Scoundrel's Honor. Rosemary Rogers
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