“I still would prefer—”
“Why would you believe you are a source of amusement?” he overrode her, studying her with an unnerving intensity.
“Surely you must realize that young, unwed females are expected to remain in their proper place, not intruding into men’s business by opening a coaching inn?”
“And how do they propose a proper female support herself and her sister?”
She shrugged. “I could beg on the streets or—”
“Or?” he prompted.
“Or accept a discreet arrangement with the local baron.”
A murderous anger tightened his elegant features, reminding Emma he was a ruthless bastard who was rumored to cut off the hands of his victims.
“Give me his name.”
“His name?”
“The baron who insulted you.”
She shivered at his frozen tone. “Why?”
“I will kill him.”
Her heart missed a beat. Despite the pain that Baron Kostya had inflicted, she had no desire to be responsible for his death.
“Is that not rather hypocritical?” She deflected his question. “You seemed eager enough to take me to your bed.”
“I will take you wherever you want, but only if our desire is mutual.” His eyes narrowed. “I do not use sex as a price to assist a woman in need.”
She believed him. She doubted there was a woman born who would not tumble into his arms if given the opportunity. Not that she would ever give him the satisfaction of knowing just how irresistible she found him.
His arrogance was quite outrageous enough.
“Do you intend to take me to Vanya’s?”
“After we have finished.” He cut a piece of the tender veal and pressed it between her lips. “You cannot allow Irina’s exquisite creations to go to waste.”
She nearly moaned as the flavor of the succulent meat exploded on her tongue. Now she understood why a man would risk a French prison to earn the services of Rurik’s wife in his kitchen. She was a genius.
Of course, she did not believe for a moment that was why Dimitri had risked his neck.
For a criminal he possessed a loyalty and honor that was far superior to most supposed nobles.
With a sigh, she conceded defeat, her hunger overcoming her common sense.
“Were you never taught the meaning of the word no?” she asked between bites.
He set about eating his own dinner. “I can’t seem to recall. Perhaps you should remind me.”
She shook her head. “I do not believe you are so desperate for a dinner companion. What is it you truly want?”
The golden gaze flared down her body with a tangible heat. “Never doubt my desire for your companionship, Emma Linley-Kirov.”
She shivered as a heady excitement pierced through her. Already she desired the feel of his skillful hands; his warm, seeking lips…
She abruptly set aside her nearly empty plate. “And you have no other motive?”
“We need to discuss what you overhead between my father and Tarvek.”
It was, of course, precisely what she had expected. For reasons she did not comprehend, Dimitri was under the mistaken notion he was at liberty to interfere in her life.
“What is there to discuss?” She conjured a meaningless smile. “I revealed all that I heard. Do you believe I am attempting to conceal information from you?”
“I am more interested in what you intend to do.”
“At the moment it appears I have little choice but to share your dinner.”
He made an impatient sound, his fingers cupping her chin and forcing her to meet his searching gaze.
“What I most admire about you, moya dusha, is your refusal to pretend you are less than intelligent. Do not begin now.”
The edge in his voice warned he would have the truth from her, no matter how long it might take. Aggravating ass. She defensively squared her shoulders.
“I told you from the beginning what I intend to do,” she grudgingly admitted. “I came to St. Petersburg to find my sister and nothing has changed.”
His jaw knotted as he struggled to control his temper. “Not even you can be foolish enough to believe you can travel alone to London?”
“Why should I not?” she countered. “I speak perfect English and I have distant relatives I can contact should the need arise. Besides, I am certain Vanya must possess some acquaintance who intends to travel to England or even to Europe within the next few weeks.” She folded her hands in her lap, her spine stiff with determination. “I am willing to become a companion or maid or whatever they might need.”
“Whatever they might need?” he rasped.
“Within reason.”
His bronzed features were rigid as Dimitri studied her with an expression of furious disbelief.
“Emma, you are not stupid. You must realize how vulnerable you would be traveling with strangers?” His fingers tightened. “What will you do when a bored husband decides you will offer a convenient diversion during the long voyage? Or when one of the sailors captures you alone?”
She forced herself to meet the blazing golden gaze without flinching. Dimitri Tipova might be the unquestionable leader of the St. Petersburg underworld, but he had no authority over her.
“A woman is always at risk of being abused by men, no matter where she is or what her station.”
He arrogantly peered down the length of his nose. “Not if she is protected as she should be.”
“I have learned to protect myself, Dimitri.”
“Only because you had no other choice.” His fingers eased their grip to brush over her pale cheek. “Now I offer you one.”
Her eyes narrowed. “What precisely do you offer?”
“Stay here with me.”
“As your mistress?”
He gently outlined her unsteady lips. “Call it what you will.”
“And my sister?”
Concentrating on his tender caresses, Dimitri was seemingly oblivious to the dangerous sparks smoldering in her eyes.
“I will send my men to follow the Katherine Marie and rescue your sister.”
