Scoundrel's Honor (5 page)

She groaned, her hands clutching at his shoulders as if she struggled to keep herself upright.

“The cognac…” she muttered.

He gripped her hips, pressing her against the blatant evidence of his arousal.

“It is not the cognac that is causing your head to spin and your heart to race.”

She arched back to stab him with an angry frown, but Dimitri did not miss her small shiver of awareness.

“You believe yourself to be irresistible?”

“It is the hunger that burns between us that is irresistible,” he corrected, his voice hard. He had made his fortune on catering to other's weaknesses. He had never dreamed he might himself become a victim. “I always thought this sort of craving a myth. Now I do not know whether to have you locked in my dungeon or hauled off to Siberia.”

She licked her lips, and Dimitri swallowed a groan as his cock hardened with tormenting anticipation.

“Do not say such things,” she breathlessly commanded.

“Even if they are the truth?”

An unmistakable fear darkened her hazel eyes as she lifted her hands and pressed them against his chest.

“I may be attired as a tart, but I assure you I am a lady,” she gritted.

His lips twisted. “I am painfully aware you are a lady, Emma Linley-Kirov, and for the moment you are under my protection.”

“Then release me.”

His gaze lowered to her honeyed lips that could drive a saint to sin.

“Is that what you desire?”

“You must.”

“Damn.” Pushing away from the delectable heat, Dimitri shoved his hands through his hair and struggled to regain command of his rebellious body. “You should never have come to St. Petersburg.”

 

A
T ANY OTHER TIME
, Emma might have been dazzled by her surroundings.

Who knew that a den of iniquity would be a sprawling honeycomb of ivory-and-gold rooms with crimson carpets and marble columns that soared up to the vaulted ceiling painted with Greek gods playing among the clouds? Or that the massive chandeliers would cast a blazing light over the elegant gentlemen who weaved their way among the card tables and flirted with the women dressed in low-cut gowns?

She had assumed the place would be dark and cheap with furtive men hunched over their cards, or tossing dice in the corner.

Which only proved she truly was naive as Dimitri claimed.

Dimitri…

She covertly glanced at the man walking at her side, a dangerous excitement fluttering in the pit of her stomach. Even elegantly attired, there was no disguising the ruthless predator that lurked just beneath Dimitri's polished exterior.

Not that his dark beauty and experienced touch was an excuse for the manner in which she had melted beneath his kiss. Or the prickling awareness that continued to torment her. She was supposed to be a sensible female of advanced years, not a giddy maiden who dreamed of being rescued from her life of drudgery by a handsome prince.

After all, she was quite reconciled to being a spinster, and even if Dimitri were a prince rather than the Beggar Czar, he was not interested in making her his princess. Just like Baron Kostya, Dimitri considered her worthy of a quick tumble, but nothing more.

She felt an odd pain knife through her heart, but before she could consider the cause, a tall, silver-haired gentleman in a burgundy jacket and gold-striped waistcoat that did nothing to flatter his rotund figure deliberately stepped in their path.

“Tipova,” he said, his beady eyes skimming over the veil that once again hid Emma's face before latching on to the swell of her bosom. “As always you have managed to create a sensation.”

Dimitri wrapped an arm around her shoulders, shielding her from the rude leer.

“I fear I cannot take the credit on this occasion, Prince Matvey.”

“Do you intend to introduce me to your companion?”

“Actually she is visiting from Moscow and prefers to keep her privacy.” His smile was one of sheer male possession. “Is that not so,
moya dusha?
”

She huddled in the protection of Dimitri's arm. “Yes.”

“Ah.” The prince licked his fat lips. “A mystery.”

“Have you seen Count Fedor?” Dimitri demanded.

“Tarvek?” The prince glanced around the crowded room. “Not this evening, although I encountered him at the Winter Palace last eve.”

“Then he returned from his journey?”

“Yes, I believe he returned with Sergei last Sunday. Do you have a particular need to speak with him?”

Emma sucked in a sharp breath, her suspicious gaze studying Dimitri's cold expression.

“I am a businessman at heart and I make a habit of knowing where to locate those who are in debt to me,” Dimitri drawled.

“Yes, of course.” The prince blanched and tugged at his elaborately tied cravat, as if it were too tight. “If you will excuse me?”

Dimitri smiled. “Certainly.”

