Scoundrel's Honor (Russian Connection 3)

After all, she must have felt scared and alone when she realized she had fallen into the hands of slave traders. If this guard had shown her a bit of kindness and had sheltered her from the others, then it was perhaps not surprising that she would have attached herself to him.

“My dear, you are not thinking clearly,” she said gently. “Only to be expected after all you have endured. Once we have returned home—”

“Never.” Anya stepped backward, a sulky pout tugging at her lips. “I will never return to Yabinsk and you cannot force me.”

“Perhaps we can visit England before returning to Russia,” Emma coaxed, refusing to acknowledge the possibility they might not find a means to escape from Valik’s clutches. “We do have family there, after all.”

Anya stomped her foot. “You have not listened to a word I have said.”

“Certainly I have listened, but you cannot expect me to allow you to remain at the power of a slave trader. It is insanity.”

“He is a good man.”

“Even if I could be persuaded to believe he is a saint I would not let you be with him.” Emma grasped Anya’s shoulders, willing the foolish girl to recognize common sense. “You are a child, Anya

, and you belong at home with me.”

The moment the words tumbled from her lips she wanted to call them back. Over the past months Anya had become increasingly sensitive to being seen as a girl rather than a woman.

Whirling on her heel, she stormed back into the larger room, her cheeks stained with color.

“You always ruin everything.”

“Anya, this is ridiculous.” Emma clenched her hands, following behind her sister. “I have traveled from St. Petersburg to London to Cairo to find you. Once we find a means to escape then we will discuss your future.”

Anya never slowed as she headed to the back of the attic. “I no longer have to obey you, Emma Linley-Kirov.”

“Did you ever?”

“I am a grown woman and I will make my own decisions.” Reaching the small ladder, Anya turned back to glare at Emma. “I will never return to that horrid cottage.”

Emma faltered, her heart twisting with distress. Had she not sacrificed everything to ensure her sister could have a stable home?

“Was it truly so bad?” she rasped.

“It was horrible. Like being caught in a poacher’s trap.” Anya shuddered, her pretty features hard with disgust. “God, there was nothing but snow and mud and ignorant villagers who had nothing better to do with their days than to make life a misery for others.”

“But we had each other.”

“Each other?” Anya’s shrill laugh grated against Emma’s tender nerves. “No, I was just another cross that St. Emma had to bear.”

“Anya,” Emma breathed, studying her sister as if she had never seen her before. And perhaps she hadn’t. Before their father’s death he had warned Emma that she was spoiling little Anya and that it would be better for the young girl to take on a few of the responsibilities around the cottage. Emma, however, had wanted to protect her sister from the tedious chores. Now it seemed that her effort to help Anya had only created resentment in the younger woman. “That is not true.”

“Of course it is.” The blue eyes darkened with a simmering antipathy. “You have reveled in your role as martyr since mother died. Do you know how often I was scolded to be properly grateful that you had sacrificed yourself for me?”

“Would you have preferred that I had abandoned you?” Emma wrapped her arms around her waist, as if she could protect herself from Anya’s cutting condemnation. “Or taken you to an orphanage?”

Anya sniffed. “You could have sought help from our relations. There had to have been at least one family member who would have offered to provide us with a decent allowance so we did not have live as though we were no better than serfs.”

Emma grimaced. “I could not beg for charity from complete strangers.”

“Only because your pride was more important than my happiness. If you had considered my feelings at all then I would never have allowed the count to lure me away from home.”

Emma shifted uneasily. How could she deny the charge? She had allowed her pride to prevent her from seeking assistance from the family she had never known. Of course, she could hardly have suspected that Gerhardt Herrick would be so kind. Or that he would have been so willing to acknowledge a distant relative.

At the time she had only known that it was her responsibility to find the means to support her sister and she had done the best she could.

“Anya…” Her soft plea was interrupted by the sound of a slamming door from below and the rumble of male voices. Emma stiffened, an icy fear flowing through her veins. Valik had warned that the auction would be held tonight. Was it beginning? “What is that?”