“Tell me, Dimitri, if I refuse to become your mistress will you allow my sister to become another tragic victim of your father?”
He muttered an angry curse, leaning down until they were nose to nose.
“I told you that I do not barter for sex, Emma. With or without you in my bed I intend to capture my father’s ship and return it to Russia so I can expose those involved.”
Her stomach fluttered as his breath brushed her lips. A distant part of her understood the danger of provoking this man. Another part, however, was hurt and angered by his refusal to accept her desperate need to take part in rescuing her sister.
“So you can have your revenge?” she accused.
“Of course.”
“While my sister—”
“Will be safely escorted to her home along with any other victims,” he muttered, his fingers tangling in her hair as his lips skimmed down the line of her throat.
Her heart leaped with a treacherous excitement. “Dimitri.”
“Yes, milaya?”
“What are you doing?”
He nuzzled the pulse that hammered at the base of her throat. “I do not particularly care for your implications that my only means of persuading you to share my bed is with blackmail.”
Her toes curled in her sensible boots, her body humming with sizzling awareness. Desperately, she pressed her hands against the hard muscles of his chest. This explosive reaction to Dimitri Tipova was a danger she did not know how to battle.
“I will not be distracted.”
“If you believe all I desire is to distract you, then you are even more naive than I suspected.” He breathed against her sensitive skin.
“No, Dimitri.” She arched away from the tormenting kisses. “It is past time that I return to Vanya’s.”
The golden eyes narrowed, a slash of color staining his high cheekb
ones.
“We have not finished our discussion.”
“I did not realize we were sharing a discussion. It seemed very much as if you were issuing orders and expecting me to obey them.”
His brooding gaze lowered to study her lips. “If you will recall, I also offered you an invitation.”
Her pulse gave an eager leap at the memory of his words. Despite her innocence she recognized the touch of a master. Dimitri would be an exciting, skillful, wholly consuming lover. The sort of lover that women would sacrifice husbands, riches, social standing—and all they possess to claim.
He would also be forceful and overbearing and convinced he would always know what was best for those under his protection. He would demand that she give away her hard-earned independence and that was a sacrifice she was unable to make.
Not when he would soon enough lose interest and leave her to salvage her tattered life. She had been abandoned too many times to risk yet another loss.
Before he could guess her intent, Emma was shoving him away so she could hastily rise to her feet.
“The same invitation that I have turned down from other gentlemen who promised to protect me…”
“Do not compare me to that bastard.” He fiercely overrode her words, his eyes blazing with frustration.
“Then do not insult me by treating me as if I am a foolish chit who must depend upon a man to survive.” Collecting her cloak, she headed for the door. As humiliating as it might be to admit, she could not trust herself when Dimitri was near. One touch and she was lost. “I am perfectly capable of caring for myself and my sister.”
She had reached the door when Dimitri was blocking her path, his hands reaching to grip her shoulders.
“Where do you think you are going?”
“To Vanya’s.” Emma tilted back her head, forcing herself to meet his dark glower. “I will walk if necessary.”
His fingers tightened, his temper at the breaking point.
“Do not be a fool. My carriage will return you to Vanya.”
“Thank you.”
He hauled her against his chest, swooping down to kiss her with a brazen hunger.
“I will allow you to flee in fear tonight, but make no mistake, moya dusha, you are destined to become my lover,” he murmured against her swollen lips. “And not because you need my assistance, or because I have forced you to my bed.”
Dizzy from the pleasure of his kiss, Emma struggled to think clearly.
“Then why?”
“Because I have tasted your passion. You desire me.” His hand skimmed down her back, deliberately pressing her against the proof of his arousal. “Desperately.”
Her mouth went dry, her heart thundering in her chest. “Good Lord. Your conceit is astounding.”
A humorless smile tugged at his lips. “No more astounding than your ridiculous attempts to pretend you do not ache to be in my arms.”
It was the biting truth of his words that gave her the strength to wrench out of his grasp and scurry down the hallway. She might yearn to melt in his arms, but she was not a fool.
At least, not a complete fool.
“Goodbye, Dimitri Tipova,” she muttered.
“À bientôt,” he called, his voice mocking.
It wasn’t until she was safely stowed in Dimitri’s carriage that she realized he had warned he would see her again rather than saying goodbye.
THE ST. PETERSBURG DOCK was bustling with activity as Vanya’s carriage headed toward the end of a wharf where a sleek wooden vessel swayed on the white-capped waves. Winter was swiftly approaching and soon it would be only the staunchest sailors who would brave the frigid, buffeting waters of the Baltic. In the meantime, there was a frantic pace as sailors, merchants, dockhands and passengers darted among the looming stacks of cargo waiting to be loaded on the various ships.
Emma was relieved to leave the majority of the crowd behind as they halted near the edge of the water. It was unsettling enough to board a ship and sail so far from home without adding the worry of battling through the crowds.
