Читать книгу Scoundrel's Honor - Rosemary Rogers - Страница 10

EMMA HALTED AT THE soft threat.

Dimitri Tipova was not at all what she had expected. She had been prepared for a rough, ill-mannered oaf who used his fists, not his wits, to control the underworld. Certainly, she had never dreamed he would be a sophisticated, well-educated gentleman who was as beautiful as an angel and as wicked as Lucifer.

And that kiss…

No. She hastily thrust aside the feverish memory of her first kiss.

She was suitably rattled without the distracting thought of Dimitri’s warm, seeking lips and the potent heat that speared through her body.

Slowly turning, she met his ruthless gaze. “You know where she is?”

“No, but—”

“Then I will find someone less offensive to help me.”

He strolled forward, the scent of sandalwood and warm male skin teasing at her senses.

“There is no one in all of Russia who has devoted the time and resources that I have to uncovering the habits of those noblemen who prey on children.” Halting directly before her, he cupped her chin, his gaze briefly dipping down to her mouth before returning to meet her wary gaze. “And more important, I have only to whisper in the requisite ears and there will be no one in St. Petersburg willing to lend you help.”

“Herrick warned me that you had your share of arrogance, but you cannot possibly believe you possess the power to influence every citizen in St. Petersburg.”

“So naive,” he mocked. “Tell me, Emma, how many merchants would be willing to speak with you once it became known that the goods they purchase from my warehouses were about to double in cost? And how many servants would agree to speak with you once they learn you are a suspected spy for Alexander Pavlovich in search of traitors to the crown? As for society…” His soft chuckle brushed over her cheek, causing her stomach to clench with a startling excitement. “Well, even presuming they would be willing to meet with a commoner, they would have you tossed in the nearest dungeon for daring to implicate a noble in such a wicked crime.”

She clenched her hands, wanting desperately to walk away from the conceited beast and never look back. Unfortunately, she suspected his words were not empty boasts.

Could she truly risk the opportunity to find Anya just because this man threatened to drive her to madness?

“Why are you being so cruel?” she demanded.

“Not cruel—efficient,” he corrected. “As you said, for the moment we have need of one another. I have no intention of spending the next days, perhaps weeks, being flayed by a shrill-tongued harpy. If you behave as a lady and do as I say, we shall rub along quite nicely.”

“So I am expected to be a proper lady while you are at liberty to behave as an ill-mannered brute?”

“You are at least intelligent.” A slow, wicked smile curved his lips. “Do we have a bargain?”

Emma sucked in a sharp breath, not for the first time wishing she had been born a man. How delightful it would be if she possessed the power to knock the arrogant toad onto his backside.

“Do I have a choice?” she gritted.

“Of course.” He peered deep into her eyes, almost as if willing her to obey his words. “You can return to your home where you belong.”

“I will not leave St. Petersburg without my sister.”

“Even if I give my word I will do my best to discover her whereabouts and return her to you?”

“And why would I trust the word of a—” Her insult was sharply interrupted as his head swooped down and he kissed her with a seeking demand that made her heart skip a beat. Dear…Lord. After the death of her father she had resigned herself to becoming an old maid. At the time she had regretted the loss of many things, most notably the lack of a companion who could share her joys and fears and the mundane events that were all a part of life. It had not occurred to her that she might rue the lack of a man’s touch. Not until Dimitri had revealed just how potently addictive that touch could be. Arching back, she struggled to breathe. “Stop that.”

He studied her from beneath his thick tangle of lashes. “I did warn you that I would tame your unruly tongue.”

Emma grimly stiffened her spine, refusing to dwell on her tingling lips or the restless, achy sensation that gripped her body. Obviously she was coming down with a chill.

“I cannot believe that Herrick would request that I meet with you,” she muttered. “Do you make a habit of attacking helpless females?”

“Helpless?” His sharp burst of laughter echoed through the room. “I have hired savage, fully-armed bandits who inspire less fear than having to face your expression of cold disapproval.”

She turned her head to stare at the leather-bound books lining the shelves, determined to hide her reaction. What did he expect? Simpering and batting her lashes was not going to save Anya from disaster.

“You have already assaulted me, there is no need to mock me, as well.”

With a surprisingly gentle touch he forced her face back to meet his searching gaze.

