скачать книгу бесплатно
Dimitri pulled back, his gaze sweeping possessively down her slender body.
“Once you are known to be mine there is no one who would dare harm you.”
A frantic pulse fluttered at the base of her throat. “Except you.”
Unable to resist, Dimitri skimmed his lips down the curve of her neck, lingering on that revealing pulse.
“I swear I would treat you with exquisite care.” His voice thickened, his anger altering to a blaze of desire. “You would want for nothing.”
She moaned, briefly melting against him before she abruptly stepped away to regard him with a leery frown. Her body might recognize that she belonged to him, but her mind was not yet ready to concede defeat.
“What I want is to find my sister and to return to our home together.”
“Emma—”
“No.” She shook her head, her hand pressed to her throat. “Do you believe your father is involved with the gentlemen who abducted Anya?”
Dimitri grimly restrained his need to yank her back into his arms. His experience with tender virgins might be limited, but he did know when a female was on the brink of bolting.
“Yes.” He shoved his fingers through his hair, his body hard and aching. A distressingly predictable sensation when he was in the companionship of this frustrating woman. “His debauched taste for young girls has never diminished.”
“Why did you not kill him when you discovered he was responsible for the death of your mother?”
Dimitri lifted his brows, startled by the blunt question. “He was a powerful nobleman and I was a mere boy,” Dimitri reminded her, his tone dry.
“I cannot believe that is what deterred you.”
“You think I was born a bloodthirsty criminal? Or perhaps you assume all bastards are without morals?”
A blush stained her cheeks, but she refused to be cowed. An unfortunate habit.
“I think you loved your mother and would move heaven and earth to avenge her death.” She narrowed her gaze, studying him with unnerving perceptiveness. “So why do you hesitate?”
“Because death is not enough,” he roughly admitted. “I want to make certain that Count Nevskaya and his cronies publicly suffer for what they have done.”
The hazel eyes darkened. “And how many girls have been hurt because you were more concerned with humiliating your father rather than making certain he was unable to abuse helpless children?”
For perhaps the first time in his life, Dimitri Tipova was struck speechless as Emma turned on her heel and left him standing alone in the grotto.
THERE WAS A HEAVY, gray chill in the air as Dimitri left his horse in the shadows of a high hedge, and walked toward the plain black carriage that waited on the elegant street corner.
Wrapped in a heavy coat and muffler that served as his disguise, Dimitri cast a sour glance at the brooding clouds. Although St. Petersburg would always be his home, he often wondered if Czar Peter regretted his fierce determination to create an empire out of this wet, frozen landscape. The emperor had, after all, sacrificed an enormous number of his people, not only to the cold and disease and wolves as the city was being built, but also to keep his throne from a land-hungry Charles XII as well as uprisings from the Cossacks and even his own son, Alexei.
With a shake of his head, he dismissed his inane thoughts and paused at the side of the carriage. Covertly glancing up and down the quiet street to ensure there were no prying eyes, he tugged open the door and climbed inside.
He settled on the leather seat across from Josef, who kept his gaze trained on the window that offered a perfect view of Pytor Burdzecki’s town house.
“Well?” he demanded.
Attired in rough wool clothing more suitable for a dock-hand than a man who had acquired a small fortune over the past years, Josef grimaced.
“Not so much as a leaf has stirred.”
“And there has been no word from the others?”
“Nothing.”
Damn. He had commanded two dozen of his most trustworthy cutthroats to keep watch on the homes of those gentlemen he suspected were involved in his father’s nefarious amusements. The notes he had stumbled across had specifically mentioned noon, but unwilling to take any chances, Dimitri had demanded his employees hide themselves near the various homes before the crack of dawn.
“You made certain the household servants were to be followed?” he demanded.
With an offended expression, Josef reached for the nearby bottle of vodka and a large glass.
“You do not pay me because I am careless.”
Dimitri could not argue. Josef possessed a meticulous cunning that had made him a successful thief long before Dimitri had taken him beneath his wing.