Licking her dry lips, she peered out the window at the waiting ship.
When she had returned to Vanya’s home three nights before, she had revealed all she had learned of her sister, as well as Dimitri’s suspicion that Anya was being taken to London. The older woman had been sympathetic, but surprisingly reluctant to assist Emma in finding a means of following Count Nevskaya’s ship.
Then yesterday morning, she had come to Emma’s private chambers and revealed she had booked passage upon a ship bound for London. Emma had been caught between overwhelming relief and a natural fear at charging into the unknown. For all her pretense of courage, she was not indifferent to the many dangers that lurked once she left the protection of Vanya and Herrick Gerhardt.
And oddly, there had been a strange sense of regret.
She tried to tell herself that it was merely a reaction to the thought of traveling so far from home, but she knew she was not being entirely honest. That bothersome ache in the center of her heart was directly connected to Dimitri Tipova.
Damn his aggravating soul.
Hastily thrusting aside the unnerving thought, Emma turned her head to meet Vanya’s searching gaze, managing to conjure a smile of appreciation.
“I do not know how to thank you, Vanya,” she said, reaching across to pat the older woman’s hand. “You have been so extraordinarily generous. It will take time to repay you, but I swear—”
“Nonsense,” Vanya firmly interrupted, seemingly embarrassed by Emma’s excessive gratitude. “You are not the only one who cares what happens to those poor girls, Emma. And if I were a few years younger I would be traveling to England at your side. As it is, I know that you possess the courage and strength to do whatever necessary to rescue your sister and the others.”
Emma straightened, unashamedly pleased by Vanya’s words. At least someone appreciated her determination, she told herself, smoothing her hand down her thick woolen cloak.
“Thank you.”
“But you must promise that you will take the greatest care and quickly return to me,” she urged. “Herrick Gerhardt will have my head upon a platter when he discovers I assisted you in leaving the country.”
Emma hid her tiny shiver of fear. She would be strong for Anya. She had no choice.
“I promise.”
“And this is the letter of introduction I promised. I have written to Leonida, so I trust she will have ensured there will be someone awaiting you at the London docks, but in the event you find yourself in need, you can use this to call upon assistance from the Russian Embassy.”
Emma unsteadily tucked the envelope into the pocket of her cloak. Seated across from her, Vanya appeared to be yet another useless lady of society with her teal merino gown and pale fur shawl wrapped about her shoulders. But she had proven to be a woman with intelligence and compassion and an ability to take command when necessary. Emma could only hope she did not disappoint the older woman.
“This is so much more than I ever expected.” She bit her bottom lip as she struggled to hold back a ridiculous urge to weep. “I do not know what to say.”
Vanya leaned forward to gently pat Emma’s knee that was currently hidden beneath several yards of brown wool.
“You do not always have to depend on yourself, Emma,” she implored. “Accepting help from others does not make you weak.”
Emma frowned, puzzled by the woman’s peculiar manner. “I am accustomed to taking care of myself.”
“As was I, but I have discovered that my independence was not nearly so threatened as I feared it would be when I opened my heart to another.” She appeared as if she desired to say more, but as they both caught sight of the large man attired in the rough clothing of a common sailor, she instead settled back in the leather seat. “I believe this young man is here to assist with your bags and to escort you to the ship.”
Emma sucked in a deep breath, refusing to acknowledge the flutters of fear in the pit
of her stomach.
“I will never forget what you have done for me.”
“Hmm.” Vanya shook her head. “I am not entirely certain that is a good thing.”
“Vanya?”
“Just know that I have tried to do what I think best for you.”
“Of course, I know. I could not have asked for a greater friend.”
The door to the carriage was pulled open by Vanya’s driver and without giving herself time to hesitate, she allowed herself to be assisted into the chill morning breeze.
“Be brave, mon enfant,” Vanya called softly.
CHAPTER NINE
DIMITRI IGNORED THE shifting deck beneath his feet as he poured over the charts his first mate had spread across the bench.
It was not his first journey aboard his sleek Baltimore clipper. He occasionally felt the need to escape from the grinding demands of his role as Beggar Czar. There were few things more exhilarating than skimming across the water, surrounded by silence, and knowing that his duties were being left far behind.
Not that he had made such a large investment for the rare days of freedom. He was a businessman first and foremost. The ship had been built in the Americas to be the fastest on the waters and his crew had been hired in London from among the finest of all English seamen. As a result, he had made a small fortune in transporting various diplomats, noblemen, and even a few wealthy merchants who preferred to keep their travels confidential.
Which made it perfect for his current plans.
A grim smile curved his lips at the sound of approaching footsteps, and turning his head he waited for the large sailor with a thatch of black hair and weathered features to halt in front of him.
“Is our passenger aboard?” he demanded.
Andrew Simmons scowled, his hands shoved into the pockets of his wool coat.
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