Scoundrel's Honor (3 page)

“Merely to the private rooms upstairs. There is no need to be afraid.”

She squared her shoulders. “I am not afraid, I am furious. Do you know how long I have been waiting?”

A startled silence filled the entire room as Josef regarded her with astonishment.

“Dimitri Tipova is a very busy man,” he said, his tone chiding. “You are fortunate he agreed to meet with you at all.”

Emma sniffed, refusing to be intimidated. “Ah, yes, you
cannot imagine how honored I am to be graced with a few moments of the Beggar Czar's precious time.”

With a muttered curse, the slender man headed toward the back of the room.

“This way.”

Stiffly, Emma followed in his wake, acutely aware of the hard gazes trained in her direction. Josef pulled open the door and led her up a narrow flight of stairs, then reaching a landing, he motioned her toward a small room with a brocade sofa and two scrolled chairs set beside a marble fireplace.

“Wait here.”

Not bothering to turn, Josef continued toward a door on the opposite side of the landing, shoving it open and stepping through. Ignoring good manners, Emma remained poised on the landing, blatantly attempting to overhear the low conversation between Josef and whoever was waiting in the room.

“She arrived?” A man that Emma presumed was Dimitri Tipova demanded, his dark voice sending an odd tingle down her spine.

“Regrettably,” Josef muttered.

“Why regrettably?”

“The woman is sour enough to curdle milk.”

“No doubt she is concerned for her sister.”

“It is not concern that makes a woman into an overbearing shrew. She is the nasty sort who tosses out orders and expects them to be obeyed.”

“Naturally.” The gorgeous male voice held an edge of resignation. “I should have known Gerhardt would take pleasure in plaguing me with his old maid cousin. No doubt he is seated before a warm fire, relishing his peace while I am stuck with the harridan.”

Emma winced, then gritted her teeth, pretending she
wasn't wounded by the familiar mockery. She had not traveled to St. Petersburg to charm the local thieves.

Stepping over the threshold, she had a brief impression of a small study with bookshelves lining the walls and a porcelain stove set between two leather wing chairs. Then a tall man lifted himself from behind a heavy walnut desk and her mind abruptly refused to function.

He was just so absurdly beautiful.

Her stunned gaze traced the bronze perfection of his features. The wide, intelligent brow. The slender nose and full, sensual lips. The slash of his prominent cheekbones. The chiseled brows that were the same raven-black as his long hair pulled into a tail at his nape.

It was his eyes, however, that stole her breath.

An astonishing gold that shimmered in wicked temptation, they were surely the eyes of the devil.

Or perhaps a fallen angel.

All Emma knew for certain was that he was a compelling combination of lethal power and male sensuality that would make any poor woman go weak in the knees.

An odd, heated excitement fluttered in the pit of her stomach as that golden gaze flared over her tiny form. An excitement that was swiftly replaced with hollow disappointment as his lush lips twisted with a familiar male disapproval.

What did she expect, she mocked her temporary insanity?

That Dimitri Tipova might be unconventional enough not to judge her bold manner? That a man forced to survive in a harsh world was capable of understanding the need for her to do the same?

Thrusting aside the inane thoughts, Emma conjured the icy composure that was her only protection.

“I may be an old maid, but I at least possess a few manners,” she stated, her gaze never wavering from the
unnerving golden eyes. “Something sadly lacking among you and your loathsome band of cutthroats.”

 

D
IMITRI SHOULD HAVE
been amused.

The tiny female wrapped in layers of wool barely came to his chin and weighed less than his wolfhound. To have her burst into his room and chide him as if he were a naughty child rather than the most dangerous man in St. Petersburg was absurd.

It wasn't amusement he felt, however, as his gaze rested on the honey curls that peeked from her scarf to lie against the purity of her ivory skin and the steady hazel eyes that held unwavering strength.

There was something about her that challenged him at his most primitive level.

He wanted to loom over her until she dropped her bold gaze in silent defeat. He wanted to bluntly inform her that he was an unrepentant tyrant who expected immediate obedience from others.

