Bound by Love (Russian Connection 2)

“Remain here. I will make certain there are no guards hidden among the trees.”

Stefan sighed as he pulled out his own weapon. “I do wish you would rid yourself of this habit of treating me as if I am a feeble old woman.”

“And I wish you would remember you are a duke. It is not your place to be confronting common brutes.”

“Surely I should be allowed to determine my place?” Stefan protested, taking the lead as he threaded his way through the dense woods. This was his ridiculous notion. He would be the one to suffer the consequences.

“You are determined to have me gelded,” Boris muttered.

“Take heart, Boris, you will no doubt be killed by our ruffians long before you ever suffer such a hideous fate.”

“That is my only hope.”

Taking a path that would lead them around the clearing, Stefan kept his gaze trained on the cottage, searching for any hint that the place was not as abandoned as it appeared.

His heart was beginning to sink as they reached the front of the property.

Surely there should be some signal of the ruffians? Guards posted to keep watch. Smoke from the chimney…

Abruptly he halted in his tracks, blinking at the sight of the white garment flapping from the attic window.

“What the devil?”

“It looks like a woman’s undergarment.”

His brief discouragement was forgotten as a surge of hope tingled through his body.

“I need to get closer.”

“For God’s sake, be careful.”

Reaching the very edge of the clearing, Stefan released his breath on a hiss, easily recognizing the pretty blue bows that ran along the hem of the shift.

“My clever Leonida,” he breathed. “She is here.”

“How can you be so certain?” Boris demanded, then his expression cleared as he noted Stefan’s wicked smile. “Oh.”

“Precisely.” Returning his attention to the cottage, Stefan studied the shabby disuse that shrouded the building. “It is odd.”

Boris crept to his side. “What?”

“The maid at the hotel mentioned six to ten ruffians. Surely they cannot all be within such a small cottage?”

“There are stables in the back.”

“Where are the guards?” Stefan shook his head, realizing that he would not find the answer to his questions by standing in the trees gawking. “Come.”

Boris muttered a curse, following in Stefan’s wake as he continued his circuit toward the back stables. Stefan ignored his disgruntled companion. It was enough of an effort to resist the urge to charge into the cottage and shoot every bastard who crossed his path.

They had nearly reached the stables, still with no guards in sight, when Boris urgently tugged on his arm.

“Wait,” the servant hissed.

“What is it?”

Boris pointed at the ground. “Blood.”

“No.” Stefan’s knees threatened to buckle, his heart wrenching to a painful halt at the dark red stain that was splattered over the ground. “Dammit, no.”