Scoundrel's Honor (Russian Connection 3)

“I cannot remain in St. Petersburg.”

“Have you developed a dislike for the city?”

“Really, Dimitri,” she snapped with impatience. “You must be aware that Vanya was wed earlier today.”

He grimaced with rueful amusement. “I could not fail to notice since she devoted the past quarter of an hour lecturing me on my ill manners in missing the ceremony.”

“Then you must realize it would be impossible for me to remain beneath the roof of newlyweds.”

“They are not precisely the traditional newlyweds,” he pointed out. “They have been lovers for the past twenty years or more.”

Emma refused to be swayed. Vanya’s wedding was, after all, no more than a convenient excuse to leave St. Petersburg.

“I am still intruding.”

They glared at each other for a tense moment, then a slow, worrisome smile tugged at his lips, his brooding gaze gliding over her wary face and down to the scooped line of her bodice.

Emma shivered, her skin prickling as if she could feel the heat of his gaze.

“Vanya would not agree, but it was never my intention that you should reside here.”

“Your intention?” She stiffened at his nonchalant tone. “You have no say in where I live…”

With his typical arrogance, Dimitri ignored her stern warning, his hands tightening on her arms as he yanked her against his chest. In the same motion his head swooped downward, claiming her mouth in a kiss of brazen possession.

Tiny jolts of pleasure raced through her, heating her blood and causing her toes to curl in her ivory slippers. He tasted of champagne and untamed male as he teased his tongue between her lips, his grip easing so his fingers could lightly caress her bare arms.

Emma shuddered as anticipation fluttered in the pit of her stomach.

She had ached for weeks for this man’s touch. His hard, lean hands exploring her body, his seeking mouth stirring a wicked need, his low voice whispering encouragement in her ear.

Now she was forced to swallow a whimper of disappointment when he pulled back to study her flushed face.

“If you prefer the country I have an estate near Moscow and another just beyond Kiev,” he murmured.

She blinked, struggling to follow his words while her body trembled with desire.

“You want me to live with you?”

“Of course.” He peered deep in her eyes. “We belong together.”

She shook her head sadly. “I cannot be the woman you want.”

“No,” he readily agreed, “you are the woman I need.”

She paused, uncertain. “Need?”

“Before you came into my life, I thought it was enough to surround myself with those in need, filling the emptiness in my heart with a hatred for my father.”

“You should not dismiss what you have accomplished,” she chided. “Herrick has told me of those you rescued from the streets.”

“I am a sinner, not a saint, Emma.” He gently brushed her cheek with the back of his hand, his expression somber. “And I have begun to realize that a part of my need to be the savior is because it allows me to keep others at a distance.”

“I do not understand.”

With a sigh he dropped his hands and turned to pace toward the center of the room. Emma frowned, startled by the hint of vulnerability she had glimpsed in his eyes.

“When people depend upon me, all I need offer them is my protection. There is no danger to my heart,” he confessed. “But you refused to accept my rules.”