Waiting until the prince had vanished among the crowd, Emma struggled to put a measure of space between them.

“You told me that you did not know who had taken Anya—”

“Shh.” He lowered his head to speak directly in her ear. “I had a suspicion when you said their names. It seemed a strange coincidence that the men arrived at your inn claiming to be brothers and possessing the names Fedor and Sergei, but I cannot be certain since they at least had the sense to alter their title. It would be dangerous to leap to conclusions.”

She stilled, ruefully accepting the truth of his words. “Very well.”

Pulling back, he regarded her with an unreadable expression. “We will take a turn through the dining room to ensure we have not overlooked our prey and then take our leave.”

“How many clubs are we to visit this evening?”

A muscle clenched in his jaw as he steered her toward an arched doorway.

“One has been more than ample.”

“I do not understand.”

“My nerves are quite shattered,” he drawled, the golden eyes blazing with an indefinable emotion as he glanced down at her puzzled expression. “I intend to return you to the protection of Vanya.”

“But—”

He placed a silencing finger against her lips. “Do not play with fire, Emma, unless you wish to be burned.”

T
HE MANSION THAT
C
OUNT
Fedor Tarvek shared with his younger brother Sergei was not the finest in St. Petersburg. Situated on the banks of the Neva, it had once been a grand structure with an ornate frieze carved over the front entrance and tall windows that overlooked the formal gardens. Unfortunately, time and neglect had stolen the original charm, and there was no hiding the growing shabbiness of the estate.

Slipping silently through the cavernous rooms, a portion of Dimitri deplored the rotting floorboards and the mold marring the once handsome furnishings even as he appreciated the lack of servants. He preferred to invade another's privacy without interruption.

Intent on his search through the upper bedchambers, he nearly missed the slender man who silently approached the house through the kitchen garden.

With a lift of his brows, Dimitri hurried down the stairs.

He had sent Josef to keep watch on Count Fedor and Sergei, knowing the brothers would attend Czar Alexander's inspection of his troops that afternoon. They might secretly despise the emperor, and even attempt to undermine his rule when possible, but they dare not publicly ignore his summons.

It seemed the perfect opportunity to discover if the Tarveks were hiding any nasty secrets.

Silently leaving the house by a side door, he gestured toward his servant and headed for the back of the stables,
not surprised to discover Josef had hidden his horse next to his own dappled-gray mare in the overgrown bushes.

They had spent a number of years working together. Perhaps too many, he ruefully acknowledged, watching the wiry man round the edge of the stables. They were both reaching an age where they should be considering an occupation that did not include a noose or firing squad.

“That was speedy,” he muttered. “The drills cannot have ended yet.”

“Oleg is keeping watch on Tarvek and his brother.” Josef's expression was sour. “I thought you would desire to know that Vanya Petrova was among the crowd.”

“Alone?”

“Nyet. She has a young female companion with her.”

Dimitri tensed, telling himself it was anger that made his stomach clench and his heart miss a beat. After all, he had specifically commanded Emma Linley-Kirov to avoid being seen when he had left her at Vanya's the night before. He had told her he would contact her when he decided what was to be done next.

“A female companion with honey hair and hazel eyes?”

“That is more than a mere man can say.” Josef shook his head in disgust. “She is wearing one of those foolish bonnets that make it damned well impossible to know what's beneath the tangle of ribbons and feathers, but I would bet my last ruble it's the dragon from Yabinsk.”

As would Dimitri.

Emma was stubborn enough to flaunt herself beneath the noses of the men who would kill her without hesitation.

“Damn. I'm beginning to believe she was sent to St. Petersburg to punish me for my numerous sins,” he muttered, untying the reins of his horse from the bush. “Come along.”

Josef grimaced, twisting the scar that ran down the side
of his face. The disfigurement terrified many, which suited Josef, but Dimitri knew he had received the wound protecting his sister from his drunken mother.

“I will remain and search the house.”

“That will not be necessary. There are no females being held hostage in the cellar or convenient map to reveal their location. Although…”

Deliberately allowing his words to trail away, Dimitri mounted his horse and headed toward the narrow lane that led out of the estate. He knew his companion's curiosity would overcome his reluctance to mix among the nobles.

There was a muttered curse, then the sound of scrambling as Josef retrieved his horse and urged the beast to match Dimitri's steady pace.