“Forgive me, Josef. I had convinced myself we could catch the bastards in the midst of their foul deeds.” He clenched his hands, needing a means to vent his simmering frustration. “Now it seems they are to elude me yet again.”
Josef gave a lift of his shoulder. “The messages you discovered had no date. It could be they mean the next Friday.”
“Or a Friday long past and once again I am too late,” he snapped.
“Here.” Pouring a large measure of the vodka, Josef shoved a glass into his hand. Dimitri swallowed the potent liquor, grunting as he lowered the glass and Josef leaned forward to refill it. “Another.”
He arched a puzzled brow. “Is there a reason you are plying me with vodka?”
“I hoped it might sweeten your foul mood.”
Dimitri scowled. “Of course my mood is foul. I do not appreciate being outwitted by a collection of aging reprobates.”
“Those aging reprobates possess enough power to alter the course of history as they have too often proven,” Josef said, his voice harsh with disgust. Many of the noblemen were personally responsible for squashing Alexander Pavlovich’s attempts at reform in the early days of his reign. “Keeping a handful of peasant girls hidden would be a simple matter with a dozen estates and serfs who are too terrified to reveal the truth.” Josef leaned back in his seat, his gaze watchful. “And your mood has been foul since you last met with Emma Linley-Kirov.”
Dimitri grimaced, swallowing his instinctive denial. Why bother? Anyone unfortunate enough to cross his path since Emma had abandoned him in Vanya’s grotto was painfully aware of his vile temper.
“She holds me responsible for her sister’s abduction.”
Josef sucked in a sharp breath. “Is she daft?”
Dimitri polished off the last of the vodka. He had spent the night trying to comfort himself with the notion that Emma Linley-Kirov was a provincial spinster who was too naive and too stupid to comprehend the complexities of his revenge. A wasted effort. Nothing managed to ease the nagging sense of guilt.
“She is annoyingly stubborn, headstrong and beautiful beyond reason, but I would never consider her to be daft.”
“She must be if she would accuse you of harming children.”
“She did not suggest that I personally forced a child into my bed, but rather that I stood aside and allowed others to continue with their loathsome deeds.”
“What would she have you do?”
“Kill them.”
Josef blinked, staggered by the thought of a sweet, innocent maiden harboring such bloodthirsty desires. Then he lifted the flask to take a large swig of the vodka.
“If she is so anxious to be rid of the bastards, then why does she not tend to the duty herself?” he muttered.
Dimitri’s brows snapped together, a chill shivering down his spine. “Good God, do not say such a thing in her presence. She is quite capable of attempting murder if she thought it would save her precious sister.”
“Perhaps she would discover it’s not a simple matter to rid society of its vermin.”
Dimitri tossed aside his empty glass, casting a jaundiced glance out the window of the carriage.
“Not simple, but not impossible, either.”
“You have allowed the female to rattle your wits.”
A humorless smile twisted his lips. Emma had rattled more than his wits. His long night of pacing the floor had not been solely due to her accusations. He had been hard and aching to bed the wench since she stormed into his office.
“Rattled wits or not, she was not mistaken. My desire for revenge has allowed my father to continue his debauchery.”
Josef muttered his opinion of overbearing spinsters and the stupidity of men who allowed them to interfere in his business.
“The count is the villain, not you,” he at last snapped. “How many women have you taken under your protection over the years? Only an arrogant ass would believe he could rescue them all.”
Dimitri turned back to meet his loyal servant’s scowl. “I can always depend upon you to keep me humble, Josef.”
“I assume that is why you have kept me in your service for so many years.”
“Well, it most certainly is not for your charm.” Dimitri reached for the door of the carriage. It was obvious his hopes of discovering how his father and his associates kept the women they abducted hidden was doomed to failure. At least for today. “Return to your home, old friend.”
Josef frowned as Dimitri stepped out of the carriage. “What of you?”
“Alexander Pavlovich is unveiling his latest portrait at the Hermitage this afternoon.”
“God almighty, another one?”
Dimitri chuckled. Czar Alexander had avoided many of the Romanov’s tendencies, but he was as vainglorious as his grandmother.
