“I had the letters hidden beneath the lining of my bag.”
He paused, as if she had at least caught him off guard. A small victory.
“Very clever.”
“Not clever at all,” she corrected, her expression echoing her sharp pang of guilt. “I kept the letters hidden from Sir Charles, but now I have no means of retracing my steps after I was kidnapped, and even if I could, who knows what the servants at the inn did with my belongings? Anyone could have them.”
A slow smile curved his lips. “No, not anyone.”
Her breath caught as a sudden hope surged through her. “You…”
“I collected them from the inn,” he assured her.
Her hope was forgotten by a sudden flare of puzzlement. “How did you know I was there?”
His smile widened. “There is nowhere you can hide from me, Miss Karkoff.”
She snorted at his teasing. “You have no idea how tempted I am to prove you wrong.”
His hands trailed slowly up her arms. “Should you not be a great deal more appreciative for my foresight in rescuing the letters from falling into the hands of your enemies?”
“Of course I am appreciative, but.
Without giving her an opportunity to finish, Stefan swooped downward and covered her lips in a sweet, deliciously stirring kiss.
“I prefer a more tangible method of gratitude,” he murmured against her lips, his fingers continuing to brush over her shoulders and up the curve of her neck. Then, reaching the bandage covering her wound, he abruptly pulled back, his eyes glittering with a suppressed fury. “If Sir Charles Richards is not already dead I will strangle that bastard with my bare hands.”
“I wish someone would,” she said, shivering at the unwelcome memory of Sir Charles’s perverted pleasure as he pressed the dagger to her throat. “He enjoyed frightening me. No, he enjoyed hurting me. I do not think I was the first woman he had tortured.”
“He will never hurt you again.” His hand moved from her bandage to trace the line of her jaw. “That I swear.”
“I am more concerned for those women who have no protection from such a monster,” she said, her voice harsh with concern. “Herrick Gerhardt must be warned.”
His thumb brushed the corner of her mouth. “A worry for tomorrow.”
“I suppose. For tonight I want…” Her thoughts threatened to vanish as he leaned forward to brush her lips with light, teasing kisses. “Halt that.”
“Am I hurting you?”
Leonida pressed her hands against his chest. Of course he was hurting her. Oh, not physically. His touch was pure magic. Which was why, of course, she had been incapable of resisting his seduction. But the knowledge that his life was firmly tied to England and the woman he would one day wed caused a disturbing ache in the center of her heart.
And it would only be worse the longer she spent in his company.
“This is no time for your kisses.”
With a deep sigh, Stefan brushed one last lingering kiss on her mouth before pulling back with a rueful grimace.
“Unfortunately you are right.”
She ignored her pang of disappointment at his ready agreement. She had more important matters to concentrate upon.
“Where is my bag?”
“I presume that Boris left it in the stables with my horse. Do not be foolish.” He firmly pressed her back against the pillows as she made a movement to slide off the mattress. “You will remain in bed, I will collect your bag.”
With a stern glare that warned of dire repercussions if she did not obey, Stefan crossed the flagstone floor to lay another log on the fire. Only when he was certain the fire was blazing to his satisfaction did he disappear through the door.
Alone, Leonida was left to ponder the realization that her awkward, near lethal journey was at an end.