“What did you find?”

Dimitri reached beneath the black multicaped coat he had chosen to cover his plain attire and riding boots. With a crowned beaver hat pulled low on his forehead and a heavy muffler wrapped around his lower face he was impossible to recognize. Even his stocky mare was unremarkable.

Being a successful criminal meant blending into the background when necessary.

“I found this in Tarvek's bedchamber,” he said, pulling out a folded piece of parchment and handing it to his companion.

“Katherine Marie,” Josef read out loud. “Friday at noon.” He glanced toward Dimitri with a frown. “An assignation, no doubt.”

“Quite possible,” Dimitri readily agreed, urging his horse into a trot as they reached the paved street leading toward the Winter Palace. “But I recall finding a similar message in Pytor Burdzecki's desk.”

Josef easily kept pace. “Katherine is a common enough name.”

Which was precisely why Dimitri had dismissed
Burdzecki's note as inconsequential. The aging roué was known to keep several mistresses, not to mention the brothels he visited on a regular basis.

“Yes, but for both gentlemen to have an assignation on the same day, at the same time, with a woman with the same name defies the odds.”

“You suspect this Katherine is a female they have abducted?”

“Or intend to abduct.”

Josef was swift to realize the importance of Dimitri's words. “Then we can follow them. If they do snatch a female they will have to take her to their hidden lair.”

Dimitri nodded, his expression grim as the traffic thickened and he was forced to slow his pace.

“That was my thought, as well. We need to keep a close guard on the men we suspect are involved with my father.”

They traveled in silence as they weaved through the elegant carriages and small groups of pedestrians who were battling to make their way to the Palace Square. It was not that the crowds possessed an interest in the military drills or the poor soldiers expected to stand for hours in the cold as they prepared for the event.

But, it had become a rare occurrence for Alexander Pavlovich to make a public appearance over the past few years and the entire city was determined to catch sight of him.

“What's troubling you?” Josef abruptly demanded.

Dimitri smiled with wry amusement at his servant's perception. Yes. They had most certainly been working together for too long.

“Katherine Marie,” he muttered, annoyed by a vague memory teasing the edge of his mind. “The name is familiar.”

Josef shrugged. “As I said, it's common enough.”

“Yes.” Dimitri shook his head in frustration and abruptly
turned down a side street that would lead to the Summer Garden and the Field of Mars beyond. He knew a few tricks to avoid the worst of the traffic. “This way.” Intent on reaching Emma, it took Dimitri a moment to realize his companion was beginning to fall farther and farther behind. He glanced over his shoulder with an expression of impatience. “Josef?”

The servant shifted uneasily in his saddle. He hated being in the finer neighborhoods. Understandable, of course. One misstep and a man could find himself rotting in the nearest dungeon.

“You wanted those noblemen to be watched. I'll find—”

“I have need of you,” Dimitri firmly interrupted, returning his attention to the road.

“I knew that woman was going to be trouble the moment she threatened to geld Semyon with scalding coffee,” Josef muttered, grudgingly returning to Dimitri's side.

Dimitri scowled. He was not pleased when he discovered Emma had been troubled by one of his own servants.

“Semyon should have been gelded, although I believe the flogging I gave him should be lesson enough in how to treat a lady.”

“What do you intend to do with her?”

“That is a question that kept me pacing the floor most of the night,” Dimitri said dryly.

Josef shook his head in sad resignation. “A wise man would pack his bags and flee at this moment.”

“No doubt.”

“And yet you intend to pursue her.”

Dimitri shifted in his saddle, balking at the accusation. He took women beneath his protection and sheltered them from the cruelties of the world. He did not
pursue
them. Especially not those women who flouted his authority and deliberately placed themselves in danger.

“I intend to make certain that she does not ruin our opportunity to capture the bastards,” he snarled. “If they recognize her, then they will become even more cautious. We will never be able to follow their trail.”

Josef snorted. “And you are not at all fearful she might be in danger?”

Dimitri ignored the question, slowing his mount as they neared the Palace Square. Over the heads of the crowd, he caught sight of the soldiers marching past the emperor, who watched on horseback, his once handsome features lined with fatigue beneath the pale autumn sunlight. The duties of the crown sat heavily on Alexander Pavlovich's shoulders. At the czar's side was Herrick Gerhardt, his eagle gaze missing nothing of the milling crowd.