“It was a simple kiss, hardly an assault,” he murmured, his arm wrapping around her waist. “You have been kissed before, have you not, Emma?”

“Release me.”

“What an odd contradiction you are,” he breathed, the golden gaze searing over her face with a disconcerting intensity. “You wrap yourself in fire and brimstone, but beneath that armor is a bewitching innocence.”

Her heart fluttered and she abruptly shoved away from his disturbing touch.

“I came here to discuss my sister, not to indulge in foolish games.”

For a tense moment she feared he might haul her back against his chest. And more important, she feared she might not protest.

Then, with a rueful shake of his head he waved a hand toward the wing chairs.

“Have a seat, and I will order tea.”

She stubbornly remained standing in the center of the floor. “Do not pretend to be civilized on my account.”

He leaned against the desk, the late afternoon sunlight slanting over his elegantly chiseled features.

“Most of my guests find my manners exquisitely polished and my hospitality without equal.”

“Indeed?”

His lips twisted. “It is only you who seems to rouse my more barbaric nature.”

“Do you intend to assist me or not?”

“Tell me of the gentlemen who you believe abducted your sister.”

Unprepared for his abrupt question, it took Emma a moment to gather her scattered thoughts.

“They were obviously noblemen.”

He arched a raven brow. “How can you be so certain? Even the most common criminal can mimic his betters with enough wealth and the proper training. I possess a number of employees who could attend a ball at the Winter Palace without stirring the least curiosity.”

She grimaced. “It was not their fine clothing or their elegant speech that marked them as nobles.”

“Then what?”

“It was their utter contempt for those they considered beneath them, and how they expected others to bow to their every whim.”

He seemed surprised by her explanation. “You are very perceptive.”

“Obviously not perceptive enough,” she said, her voice edged with bitterness. “I should have suspected that such elegant gentlemen would never willingly re main at my modest coaching inn without some nefarious purpose.”

“What explanation did they offer?”

She shrugged. “They claimed to be searching for a small estate to purchase that would be suitable for a hunting lodge.”

Dimitri nodded, as if he’d expected a similar story. “What names did they use?”

“Baron Fedor Karnechev and his younger brother Sergei.”

“And you would recognize them?”

A cold, dangerous smile curved her lips. When she found the men who had taken her sister, she intended to rip out their hearts with her bare hands.

“Without a doubt.”

Amusement smoldered in the whiskey-gold eyes as Dimitri watched fury ripple over her face.

“Does your sister resemble you?”

“There are some similarities, but Anya’s hair is lighter in color and her eyes the shade of a summer sky.” A wistful smile touched her lips. “She is quite beautiful.”

“I was referring to her temperament, not her physical attributes.”

Emma frowned in puzzlement. “What does her temperament matter?”

“Gerhardt divulged the fact that Anya went willingly with her captors, believing she was to become a famous actress.” His gaze swept down her tiny form before returning to study the stubborn line of her jaw. “I find it difficult to imagine you ever allowing yourself to be so easily persuaded.”

She shifted, feeling awkward beneath his relentless scrutiny. “She is very young and gullible.”

“More likely she is vain and spoiled.”

She jerked at the unexpected attack. “You know nothing of Anya.”

“I know that a young lady with the least concern for her family does not abandon her home and allow herself to be carried off by the first gentleman to turn her head with a bit of flattery.”

The very fact he was right did nothing to ease her flare of anger. In truth, she was horrified that Anya had been so easily led astray, but she did not blame her younger sister. No. Any blame should be laid directly at her own feet.

“I have endured enough.” Blinking back hot tears of shame, Emma once again headed for the door. “I do not understand why you agreed to meet with me, but it is obvious you have no interest in helping me.”

She had managed to reach the hallway when a pair of warm, ruthlessly strong arms wrapped around her waist and tugged her back into the room. Bending his head, Dimitri spoke directly into her ear.

“You truly must learn to control that temper of yours, milaya.”

FOR A CRAZED MOMENT, Dimitri savored the sensation of her feminine body pressed against his arousal. Then with a curse at his deranged reaction to an ill-tempered spinster, he quickly released his tight grip, not at all surprised when she spun around to stab him with a furious glare.

“Are you going to rescue my sister or not?”

