Scoundrel's Honor (Russian Connection 3)

“Do not be a fool. My carriage will return you to Vanya.”

“Thank you.”

He hauled her against his chest, swooping down to kiss her with a brazen hunger.

“I will allow you to flee in fear tonight, but make no mistake, moya dusha, you are destined to become my lover,” he murmured against her swollen lips. “And not because you need my assistance, or because I have forced you to my bed.”

Dizzy from the pleasure of his kiss, Emma struggled to think clearly.

“Then why?”

“Because I have tasted your passion. You desire me.” His hand skimmed down her back, deliberately pressing her against the proof of his arousal. “Desperately.”

Her mouth went dry, her heart thundering in her chest. “Good Lord. Your conceit is astounding.”

A humorless smile tugged at his lips. “No more astounding than your ridiculous attempts to pretend you do not ache to be in my arms.”

It was the biting truth of his words that gave her the strength to wrench out of his grasp and scurry down the hallway. She might yearn to melt in his arms, but she was not a fool.

At least, not a complete fool.

“Goodbye, Dimitri Tipova,” she muttered.

“À bientôt,” he called, his voice mocking.

It wasn’t until she was safely stowed in Dimitri’s carriage that she realized he had warned he would see her again rather than saying goodbye.

THE ST. PETERSBURG DOCK was bustling with activity as Vanya’s carriage headed toward the end of a wharf where a sleek wooden vessel swayed on the white-capped waves. Winter was swiftly approaching and soon it would be only the staunchest sailors who would brave the frigid, buffeting waters of the Baltic. In the meantime, there was a frantic pace as sailors, merchants, dockhands and passengers darted among the looming stacks of cargo waiting to be loaded on the various ships.

Emma was relieved to leave the majority of the crowd behind as they halted near the edge of the water. It was unsettling enough to board a ship and sail so far from home without adding the worry of battling through the crowds.

Licking her dry lips, she peered out the window at the waiting ship.

When she had returned to Vanya’s home three nights before, she had revealed all she had learned of her sister, as well as Dimitri’s suspicion that Anya was being taken to London. The older woman had been sympathetic, but surprisingly reluctant to assist Emma in finding a means of following Count Nevskaya’s ship.

Then yesterday morning, she had come to Emma’s private chambers and revealed she had booked passage upon a ship bound for London. Emma had been caught between overwhelming relief and a natural fear at charging into the unknown. For all her pretense of courage, she was not indifferent to the many dangers that lurked once she left the protection of Vanya and Herrick Gerhardt.

And oddly, there had been a strange sense of regret.

She tried to tell herself that it was merely a reaction to the thought of traveling so far from home, but she knew she was not being entirely honest. That bothersome ache in the center of her heart was directly connected to Dimitri Tipova.

Damn his aggravating soul.

Hastily thrusting aside the unnerving thought, Emma turned her head to meet Vanya’s searching gaze, managing to conjure a smile of appreciation.

“I do not know how to thank you, Vanya,” she said, reaching across to pat the older woman’s hand. “You have been so extraordinarily generous. It will take time to repay you, but I swear—”

“Nonsense,” Vanya firmly interrupted, seemingly embarrassed by Emma’s excessive gratitude. “You are not the only one who cares what happens to those poor girls, Emma. And if I were a few years younger I would be traveling to England at your side. As it is, I know that you possess the courage and strength to do whatever necessary to rescue your sister and the others.”

Emma straightened, unashamedly pleased by Vanya’s words. At least someone appreciated her determination, she told herself, smoothing her hand down her thick woolen cloak.

“Thank you.”

“But you must promise that you will take the greatest care and quickly return to me,” she urged. “Herrick Gerhardt will have my head upon a platter when he discovers I assisted you in leaving the country.”

Emma hid her tiny shiver of fear. She would be strong for Anya. She had no choice.

“I promise.”