With a grimace, Dimitri turned his attention to the carriages that lined the square.

“Where did you last see them?” he demanded.

“Near the end of the Hermitage.” Josef pointed across the Square. “What do you intend to do?”

He gritted his teeth, refusing to give in to the impulse to charge across the parade grounds and toss Emma over his shoulder as if he were a barbarian. Not only was it a ridiculous notion, but he would attract precisely the kind of attention he was hoping to avoid.

“You will ensure a note is delivered to Vanya that she is to return home without delay,” he commanded.

Josef narrowed his eyes. “And you?”

“I will be waiting.”

 

D
ISCREETLY STANDING
behind Vanya, Emma attempted to concentrate on the passing crowd. She had, after all, been the one to plead with the older woman to discover a means she could catch sight of Count Fedor and his brother, Sergei. And she had promised faithfully she would do noth
ing that would allow others to believe she was other than a maid who was there to fetch and carry for her mistress.

But while she was desperate to discover if the count was the same Fedor who had stayed at her inn, she could not help being distracted by the stunning beauty that surrounded her. Over and over her gaze strayed to the imposing Winter Palace with its magnificent Corinthian columns and the statues that seemed to peer down at her from the roof. Almost as dazzling was the handsome emperor seated on his horse less than a stone's throw away, his large form attired in military splendor and his brilliant blue eyes seeming to regard his passing troops with a wistful gleam, as if he were wishing he could join the precise lines of soldiers and march away from the crowd that pressed around him.

For a woman who had never been more than a mile from her forgotten village in the wilds of Russia, it was a breathtaking vision she knew she would never forget.

With a shake of her head, Emma sternly returned her attention to the elegant women with their fur-lined capes and the gentlemen in their military finery as they jostled to gain a place near the emperor. None paid her the least amount of attention as she stood in the shadows, her face hidden beneath the oversized brown bonnet and matching cloak that fell from her chin to the tips of her toes. To the nobles she was a meaningless servant beneath their notice.

She was attempting to get a better view of the two gentlemen crossing toward an older man with silver hair and arrogant expression when a tiny boy dressed in ragged clothing stopped next to Vanya and shoved something in her hand.

Emma instinctively moved forward to protect the older woman, but she had barely taken a step when the urchin
darted away, weaving his way with ease through the people.

“This is odd,” the older woman murmured, glancing down at the crumpled note she held in her hand.

“What is it?” Emma asked.

“I suppose we shall soon discover. Will you be gravely disappointed if we leave?”

“Certainly not.” Emma winced as a rotund woman nearly knocked her to the ground. “I doubt I could recognize anyone in such a crowd.”

Vanya offered a comforting smile as they moved toward the waiting carriage.

“Do not fear, my dear. We shall find another means to cross paths with the gentlemen you seek.”

The trip back to Vanya's home was speeded by the servants who walked ahead of the carriage and cleared a path, and within half an hour they were pulling to a halt. Allowing Vanya to be assisted by the waiting groom, Emma stepped onto the pavement behind her, unprepared for the ruthless hand that seemed to come from nowhere and clamp about her upper arm.

With a startled gasp, she whipped her head around to discover a man looming beside her, his face hidden behind a muffler.

“A word in private, Emma Linley-Kirov, if you please,” he growled, his dark male voice and smoldering golden eyes all too familiar.

Dimitri Tipova.

She pressed a hand to her thundering heart. “Good Lord, you near scared the life from me.”

Ignoring her chiding words, the exasperating man began hauling Emma toward Vanya's private rose garden.

“If you will excuse us, Vanya?” he belatedly tossed toward the older woman.

Vanya arched a silver brow. “Do I have a choice?”

“Not on this occasion.”

Shocked by Dimitri's unexpected arrival, Emma allowed herself to be pulled through the gate and into the small stone grotto that hid them from view. It was only when he spun her to meet his furious gaze that she jerked her arm free of his slender fingers.

“You truly must overcome your habit of manhandling me, sir—”

“Dimitri,” he bit out, removing his hat and muffler and tossing them on a nearby marble bench.

A chill inched down her spine at the hard expression on his beautiful face, but she held her ground, refusing to reveal her unease.

“I will not be bullied.”

“Be happy that I have not turned you over my knee as I long to do,” he snapped.