If he possessed a shred of sense Dimitri knew he should have allowed the woman to stomp away. Herrick Gerhardt could not expect him to force himself on an aggravating woman who was too foolish to appreciate his assistance. Instead, he met her glare with a ruthless smile.

“First we must discover the identity of the gentlemen who abducted her.”

Her glare remained, but she gave a grudging nod. “I can describe them if you wish.”

“There is a more practical means. You will accompany me this evening.”

“Accompany you where?”

“I own a number of gambling establishments that cater to the aristocrats of St. Petersburg. If the gentlemen who visited your inn are truly noblemen and they have returned to the city, then they will eventually make an appearance at one of my clubs.”

Her mouth fell open. “You intend to escort me to a gambling club?”

Thoroughly enjoying her shock, Dimitri shrugged. “I intend to escort you to several gambling clubs.”

“You must be jesting.”

“Tell me, Emma, when you came to St. Petersburg did you expect to discover your sister being kept hostage in a church?” he taunted. “Or perhaps awaiting you in the throne room of the Winter Palace?”

The ready color crawled beneath her cheeks. “Of course not.”

“Then why the maidenly outrage?”

There was a tiny pause before she was jutting her chin in a stubborn angle, her magnificent hazel eyes hardening with determination.

“I was merely caught off guard.”

With a silent curse, Dimitri spun away, disturbed by Emma’s combination of vulnerability and determination.

“If you wish to capture the dregs of society you must hunt them in the gutters,” he said, his voice unnaturally harsh. “Are you prepared to do what is necessary?”

“Yes.”

“We shall see.” Sucking in a deep breath he turned back to meet her guarded gaze. “Where are you staying?”

“Vanya Petrova was kind enough to offer her hospitality.”

Dimitri nodded, already having suspected that Herrick would turn to his dear friend to provide Emma a home.

“Then I will collect you at nine this evening.”

“Very well.” With a stiff nod, the woman headed for the door.

“Emma,” he called softly.

She froze, her hands clenching before she forced herself to turn and meet his brooding gaze.

“Yes?”

“Staid spinsters do not visit gambling clubs. If you wish to avoid unwanted attention you might consider a gown that does not smother you in wool.”

Her eyes flashed with the sort of fury that made Dimitri relieved that there was no knife at hand.

“I am not the one who needs to fear being smothered.”

EMMA PEERED OUT THE window of the carriage, allowing her maid’s incessant lecture on what happens to females who spend an entire afternoon in the company of known criminals to flow past her. She did not need to be reminded she had been a fool to meet with Dimitri Tipova. Or that she was an even greater fool to have agreed to his outrageous suggestion that she allow him to escort her to his gambling clubs.

For goodness’ sake, if she were recognized she would never overcome the scandal.

Whatever the dangers she fully intended to travel from one den of iniquity to another until she located the men who had abducted her sister. There was no point in dwelling on the insanity of her behavior.

Instead, she studied the overwhelming beauty of the city around her.

Over the past two days she had been too occupied with her troubles to truly notice its magnificence. Now she allowed herself to appreciate the stunning palaces that lined the narrow canals.

How odd to realize that such glory could rise from such brutality.

Her lips twisted as she recalled her history lessons. The cold-hearted Ivan and his private army, the oprichniki, who had terrorized the boyars until the Tatars attacked Moscow. Ivan had ordered any number of bloodbaths to maintain his ruthless rule until he had tumbled into utter madness and he was at last murdered by his own heir.

As much a monster as Ivan had been, however, the period of chaos that followed his death had proven the need for a strong leader to rule the vast empire. It had been the desperate Cossacks and outspoken Streltsi, and even a group of more prosperous peasants, that had demanded the zemsky sobor be called to name a new czar.

Eventually, Peter had come to the throne, his life already scarred by being forced to witness his closest family butchered when he was just ten years of age. Not that his years of being condemned to the remote hunting lodge on the Yauza River had been wasted. Indeed, they had offered him a rare opportunity for self-education.

Left to entertain himself, he studied with the local craftsmen to acquire skills in everything from blacksmithing to carpentry. He also gathered devoted friends who assisted him in mock battles and discovering the best means of drilling an infantry. Long before acquiring an army he had practiced besieging a scale-sized fortress and could calculate the ranges for his artillery.

Perhaps most important, he developed an obsessive fascination with sailing.

