Читать книгу Bound By Love - Rosemary Rogers - Страница 12

LEONIDA TOSSED ASIDE PRIDE and even dignity as she scurried from Meadowland and headed back to Hillside at a pace hardly suitable for a proper lady.

She only wished that she could return to St. Petersburg at an equally swift pace.

What a fool she had been to come to England. It was not, after all, as if she had actually believed her mother’s blithe assurances that it would be a simple matter to slip into a duke’s grand manor house filled with a few dozen servants and waltz out with a packet of letters that had been hidden for the past twenty or thirty years. And that was before she had met the Duke of Huntley.

Why did the man have to be so annoyingly perceptive?

From the moment they had been introduced he had regarded her with a brooding suspicion that he barely bothered to conceal beneath his smooth charm. And after today…

She halted just outside the gate leading to Lady Summerville’s private garden, glancing down at the diamond hairpin clutched in her hand. Well, needless to say, she had done nothing to ease his distrust of her presence in Surrey.

And worse, that maddening fascination she felt whenever he was near refused to be squashed, no matter how desperately she warned herself that it threatened to ruin everything.

For the moment, the Duke of Huntley stood between her and those letters she so desperately needed. She had to think of him as the enemy. Not as a gentleman who made her heart race and her stomach churn with a painful excitement.

Giving an angry shake of her head, Leonida reached to open the gate, pausing as she heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps from behind her. Turning about, she expected to discover one of the innumerable servants or tenants. Unlike Russia’s vast expanses, the English countryside seemed to be crowded with people.

Strangely, however, there was no one to be seen. It was as if whoever was there had hastily ducked behind one of the numerous trees.

“Hello,” she called, decidedly unnerved by the sensation of being watched by unseen eyes. “Is anyone there? Hello.”

“Miss Leonida, whatever are you doing?”

With a squeak of alarm, Leonida whirled back to the gate, discovering her maid standing there with a frown on her round face.

Pressing a hand to her pounding heart, Leonida sucked in a steadying breath. “I was certain I heard someone following me.”

“The Duke?”

“I…” She shook her head, reaching to pull open the gate. She did not believe that Stefan would lower himself to sneaking behind her, but she did blame him for putting her so on edge that she was jumping at shadows. “It was probably just my imagination. My nerves are rather unsettled.”

“And no wonder.” Wrapping a protective arm around Leonida’s shoulders, Sophy led her toward the nearby house. “Your mother has no right to involve you in such foolishness.”

Leonida hastily glanced around the empty garden. “Shh, Sophy, you must take care.”

Sophy snorted. Leonida had been forced to reveal that her mother had sent her to England to discover a hidden object, but nothing more. It was not that she did not trust her maid, but the fewer who knew the better.

“Did you find what you were searching for?”

“No.” Leonida reached to pluck a pink rose from a nearby bush. “I shall have to return.”

“Not today, you will not,” Sophy muttered. “You look in need of a long nap.”

“I hoped you packed my headache powders.”

A sly smile curved Sophy’s lips. “No, but I did manage to get my hands on a bottle of vodka. The finest in your mother’s cellars.”

AS USUAL, STEFAN CHOSE TO WALK the short distance to Hillside rather than calling for his carriage. Not that he was foolish enough to wander around on his own. His position as Duke offered some protection, but a desperate thief could put a hole through his heart as easily as if he were any other man.

Besides, his servants would be horrified if he walked through the dark alone. They expected him to behave in a manner befitting a duke, even when he felt as if he were being slowly strangled by the rigid custom.

Reaching the gardens of Hillside, Stefan commanded the two grooms to go to the kitchen to enjoy dinner and stepped through the gate. Once alone, he followed the torchlit path until a faint sound had him reaching into his pocket to grasp the pistol that was loaded and primed to fire.

A shadow loomed from behind a fountain, then Stefan’s tension relaxed as the flickering firelight revealed his brother’s familiar features.

Pulling his hand from his pocket, Stefan gave a lift of his brows. “Edmond. Were you laying in wait?”

Edmond shrugged, his gaze narrowing as it skimmed over Stefan’s tailored jacket in a dove gray that he had matched with a black waistcoat stitched with a gold thread. Stefan shifted, uncomfortable. He had no desire to explain why he had felt a sudden need to call for the local tailor.

“I did wish to speak with you before you entered,” Edmond admitted, a mysterious smile playing about his lips.

“Has something occurred?” Stefan’s brows snapped together. “Is it Brianna?”

Edmond held up a reassuring hand. “Everything is well, Stefan.”

“Then why did you wish to speak with me?”

“The King sent a messenger earlier to demand my appearance at Court.”

“Damn.” Stefan grimaced. George had been more demanding than ever of his loyal subjects since the death of his father. “What does he want on this occasion?”

