Bound by Love (Russian Connection 2)

“Tipova killed him?”

“Yes.” She shuddered, her arms instinctively wrapping around her body in a protective motion. “I was not the only woman he hurt. He had to be stopped.”

“That doesn’t explain why he kidnapped you.”

“He wanted to give me these.”

She lifted her hand, and for the first time Stefan noted that she clutched a small box along with a stack of letters tied with a ribbon. It did not take a great deal of intelligence to speculate what they were.

“My mother’s letters.” He captured her guarded gaze. “Tipova had them?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

She wrinkled her nose. “Josef stole them as we suspected, but he never truly worked for Sir Charles. He was a spy for Dimitri Tipova.”

Stefan possessed little interest in Josef or his loyalties. He was far more concerned with Tipova and why the leader of the underworld had felt compelled to kidnap Leonida to return a handful of letters.

Such a man did not do things out of the kindness of his heart.

“And what did he demand for them?”

“I am not entirely certain.”

“Leonida…”

“Stefan.” Before he could guess her intention, Leonida had lifted a hand and placed it across his mouth, effectively silencing him. “I want to know what you are doing here.”

It was not the fingers that halted his demands to know precisely what Dimitri Tipova had required of her. Instead it was the uncertainty that shimmered in her eyes.

He never desired for this woman to doubt him again.

Gently he grasped her wrist, tugging her fingers from his lips to press them against his cheek. “I think it should be obvious I was searching for you.”

“You are supposed to be on a ship to England.”

“So I was.” He shook his head. Christ. He had come so close to destroying his future. “Thank God, Pyotr came to warn me of your disappearance. I might have been well out to sea by the time I came to my senses. Boris might never have forgiven me if I forced him to swim miles back to St. Petersburg.”

Her expression remained guarded, as if she feared he was playing some cruel trick. The sight made him flinch with regret.

“Did you take a blow to the head?” she demanded.

“The blow, my dove, was to my heart.” He lightly kissed her fingers before placing them in the center of his chest. “A blow that I no doubt richly deserve, but one I hope you will heal.”

“Stefan?”

Indifferent to the numerous gazes watching them with avid curiosity, Stefan abruptly wrapped his arms around her slender waist and buried his face in the curve of her neck. He needed to feel her warmth melting away the icy fear that had gripped him for the past hours.

She was safe.

Now he had to convince her to take yet another risk.

“Bloody hell, I have been such a fool.”

She trembled, but thank God, she made no effort to pull away.

“I have no intention of arguing,” she muttered.