He wanted to haul her against his body until the defiance faded from her beautiful eyes and her lush lips softened in invitation…

Thankfully unaware of the currents of prickling awareness that swirled through the air, Josef folded his arms over his chest.

“What did I say? Curdled milk,” he muttered.

Dimitri never allowed his gaze to stray from Emma Linley-Kirov's stubborn expression.

“That will be all.”

“Are you certain? There is nothing more dangerous than an angry female.”

“Thank you, Josef, I believe you have done quite enough,” Dimitri dryly assured his friend, waiting for his servant to leave the room before he rounded the desk and perched on the corner.

His lips twisted as her gaze skimmed down his tailored, cinnamon jacket that he had paired with a cream satin waistcoat. He had tied his crisp cravat in an Oriental knot and a diamond the size of a thimble winked in the perfect folds. Clearly the woman had expected him to be a savage rather than the sort of sophisticated gentleman who could appear comfortable in the finest home.

“There is a saying that listeners rarely hear good of themselves,” he at last broke the silence.

An indefinable emotion flared through her eyes before she was jutting her chin in silent condemnation.

“I am indifferent to your opinion of me, sir—”

“Dimitri,” he smoothly corrected.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I am no gentleman as you have so graciously implied. You will call me Dimitri.”

Her lips tightened, whether in disapproval at the informality or at being given an order, it was impossible to determine.

“If you insist,” she grudgingly conceded.

“I do.”

“Can we please discuss my sister?” she snapped. “I have wasted enough of my day.”

Dimitri narrowed his gaze, shoving from the desk and prowling toward the woman regarding him with an imperious scowl. A surge of male satisfaction raced through him as she instinctively backed away from his approaching form, even as his more civilized nature was shocked by his fierce reaction to the delicate slip of a woman.

What the hell was wrong with him?

Herding her until she was pressed flat against the bookcase, he reached to grasp the shelves on either side of her shoulders.

“Perhaps we should discuss the nature of our—” his
brooding gaze lowered to the tempting curve of her lips “—relationship, Emma.”

Heat flared beneath her ivory skin, but her eyes shimmered with rebellion.

“There is no relationship, merely a set of unfortunate circumstances that have forced us to join our resources for the time being.”

He pressed closer, caught by surprise when a raw awareness of her slender body seared through him. It was inconceivable. He enjoyed his women soft and vulnerable. The sort who depended upon him to offer support and protection. Not aging tartars who smelled of soap and starch.

“Then let me clarify the
joining of resources.
”

Her color deepened at the hint of huskiness in his voice. “What do you mean?”

“You desire my assistance, then you will have to follow my rules. Otherwise you can turn around and leave now.”

A tense silence filled the room he had recently converted into his private office, then without warning, Emma was shoving him away and pacing toward the window that overlooked the street.

Dimitri couldn't deny a grudging respect for her courage. He knew only one other woman who would not have fainted or fled by now.

His mother.

The realization did nothing to ease his potent need to tame the prickly female. His mother's courage had put her in an early grave.

“Fine.” Slowly turning, Emma regarded him with an unflinching gaze. “What are these precious rules?”

“The first is that I will not tolerate an ill-tempered termagant in my presence. If you cannot control your sharp tongue, then I will discover a means to tame it.”

Her eyes widened. “Tame? If you think I will tolerate being beaten by—”

He was moving before he could halt the impulse, his hands holding her face steady as he lowered his head and covered her mouth in a soft, coaxing kiss. He had intended to teach her a lesson in controlling her shrewish tongue, but at the first taste of her honeyed innocence his passions stirred, his body hardening. His hands tightened on her face as he deepened the kiss.

Just for a moment she softened against him, her lips parting in a sweet surrender. Then, with a choked moan, she jerked back, her eyes blazing with a fury that did not entirely mask her startled desire.

“Why, you…”

Well versed in the ways of women, Dimitri easily caught the hand she lifted to slap his face, bringing her fingers to his mouth.

“The second rule is no striking your master,” he could not resist taunting.

Flecks of gold smoldered in the hazel eyes. “Master?”

