Scoundrel's Honor (26 page)

“It no longer matters.”

“When I manage to capture that bitch—”

“Please, Dimitri,” she husked, unwilling to hear his opinion of Anya.

“I do not care if she is your sister or not, if she ever hurts you again, she will answer to me.”

“She was my family,” she reminded him, telling herself
that his fierce threat did not send a jolt of satisfaction through her. She could surely not be so petty. “Now I am alone.”

The raven brows lifted at her husky words. “Is that a jest?”

“It is the truth.”

His jaw tightened, revealing an unexpected annoyance. Why? With both her parents dead and Anya gone, there was no one left in her life.

“Then you must inform Herrick Gerhardt who has publicly claimed you as his cousin, as well as Vanya who considers you a beloved friend.” His voice held a sardonic bite. “Ah, yes, and there is Leonida who threatened unmentionable harm on my manhood if I did not return you unharmed to the Huntley town house.”

“It is not the same as—”

“I suppose I should also include Caliph Rajih, may his soul rot in hell, who is willing to risk the displeasure of this pasha to make you his wife,” he relentlessly overrode her protest.

Her cheeks burned. A part of her accepted that Dimitri was not merely offering false comfort. Since leaving Yabinsk she had discovered that there were truly good people in the world willing to offer her assistance. Still, after so many years of having no one but herself to depend upon, it was difficult to put her trust in others.

“He is not thinking clearly,” she said.

“No, he is not.” The golden eyes flashed with an unnerving determination. “If he was, then he would know that you belong to me.”

Her heart slammed against her ribs as she jerked away from his lingering touch.

“I do not belong to you, Dimitri Tipova.”

“Of course you do.” He settled back in his seat, his arms
folded across his chest. “You are not alone, Emma. Not ever again.”

A perilous yearning tugged at her heart. He could so easily make her weak when she needed to be strong.

Stronger than she had ever been in her life.

“Do you have a plan for our escape or not?” she rasped.

His frustrated sigh filled the carriage. “It is more of a bargain than a plan. Josef is waiting for us at the mosque with money that I will offer to Valik for our freedom.”

She frowned, wondering if he were disguising his true plan.

“You intend to bribe him?”

His lips twisted at the unmistakable disbelief in her voice. “It seemed the best means to ensure you were not harmed.”

“And after you give him the money?”

He shrugged. “We shall hopefully never again be forced to endure his unpleasant company.”

“You will allow him to flee?”

He caught and held her suspicious gaze. “If it means that you are safe.”

She studied his somber expression, unable to stay her flicker of distrust.

“What of your revenge?”

“How often must I tell you that there is nothing more important than you?” He leaned forward, claiming her lips in a punishing kiss. “Nothing.”

She forgot the discomfort of having her arms trapped above her head and the fact they were both at the mercy of a heartless slave trader. Instead, she sank into the persuasive demand of his kiss, needing the reassurance she was not to be betrayed and abandoned once again.

It was only when the sway of the carriage lessened that she pulled back, her heart squeezing with a surge of fear.

“We are slowing.”

He swore, unable to hide his concern.

“Emma, I have no means to make certain that Valik will not attempt something desperate.”

“What do you mean?”

The carriage halted and Emma heard the sound of Valik leaping to the ground and striding around the vehicle.

“As soon as Valik has released you I have told Josef to put you in the carriage and leave.” He glanced toward the window before turning back to stab her with an urgent gaze. “No matter what might happen.”

“You believe Valik intends to betray us?”

He paused, clearly caught between the desire to reassure her and the knowledge that she would prefer the truth.

“For the moment he is desperate to escape, but once he has the money in his hands, he will recall that I am to blame for all his troubles,” he admitted. “At such moments men tend to toss aside good sense and allow their emotions to rule them.”

Her eyes ran a lingering glance over his beautiful face, drinking in every line and curve that was indelibly engraved on her mind.

“Men such as you?” she asked softly.

“I never let my emotions rule me.”

