Bound by Love (Russian Connection 2)

“No, I do not suppose you do.” He breathed deeply, savoring the sweet jasmine that filled his senses. How had he ever thought he could survive without this woman? “I have known since the moment you crossed my path that I wanted you. Hardly surprising. You are astonishingly beautiful. But I could not understand why you fascinated me more than any other woman I have ever known.”

The box and letters fell to the ground as she raised her hands to rest them tentatively against his chest.

“Because you thought me a liar and a thief.”

He pulled back, willing her to see the sincerity that was etched on his face.

“True, but even when I suspected that you were in my home under false pretenses, I could not halt my obsessive need to make you mine.” His smiled ruefully. “I should have known in that moment you were a danger to more than my sanity.”

“So you decided to take me as your mistress?”

He grimaced at his blind arrogance. Not that he hadn’t paid a painful price for his conceit. This woman had led him on a merry chase from England to Paris to St. Petersburg.

“That was the only means to have what I desired without confessing the truth,” he said.

She frowned. “The truth of what?”

“That I was terrified.”

She blinked, clearly taken aback by his blunt honesty. “Of me?”

“Of acknowledging the feelings that you stirred deep inside me,” he admitted without hesitation. The time for dissembling was long past.

A lingering hurt darkened her eyes. “Because I am not the Duchess you envisioned for yourself?”

He swallowed his disbelieving laugh. This beautiful, clever, frustratingly courageous woman was even more wondrous than he had ever hoped to have as his Duchess. Instead he concentrated on soothing her painful doubts.

“Because loving you forced me to consider my future rather than clinging to my past.”

“Love?” she whispered.

The last rays of sunshine stroked over her face, shimmering in the brilliant gold of her hair. His arms tightened around her as his blood stirred and his muscles hardened with awareness.

She was so damned beautiful.

“It was ironic, really,” he said, his voice thickening. “I devoted years to fretting over Edmond’s guilt at my parents’ death while blindly ignoring my own ghosts. It was not until you entered Meadowland and filled it with your golden light that I realized how dark it had become.”

Her expression softened. “You mourned your parents.”

Stefan shook his head. He was not so forgiving of his years of willful deceit.

“I hid behind my duties so I would not have to accept their loss. They would have been vastly disappointed in me.”

Her hand lifted to gently touch his face. “I refuse to believe they could ever be disappointed in you.”

“But it is true,” he insisted, leaning into her touch. He craved it with a wrenching force. “As you said, Meadowland is not just a house. It is a home meant to be filled with a family.” He deliberately paused. “Our family.”

He felt her stiffen beneath his hands, a wary hope darkening her eyes. “Are you proposing, your Grace?”

“I am offering you my name, my worldly possessions and my heart, Miss Karkoff.” He lowered his head to

murmur against her lips. “I promise to always keep you warm no matter how cold the weather. I promise you will always have books and quiet evenings, and I promise that you will always be first in my life. I love you. For now and all eternity.”

With a low cry, Leonida threw her arms around his neck and pressed her face to his chest, just over his pounding heart.

“And I love you.”

Happiness exploded through him at the simple words. “So will you be my Duchess?”