His brother shrugged. “He claims that he desires to discuss the details of his approaching coronation.”

“And what is his true purpose?”

“I suspect he desires me to ensure that Queen Caroline comprehends that her presence at the ceremony is distinctly unwelcome.”

Predictable. After the farcical trial where the King failed to dissolve his marriage to the Queen, he had done everything in his power to humiliate her.

“Does he not have a dozen fawning sycophants to negotiate the royal domestic squabbles?”

Edmond shoved his fingers through his dark curls. A sure indication he was not as calm as he appeared.

“None with the least amount of diplomatic skills.”

“As if diplomacy has ever swayed the Queen from her outrageous behavior.”

“Yes, it is rather a pity she did not remain abroad,” Edmond muttered. “Still, I am not without pity for her. The marriage might have been less a tragedy if she had not been treated with such open contempt by her husband and those who surrounded him.”

That was true enough. The King had not only flaunted his mistress with utter disregard, but he had made no effort to disguise his disgust for his new bride.

“I agree, but there is no healing the wounds after all these years. She will go to any lengths to have her revenge. And what could be more tempting than embarrassing the King during such a public spectacle?”

Edmond heaved a sigh. “I must at least make the attempt.”

“When do you leave?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

Stefan blinked in surprise. “I have always known Brianna to be efficient, but surely not even she can prepare to undertake a journey so swiftly?”

Edmond’s features hardened. “Brianna will be remaining in Surrey.”

“Good lord. Have you told her?”

Edmond’s short laugh echoed through the shadowed garden. “She was not pleased to say the least, but she eventually had to concede that traveling any distance in a carriage is beyond her at the moment.”

Stefan’s concern was not eased. “I am happy to know she is being sensible, but do you truly think that she should be left alone here with Miss Karkoff?”

“Mon Dieu, Stefan, you do not believe the woman is here to harm my bride?” Edmond demanded in exasperated tones.

Stefan recalled his violent confusion of emotion when he had stepped into his library to discover Leonida. Suspicion, anger and a raw, relentless desire at the sight of her simple beauty that seemed to glow in the slanting sunlight.

“I have no notion why she is here, and that is what troubles me,” he muttered.

There was a pause before Edmond folded his arms across his chest.

“Then you will be pleased to discover that Leonida is as concerned for Brianna’s welfare as you are.”

“What do you mean?”

“She seems to believe you would make a suitable chaperone.”

“Me?”

“The implication was that Brianna, and Miss Karkoff of course, would stay at Meadowland until my return.”

Stefan stilled. “Miss Karkoff suggested that they stay at Meadowland?”

“Yes.”

“Now that is intriguing.”

“And not entirely unpalatable, eh, Stefan?”

Unpalatable? Stefan’s lips twisted. A wicked heat speared through his body at the mere thought of having Leonida so close at hand.

“It will be much easier to keep an eye upon her if she is under my roof.”

“And is your eye the only thing you desire to keep upon her?” Edmond drawled.

Stefan regarded his brother with a bland smile. “I cannot imagine what you are implying.”

“I have seen the manner in which you stare at Leonida.”

“And how is that?”

“Like I stare at Brianna.”

Stefan shook his head. No. Edmond was captivated with his bride beyond all reason. What Stefan felt for Leonida was an explosive combination of suspicion and smoldering lust.

“I will not deny she is a beautiful woman.”

“And you want her in your bed?”

He sucked in a sharp breath, easily imagining Leonida spread across his sheets, her alabaster skin drenched in moonlight and jasmine.

“My bed and the women who might warm it are not a subject I discuss with anyone,” he warned. “Including you, Edmond.”

Edmond chuckled. “I am just pleased to know that you are not entirely determined to live as a monk.”

Stefan arched a brow. There were several lovely widows in Surrey who would be shocked by the mere suggestion.

“Hardly a monk.”

“Why, you cunning fox. Who is she?”

“Shall I come in the morning to collect Brianna and Miss Karkoff?” Stefan firmly put an end to the conversation.

Edmond’s smile was taunting, but he willingly allowed himself to be diverted. “If you do not mind the intrusion?”

“On the contrary.” Stefan glanced toward the brightly lit Hillside where he could see the silhouette of a slender woman standing near the window. Leonida. “I have rarely looked forward to something with such anticipation.”

THE PRIVATE QUARTERS of Meadowland proved to be as exquisite as the rest of the estate, if a bit shabby.

Left alone in her chambers, Leonida wandered through the small parlor decorated in soothing shades of ivory and gold, her hand lightly stroking over the back of a satinwood sofa before she headed into the matching bedroom. A canopied bed draped in cream satin was set in the center of a Persian rug and above the ceiling was painted a blue sky with tiny cherubs. Across the room, a large armoire was situated next to a bay window that overlooked the ornamental lake.