A sickening dread welled through her heart as she heard Valik's approaching footsteps.

“If that were true you would not have tried to rescue me. And you most certainly would not be in this carriage.”

He shrugged. “It was a logical decision.”

“It was insanity.” Her voice was thick with emotion. “Dimitri, if something were to happen to you—”

“Emma, I command hundreds of cutthroats, thieves and pickpockets, all of whom are far more dangerous than Valik,” he reassured her. “So long as I know that you are out of danger I am capable of besting a mere slave trader.”

She bit her lower lip. “You are not so invincible as you believe.”

“Of course I am. You will not be rid of me so easily.”

They both stiffened as the door to the carriage was slowly pulled open.

“Dimitri,” she breathed, her mouth dry with fear.

“Remember,” he urged harshly. “You are to go directly to Josef and do not leave his side.”

Valik stood beside the open doorway, his pistol pointed directly at Dimitri.

“Out, Tipova. Slowly.” The large man watched Dimitri climb out of the carriage, his expression wary and his large face damp with sweat. Then, he lifted his hands to unlock the manacles holding Emma captive. “Now for you.”

“Valik, if you leave a mark on her skin I will make certain your next profession is being a eunuch,” Dimitri drawled, the lethal edge in his voice unmistakable.

The man made no response as he grabbed Emma's arm and roughly hauled her from the carriage. She could hear the rapid rasp of his breath and feel the tremble of his body. Valik was near a state of panic. Which could only mean disaster.

Feeling as if her heart were being crushed by a giant fist, Emma sent Dimitri a frantic glance, silently willing him not to do anything that might startle the growingly desperate fool. Dimitri, however, ignored her silent warning. Instead, he was watching Valik with the eyes of a predator preparing to strike.

Maintaining his bruising grip, Valik jerked Emma around the end of the carriage, allowing her a glimpse of the nearby mosque.

Constructed of bricks with a stone facade, the mosque had been built by Fatimid Caliph al-Aziz in 990 and, according to Rajih, it had recently been used by Napoleon as a fortress despite the insult to the faithful citizens of Cairo.

From her vantage she could see the central portal and the two corner minarets that marked the entrance to the courtyard framed by open arcades, but it was too dark to fully appreciate the beauty of the ancient structure.

And of course, it did not improve matters that she was currently being held captive by a dangerous lunatic.

“Where is your servant?” Valik demanded.

Dimitri paused, perhaps sensing Valik's growing apprehension, then, turning toward the mosque, he gave a low whistle.

There was a tense moment before a black carriage turned the corner and rolled to a halt on the opposite side of the street. A slender servant in a linen shirt and loose trousers leaped from the driver's seat and tied off the reins. He had reached the middle of the street when Valik lifted a warning hand, perhaps unnerved by the sight of the man's hard face marred by a scar running along his cheek, or the barely leashed violence that glittered in his eyes.

“Do not come any closer.”

“Josef.” Dimitri shifted to stand beside Valik. “You have the money?”

“I do.” The servant held up a leather purse.

“Give it to me,” Valik commanded.

“No,” Dimitri snapped. “We will do this exchange by my rules.”

Emma felt the slave trader stiffen in outrage, the rasp of his heavy breathing and the sour scent of his fear sending a prickle of warning over her skin.

“You may command the streets of St. Petersburg, Tipova, but I do not take orders from you,” he said, his voice thick with hatred.

“You will if you want your money.”

“What do you want?”

“Release Emma. Once she is in the carriage, Josef will toss you the purse.”

“I don't trust you.”

“Josef, open the purse,” Dimitri ordered. On cue, Josef loosened the leather drawstrings and opened the purse so the torchlight could flicker over the silver rubles inside. “You see?” Dimitri said. “It is just as I promised.”

“And as soon as you have the female you will have me shot,” Valik muttered, jerking Emma against his foul body and wrapping a thick arm around her waist. “No. Give me the money and I will leave the woman near the citadel.”

