Scoundrel's Honor (Russian Connection 3)

“Emma, there is no need to agitate yourself,” he said, his voice carefully controlled. “Vanya is quite proud to be regarded as the most unconventional woman in all of St. Petersburg. She would approve of you doing whatever necessary to find your sister. And as for my servants…” He shrugged. “They would walk through the pits of hell before they revealed my secrets. There will be no one to judge you or what we choose to do in the privacy of my home.”

“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…