Bound by Love (Russian Connection 2)

Her mouth went dry, the scream dying on her lips. She would not endanger innocent Russians. And what of Sophy and Pyotr? Please God, allow them to be unharmed.

“I find nothing charming in this reunion. Nor will my family when they discover you have accosted me.”

He sneered at her sharp warning. “Do you think I fear the mighty Alexander Pavlovich?”

“I think you are a madman.”

His features tightened, as if infuriated by her accusation. Then, with an obvious effort, he regained command of his icy composure.

“True. And a rather costly madness as it turns out. Thankfully you are my means of extricating myself from a decidedly nasty situation.”

She licked her dry lips. “I have only a few rubles with me…”

Her words broke off with a gasp as he reached out to grasp her arm, jerking her forward to press the dagger against her throat.

“The letters, Miss Karkoff. Give them to me.” The point threatened to penetrate her vulnerable skin. “Now.”

Leonida’s heart thundered so loudly she could barely think. She had always thought herself a woman of unquestionable courage. A true Romanov. It was humiliating to realize she desperately wanted to hand over the letters to be rid of this revolting man.

In truth, he terrified her beyond reason.

There was something…evil that shimmered in those frozen black eyes. As if his soul had been stolen and there was nothing within him but a cold, calculating hatred.

Sadly, the fear had not entirely rattled her wits.

Handing over the letters would accomplish nothing. Only her own cunning and a great deal of luck would save her from tragedy.

“I do not know what you speak of,” she said.

“At any other time I might find a certain pleasure in making you speak the truth, my dear.” He lifted his free hand to stroke his fingers over her cheek. “Such beautiful, alabaster skin. So deliciously unmarred. Almost you tempt me.” His smile twisted as Leonida shuddered in revulsion. “But, no. Today my haste demands a more brutal tactic.” The dagger pressed hard enough to draw blood. “The letters.”

She struggled to speak. “I do not have them.”

“You think me stupid? I know you traveled to Meadowland.”

“My mother was dear friends with the Duchess of Huntley. She wished me to become acquainted with the family.”

“She wished to get her pretty hands on those letters.” His eyes narrowed. “Do not bother to lie.”

She paused for a heartbeat, acutely aware of the unnatural silence that filled the inn. She had never felt so unbearably alone.

“Very well,” she at last conceded. “My mother did charge me to find the letters, but they were not there.”

“That would be a great deal more convincing if you had not slipped away from the fine estate in the middle of the night with the Duke of Huntley fast on your trail,” Sir Charles drawled.

“Of course I left in a hurry,” she hastily improvised. “There was a strange man who approached me in the gardens and threatened to kill me. I was frightened, so I fled before he could harm me or my servants.”

The dark ey

es flashed. “Ah, yes. Yuri. Such a disappointment. You will be happy to know he will never again impose himself on a beautiful young woman.”

Her breath caught. “He is…”

“Quite right, my dear. He is dead.” There was no regret, just dark satisfaction. “No doubt his body will eventually be found on the banks of the Seine. You need never fear him again.”

“I would be considerably more relieved if I did not have a knife to my throat.”

“An unfortunate necessity. If only you would cooperate, our encounter could be far more civilized.”