D
IMITRI SWALLOWED HIS
curses and struggled against the pounding fury that beat through his body at the sight of Emma being manhandled by the filthy creature.

His instincts dictated a leap forward and wrench her away before gutting the bastard. Instead, he was forced to grit his teeth and wait until Valik was properly distracted. He could not risk Emma being injured because of his primitive urges.

The plan, after all, had been nothing more than a hasty prayer that he would rescue Emma from the looming auction, hopefully without provoking the nervous Russian into killing them all.

“Calm yourself, Valik,” he soothed. “We had a bargain.”

Valik shifted away from him, pointing the pistol against Emma's temple.

“I am negotiating a new bargain.”

Dimitri tensed, fighting to contain his raging emotions behind icy composure. There had never been a moment more vital to think with a calm detachment.

Calling upon the brutal discipline that he had honed after his mother's death, he cast a discreet glance toward Josef. This was far from the first dire situation he had shared with his servant, and over the years they had developed an unspoken ability to know precisely what the other was thinking. At times it was almost frightening.

“You are not stupid,” he said, his voice as cold as a
winter's night in Siberia. “You know I will not let you leave with Emma.”

Valik licked his lips, his beady gaze shifting to Josef as the slender man deliberately strolled forward, his hand reaching into the pocket of his jacket to remove a pistol.

“Take another step and I will kill her,” he rasped.

“Josef,” Dimitri pretended to chastise his servant, using Valik's distraction to shift a step closer.

“I wager I can put a bullet between his eyes before he can shoot the woman,” Josef taunted.

“There will be no need,” Dimitri drawled, taking yet another step. “I am certain Valik intends to be reasonable, do you not?”

As expected, the agitated man did not allow his gaze to waver from Josef, or the gun he was currently pointing in his direction.

“Give me the money.”

Josef held up the purse and allowed it to dangle from the tips of his fingers.

“This money?”

“Tipova, I would suggest that you command your servant to give me what I want,” Valik snarled. “Otherwise your lover is going to suffer a very nasty fate.”

Dimitri could barely hear over his thundering heart, but his hands remained steady as he reached beneath the sleeve of his robe to retrieve his dagger.

For the moment, he was utterly focused. The scent of the perfume makers, the sway of the palm trees, the bray of a nearby donkey and the chill of the night breeze all faded away as he gripped the handle of the dagger. All he needed was the smallest opportunity. Just a breath of a chance.

And he would strike.

“Josef rarely listens to me,” he said. “It is only because he amuses me that I allow him to remain in my employ.”

Josef waved his pistol, keeping Valik's attention without being overly threatening.

“I thought it was because of my talent for disposing of the corpses you leave behind?”

“Not all those corpses were my doing,” Dimitri protested.

“Yes, but I tidy my own messes.” There was another wave of the pistol. “I suppose I will be expected to dispose of this fool, as well?”

“It is not as if we are in St. Petersburg where you must dig through layers of ice. You can toss him into the desert and leave him for the vultures.”

Josef ran an assessing glance over Valik, his expression sour.

“Perhaps you have failed to notice that he is as large as an ox? You'll have to hire me help to drag him out of the gutter.”

“There are a number of monkeys scurrying about who might be of assistance.”

Valik nervously shifted. “You cannot fool me into believing you do not care about the woman.”

Realizing that the slave trader was about to turn and discover how close to his back Dimitri had moved, Josef gave a wild laugh as he stumbled toward him.

“I don't,” he called. “And since I am the one with the pistol…”

Startled by the sudden movement, Valik allowed his fear to overcome him. Removing the pistol from Emma's temple he instead pointed it in Josef's direction.

“I told you to stay back.”

A cold smile curved Dimitri's lips as he attacked.

The bastard had made two mistakes. The first was assuming that Josef was the more dangerous adversary. And the second was turning his gun away from Emma. It
had been his one guarantee that Dimitri would not dare to strike.

