Bound by Love (Russian Connection 2)

She had the letters.

Her mother was out of harm’s way.

So why did she feel like crying?

THE RUSSIAN NIGHT AIR was predictably chilly despite the season. Thank God.

After being alone with Miss Leonida Karkoff, Stefan needed the cold breeze to dampen his throbbing arousal.

And his equally aroused temper.

The woman possessed an astonishing talent to do both in the same moment.

So why was he so determined to ignore every sense of decency and simple logic to return her to Meadowland?

He shook his head, dismissing the discomforting question as he crossed the clearing in the front of the cottage.

“Boris?”

“I do not suppose you come bearing food?” a voice demanded from above.

Tilting back his head, Stefan watched the servant nimbly climb down from a nearby tree.

“Not yet.” He shrugged. “Miss Karkoff’s maid has claimed that her rabbit stew cannot be hurried.”

“Women.” Boris shook his head. “Luckily I saved a few rabbits to roast over a fire. You are welcome to join me.”

“A generous invitation. For the moment, however, I am more interested in collecting Miss Karkoff’s belongings.”

“Ah.” Boris’s grimace was visible in the full moonlight. “I meant to tell you, but it slipped my mind.”

Stefan frowned, sensing he was not going to like whatever Boris had forgotten.

“What?”

“When I settled the horses in the stables I noticed Miss Karkoff’s bag was gone.”

“Damn.” He was right. He didn’t like it. “Was there anything else missing?”

“No. I searched among the trees in the hopes it had simply fallen from your saddle, but I could find nothing.”

Stefan did not bother to demand if the servant was certain he had searched thoroughly. If Boris said the bag was missing, then Stefan knew it would not be found.

“It was taken,” he muttered, his mind already sorting through the various implications.

“I assume so, but who would want it?”

Stefan shook his head before he reached out to clap his companion on the shoulder. That was a question beyond his ability to answer.

“Keep a close guard, Boris. This adventure is not yet done.”

Shoving aside the urge to linger in the cool darkness, Stefan slowly returned to the cottage. His thoughts were churning with possibilities that each seemed more improbable than the last.

Perhaps that was why he missed the narrowing of Leonida’s eyes as he entered the back chamber and halted beside the bed.

“I thought you were bringing my bag,” she said, her voice low and oddly controlled.

“It is gone.”