Scandalous Deception (Russian Connection 1)

EDMOND ENTERED THE CHURCH with a skill he had honed over the past decade, slipping over the threshold and swiftly closing the door before a revealing draft could flicker the candles.

Pressed against the wall, he glanced about the empty nave, realizing that Viktor had forced Brianna through the Iconostas.

Why the devil would the man want Brianna at the altar?

Attempting to ignore the growing chill that spread through his body, Edmond cautiously inched his way toward the front of the church, the pungent scent of incense and beeswax assaulting his senses as he neared the wooden screen.

The chill deepened as he shifted to catch a glimpse through the narrow opening.

At first, all he could see was Viktor standing next to the altar, his profile hard with determination and a pistol in his hand. He took another step and he could see Brianna, her tiny body wrapped in a blanket and her face starkly white in contrast to the fiery cloud of hair that tumbled past her shoulders.

It was her expression that made his blood freeze in his veins.

That stubborn, defiant tilt of her chin and grim set of her lush, sensuous lips. She was about to do something incredibly, stunningly stupid.

Even as the thought slid through his mind, he watched in horror as she dropped her blanket and knocked the pistol from Viktor’s grasp. In the same motion she turned and sprinted toward the back of the church.

“Brianna…no,” he shouted as he charged toward Viktor, who was scrambling after the pistol that had slid beneath the altar.

He was just forcing his way through the door of the screen when Viktor wrapped his fingers around the handle of the weapon and lifted it toward Brianna’s fleeing form.

Edmond heard the sharp crack of the pistol firing, the reverberation stabbing through his heart like a dagger. Across the church, he watched in helpless horror as Brianna halted and then, with a slow, graceful motion, slid onto the stone floor.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

NO!

Edmond stumbled toward the tiny body, needing only to be at her side, so he could pull her into his arms and never let her go.

It wasn’t until he was nearly upon her that he realized that Viktor was already standing next to her, his spent pistol tossed aside in favor of a lethal dagger.

“She lives, my lord, but stay back or I will finish my task.”

“You bastard!” Edmond forced himself to come to a halt, a cold fury replacing his pounding fear. She was not dead. “Step away from her, Kazokov, or I will skin you alive and feed you to the wolves.”

Viktor blanched at the stark sincerity of Edmond’s threat, but with a determined bluster, he deliberately glanced toward the unconscious woman at his feet.

“I knew you would follow her.”

“Really?” Edmond narrowed his gaze, his hand slipping into his pocket to clutch the handle of his loaded pistol. “And how were you so bloody certain?”

“I witnessed the two of you together in Vanya Petrova’s garden.” Viktor forced a mocking laugh that echoed uneasily through the shadows. “I must say that I have rarely taken such pleasure as I did in watching you regard Miss Quinn with such pathetic longing.”

“Then you know that I will kill you for having dared to lay a hand upon her.”

Viktor swallowed heavily, a thin sheen of perspiration upon his brow despite the frigid air. “Toss me that pistol you have hidden in your pocket.” He pointed the dagger toward the woman at his feet. “Carefully.”

Gritting his teeth, Edmond removed the pistol and, bending downward, slid the weapon across the floor to his enemy.

“There.”

“Very good.” Clearly presuming he had managed to grasp the upper hand, Kazakov reached down to retrieve the pistol, pointing it directly at Edmond’s heart as a smirk touched the thin features. “Do you know, Lord Edmond, I could become quite accustomed to giving you orders. Once I am settled in the Winter Palace, I may keep you near at hand to perform as my jester.”

“The Winter Palace.” Edmond did not have to feign his amusement. The only thing more pleasurable than strangling the life from Viktor Kazakov was revealing that his pathetic hopes to gain command of Russia were doomed to failure. “Do you truly believe that Grigori Rimsky will offer you rooms in the stables once he has grasped control?”

“How did you…” Viktor swayed in shock, his face ashen as he realized that Edmond had discovered the identity of the secret leader of the revolution. Then, with an obvious effort, he attempted to regain command of his shattered composure. “No, it does not matter. It is too late for you to halt the inevitable uprising. By morning, all of Russia will be throwing off the yoke of Romanov oppression.”

A cold, mirthless smile twisted Edmond’s lips. “There was no need for me to personally do the honors, Viktor. Herrick was quite pleased to take command of the situation. By morning, Grigori, your cousin, and any soldiers of the Semyonoffski Regiment who are foolish enough to join in your treacherous cause will be locked in the barracks to await Alexander Pavlovich’s return.”