Plunging the knife deep in Valik's back, Dimitri wrapped an arm around his throat and yanked him to the side, effectively dislodging Emma from the man's grasp. Only then did he drive the larger man to the dirt road, digging the knife deeper into his flesh.

Valik grunted, briefly caught off guard. Dimitri was swift to take advantage, jerking the dagger free only to slam it low in the man's back, experienced enough to avoid the ribs so the blade could dig deep into his body.

Dimitri felt warm blood rush over his hand, cursing Valik's massive size and ruthless thirst for survival. A lesser man would have conceded defeat, realizing he had been mortally wounded.

Valik, however, refused to accept fate without a fight and with a sudden roar he swung out a beefy arm. His elbow connected with Dimitri's chin with shocking force, briefly blinding him with pain.

Dimitri cursed, his hold on his opponent loosening. It was enough for Valik to roll away, shrieking in pain as Dimitri grimly held on to the dagger while it was ripped from Valik's flesh.

For an odd, timeless motion the two of them lay on the road, face-to-face with the spectrum of death hovering between them. Valik's eyes glittered with demented fury, flecks of blood visible on his lips. In contrast, Dimitri was coldly determined, quite willing to die if it meant saving Emma.

Then, as one, they both moved to put an end to the violent encounter.

Pulling back his arm, Dimitri swung it in an arc, surprised when Valik made no effort to deflect the blow. It was not until the explosive sound of a firing pistol nearly deafened him that he realized the man was still holding his
gun. And that he had shifted to aim the weapon directly at him.

He oddly felt no fear. Only a wry acceptance that he was at last to be punished for his wicked ways. And regret. A sharp, biting regret that he would be leaving Emma far too soon.

Of course, if he were going to hell, he had no intention of going alone. Putting the full force of his body behind his strike, Dimitri drove the dagger directly into the center of Valik's heart.

He felt the blade slide easily through Valik's chest and at the same moment he felt as if a large, very angry horse had just kicked him in the shoulder. The breath was jerked from his body as the bullet slammed into his flesh, the force of the blow sending him rolling across the road.

Distantly, he heard the sound of Josef's curses and Emma's screams, but it was difficult to think through the sudden fog that was clouding his mind.

There was pain. Red-hot, searing pain. And a frustration that his body refused to respond to his commands, so that he could make certain Valik was dead as he was supposed to be and not preparing to shoot again. But there was also the shocking realization he was not about to make his inevitable journey to hell.

How many times had he been shot in his lifetime? A half dozen? Certainly often enough to recognize a flesh wound from a mortal injury.

He wasn't going to die.

Well, at least not in the next few moments.

The relief had barely passed through his mind when there was a flurry of footsteps and Emma sank to her knees at his side. Welcome warmth filled his heart at the sight of her pale face leaning over him.

Surely that was terrified concern for him simmering in her beautiful green eyes?

“Dimitri, damn you,” she choked, her gaze shifting to the blood staining his robe. “I knew this was a ridiculous plan.”

He smiled at her, savoring the feel of her fingers gently smoothing the hair from his brow, even as her knee pressed against his arm to send a blaze of agony through him.

“I told you it was a bargain, not a plan,” he reminded her.

“It was still ridiculous.”

“My sharp-tongued vixen.” His gaze skimmed over her delicate features framed by a halo of honey curls. “Should you not be offering a kiss to ease my pain rather than lecturing me on my botched rescue? Which was highly successful despite your complaints.”

“Successful?” She regarded him as if he'd taken leave of his senses. And perhaps he had. He was lying flat on his back, bleeding onto a dirty Cairo street from a gunshot wound to his shoulder—his second gunshot wound in the past month—with his assailant only a few feet away, but all he could think of was the wonderment that his time with this lovely woman was not yet at an end. “You have been shot.”

“But you are safe,” he said softly.

She frowned, shaking her head in frustration. “You are the most aggravating—”

She was interrupted as Josef appeared at her side, a pistol held loosely in his hand.

“What of Valik?” Dimitri demanded.

