Bound by Love (Russian Connection 2)

The woman was enough to make a sane man consider becoming a monk.

Turning his head, he studied the passing scenery. It was that or hauling Leonida on his lap and kissing her senseless.

Not that he was able to ignore her presence at his side. Even as his eyes narrowed in resignation at the sight of the dispirited serfs who tended the fields, his entire body pulsed with awareness.

Her jasmine scent teased at his nose and the heat from her body seeped through his clothing. He would have better luck ignoring another shot to his back.

At last the carriage slowed, turning on a tree-lined drive. Ahead was a large stone building with a columned terrace and statues of Greek gods keeping watch from the roof.

It was the parkland, however, that appealed to Stefan. Beyond the formal garden and reflecting pool, the unpretentious beauty of nature had been left untouched.

Whatever his opinion of Russian politics, he possessed a deep admiration for the raw, untouched splendor that was all too rare in England. It pleased him in the same manner as Leonida pleased him.

Both were willful, untamed and filled with surprises.

His groom pulled the horses to a halt before the wide terrace and climbing from the carriage, Stefan turned to hold out a hand to the frowning Leonida.

“Why are we here?” she demanded, grudgingly allowing him to help her step onto the graveled drive.

He threaded her arm through his own, keeping a firm grip. She was quite capable of bolting when she discovered the surprise he had in store for her.

“You have become too thin,” he said, guiding her up the stairs. “I have hopes of tempting your appetite.”

She stiffened in alarm. “My appetite will hardly be improved by being thrust amongst strangers.”

He smiled. “Trust me.”

She clicked her tongue. “I grow weary of those words.”

Before he could respond the door was pulled open to reveal a short, gray-haired housekeeper with a round face and welcoming expression.

She dipped a small curtsy. “Your Grace. Miss Karkoff. Welcome. If you will follow me?”

Turning, she headed across the paneled foyer to the curved stairs. Leonida shot Stefan a frustrated glare, but, too well behaved to cause a scene, she followed in the servant’s wake. Reaching the upper floor, the woman halted at the nearest door and stood aside as Stefan and Leonida entered the room.

It was a small, cozy chamber with paneling on the bottom of the walls and the upper halves painted with pastoral scenes. There was a green striped sofa set beneath a window overlooking a distant lake and matching chairs near a porcelain stove. In the center of the room was a cherrywood table laden with a number of covered dishes.

“I believe that you will find that I have provided all that you requested,” the housekeeper murmured.

“It is perfect. Thank you.” Reaching beneath his jacket Stefan pulled out a large coin and pressed it into the servant’s hand. “That will be all.”

“Very good.”

With a knowing smile the woman turned to disappear down the hallway and Stefan closed the door, silently turning the key that had been left conveniently in the lock.

Unaware that they were soon to be completely alone in the house, Leonida had drifted toward the table, her brow wrinkled in puzzlement.

“Who owns this place?”

He pulled out a chair, waiting for her to have a seat before gently removing her bonnet and rounding the table to settle on his own chair.

“Vanya Petrova, although she chooses to keep her connection to this particular home private.”

“Why?”

He chose his words with care. Vanya rarely revealed her efforts to protect Alexander Pavlovich.

“There are occasions when she prefers to meet with her associates in secret,” he said, filling her plate with poached salmon with a delicate mushroom sauce, roasted pheasant and potatoes in mint.