Scoundrel's Honor (Russian Connection 3)

He never shared his mother’s tragic story. There were a handful of people who knew his mother had been a whore, and that she had been left to die in the gutter. And, of course, there was no denying his connection to the count.

But the sordid, intimate details…those he kept buried deep inside.

Until this woman. Emma Linley-Kirov stirred emotions he’d struggled for years to forget.

There was a rustle of wool and the light touch of slender fingers on his arm. Dimitri sucked in a startled breath. When had he developed an addiction to the scent of soap on warm, feminine skin?

“What happened to you?” she demanded.

He searched the wide hazel eyes, finding nothing but gentle understanding. Not that he was particularly surprised. While most women would be shocked by his mother and the life she had been forced to lead, Emma appeared almost…admiring.

And why would she not?

She possessed the same reckless courage and stubborn determination to risk her foolish neck for those she loved. His gut twisted with that same white-hot anger he had felt when he’d discovered she had been prancing about St. Petersburg for all to see.

“I was too far away to realize what was happening and it wasn’t until I fled the school when I turned fifteen that I realized she was dead,” he snapped.

Her eyes widened at his blunt explanation. “You must have been devastated.”

“I was infuriated.” He grasped her shoulders, glaring down at her pale, fragile face. “If my mother had never confronted the count then she still would have been alive.”

She met his gaze without flinching. “And you blamed her for leaving you on your own?”

“I blamed her for taking a stupid, unnecessary risk,” he gritted, refusing to recall the endless nights he’d cried himself to sleep when he discovered his mother was forever gone from his life.

Emma frowned. “She loved you and wanted to do whatever she could to provide you with a future. You should be proud of her.”

He tightened his grip, his eyes narrowed. “Do you think your precious Anya would be proud to learn you had died attempting to rescue her?”

She stiffened and met his glare with her own.

“I have to do this.”

“For your sister?” he snapped. “Or for your own selfish need to be a martyr?”

She paled, her eyes suddenly appearing too large for her face. “So I am not only a bitter spinster, but a tedious

martyr. It is fortunate your opinion means nothing to me.”

Dimitri growled in frustration. “My opinion is that you are a stubborn minx who has mistakenly convinced herself that accepting help from others makes her weak. Return home, Emma, and allow me to search for your sister.” He leaned down, whispering against her lips. “Or better yet, come with me and I will ensure your protection.”

He heard her breath catch. “I doubt protection is what you offer.”

Dimitri pulled back, his gaze sweeping possessively down her slender body.

“Once you are known to be mine there is no one who would dare harm you.”

A frantic pulse fluttered at the base of her throat. “Except you.”

Unable to resist, Dimitri skimmed his lips down the curve of her neck, lingering on that revealing pulse.

“I swear I would treat you with exquisite care.” His voice thickened, his anger altering to a blaze of desire. “You would want for nothing.”

She moaned, briefly melting against him before she abruptly stepped away to regard him with a leery frown. Her body might recognize that she belonged to him, but her mind was not yet ready to concede defeat.

“What I want is to find my sister and to return to our home together.”

“Emma—”