Scoundrel's Honor (Russian Connection 3)

A drop of sweat trickled down her back as she turned a corner, reminding her of Rajih’s warning that she was not yet prepared to endure the afternoon sunlight. Abruptly, she halted as she caught sight of the open gate that offered a glimpse of the covered bazaar beyond. Her heart gave a small leap as a potent perfume wafted through the air.

Was it possible?

Her scream went unheard as a hand was shoved over her mouth and an arm wrapped around her waist from behind. She struggled, but she was unable to halt herself being pulled back toward the street. Then, thankfully, she recognized the musky scent of Rajih’s cologne.

“I believe that will be enough sightseeing for today,” he drawled, bundling her into the waiting carriage with barely leashed anger. Settling her on the seat next to her, he yanked off her bonnet and tossed it on the floor. “I begin to sympathize with your poor Cossack. Do you possess no sense of self-preservation whatsoever?”

She folded her hands in her lap, attempting to hide her unease.

“I am here to search for my sister, not to be hidden away in your harem,” she said, her chin tilted.

His dark, beautiful features were rigid with anger. “And you do not trust I am doing my best to make certain she is found?”

She shifted to glance out the window, seeking the words that would make Rajih understand the relentless need that burned deep inside her.

“Anya is my sister and my responsibility. I could not bear thinking I did not do everything in my power to protect her.” Her hands curled into tight fists of frustration. “Is that so very hard to understand?”

There was a brief silence, then slender fingers cupped her face, gently turning her back to meet Rajih’s dark, searching gaze.

“Do you know, habiba, I find myself quite envious of your sister,” he said, his voice husky.

“Envious?”

His fingers tightened on her cheek. “You love so fiercely. Any man would be honored to have earned such a rare gift.”

She grimaced, considering the few men who had bothered to pay her attention.

“Thus far the gentlemen I have known are not particularly interested in earning a place in my heart,” she said, deliberately meeting his smoldering gaze. “Only my bed.”

His thumb brushed her lower lip. “There are many men who can be extremely stupid.”

“So I have discovered.”

“And there are those men who find it far easier to reveal the desire of their bodies rather than confess the secrets of their hearts.”

Her own heart gave a treacherous leap, warning her that a small part of her still longed to believe that Dimitri had considered her more than a convenient body in his bed. Which simply proved just how foolish she could truly be.

“It does not matter.” She shrugged. “I have no interest in offering my heart to another.”

“No?”

“My place is at Yabinsk, tending to my business and caring for my sister.”

His gaze lowered to her lips, his thumb continuing to tease at the corner of her mouth.

“You do not truly believe you can return to such a mundane existence, do you?”

Emma shied from the thought of her small coaching inn and cramped cottage.

“What is my choice?”

“You could remain with me.”

“As your concubine?”

He brushed a soft kiss over her lips. “Are you proposing a more formal arrangement?”

Heat flooded her cheeks at his teasing. “Certainly not. In fact, I presume you must wed for political gain.”