Scoundrel's Honor (Russian Connection 3)

Dimitri’s humorless laugh echoed through the vast room. The elegant library was large enough to house an army battalion.

“I cannot, but I assure you that is precisely what Emma expects.”

“Understandable. It is obvious she is consumed with fear for her sister.”

Dimitri clenched his hands. He fully sympathized with Emma’s concern. He better than anyone knew the guilt that tormented her at Anya’s continued absence, and her relentless determination to rescue her. No matter what the cost to herself.

Or to him.

But he couldn’t deny his frustration at the impenetrable barriers she had surrounded herself with since arriving in London.

“I sympathize with her impatience, but I cannot allow her emotions to lead her to foolishness,” he growled. “If she does not trust that I am capable of rescuing Anya, then she is most certain to take matters into her own hands.”

Huntley smiled wryly. “I could have warned you of the dangers of entangling yourself with a headstrong female.”

An icy dread gripped his heart as the haunting memory of his mother and her brutal death seared through his mind.

“There is no need for such warnings,” he replied. “I am painfully familiar with the dangers. You are certain Leonida is keeping a close guard on her?”

Huntley arched a dark brow. “Why do you ask?”

With a sharp motion, Dimitri turned to pace toward a towering bookcase.

“I suspect Emma is keeping a secret from me.”

“She is a woman. They are compelled by nature to keep a poor man baffled and suspicious.”

“Not all women,” Dimitri protested. And it was the truth. How many females had he taken into his care over the years? How many had eagerly allowed him to protect them from the cruel injustices that threatened them? “There are those who comprehend the need to depend on a man and to defer to him rather than constantly battling to assert her independence.”

“If you say.” Huntley at least made an effort to disguise his amusement. “Why do you believe she is keeping a secret from you?”

Dimitri continued his pacing, his brow furrowed with frustration. He had first assumed Emma’s oddly furtive manner was caused by her annoyance at his refusal to allow her to chase about London in search of her sister. It was understandable she would desire to punish him.

But as the days passed, he was forced to accept that Emma was not a woman to harbor a grudge. If she were annoyed with him, then she would brazenly slap his face, not pout behind his back.

No. There was something occupying her mind. Something she was determined to keep hidden from him.

“It is those guilty glances when she thinks I am not looking,” he muttered, acutely aware that he sounded a fool. “And those tiny flinches of surprise when I enter a room unexpectedly.”

Huntley slowly smiled, crossing to regard Dimitri with an amused gaze.

“Have you considered her wariness in your presence is caused by the same affliction that has you pacing the floors and snapping at those foolish enough to cross your path?”

Dimitri tensed, not particularly pleased to be a source of entertainment for the duke.

“What affliction?”

“Desire.”

“That is none of your concern,” he growled, his voice edged with warning.

“I am not blind, Tipova,” the man persisted. “It is obvious that the two of you have been intimate. Perhaps if you would return Emma to your bed then both of you could collect your composure and concentrate on your purpose here.”

Dimitri gave a sharp crack of laughter. Did the duke believe that he was responsible for his enforced celibacy? Christ, he would sooner be tarred and feathered than spend another night alone in his bed.

“It was not my choice to have separate chambers,” he proclaimed.

A hint of pity darkened Huntley’s expression. “Ah.”