ever claim to be gentlemen.”

“I assure you they will soon reap their just rewards,” Emma promised.

“But not all the men in their employ are evil.”

Emma froze, a sense of dread lodging in her heart. “What are you saying?”

With a sudden movement Anya turned away, heading back toward the curtained doorway.

“You should never have come after me.”

“But you must have known I would.” Emma followed in her sister's wake, baffled. This was not going at all as she had imagined it would. Where were the other girls? And why was Anya behaving as if Emma were an unwelcome intruder rather than a savior? “You are my sister. I love you, Anya. I would protect you with my life.”

They entered a room barely as large as a closet with a narrow cot and a chipped washstand. Bending down, Anya yanked a leather satchel from beneath the bed and clutched it to her chest.

“Well, it is because of you that Mikhail and I have not yet managed to escape,” she said. “I can only hope that you have not yet again ruined our plans.”

“Who is Mikhail?”

“One of the guards.” Anya's chin tilted at Emma's horrified expression. “He happens to be desperately in love with me.”

“He is a trafficker?” Emma rasped.

Anya sniffed. “I should have known you would find fault without even knowing him.”

Emma itched to grab her sister and give her a violent shake. As relieved as she might be to have at last found
her, there was no doubt Anya had not changed a wit. She was still stubborn, impulsive and utterly selfish.

“Have you taken leave of your senses?” she gritted. “My God, he is responsible for kidnapping children and selling them to monsters.”

“He has kept me safe when others would have harmed me and he intends to take me to his home in Austria.”

Emma swallowed her angry words. Why bother? Anya had never listened to anything she had to say before. And perhaps she should try and consider what her sister had endured.

After all, she must have felt scared and alone when she realized she had fallen into the hands of slave traders. If this guard had shown her a bit of kindness and had sheltered her from the others, then it was perhaps not surprising that she would have attached herself to him.

“My dear, you are not thinking clearly,” she said gently. “Only to be expected after all you have endured. Once we have returned home—”

“Never.” Anya stepped backward, a sulky pout tugging at her lips. “I will never return to Yabinsk and you cannot force me.”

“Perhaps we can visit England before returning to Russia,” Emma coaxed, refusing to acknowledge the possibility they might not find a means to escape from Valik's clutches. “We do have family there, after all.”

Anya stomped her foot. “You have not listened to a word I have said.”

“Certainly I have listened, but you cannot expect me to allow you to remain at the power of a slave trader. It is insanity.”

“He is a good man.”

“Even if I could be persuaded to believe he is a saint I would not let you be with him.” Emma grasped Anya's shoulders, willing the foolish girl to recognize common
sense. “You are a child, Anya, and you belong at home with me.”

The moment the words tumbled from her lips she wanted to call them back. Over the past months Anya had become increasingly sensitive to being seen as a girl rather than a woman.

Whirling on her heel, she stormed back into the larger room, her cheeks stained with color.

“You always ruin everything.”

“Anya, this is ridiculous.” Emma clenched her hands, following behind her sister. “I have traveled from St. Petersburg to London to Cairo to find you. Once we find a means to escape then we will discuss your future.”

Anya never slowed as she headed to the back of the attic. “I no longer have to obey you, Emma Linley-Kirov.”

“Did you ever?”

“I am a grown woman and I will make my own decisions.” Reaching the small ladder, Anya turned back to glare at Emma. “I will never return to that horrid cottage.”

Emma faltered, her heart twisting with distress. Had she not sacrificed everything to ensure her sister could have a stable home?

“Was it truly so bad?” she rasped.

“It was horrible. Like being caught in a poacher's trap.” Anya shuddered, her pretty features hard with disgust. “God, there was nothing but snow and mud and ignorant villagers who had nothing better to do with their days than to make life a misery for others.”

“But we had each other.”

“Each other?” Anya's shrill laugh grated against Emma's tender nerves. “No, I was just another cross that St. Emma had to bear.”

“Anya,” Emma breathed, studying her sister as if she had never seen her before. And perhaps she hadn't. Before their father's death he had warned Emma that she was spoiling
little Anya and that it would be better for the young girl to take on a few of the responsibilities around the cottage. Emma, however, had wanted to protect her sister from the tedious chores. Now it seemed that her effort to help Anya had only created resentment in the younger woman. “That is not true.”

“Of course it is.” The blue eyes darkened with a simmering antipathy. “You have reveled in your role as martyr since mother died. Do you know how often I was scolded to be properly grateful that you had sacrificed yourself for me?”

“Would you have preferred that I had abandoned you?” Emma wrapped her arms around her waist, as if she could protect herself from Anya's cutting condemnation. “Or taken you to an orphanage?”

Anya sniffed. “You could have sought help from our relations. There had to have been at least one family member who would have offered to provide us with a decent allowance so we did not have live as though we were no better than serfs.”