Bound by Love (Russian Connection 2)

“Your mother must have sent the officials to rescue you,” Sophy said, clapping her hands together.

“Possibly,” Leonida grudgingly conceded. She knew her mother well enough to suspect that she had gone directly to Herrick Gerhardt with the ransom demand. Whatever the Countess’s devotion to Alexander Pavlovich, she had always known that it was Herrick who could be depended upon when a problem arose. And if anyone could find her in the vast wilderness of Russia, it would be Herrick. Still, she suspected that if the men that Pyotr had spotted were indeed there to rescue them, they had not been sent by Herrick. Her stomach twisted with sharp fear. “How many men did you see?”

“Two.”

“We know that Sir Charles and Josef are downstairs and there was mention of another guard.” Leonida absently shifted the knife that poked at her forearm as she spoke her thoughts aloud. “So at least three. If these men are here to rescue us they will need our assistance.”

Predictably, Sophy tossed her hands in the air. “Oh lord, you are just not going to be happy until you get your throat slit.”

Leonida shivered. “It is certain that my throat will be slit if we do not escape from Sir Charles.”

“She is right, Sophy.” Pyotr unexpectedly stepped into the fray, his expression stubborn. “We must do what we can.”

Realizing she was outnumbered, Sophy folded her arms over her chest. “Fine. But I do not have to like it.”

Leonida ignored her pouting maid, concentrating on Pyotr. As desperate as she was to escape, she would not allow her servant to take any ridiculous risks.

“What are you plotting, Pyotr?”

“If I can slip out of the window and join those men then the odds would be nicely evened out.”

She hesitated before giving a slow nod of her head. “Be careful. We cannot be certain there are not more guards hidden amongst the trees.”

Pyotr grinned. “I will not be caught.”

“Here.” Leonida reached beneath the cuff of her gown, closing her fingers around the hilt of the knife. “You will need a weapon.”

The groom wrapped his hand around Leonida’s wrist, preventing her from pulling out the knife.

“I have hopes that our rescuers possessed the sense to come armed.” He snared her gaze, his eyes hard with warning. He better than anyone comprehended the full implications if the rescue failed. “Keep this close and do not hesitate to strike first.”

She slowly nodded, her nerves tangled into knots as Pyotr shrugged out of his jacket and then, with remarkable athletic ability, squeezed through the window and landed lightly on the ground beneath.

Watching his retreating form, Leonida dared not breathe until he disappeared around the edge of the stables. Even then, she waited, refusing to budge until she was absolutely certain that Pyotr had not been noticed by Sir Charles.

Minutes passed before she at last turned and made her way across the plank floor.

“Where are you going?” Sophy hissed.

“I want to be prepared.” Tiptoeing down the stairs, Leonida winced as Sophy clattered down behind her, then silently she turned the handle of the door at the bottom. She grimaced as it refused to budge. Perhaps ridiculously, she had hoped Josef might have overlooked turning the key. “Damn. It is still locked. We must wait.”

“Good,” the maid muttered.

Rolling her eyes at Sophy’s cowardice, Leonida pressed her ear to the wooden panel of the door. A long, agonizing eternity seemed to pass, with the only sound to break the silence the pounding of her heart. She was beginning to wonder if something had gone terribly wrong when at long last she heard the sounds of muffled shouts and the sharp thud of running footsteps.

“I hear something,” she breathed, pulling the knife from her sleeve and clenching it with a white-knuckled grip.

At her side, Sophy muttered a prayer, obviously not trusting Leonida’s ability to keep her safe.

A good bet, as it turned out.

Still leaning forward, Leonida was unprepared when the door was abruptly jerked open and she tumbled directly into the arms of Sir Charles.

With a small shriek she found herself jerked around until her back was pressed to the madman’s chest and one arm wrapped around her waist. His other hand held a silver dagger he pressed to her throat.

“How very kind of you to be waiting for me, Miss Karkoff,” he drawled.

Terrified, Leonida still possessed the sense to hide her hand that held the knife in the heavy folds of her gown.