With remarkable foresight he had realized the future of his country depended upon opening itself to the world, and with a cruel efficiency he conquered a path to the Baltic Sea and then set about building a city that would rival Versailles.

There was a clatter of hooves as the carriage crossed the Fontanka River over the Semyonovsky Bridge and Emma realized they were nearing Vanya’s home.

Tugging the scarf more tightly around her neck, she was prepared as the carriage halted in front of the imposing mansion with its columned balcony and massive jade lions that guarded the double doors. Leaving the carriage she climbed the steps and entered the marble foyer.

There was an awkward moment as the uniformed servants scurried about her, attempting to perform small services before Emma waved them away. She would never become accustomed to having others wait on her.

Hovering uncertainly by a rosewood table that held a delicate Chinese vase, Emma was relieved by the sudden appearance of a strikingly beautiful woman with silver hair and a tall, curvaceous form attired in a morning dress of lavender silk.

“At last. I was becoming quite concerned,” Vanya murmured, a hint of worry in her pale blue eyes.

“I am sorry.” Emma removed her scarf and tossed it aside. “The impossible man kept me waiting for near two hours. As if he were royalty rather than a common criminal.”

Taking Emma’s hand, Vanya led her up a curved staircase. “I should never consider Dimitri Tipova common,” she said with a small sigh. “He is sinfully handsome, is he not?”

A dangerous sensation fluttered in the pit of her stomach. “I suppose he is handsome enough, although that does not compensate for his utter lack of civility. He is the rudest man I have ever encountered.”

Vanya allowed a mysterious smile to curve her lips as she led Emma into a private salon with emerald wall panels and gilt cornices. The furniture was a dark mahogany with gold velvet cushions and the wooden floor covered by an Oriental rug. The overall atmosphere was one of rich sensuality.

A perfect setting for Vanya.

“Odd.” Vanya settled on the sofa and pulled Emma down next to her. “I have always thought him to be surprisingly gracious.”

“You are well acquainted?”

Leaning forward, Vanya poured two cups of tea from the tray left on the low table, adding a generous amount of milk and sugar before handing a cup to Emma and leaning back into the cushions.

“He performed a great service for a dear friend of mine,” she explained, sipping her hot tea. “I consider myself in his debt.”

Emma hastily tempered her words, far too polite to insult a man her hostess held in high esteem.

“No doubt it is my fault.” She took a reviving sip of tea, hoping it would help the lies tumble from her lips. “He did mention that I stir his more primitive nature.”

“Did he?” Vanya’s smile widened. “How very intriguing.”

Intriguing? Emma found it utterly vexing. As if she were to blame for his irritating lack of manners.

“Let us hope our time together is of short duration.”

“Did he agree to assist you in your search for poor Anya?”

“Yes.”

“Thank goodness.” The older woman reached to pat Emma’s arm. “Whatever your opinion of Dimitri there is no gentleman more suited to helping you.”

Emma battled the urge to roll her eyes. “So he has told me.”

Vanya’s smile faded, her fingers gently squeezing Emma’s arm.

“Emma, do you prefer that I find another to lend you assistance?”

Her lips parted with a cowardly urge to agree to Vanya’s suggestion. Dimitri Tipova was arrogant and provoking and…

Dangerously attractive.

Then, she hastily swallowed the ridiculous words. If both Herrick and Vanya considered Dimitri Tipova the most suitable man to help her rescue Anya, then she would be inexcusably selfish to turn him away just because she…what? Feared him?

“No, of course not,” she said, her tone brisk. “Indeed, I need your help to prepare for the evening.”

“You have made plans?”

“I am to accompany Dimitri Tipova to several of his gambling establishments in the hopes I will recognize the gentlemen who lured Anya to St. Petersburg.”

If she was shocked by Emma’s revelation, then Vanya hid it well. Indeed, she nodded as if it were perfectly reasonable for a young, innocent maiden to allow herself to be escorted by a renowned criminal to his wicked clubs.

“Ah.”

“I shall need a means to disguise myself,” she firmly insisted. “I cannot risk being recognized. Who can say what the odious creatures will do to Anya if they realize I have followed them?”

“Do not fear, my dear.” A gleam that Emma did not entirely trust sparkled in Vanya’s blue eyes. “I shall ensure that not even your sister will recognize you.”