He kissed her slender fingers. “You are in desperate need of my assistance, which means that while you remain in St. Petersburg you are in my power.”

“I will not be treated as if I am a serf.”

“You will do precisely as I say and you will do so without complaint.”

She jerked her hand from his grasp, marching toward the door with her chin high and her back stiff.

“This is absurd.”

“If you walk out that door, Emma, I can assure you that you will never find your sister.”

E
MMA HALTED AT THE
soft threat.

Dimitri Tipova was not at all what she had expected. She had been prepared for a rough, ill-mannered oaf who used his fists, not his wits, to control the underworld. Certainly, she had never dreamed he would be a sophisticated, well-educated gentleman who was as beautiful as an angel and as wicked as Lucifer.

And that kiss…

No. She hastily thrust aside the feverish memory of her first kiss.

She was suitably rattled without the distracting thought of Dimitri's warm, seeking lips and the potent heat that speared through her body.

Slowly turning, she met his ruthless gaze. “You know where she is?”

“No, but—”

“Then I will find someone less offensive to help me.”

He strolled forward, the scent of sandalwood and warm male skin teasing at her senses.

“There is no one in all of Russia who has devoted the time and resources that I have to uncovering the habits of those noblemen who prey on children.” Halting directly before her, he cupped her chin, his gaze briefly dipping down to her mouth before returning to meet her wary gaze. “And more important, I have only to whisper in the requisite ears and there will be no one in St. Petersburg willing to lend you help.”

“Herrick warned me that you had your share of
arrogance, but you cannot possibly believe you possess the power to influence every citizen in St. Petersburg.”

“So naive,” he mocked. “Tell me, Emma, how many merchants would be willing to speak with you once it became known that the goods they purchase from my warehouses were about to double in cost? And how many servants would agree to speak with you once they learn you are a suspected spy for Alexander Pavlovich in search of traitors to the crown? As for society…” His soft chuckle brushed over her cheek, causing her stomach to clench with a startling excitement. “Well, even presuming they would be willing to meet with a commoner, they would have you tossed in the nearest dungeon for daring to implicate a noble in such a wicked crime.”

She clenched her hands, wanting desperately to walk away from the conceited beast and never look back. Unfortunately, she suspected his words were not empty boasts.

Could she truly risk the opportunity to find Anya just because this man threatened to drive her to madness?

“Why are you being so cruel?” she demanded.

“Not cruel—efficient,” he corrected. “As you said, for the moment we have need of one another. I have no intention of spending the next days, perhaps weeks, being flayed by a shrill-tongued harpy. If you behave as a lady and do as I say, we shall rub along quite nicely.”

“So I am expected to be a proper lady while you are at liberty to behave as an ill-mannered brute?”

“You are at least intelligent.” A slow, wicked smile curved his lips. “Do we have a bargain?”

Emma sucked in a sharp breath, not for the first time wishing she had been born a man. How delightful it would be if she possessed the power to knock the arrogant toad onto his backside.

“Do I have a choice?” she gritted.

“Of course.” He peered deep into her eyes, almost as
if willing her to obey his words. “You can return to your home where you belong.”

“I will not leave St. Petersburg without my sister.”

“Even if I give my word I will do my best to discover her whereabouts and return her to you?”

“And why would I trust the word of a—” Her insult was sharply interrupted as his head swooped down and he kissed her with a seeking demand that made her heart skip a beat. Dear…Lord. After the death of her father she had resigned herself to becoming an old maid. At the time she had regretted the loss of many things, most notably the lack of a companion who could share her joys and fears and the mundane events that were all a part of life. It had not occurred to her that she might rue the lack of a man's touch. Not until Dimitri had revealed just how potently addictive that touch could be. Arching back, she struggled to breathe. “Stop that.”

He studied her from beneath his thick tangle of lashes. “I did warn you that I would tame your unruly tongue.”

Emma grimly stiffened her spine, refusing to dwell on her tingling lips or the restless, achy sensation that gripped her body. Obviously she was coming down with a chill.

“I cannot believe that Herrick would request that I meet with you,” she muttered. “Do you make a habit of attacking helpless females?”