A lake.

So…her rooms must be set near the Duchess’s, she realized, unconsciously licking her dry lips. Yet another stroke of fortune.

Oddly, Leonida did not feel particularly fortunate.

She had spent last night tossing and turning after her impetuous suggestion that she and Brianna come to stay at Meadowland. This might be the perfect opportunity to discover the letters, but she was wise enough to sense that she was walking directly into a trap.

Unlike most aristocrats, the Duke of Huntley was no fool. If he allowed a woman he did not trust into his home, then it was only because he had his own devious plot in mind.

Leonida could only hope that she was clever enough to outwit him.

She shivered despite the heat in the room, then with a tilt of her chin, she forced herself to thrust aside her cowardly thoughts and begin a thorough search of the armoire. It hardly seemed likely the letters would be hidden in a guest chamber, but she would leave no stone unturned.

Besides, she dare not seek the Duchess’s room until she could be certain she would not be seen.

Finding nothing in the armoire but the clothing that Sophy had unpacked just moments before, Leonida turned her attention to the mirrored dressing table, pulling the drawers open to discover a silver-backed mirror and matching brush as well as several expensive bottles of perfume. She had just tugged open the bottom drawer when a familiar tingle raced over her skin, warning her that she was no longer alone.

Slamming the drawer shut, she rose jerkily to her feet and turned to discover Stefan leaning against the doorjamb, his arms folded across her chest.

Despite the fact she had seen him less than an hour before, her heart gave its familiar jerk as she met his dazzling blue gaze.

He was so damnably gorgeous. Even attired in a plain green jacket and buckskins, his dark beauty was enough to steal the breath of any woman.

“Your Grace,” she murmured, refusing to glance down and ensure her white muslin gown with a black ribbon threaded through the bodice and seed pearls stitched along the hem was not wrinkled from her short journey. It was bad enough her hand had already lifted to touch her curls that had been twisted into a complicated knot on top her head.

“I wished to assure myself that you were settled. I hope the chambers suit you?”

“Very much, thank you.”

His gaze shifted over her shoulder, lingering on the dresser. “You appeared to be searching for something. If there is anything you need…”

“No, I was simply assuring myself that Sophy had packed all that I requested,” she interrupted, her voice rushed.

“Ah.” His expression was impossible to read. “And did she?”

“Yes, I believe so.”

“If not, you need only let me know and I shall send one of my servants to collect it for you.”

“That is very kind of you.”

A slow, tantalizing smile curved his lips. “I desire you to feel welcome at Meadowland.”

Her mouth went dry, reminding her that there was more than one danger in residing beneath the same roof as the Duke of Huntley.

“Where is Brianna?”

“Saying farewell to my brother.”

“I see. Perhaps I should say goodbye, as well.”

His wicked laugh brushed over her skin like a caress. “I doubt they would welcome the interruption at this precise moment.”

She bit her bottom lip. “Oh.”

“Hmm.” Without warning he reached to brush a finger down her cheek. “I wonder if that blush is real. Are you as innocent as you appear to be?”

She hastily backed away, not halting until her back was pressed against the carved post of the bed. A mere touch should not make her stomach clench with excitement.

“Your Grace.”

Prowling forward, the Duke did not halt until he was close enough for her to feel the heat of his body through her gown.

“My name is Stefan.” He reached to grasp the post just above her head, his brooding gaze trained on her lips. “Say it.”

A voice whispered in the back of her mind to slap his handsome face. It would be a disaster to allow this man to realize just how susceptible she was to his potent masculinity.

That voice, however, went unheeded as her body softened and her pulsed raced. How was she supposed to think when his spicy male scent was clouding her senses?

“Stefan,” she breathed.

His head dipped down to stroke his lips over the pulse fluttering at the base of her throat.

“Again.”

She trembled. “Stefan.”

“Beautiful.” He gently nipped her skin, his hand skimming up the curve of her waist. “You are so beautiful.”

Her knees went weak and Leonida was forced to grasp the lapels of his jacket to keep upright.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked huskily.

His fingers shifted to trace the edge of her bodice, the light touch making her stomach clench again with a thrilling sense of exhilaration.

“Because I must know.”

“Know what?”

His mouth traced a path of kisses up the line of her throat. “If your skin is as smooth as I have fantasized it to be.” He nuzzled the hollow beneath her ear. “If your hair smells of jasmine.” He explored the heated skin of her cheek before hovering just above her mouth. “If your lips taste as sweet as they appear.”

“You must not…”

Her words were halted as he covered her mouth in a fierce, shockingly brazen kiss.

