LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

a maid light a fire for you while we are at dinner.”

      She clenched her teeth, refusing to be touched by his seeming concern.

      “Do not pretend that you care for my comfort.”

      “But I do, my dove.” His hands lightly circled her neck, his thumb stroking the pulse that pounded at the base of her throat. “I am quite determined to do everything in my power to please you.”

      “Except leave me in peace,” she said huskily.

      “Is that what you truly want?” He snared her gaze, his expression brooding. “Peace?”

      “Yes,” she whispered, even as she knew that was not entirely the truth.

      He sensed it as well, his eyes narrowing. “Liar.”

      “What do you know of me?”

      “Not nearly so much as I intend to know. But I can recognize loneliness when it haunts a pair of exquisite blue eyes.”

      With a burst of alarm Leonida pushed Stefan away, turning from his perceptive gaze. “Do not.”

      His hands settled on her shoulders, but he made no effort to turn her around. “Am I wrong?”

      “I…miss home.”

      “Do you truly have a home, Leonida Karkoff?” he whispered.

      Her long-buried pain wrenched through her heart, making her feel annoyingly vulnerable.

      Stefan had already seduced her body; he could not be allowed to steal her heart.

      “What a ridiculous question. I happen to live in one of the finest houses in all of St. Petersburg.”

      He bent his head to whisper directly in her ear. “A house is not necessarily a home, as I have discovered.”

      Her eyes fluttered closed as a delicious heat flowed through her body. When Stefan was near she had no fear of being cold.

      “You are not happy at Meadowland?”

      “I am content…for the most part.”

      “Contentment and happiness are not the same.”

      “No, they are not,” he said, the hint of wistful yearning tugging at her heart.

      Abruptly she turned to face him, her expression wary. Dear lord. What was the matter with her? The Duke of Huntley was the last man who needed or deserved her sympathy.

      He was handsome and wealthy and utterly ruthless in getting whatever he desired.

      If he was alone, it was by choice, not fate.

      “I suppose you will not leave until I agree to join you for dinner?”

      Something that might have been disappointment flashed through the blue eyes before his features hardened.

      “You are as intelligent as you are beautiful,” he taunted.

      “And you, sir, are an arrogant bully.”

      He grasped her chin between his fingers, his gaze focused on her lips.

      “You have a quarter of an hour, Leonida. If you do not make an appearance then I will assume you are inviting me to share your dinner in bed.”

      STEPPING OUT OF LEONIDA’S chambers, Stefan placed his hands flat against the wall and sucked in a deep breath. He was a fool.

      Whether it was because he had allowed his anger at Leonida’s attempt to hide from him to impetuously lead him to her bedchamber, or because he hadn’t taken advantage of being there, he had yet to decide.

      In either case, he was once again hard and aching with no hope of ready relief.

      With a muttered curse, he pushed away from the wall and forced himself to continue toward the servants’ staircase, where he knew Goodson would be waiting for him.

      On cue, the uniformed butler stepped from the shadows, regarding Stefan with a stoic expression.

      “Your Grace.”

      “Well?” Stefan demanded abruptly. Sensing his employer’s tension, Goodson came straight to the point.

      “I could not approach as close as I would like since Miss Karkoff’s maid was standing guard as if she were one of those savage Cossack soldiers.”

      “Yes, a most formidable woman,” Stefan agreed dryly. He had thought when he entered Leonida’s rooms he might have to physically toss the protective Sophy out of his path. “What did you manage to see?”

      Goodson cleared his throat. “Miss Karkoff left her chamber shortly after you could be heard going downstairs and went directly to the Duchess’s rooms. She remained in there until the maid rushed to warn her of your approach.”

      Stefan clenched his teeth, leashing his wave of disappointed fury.

      He had already suspected that Leonida had some purpose in suggesting that she and Brianna come to Meadowland. And he was not vain enough to suppose it was an overwhelming desire to be closer to him.

      Now his only purpose was to discover her nefarious plot.

      “Did she take anything from the room?”

      Goodson shrugged. “There was nothing in her hands.”

      “Have her room searched while she is at dinner.”

      “Of course, sir.”

      The butler was turning away when Stefan halted him. “Goodson.”

      “Yes, your Grace?”

      “Did Benjamin track down the strangers he caught on the grounds?”

      “I fear not.” The butler’s stoic expression hardened with frustration. “The innkeeper claimed that he has not had any foreign guests for months and no one in the village recognized the description of the villains.”

      “Have him continue to search through the neighborhood, but request that he be discreet. I would prefer no one realize that I am suspicious of their presence.”

      “Very good.”

      This time Stefan allowed the butler to disappear toward the back of the house, slowly turning to study the closed door to Leonida’s chambers.

      For a moment he brooded on charging back down the hall and bluntly confronting the deceitful woman.

      Unlike Edmond, he did not enjoy political intrigue or pitting his wits against a cunning foe. He was a forthright gentleman who expected the same from others. Which was, no doubt, why King George and Alexander Pavlovich rarely called upon him when they had need of guile rather than practical assistance.

      It was only the knowledge that Leonida could not be bullied or coerced into revealing the truth that kept him standing in the shadows, his hands clenched at his sides.

      “What the devil is your scheme, Leonida Karkoff?” he muttered.

       St. Petersburg

      THE BORDELLO TUCKED BETWEEN a coffeehouse and furniture warehouse was like many others spread throughout St. Petersburg.

      The building was a nondescript brick structure that was surrounded by a wrought-iron fence and guarded by a brute of a man who frightened even hardened soldiers. Inside the front parlor the furnishings were a gaudy, overly opulent combination of plush velvet sofas and fur rugs where a gentleman could wait in comfort for his particular whore to become available. Or, if he preferred, he could join the high-stakes gambling that was offered in the back rooms. Upstairs, the private rooms were individually created to indulge in whatever vice might tempt the jaded members of Russian society.

      But it was not the dubious taste in furnishings, or the lovely, well-trained whores that plied their trade that attracted the rich and powerful.

      It was instead the absolute discretion

Скачать книгу