Bound by Love (11 page)

“Remain here and watch the stairs,” she ordered softly.

Not giving her maid the opportunity to protest, Leonida picked up the hem of her skirt and dashed back down the hall. Entering the Duchess’s bedchamber, she crossed directly to the trapdoor and with shaking fingers began attempting to fit the various keys into the lock.

Her rasping breath filled the still air, along with the rattle of metal keys as she slid one and then another into the lock. She had gone through near a dozen before she at last heard a distinctive click, and with her heart lodged in her throat, she pulled the trapdoor open.

Licking her dry lips, she peered into the small, square
space, at first unable to see anything beyond the leather-bound diary covered in dust. Leonida reached to carefully set it aside along with a pearl-studded box that held painted miniatures of a variety of handsome young gentlemen. No doubt gifts from long ago beaus who had been relegated to fond memories by the Duchess. Pulling out the box, she sucked in a sharp breath as she caught sight of the bundle of letters tied with a pink ribbon hidden beneath.

Grasping the bundle, she tugged them out of the hidden space and held them to the light streaming from the window. Her heart turned over in her chest as she recognized her mother’s flowing script on the top envelope.

Dear lord, she had done it.

Relief raced through her trembling body. Her mother would be saved, and if she were quick enough, so would Stefan.

For a brief moment her relief was overshadowed by a pain that sliced through her heart, then with a shake of her head, she was replacing the box and journal back into the hidden safe and securing the lock.

She had just managed to roll the carpet back into place when the door was pressed silently open and Sophy stuck her head into the room.

“You must hurry. I just heard one of the maids saying that the Duke has returned.”

“I am done.”

With only a cursory glance to ensure the room appeared untouched, Leonida gripped the keys in one hand and hid the stack of papers in the folds of her skirt with the other. Then she rushed from the room.

She had just slipped into her chamber when the sound of Stefan’s voice echoed through the foyer and up the stairs. Her heart gave another twinge of painful regret before she was firmly pulling her door shut and throwing the bolt.

It was done.

Nothing mattered now but plotting her escape.

“Did you find what you were seeking?” Sophy demanded, her voice a nervous whisper.

Moving to her jewelry box, Leonida stuffed the letters among her pearls and amber necklace and used a small key to lock them inside. It would not withstand any serious attempt to open it, but for the moment it would have to do.

“I believe so,” she said, turning around to cross back toward her maid.

“Will you give it to that man?”

“Certainly not.”

“But…”

Leonida grasped her maid’s hands and regarded her with a somber expression.

“While I am at dinner I want you to pack your bags and when you are certain there is no one about I want you to go straight to the stables of Hillside and collect my carriage.”

A mulish frown settled on Sophy’s brow. “I will not leave you.”

“It will only be for a short time. We must devise some story…” Leonida chewed her bottom lip as she sorted through her mind for a suitable lie. “You can tell Lord Summerville’s servants that you received word that your mother is ill and I have allowed you to return to Russia to tend to her. That should hopefully keep them from becoming suspicious of your sudden need to leave.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Once the carriage is away from Hillside I want you to have Pyotr drive it to the line of trees just beyond the lake. Make sure it cannot be easily seen from the road.”

Sophy’s frown remained. “But what of you?”

Leonida summoned a confidence she was far from feeling. Perhaps if she pretended this hasty plan she was concocting as she went along could succeed, she could make herself believe it.

“I must attend dinner and wait for the household to settle for the night,” she said with a grimace, regretfully concluding that she dare not simply bolt. “Only when I am certain that no one will notice my absence can I leave. The more time we have before I am missed, the better.”

Sophy took an abrupt step backward, her eyes wide with disbelief.

“You intend for us to begin our return to Russia tonight?”

“I have no choice, Sophy. Once I am gone, I am certain my enemies will follow me and the Duke will be safe.”

The maid’s lips thinned with disapproval. “I am more concerned for your safety. What if that nasty man is keeping a watch on the house?”

Leonida shivered, the mere thought of meeting the wretched brute in the dark was enough to make her stomach clench in dread.

“No doubt he is,” she muttered. “That is why I dare not wait until morning. We must trust the dark will keep us hidden.”

Sophy shook her head. “I don’t like this.”

“Neither do I, but I must get the…” She bit back her impulsive words. Damn. If she did not take care she would never fool Stefan, let alone the enemies chasing her. “Package to Mother before it can fall into the hands of traitors.” She swallowed heavily as she recalled the feel of the dagger against her throat. “Or worse.”

The maid heaved a sigh and headed for the door. “Very well.”

“Sophy?”

“Yes?”

“Warn Pyotr that it might be quite late before I manage to escape. I cannot risk being caught.”

“What of your bags?”

Leonida shrugged. “I will take what I can and leave the rest. No doubt the Duke will enjoy tossing my possessions into the fire.”

A
S WAS HIS CUSTOM
, S
TEFAN
retreated to his private study after dinner, intending to review the quarterly reports before his meeting with his secretary in the morning. The cluttered, shabby room had always been a place of peace for him. Within these four walls he could sip his brandy without interruption, surrounded by fond reminiscences. The memory of dangling on his father’s knee as the old Duke taught him to manage the accounts. Or standing at the window to study the sprawling lands that would one day be his responsibility.

Tonight, however, it was not his childhood recollections, or even the latest farming manuals that had arrived in the post, that plagued his mind.

No, that honor belonged solely to Miss Leonida Karkoff.

And her peculiar behavior during dinner.