“Vanya Petrova is certain to attend and I do not doubt she will be brazen enough to bring her mysterious young maid with her.”
Josef drained the last of the vodka, his expression sour. “You should be pleased. It is possible the female can be of service. People tend to be more willing to speak with a pretty young maid than a cutthroat.”
“Pleased?” Dimitri clenched his fists, a dark fear churning through him. “If she has put herself in danger I intend to lock her in my cellar and never release her.”
“You were right, Tipova,” the scarred servant jeered. “Emma Linley-Kirov is not daft, you are.”
EMMA FELT AS IF SHE were in a dream when Vanya’s elegant carriage swept through the archway and halted in the courtyard before the vast Winter Palace.
How often had she dreamed of traveling to St. Petersburg and encountering a charming prince when she had been young and still naive enough to believe in childish fancy? Or of being draped in rich satin as she entered the vast palaces and curtsied before Czar Alexander?
Instead, she was dressed in the drab clothing of a proper maid and struggling not to stumble over her feet as Vanya led her into Jordan Hall with its grand columns and vaulted ceiling lavishly painted and rimmed with gilt moldings. She had a brief glimpse of the elegantly attired crowd sweeping toward the Jordan Staircase before Vanya pressed her toward a side hall, jolting her out of her brief moment of madness.
Maids did not belong in the upper rooms.
Which suited her perfectly, Emma sternly told herself, traveling through the spider web of corridors and shrugging off her sense of unreality.
Her journey to St. Petersburg was more of a nightmare than dream, and the sooner she found Anya so she could return home the better.
Besides, she was discovering that beneath the breathtaking beauty of the city and the grandeur of the nobility, there was a pervasive rot that lurked just beneath the surface. There was evil in shadows.
Shuddering at the unpleasant thought, Emma hurried toward the servants’ quarters. The air was thick with a smothering heat that was no doubt necessary for the exotic plants she had glimpsed in the various salons and drawing rooms she passed, but hardly pleasant for the servants that scurried about their tasks. Ignoring the sweat that trickled down her spine, she followed the scent of baking bread, occasionally stopping to chat with the other maids that crowded into the kitchens.
She would question as many of the servants as possible before returning to the vast entryway and finding the best place to hide and watch as the guests departed the palace. If the men who had abducted Anya were attending Czar Alexander then she would see them leave.
But first…
Reaching the far end of the kitchen that overlooked the small enclosure with a handful of cows, she was nibbling on a plum and almond tart when one of the palace maids cautiously sidled next to her, a wary expression on her plump face that was framed by a halo of red curls.
“What is your interest in Count Fedor Tarvek?” she whispered, her gaze warily darting about the bustling room, as if terrified they might be overheard.
Emma slowly set aside the tart, careful to hide her flare of hope. The woman was as skittish as a dormouse, clearly uneasy at the mention of the man’s name. She did not want to startle her into flight.
“My younger sister is seeking a position in his kitchens,” she said, keeping her voice equally soft. “She is anxious for a job, but I have heard rumors—”
“You should warn your sister to seek a position elsewhere,” the woman hissed.
“What do you know of him?”
The dark gaze again darted about the bustling kitchen, ensuring that no one had noticed them speaking.
“Nothing.”
“Please.” Emma reached to lightly touch the woman’s arm. “Anya is young and headstrong and unless I can offer her more than vague warnings she is certain to ignore my fears. Did you work for the count?”
“No.” She bit her bottom lip. “It was my cousin.”
“What happened to her?”
“No one is certain. She told my Aunt that she was offered a position as parlor maid, but when she did not return home that night my uncle went in search of her.”
A sick dread curled through Emma’s stomach. “What did he discover?”
The woman’s freckled face hardened with an impotent anger that Emma easily recognized. It was the same helpless frustration that had plagued her since discovering Anya was missing.
“She had simply disappeared. The count claimed that she had never arrived at his home, but my uncle was certain he found a ribbon belonging to my cousin in the hedge surrounding the estate.”
“Dear Lord.” Emma pressed a hand to her stomach. “You never heard from her again?”
“Nyet. And I have heard whispered she is not the only female to disappear.”
