Bound by Love (Russian Connection 2)
“Or a czar’s,” Sir Charles taunted as Leonida’s eyes flashed with fury.
“Damn you,” Leonida muttered, never having felt so helpless in her life.
Sir Charles regarded her with distaste. “Tut, tut, Miss Karkoff. I cannot abide women to use foul language.”
Josef stepped forward, his expression sour. “I comprehend taking the wench if she is worth a fortune. But why burden ourselves with the servants? It took three of us to put that groom of hers down and that maid near bit the ear off Vladimir.”
The madman waved aside his servant’s concern, thankfully missing Leonida’s smirk of pleasure at the knowledge Pyotr and Sophy had put up a savage fight.
“My dear Josef, just consider a moment. If we were to take Miss Karkoff alone she would be a constant bother. Such a spirited lass would be honor-bound to try to escape. Or attract unwanted attention. But if she realizes that we shall willingly punish her beloved servants for her misdeeds, I sense she will be considerably more compliant.”
“You bastard…”
His hand was moving before Leonida could guess his intent, his vicious slap snapping her head backward and sending her tumbling onto the hard floor.
Standing over her, Sir Charles regarded the blood spilling from her split lip with a disdainful sneer.
“I did warn you, my sweet. I will not tolerate such language.”
“TAKE CARE, YOUR GRACE,” Boris warned, pulling up his horse as he peered through the night at the small, insignificant inn that bustled with activity. “Something is not right.”
Stefan agreed with his friend’s opinion, but rather than halting to take stock of the peculiar number of people that filled the small courtyard, he instead urged his weary horse to a quicker pace.
For endless days he had trailed one step behind Leonida, the knowledge she was in danger constantly gnawing at him to the point of near insanity.
Now his heart was lodged in his throat as he headed across the cobbled yard and gestured toward the large, uniformed guard who was shouting orders at a group of cowering peasants.
“You there,” he called in perfect Russian.
The soldier scowled, his weathered countenance showing an impatience that was swiftly hidden behind a resigned deference as he took notice of Stefan’s expensive greatcoat and the natural air of command.
Moving to the side of Stefan’s horse, he offered a dip of his head. “Yes, sir?”
“What has occurred?”
The man grimaced, glaring toward the inn. “Now that is a question I would like very much to be answered. At the moment it is nothing more than a muddle. One servant claims that a gang of brigands swept through the inn, destroying property and kidnapping the guests who they deemed worthy of ransom. Another servant is certain that it was Austrian soldiers who hauled off a poor woman for nefarious purposes.”
Stefan’s hand tightened on the reins, his jaws clenched so tight his teeth threatened to shatter. Christ. Had Leonida been captured? Was she even now in the hands of her enemies?
By God, he would kill them. Every damned one of them.
“Where is the innkeeper?”
“The fat fool.” The soldier nodded his head toward the rotund man who was waving his hands in the air and complaining to anyone stupid enough to cross his path. “You will get nothing from him, except a demand to know who will pay for the damages.”
“There must be one witness who is credible?”
“The older maid near the stables appears to have more sense than the others.”
“Then I will speak with her.”
“Forgive me, sir—” the man halted Stefan with a frown “—but can I ask what interest you could have in this inn?”
Stefan briefly considered ignoring the challenge. He was a nobleman and in Russia that put him above the law. Then, thankfully, common sense overcame his impatience. With the appropriate enticement this man might actually prove to be useful.
“If I can trust to your discretion.”
“Of course.”