“Dead,” the servant assured him. “What do you want me to do with the body?”

“Leave him for the jackals to enjoy,” he muttered, his pain making it difficult to think clearly. “For the moment I am more interested in bleeding somewhere other than a filthy street.”

“We must find a surgeon,” Emma breathed.

Dimitri shuddered. Any man who had traveled through the world knew one of the greatest dangers was putting his health in the care of the local doctors.

They inevitably caused more damage than they cured.

“Are you so anxious to see me dead?” he rasped.

She frowned in confusion. “Of course not, but you have just been shot.”

“I wouldn't take my dog to the local surgeon,” Josef muttered.

“But—”

“Josef is experienced in stitching my wounds.” Dimitri headed off her arguments.

She grimaced, casting a jaundiced glance at his servant. “I suppose he has had a great deal of practice?”

“Enough,” Josef readily admitted.

“It is nothing to be proud of.” She returned her harried attention to Dimitri. “What if the bullet is still in your shoulder?”

Josef shrugged. “Then I will dig it out.”

“And risk it becoming inflamed?”

Ignoring his pain, Dimitri reached to grasp Emma's hand. She was stubborn enough to go in search of a damnable doctor if she thought it best for him.

“I needn't worry,” he said, his voice strained. “I will have you to nurse me back to health,
milaya.
”

Her eyes narrowed at his teasing, but the stroke of her fingers on his brow was exquisitely tender.

“How can you be so certain I will not leave you for those vultures you spoke of earlier?” she demanded.

“Because it is in your nature to care for others, even when they do not deserve your concern.”

Misery flared through her eyes and he silently cursed his thoughtless words.

The last thing he desired was to remind her of her worthless sister.

“Perhaps I have learned that caring for others is a dangerous emotion that is not worth the pain,” she said, her voice so low he barely caught her bitter words. “Emma—”

“Guards are coming,” Josef snapped, his hand tightening on the pistol and his slender body tense as he prepared for trouble.

Dimitri ignored Emma's protest as he struggled to lift his head.

“The caliph's?”

“The pasha. And they do not look pleased.”

He managed to sit upright despite the agony that jolted down his arm. “Damn.”

Seemingly indifferent to the approaching soldiers who were fully armed with both rifles and swords, Emma carefully shifted to put a bracing arm behind his back. Dimitri swallowed a rueful sigh. The ridiculous woman would always be more concerned with the welfare of others than her own safety.

Which was precisely why he intended to devote the rest of his life to protecting her.

“Surely that is good?” she asked. “We have done nothing wrong.”

Dimitri battled against the wave of dizziness, his gaze taking in the determined approach of the five soldiers. His heart sank at the sight of their military precision and obvious ease with their weapons.

This was no ragtag group of mercenaries.

They were trained fighters who had tasted war.

“We have shed blood on the streets of Cairo,” he absently murmured. “I doubt the pasha will approve.”

“Valik is…” Emma caught her words, glancing toward Valik's unnaturally still body. “He was a slave trader. A criminal.”

“And what am I?” he demanded wryly. He turned to meet Josef's calculating gaze. “Can we flee?”

“You can.” He nodded toward the nearby carriage. “I will distract them.”

“No.” Dimitri's tone was commanding. He would not risk his most loyal servant. “I doubt the pasha's mood will be improved if we were to kill his soldiers.”

He heard Emma suck in a sharp breath. “You are going to allow yourself to be captured?”

“There does not seem to be much choice.” He swiftly considered his severely limited options. There was no avoiding the soldiers. Not without putting Emma in danger. He could only hope that the pasha would offer a reasonable hospitality until he could find the means to escape. “Josef, slip away and gather the men. Take them out of the city and if we have not been released within the week—”

“Wait,” Emma interrupted, her expression grim. “You will need Josef. I have a better plan.”

His brows snapped together. “Emma.”

“Trust me.”

Without giving him the opportunity to stop her, Emma surged to her feet and darted toward the nearby palm trees before becoming lost among the shadows.