It was not just that she had been quiet. Although Leonida could be one of the most charming and witty females he had ever known, she was by nature reticent. Like himself, she preferred to remain in the background rather than calling attention to herself.

Tonight, however, she had barely spoken a dozen words, her expression distracted, as if she carried a heavy weight on her shoulders.

So what the devil was on her mind? And why could he not shake the urge to seek her out and…What? Demand explanations that she would refuse to give? Offer her comfort she did not deserve? Take her to his bed and put an end to his agony?

With a low growl, Stefan slammed his glass onto his desk, indifferent to the brandy that sloshed onto the polished wood as he turned on his heel and left the cramped room. He resented the restlessness that held him captive. And the vague sense that his orderly existence had been disrupted beyond repair.

This was entirely Leonida Karkoff’s fault.

The thought was still uppermost in his mind when he
shoved open the door to his bedchamber to discover the woman of his visions closing the drawer of his writing table.

A raw, savage heat raced through him as he drank in the sight of her slender body covered in no more than a linen night rail with her glorious hair flowing down her back. She was half turned away from him, the flickering candlelight making her gown nearly transparent, revealing the beauty beneath.

Christ.

Barely aware that he was moving, Stefan silently closed the door and turned the key in the lock.

When he had come up to his rooms, he had not been certain what he intended to do.

Now, he did not have a doubt in the world.

Prowling forward, Stefan waited until he was beside her before he spoke.

“What a pleasant surprise, my dove,” he drawled, thoroughly enjoying her squeak of alarm as she whirled to face him with wide eyes. “I have been longing for days to lure you into my chambers and here you are, waiting for me like an apparition from my dreams.”

She pressed against the desk, as if that small measure of space would keep him from devouring her. Foolish woman.

“Forgive my intrusion, I…”

He arched a brow as her voice faltered and her cheeks flushed a charming pink.

“Yes?”

“I desire to write a letter to my mother and I was in need of parchment.”

He stepped closer. Close enough to breathe in the sweet scent of jasmine.

“Parchment?”

“Yes.”

“Now why, Miss Karkoff, do you suppose I do not believe you?” he murmured, leaning forward to lay his
hands on the surface of the writing desk, effectively caging her between his arms.

She licked her lips as she struggled to meet his heated gaze. “I haven’t the least notion.”

“No doubt because it is a lie.” He rubbed his cheek against hers, savoring the warmth of her satin skin. His restlessness eased, to be replaced by a surge of anticipation. “Like so many others that tumble from those sweet lips.”

Her hands lifted to press against his chest. “Must you always be so insulting?”

He shifted to nuzzle the tender spot below her ear, using his body to pin her against the desk as he jerked off his cravat and shrugged out of his jacket. His waistcoat followed, along with his linen shirt. If she wanted to touch his chest, then by God he intended to enjoy it.

Covering her hands, he pressed them firmly to his bare skin. “You would prefer compliments?” He nipped the lobe of her ear. “Very well. Shall I tell you that your hair is the precise shade of summer sunshine and your eyes were surely meant for an angel? Or perhaps you prefer to know how I spend my nights dreaming of removing your clothing so I can devote hours to exploring your alabaster skin?”

With a violent shudder, Leonida attempted to arch from his tender caresses. “So, you do not trust me or even particularly like me, but you are willing to bed me?”

He pressed his mouth to the base of her throat, his tongue stroking over her racing pulse.

“I did not say I did not like you.” He nibbled his way down the plunging vee of her night rail. “I like this very much.”

She groaned, her fingers flexing until her nails dug into his skin. The tiny prick of pain only intensified Stefan’s turbulent need.

“Stefan, you must stop.”

“Why?”

“Because…”

Her words came to an abrupt halt as his teeth captured a puckered nipple through the thin fabric of her gown.

“Yes?” he murmured as he teased the beaded tip with his tongue.

“You are so damnably smug,” she growled, leaning forward to bury her face in the curve of his neck.

Flames licked through his body, hardening his muscles and making his hands tremble as he tugged her fingers down to the waistband of his breeches.

“Not smug, overdressed. Help me.” He lost the ability to think as her fingers fumbled with the hooks, brushing the head of his arousal and sending tiny jolts of pleasure down the shaft. He hastily kicked off his slippers as the trousers slid down his legs. “Christ, what have you done to me?”

“Nothing.”

“Liar.” At last rid of his clothing, Stefan scooped the delicious bundle of soft woman in his arms and carried her toward the nearby bed. Laying her upper half on the mattress, he knelt on the carpet between her dangling legs. For a moment he simply allowed himself to drink in the sight of her lying on his bed, her golden cloud of hair spread like a halo around her flushed face. Then, with reverent care, he began pushing up the hem of her night rail. “No matter how often I warn myself that I am a fool to allow my lust to overcome my common sense, I cannot resist your temptation.”

“Stefan…”

“No,” he rasped, lowering his head to brush his lips along her inner thigh. “No more talking. I have to have you, my dove, before I go mad.”

She made a strangled sound deep in her throat, her hands clutching the blanket beneath her as he slowly explored the petal-soft skin. The scent of jasmine became even more intense as he neared the juncture of her legs, seeping into his blood until he was drowning in desire.

His fingers slipped beneath her knees, tugging them
farther apart as he ran his tongue through her moist cleft. Her soft scream of pleasure echoed through the room, but thankfully not loud enough to bring the servants running. With a smug pride at the knowledge that he was the first and only man to ever have tasted of her sweet innocence, Stefan licked and teased until she was twisting restlessly beneath him, her hands tangling in his hair as she hurtled toward her climax.