Bound by Love (Russian Connection 2)

The Duke of Huntley was a stubborn creature, but he was in full possession of his faculties. By now he was no doubt safely returned to England, tending to his lands and appreciating his latest collection of books. If he thought of her at all, it would be with relief she was no longer about to disturb his peaceful existence.

Besides, she had run from Stefan precisely because she did not want him put in danger.

She would never doubt Stefan’s courage or his ability to defeat his enemies, but he was at heart a gentleman of honor. Sir Charles, on the other hand, was a man who would happily shoot another in the back. The bastard would do whatever necessary to save his worthless neck.

As if sensing Leonida’s dark thoughts, Pyotr moved to grasp her hands, his expression hard with determination.

“We will get out of this.”

Leonida managed a strained smile. “I very much hope you are right, Pyotr.”

Pulling away from the comfort of her groom’s touch, Leonida forced her feet to carry her down the stairs and into the main portion of the cottage.

It was not a vast improvement on the attics.

There was a tiny hallway with a door that led to a small parlor and beyond that to two bedchambers. On the other side of the hallway there was an entrance to the kitchen and pantry. Directly before her was a heavy door that opened to the front courtyard.

She ignored the ridiculous urge to make an attempt at escape.

Not only would she be caught within moments, but Sir Charles had already warned what would happen to Sophy and Pyotr if she tried something so stupid.

Schooling her expression, Leonida stepped into the parlor, prepared as Sir Charles rose from the shabby settee and waved a hand toward the table set in the middle of the wooden floor.

He should have appeared ridiculous, so elegantly attired in the musty room with peeling plaster on the wall and thick cobwebs clinging to the open beams of the ceiling, but instead he simply looked dangerous.

“Allow me, Miss Karkoff.” He held out one of the chairs at the table, his dark, unwavering gaze savoring her stiff reluctance as she took her seat and he reached to tuck a napkin into her lap. Only when he had provoked a shudder of revulsion from her did he at last straighten and round the table to take his own seat. “I trust you will forgive such peasant fare, but I am currently without my chef.”

“I prefer simplicity,” she muttered, pretending an interest in the smoked fish that had been wrapped in traditional wheat pancakes, the roasted duck with a mushroom sauce and stewed apples. In truth it was as unappealing as the vodka he poured in her glass.

Her companion’s lips twitched, as if sensing her distaste. “Do you? How odd. I find nothing charming in living without the elegances of life. Indeed, I refuse to do without them.”

“Which, I presume, is the reason you are holding me hostage.”

“In part.” His features briefly tightened. “My chosen style of life has lately become excessively expensive.”

She picked at the food on her plate, not wanting to even consider his chosen lifestyle.

“I presume that you have sent your demands to my mother?”

“But of course. The quicker we have finished this unpleasant business the better.”

“I could not agree more, but how can you be certain she will meet your demands?”

His chuckle sent a chill down her spine. “So little faith in your own mother? Shame on you.”

She forced herself to meet his unnerving gaze. “It has nothing to do with faith, and everything to do with my mother’s inability to live within her means.”

A hint of complacency marred his handsome features. “Do not fret. From all reports the Countess is hastily scrambling to gather her pretty jewels, her silver and even her prized collection of Savonnerie tapestries. Such an enterprising woman shall discover the means to rescue her daughter from my evil clutches. And if not…” He shrugged, downing his vodka in one swallow. “Well, there is always your father. There can be no doubt he possesses the means to pay my demands.”

She tilted her chin, infuriated by the thought that this man might be given so much as a ruble. The only thing he deserved was a place in front of a firing squad.

“If my father learns of your treachery there will be no place in Russia you can hide from his justice.”

“Then it is a fortunate thing that I have grown quite weary of your grim country,” he taunted. “With the proper funds I shall be able to travel anywhere in the world.”

“I know where I should like to send you,” she muttered before she could halt the words.

His eyes flashed with a cold loathing. “So much spirit. A pity I am not a gentleman who admires a woman with courage.”