Bound by Love (Russian Connection 2)

“A great deal of money.”

“Not for a duke. Besides, her mother seems to believe her worth such a sum.” Sir Charles’s short burst of laughter revealed his own opinion of Leonida’s worth. “Are you willing to pay?”

“I am willing,” Stefan said without hesitation.

“How much do you have on you?”

Stefan shrugged. “Only a few pounds. Unhand Miss Karkoff and once I am in St. Petersburg…”

“And once you are in St. Petersburg you will head directly for the Summer Palace. You must think me a fool,” Sir Charles growled in annoyance, shoving Leonida forward, his dagger still pressed to her throat. “Move aside,” he warned as Stefan firmly stood in his path. “Move aside or I will slit her throat.”

Stefan’s jaw knotted, his body rigid with fury. “You are not leaving this cottage.”

“Then you will watch your whore die.”

Forced to accept that Sir Charles would happily slide the dagger through Leonida’s throat, Stefan gave an impatient motion with his hand, sending Boris and Pyotr out of the room. Then, keeping his pistol trained on Sir Charles, he slowly backed into the hall.

“I will not follow if you release Miss Karkoff,” he grated, his eyes dark with a raw frustration as Sir Charles maneuvered Leonida across the room and through the entryway.

Sir Charles laughed as he shifted to keep Leonida between himself

and the pistol, backing until he could reach behind and thrust open the outer door. A few more steps and Leonida would once again be in completely in this madman’s power.

“Miss Karkoff does not leave my side until I have my reward,” Sir Charles warned, tugging her onto the stoop.

“Then have your damned reward,” Leonida muttered, shaking her hand free of her skirt and plunging the knife backward and into her captor’s side before she could give herself time to consider the danger.

With an agonized shriek, Sir Charles stumbled backward, his dagger slicing a shallow cut through her neck. Then, loosening his hold on Leonida, he clutched at the knife protruding from his side.

Well aware that she might only have moments to scramble to safety, Leonida tried to step forward, crying out in alarm when her legs buckled and she fell to her knees.

The grinding fear she had endured for weeks, not to mention the alarming blood loss from her most recent wound, was taking its toll.

“Leonida,” Stefan shouted, reaching the doorway only to come to an abrupt halt as his gaze shifted over her shoulder.

Terrified that Sir Charles was about to pounce on her, Leonida turned her head, summoning her fading energy to fend off his attack.

What she discovered instead was Josef standing next to Sir Charles, his arm around his employer’s waist to keep him upright and his other arm extended toward Leonida with a pistol in his hand.

“Tend to the woman,” the scarred servant commanded Stefan, warily backing toward the carriage that he had brought from the stables and was now waiting a few paces away. “Sir Charles is no longer your concern.”

Stunned by the strange end to the violent encounter, Leonida barely noted Stefan as he rushed to kneel at her side, her gaze never wavering as Josef tossed his near unconscious companion into the carriage and then clamored into the driver’s seat, giving a shrill whistle that sent the horses into motion.

A part of her was infuriated by the thought of Sir Charles escaping from justice. The bastard deserved to be shot in the middle of the Senate Square. Another part, however, was desperately relieved to see the back of him.

For the moment she was alive, and while she might never have the pleasure of seeing the monster standing before a firing squad, she at least had the satisfaction of knowing his attempt to blackmail her mother would soon be at an end. And if there was any justice in the world, the wound she had delivered would fester into an infection that would put him in his grave.

With that encouraging thought, Leonida slid into unconsciousness.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

DARK HAD FALLEN by the time Leonida awoke. And that was not the only change.

During the hours she had been asleep the cottage had been ruthlessly cleaned, Sophy’s efforts no doubt, and Leonida had been included in the thorough scrubbing.

It took only a few moments for her to realize that she had been stripped of her dress and corset and someone had gathered her shift from the attic to pull over her recently washed skin. Even her hair was still damp.

She would have been delighted by the sensation of being thoroughly clean, not to mention deliciously warm from the fire roaring in the stone fireplace, if her throat did not throb with a sharp-edged pain beneath the linen bandage that had been placed over the wound. And if Stefan were not pacing the cramped space of the bedchamber like one of the lions caged in the Tower of London.