Bound by Love (Russian Connection 2)

Boris chuckled. “My wife is certain to blame her thickskulled husband and will presume that I got precisely what I deserve.”

Stefan rolled his eyes. He did not doubt that Boris would dog his ever step until Edmond was convinced he was safe.

“Very well. Find me a horse and I will speak with my servants.”

St. Petersburg

Vasilevsky Ostrov

IN MAY 1703, WHEN THE Emperor Peter first arrived on the island, he had briefly flirted with the notion of building his new Russian capital on the site. For all of his brash willpower, however, Peter had been soundly defeated by nature. The violent storms and unpredictable flooding, along with the constant winds from the Gulf of Finland, made it impractical for the grand city he envisioned.

In the end, he had constructed his fortress on Zayachy Ostrov and his official palaces on the mainland, but he had not entirely given up his scheme for the island. Proclaiming it a location for learning, he had built a museum and observatory as well as St. Petersburg’s first university on the eastern side.

The western side was less fortunate. Over the years a series of harbors and warehouses began dotting the bleak landscape, bringing with them an unsavory crowd of rough sailors and peasant workers.

Certainly not a place that the Russian aristocracy cared to visit.

Moving through the dark, narrow warren of streets, Herrick Gerhardt and his faithful guard, Gregor, could feel the threat of suspicious gazes watching their progress toward the abandoned warehouse near the quay.

“If you desired to have your throat slit I can think of several enemies who would be delighted to do the honors in far more elegant surroundings,” Gregor muttered.

Herrick smiled, halting in front of the narrow door at the warehouse. The younger man had, quite wisely, been opposed to meeting Dimitri Tipova in the very heart of his criminal empire. After all, more than one foolish official who had sought to put an end to the Beggar Czar had disappeared among the dingy shadows.

Unfortunately, Herrick was in no position to dictate the term

s. He was the one to have requested a meeting and since Tipova was hardly likely to risk walking into a trap, Herrick had no choice but to play the game by the criminal’s rules.

“I presume you refer to the Summer Palace?” Herrick gently teased his companion.

“The Summer Palace, the Winter Palace, the Senate Square, Kazan Cathedral, the Admiralty, Petropavlovskaya Fortress…”

“Good lord,” Herrick interrupted with a chuckle. “Do I have so many enemies?”

“Do not pretend that it is not a source of pride for you.”

Herrick shrugged. “If people did not hate me I would not be properly doing my job.”

“If others were doing their job properly there would be no need for you to put yourself at risk,” Gregor muttered.

“A charming fantasy, Gregor, but no more than that,” Herrick softly reprimanded his companion. Whatever his thoughts regarding Alexander Pavlovich, his loyalty was unwavering. He expected the same from those on his staff. “There will always be those who are driven by their lust for power. They will not be satisfied until the crown rests upon their own unworthy heads.”

“And you are determined to keep that crown upon Alexander Pavlovich?”

“Better the devil you know.”

Gregor offered a stiff dip of his head, unable to deny the truth of Herrick’s words.

Alexander Pavlovich might be of a vacillating nature that infuriated his ministers and foreign leaders alike. And there could be no denying he had become distracted and disillusioned over the years. But his love for his people was genuine and his duty to Russia unwavering.

“As you say.”

Lifting his hand to knock on the thick door, Herrick was startled as it was suddenly yanked open to reveal a thickset man with a hard face and unmistakable military bearing. At the moment he was wearing a rough smock and breeches, although Herrick would bet his last ruble that was not his usual attire.

A Cossack. Or at least he had been at one time.

“You are Gerhardt?” the man snapped, his gaze taking in Herrick’s plain but expensive attire.

“I am.”