“Helpless?” His sharp burst of laughter echoed through the room. “I have hired savage, fully-armed bandits who inspire less fear than having to face your expression of cold disapproval.”

She turned her head to stare at the leather-bound books lining the shelves, determined to hide her reaction. What did he expect? Simpering and batting her lashes was not going to save Anya from disaster.

“You have already assaulted me, there is no need to mock me, as well.”

With a surprisingly gentle touch he forced her face back to meet his searching gaze.

“It was a simple kiss, hardly an assault,” he murmured, his arm wrapping around her waist. “You have been kissed before, have you not, Emma?”

“Release me.”

“What an odd contradiction you are,” he breathed, the golden gaze searing over her face with a disconcerting intensity. “You wrap yourself in fire and brimstone, but beneath that armor is a bewitching innocence.”

Her heart fluttered and she abruptly shoved away from his disturbing touch.

“I came here to discuss my sister, not to indulge in foolish games.”

For a tense moment she feared he might haul her back against his chest. And more important, she feared she might not protest.

Then, with a rueful shake of his head he waved a hand toward the wing chairs.

“Have a seat, and I will order tea.”

She stubbornly remained standing in the center of the floor. “Do not pretend to be civilized on my account.”

He leaned against the desk, the late afternoon sunlight slanting over his elegantly chiseled features.

“Most of my guests find my manners exquisitely polished and my hospitality without equal.”

“Indeed?”

His lips twisted. “It is only you who seems to rouse my more barbaric nature.”

“Do you intend to assist me or not?”

“Tell me of the gentlemen who you believe abducted your sister.”

Unprepared for his abrupt question, it took Emma a moment to gather her scattered thoughts.

“They were obviously noblemen.”

He arched a raven brow. “How can you be so certain? Even the most common criminal can mimic his betters with enough wealth and the proper training. I possess a number of employees who could attend a ball at the Winter Palace without stirring the least curiosity.”

She grimaced. “It was not their fine clothing or their elegant speech that marked them as nobles.”

“Then what?”

“It was their utter contempt for those they considered beneath them, and how they expected others to bow to their every whim.”

He seemed surprised by her explanation. “You are very perceptive.”

“Obviously not perceptive enough,” she said, her voice edged with bitterness. “I should have suspected that such elegant gentlemen would never willingly re main at my modest coaching inn without some nefarious purpose.”

“What explanation did they offer?”

She shrugged. “They claimed to be searching for a small estate to purchase that would be suitable for a hunting lodge.”

Dimitri nodded, as if he'd expected a similar story. “What names did they use?”

“Baron Fedor Karnechev and his younger brother Sergei.”

“And you would recognize them?”

A cold, dangerous smile curved her lips. When she found the men who had taken her sister, she intended to rip out their hearts with her bare hands.

“Without a doubt.”

Amusement smoldered in the whiskey-gold eyes as Dimitri watched fury ripple over her face.

“Does your sister resemble you?”

“There are some similarities, but Anya's hair is lighter
in color and her eyes the shade of a summer sky.” A wistful smile touched her lips. “She is quite beautiful.”

“I was referring to her temperament, not her physical attributes.”

Emma frowned in puzzlement. “What does her temperament matter?”

“Gerhardt divulged the fact that Anya went willingly with her captors, believing she was to become a famous actress.” His gaze swept down her tiny form before returning to study the stubborn line of her jaw. “I find it difficult to imagine you ever allowing yourself to be so easily persuaded.”

She shifted, feeling awkward beneath his relentless scrutiny. “She is very young and gullible.”

“More likely she is vain and spoiled.”

She jerked at the unexpected attack. “You know nothing of Anya.”

“I know that a young lady with the least concern for her family does not abandon her home and allow herself to be carried off by the first gentleman to turn her head with a bit of flattery.”

The very fact he was right did nothing to ease her flare of anger. In truth, she was horrified that Anya had been so easily led astray, but she did not blame her younger sister. No. Any blame should be laid directly at her own feet.

“I have endured enough.” Blinking back hot tears of shame, Emma once again headed for the door. “I do not understand why you agreed to meet with me, but it is obvious you have no interest in helping me.”

