“I could easily have ensured that you remained in St. Petersburg or were even returned to your tiny village,” he rasped.
He heard her breath catch as his fingers skimmed the bare skin of her shoulders, her hands digging into his chest and a beautiful color returning to her cheeks.
“I was brought to this ship under false pretenses,” she accused.
“Do you wish to rescue your sister or not?”
“Of course I do.”
“Then put aside your ridiculous pride and accept that you are far more likely to bring Anya safely home with my assistance.”
“It is not pride.”
“No?”
Her lips tightened at his mocking tone. “I do not appreciate being manipulated.”
And Dimitri did not appreciate desiring this woman with a consuming hunger that would not leave him in peace. If he had any sense he would have left Emma Linley-Kirov in St. Petersburg and concentrated on capturing the Katherine Marie so he could at last destroy his father.
Muttering a curse beneath his breath, he scooped her off her feet and headed toward the connecting door.
“It would not be necessary if you would be reasonable.”
She squirmed in his arms, her eyes wide with shock. “What are you doing?”
“Taking you to our cabin.”
“I have my own cabin.”
He glared down at the face that had haunted his nights and intruded into his thoughts at the most inconvenient moments. He had not left her in St. Petersburg because he was unwilling to be parted from her. Annoying, but true.
“You belong with me.”
With a frown, she smacked her hand against his chest. “You cannot simply decide I belong to you, Dimitri Tipova. I am a person, not a bit of property you can collect and toss aside when you weary of me.”
“How the hell am I supposed to weary of you?” He spread her across the narrow bed, his hands oddly awkward as he yanked off his jacket and waistcoat. His cravat and linen shirt followed. “You plague me no matter how I attempt to rid you from my mind.”
She brushed aside the thick honey curls that tumbled across her face, her eyes widening with a wary excitement as he perched on the edge of the mattress and tugged off his boots.
“And you blame me?”
Shifting, Dimitri ran a hand over her slender foot and up the back of her calf, inching the thin shift upward and exposing the slender leg covered in a white silk stocking. Her undergarments were predictably prim, but ridiculously the sight of them made his gut clench with a savage lust.
He had tasted the delights of the most skilled courtesans throughout Russia and Europe, but while they had been delightful diversions, they had never made him so desperate to have them in his arms that he was willing to kidnap them.
“Of course I blame you,” he husked, his fingers reaching the silken skin of her thigh at the top of her stocking. He groaned, his arousal heavy with a painful need.
Her eyes darkened with an awareness that slammed into him with potent force. “For what?”
Beyond reasonable thought, Dimitri reached for her shift, ripping it from bodice to hem with one easy motion. She muttered something beneath her breath, but Dimitri barely noticed. Instead, he was lost in the beauty of her slender, perfect body.
The air was squeezed from his lungs as his gaze swept over her, the pink-tipped mounds of her breasts, the tiny span of her waist, and the sweet honey curls that hid the source of her most intimate pleasure.
“For daring to challenge me,” he managed to rasp.
“I have done nothing but attempt to rescue my sister,” she breathed, her tone distracted as Dimitri slowly lowered himself on the bed beside her. “You are the one who continues to interfere despite my pleas to be left alone.”
He framed her face in his hands, his lips skimming over her flushed face.