Leonida’s breath tangled in her throat and her heart forgot to beat as her lips parted beneath his insistent demand. Over the years she had occasionally been kissed by hopeful gentlemen. A few had even been quite skilled. But never had such a simple caress seared through her, melting her resistance with a terrifying ease.

His lips tasted of brandy, as if he had sipped the spirit before entering her room, and his tongue teased hers in an oddly erotic dance. She felt dizzy, his male scent stirring her senses as surely as the clever fingers that cupped her breast in a possessive gesture.

She shivered, her lips moving beneath his with a ready response she could not hide. This was precisely what she had desired from the moment she had laid eyes on the magnificent Duke of Huntley.

It was, at last, the achingly sweet excitement blooming in the pit of her stomach that sent up a shrill of alarm through her mind.

Mon Dieu.

She had devoted the entire morning to preparing herself to ignore Stefan’s intoxicating presence. Had she not paced her room at Hillside, listing all the reasons her attraction for the Duke was such a ghastly notion? Not the least of which was the risk of being distracted from her true reason for being in Meadowland.

And here she was, melting in his arms, just minutes after her bags had been unpacked.

Pressing her hands against his chest, Leonida turned her face from his devastating kiss.

“No…this is…”

“What?” he rasped, stroking his lips over the line of her jaw.

“Dangerous.”

He pulled back to regard her with smoldering eyes. “Are you afraid?”

Afraid? Her heart was pounding and her knees weak, but she knew that it was not from fear.

“I would be if I had any sense,” she muttered.

He searched her wide eyes, a stain of color splayed along his high cheekbones.

“Do you have a lover waiting for you in Russia?”

She stiffened at the harsh question. “Of course not.”

“It would not be so shocking, little dove. You are an exquisite temptation that few men could resist.”

“Just because my mother…”

He frowned as she allowed her defensive words to trail away. “This has nothing to do with your mother.”

With a wiggle, she slipped from his arms, her hand pressed to her churning stomach as she regarded him with a wary gaze.

“Please, your Grace, Sophy might return at any moment.” His expression hardened. “My name is Stefan.”

“Fine.” She blew out an exasperated sigh. “Stefan.”

“Until later.”

With a stiff bow, the Duke turned to make his way toward the door. Abruptly, Leonida realized she was about to allow a perfect opportunity to slip through her grasp.

“Your…” She swiftly corrected herself as Stefan turned to stab her with a warning frown. “Stefan.”

“Yes?”

“I hope you do not mind if I explore your beautiful home while I am here?”

Despite her determinedly casual tone he stilled at her request. He looked like…what? A predator that had spotted his prey?

“I will be pleased to take you on a tour before dinner.”

“No, I…” She halted to clear her throat. “I would not want to take you from your duties. I am quite capable of wandering around on my own.”

He offered a slow dip of his head. “As you wish.”

Waiting until he had left her chambers, Leonida moved to sink onto the edge of the bed, burying her face in her hands as her body trembled with frustrated need.

“Mother, what have you gotten me into?” she muttered.

LEAVING THE IVORY CHAMBERS, Stefan was forced to halt and battle the desire that raged through him like wildfire.

Damn.

He had deliberately gone into Leonida’s room to catch her off guard. Not a particularly admirable ploy, but it had succeeded. A mere glance at her rummaging through the drawers of the dresser had proven she had been searching for something. Something she obviously thought was hidden at Meadowland.

Not that he could imagine what it might be.

And within a few moments in her company, he no longer gave a bloody hell.

At the mere sight of her standing next to the bed, her jasmine scent filling his senses, he had been lost.

If she had not pushed him away, he would have taken her then and there.

Christ, he wished that he had taken her. At least then his body would not be aroused to the point of pain.

“Sir.”

The familiar voice of his butler was nearly as good as being tossed in the middle of a freezing lake.

The savage need faded—although he suspected it would never be truly gone, at least not until he had Leonida spread beneath him—and he was able to turn to face his servant with a measure of composure.

“Yes, Goodson?”

“It may be nothing, but I thought you should know.”

“What is it?”

“Benjamin caught two ruffians in the copse of woods just south of the house.”

Stefan frowned. “Poachers?”

Goodson gave a lift of his hands. “They claimed they were staying in the local village and were merely admiring the grounds.”

“Were they armed?”

“Yes, and Benjamin claimed they spoke with a strange accent.” There was a deliberate pause. “He was certain it wasn’t French.”

Stefan clenched his hands. Foreigners. Were they connected to Leonida?

There was only one means to discover the truth.

“Have Benjamin travel to the village and see if he can catch sight of the trespassers. I would be very interested to know where they are staying.”

Goodson nodded, his gaze shifting to the door that Stefan had so recently closed.

“What of Miss Karkoff?”

“You may leave Miss Karkoff to me.”

The butler sniffed his disapproval. “As you wish.”