She had managed to reach the hallway when a pair of warm, ruthlessly strong arms wrapped around her waist and tugged her back into the room. Bending his head, Dimitri spoke directly into her ear.

“You truly must learn to control that temper of yours,
milaya.
”

 

F
OR A CRAZED MOMENT
, Dimitri savored the sensation of her feminine body pressed against his arousal. Then with a curse at his deranged reaction to an ill-tempered spinster, he quickly released his tight grip, not at all surprised when she spun around to stab him with a furious glare.

“Are you going to rescue my sister or not?”

If he possessed a shred of sense Dimitri knew he should have allowed the woman to stomp away. Herrick Gerhardt could not expect him to force himself on an aggravating woman who was too foolish to appreciate his assistance. Instead, he met her glare with a ruthless smile.

“First we must discover the identity of the gentlemen who abducted her.”

Her glare remained, but she gave a grudging nod. “I can describe them if you wish.”

“There is a more practical means. You will accompany me this evening.”

“Accompany you where?”

“I own a number of gambling establishments that cater to the aristocrats of St. Petersburg. If the gentlemen who visited your inn are truly noblemen and they have returned to the city, then they will eventually make an appearance at one of my clubs.”

Her mouth fell open. “You intend to escort me to a gambling club?”

Thoroughly enjoying her shock, Dimitri shrugged. “I intend to escort you to several gambling clubs.”

“You must be jesting.”

“Tell me, Emma, when you came to St. Petersburg did you expect to discover your sister being kept hostage in a church?” he taunted. “Or perhaps awaiting you in the throne room of the Winter Palace?”

The ready color crawled beneath her cheeks. “Of course not.”

“Then why the maidenly outrage?”

There was a tiny pause before she was jutting her chin in a stubborn angle, her magnificent hazel eyes hardening with determination.

“I was merely caught off guard.”

With a silent curse, Dimitri spun away, disturbed by Emma's combination of vulnerability and determination.

“If you wish to capture the dregs of society you must hunt them in the gutters,” he said, his voice unnaturally harsh. “Are you prepared to do what is necessary?”

“Yes.”

“We shall see.” Sucking in a deep breath he turned back to meet her guarded gaze. “Where are you staying?”

“Vanya Petrova was kind enough to offer her hospitality.”

Dimitri nodded, already having suspected that Herrick would turn to his dear friend to provide Emma a home.

“Then I will collect you at nine this evening.”

“Very well.” With a stiff nod, the woman headed for the door.

“Emma,” he called softly.

She froze, her hands clenching before she forced herself to turn and meet his brooding gaze.

“Yes?”

“Staid spinsters do not visit gambling clubs. If you wish to avoid unwanted attention you might consider a gown that does not smother you in wool.”

Her eyes flashed with the sort of fury that made Dimitri relieved that there was no knife at hand.

“I am not the one who needs to fear being smothered.”

 

E
MMA PEERED OUT THE
window of the carriage, allowing her maid's incessant lecture on what happens to females who spend an entire afternoon in the company of known criminals to flow past her. She did not need to be reminded
she had been a fool to meet with Dimitri Tipova. Or that she was an even greater fool to have agreed to his outrageous suggestion that she allow him to escort her to his gambling clubs.

For goodness' sake, if she were recognized she would never overcome the scandal.

Whatever the dangers she fully intended to travel from one den of iniquity to another until she located the men who had abducted her sister. There was no point in dwelling on the insanity of her behavior.

Instead, she studied the overwhelming beauty of the city around her.

Over the past two days she had been too occupied with her troubles to truly notice its magnificence. Now she allowed herself to appreciate the stunning palaces that lined the narrow canals.

How odd to realize that such glory could rise from such brutality.

Her lips twisted as she recalled her history lessons. The cold-hearted Ivan and his private army, the
oprichniki,
who had terrorized the boyars until the Tatars attacked Moscow. Ivan had ordered any number of bloodbaths to maintain his ruthless rule until he had tumbled into utter madness and he was at last murdered by his own heir.