Bound by Love (13 page)

Pyotr twisted his cap in his callused hands. “I am sorry.”

“This is not your fault, Pyotr. It was nothing more than an unfortunate accident.” Leonida reached to pat her groom on the arm. “Go enjoy your luncheon.”

Still perturbed by the delay, Leonida watched as the groom disappeared among the clusters of passing pedestrians, headed for the nearby coffee shop.

“Now what will we do?” Sophy demanded at her side.

Snapping shut her fan, Leonida glanced back at the hotel. The mere thought of returning to her cramped chamber made her shudder. She was angry and frightened and so restless she could barely stand still.

“It seems we have no option but to do what every other woman in Paris does,” she abruptly decided.

“And what is that?”

Leonida shrugged. “Go shopping.”

“Are you daft?” Sophy hissed in shock. Leonida envied
her maid her light chip bonnet and loose linen gown. “What if you’re recognized?”

“Do not worry, I shall keep my face covered.”

“I still think…”

“Sophy, the hotel servants are beginning to regard us with suspicion. Not even the most reclusive widow remains forever in her rooms,” she firmly pointed out. “Besides, I shall go mad if I do not breathe some fresh air.”

“Bah.” Sophy waved a plump hand. “The air is foul.”

That was true enough. There was not only the unmistakable stench of open sewage, but the narrow street was littered with rubbish that did not bear close scrutiny.

She could only hope the finer neighborhoods were less pungent.

Twining her arm through her maid’s, she tugged her away from the hotel and down the street.

“Come, all will be well.”

Within a thankfully short time they had reached the wider boulevards that led to the
Palais-Royal
.

The cramped buildings became lavish private residences, the fronts a mixture of classical simplicity and those boasting ornate ornamentation with nymphs and playful deities gazing down at passing crowds. The traffic also thickened, the streets choked with elegant carriages and the public coaches called
cabriolets
that carried the fashionable Parisians and foreign guests to the endless entertainment to be found about the city.

There was an almost frantic air of excitement that was occasionally dampened by a King’s Guard who kept close watch upon knots of men strolling down the paved walk or seated outside the numerous coffee shops.

Beneath the brittle gaiety simmered a tension that prickled over Leonida’s skin. The atmosphere was charged, as if lightning were about to strike.

She shivered as she tugged the reluctant Sophy toward the nearby arcade. She had always thought St. Petersburg
tense with undercurrents of sedition. This, however…lord, it felt as if the blood might begin flowing at any moment.

Entering the arcade that was built of a skeletal iron frame, with a towering glass roof that ran the length of the shops, Leonida swallowed a sigh.

It was a relief to be away from the thundering traffic that offered a messy death for anyone foolish enough to become distracted, but the crush of people wandering through the passage offered little reprieve. Of course, having her slippers trod upon or being jostled by everyone from the highest aristocrats to the most common servants was infinitely better than being toppled beneath a galloping horse.

Allowing Sophy to linger at a toy-maker shop, Leonida strolled past the bookshops and milliners before at last halting in front of a jewelry store that offered a bizarre collection of gem-encrusted beetles made into brooches and even necklaces.

Wondering what fool would actually purchase such a hideous trinket, Sophy barely noted the young lad with a shock of red hair and freckled face darting forward and yanking at her purse until the satin ribbons snapped and he could run off with his prize.

Leonida cursed her inattention, helplessly watching the much smaller body slip easily through the crowd. Thankfully she had most of her stash of money in a pocket hidden in the folds of her heavy skirt, and more importantly, her mother’s precious letters were safely concealed beneath the lining of her luggage.

Still, the purse held her favorite handkerchief and the coins she had intended to use for a warm croissant to share with Sophy. It was thoroughly annoying to have it stolen by the unruly scamp.

On the point of giving up her belongings as a lost cause, Leonida watched in surprise as a tall gentleman with silver hair and handsome features grasped the lad by the back of his shirt and lifted him off his feet.

He spoke a few words in the boy’s ear before firmly removing her silk bag from his grubby fingers, then with a sharp shake, he lowered the boy to his feet and allowed him to scamper away. Only then did he acknowledge Leonida, offering her a smile as he moved to stand directly before her.

“I believe this belongs to you?” he said in French with a heavy English accent, handing her the maltreated purse.

“Yes, thank you.”

Regaining her property, Leonida took a discreet step backward. The gentleman was flawlessly attired in a black jacket and breeches with a silver waistcoat and polished boots. He was clearly a well-bred gentleman and judging by the large diamond winking in the folds of his elegantly knotted cravat, a wealthy one as well. Strangely, however, she found herself instinctively desiring to keep him at a distance. There was something about him that made her sense a cold menace just beneath the surface.

“I am not usually such easy prey. I fear I was distracted.”

He shifted to peer through the window behind her. “Ah. You were admiring the necklaces?”

Leonida shook off the urge to scuttle away, reminding herself that the man had come to her rescue. The least she could do was be polite.

“In truth, I was wondering if anyone actually purchased such hideous objects.”

The man flashed another smile that did not reach his dark eyes.

“I am no longer shocked by what the Parisians consider fashionable. More often than not it is a competition as to who can be the more outrageous.”

“Yes, well…1 should be on my way.”

With a startling speed, he reached out to grasp her hand. “Will you not join me for a coffee? I can assure you that the café just down the passage serves the tastiest pastries in the city.”

Leonida tugged, attempting to free her fingers from his tight grip.

“Thank you, but no.”

“Come, come, my dear, you cannot abandon me without at least giving me your name.”

“Madame Marseau,” she grudgingly offered the name she was traveling under.

“You are wed?”

“A widow.”

“I see.” He leaned downward, as if appearing to peer through her heavy veil. Leonida felt a chill inch down her spine. “And Russian if my ears do not deceive me,” he murmured.

“I really must…”

“I am Sir Charles Richards, at your service.” He bowed over her hand, ruthlessly ignoring her struggles to be free. “Tell me, Madame, do you reside in Paris?”

“No, I am just passing through.”

“How charming, a fellow visitor.” He wrinkled his nose in a playful gesture. Leonida found herself wondering if he practiced it before a mirror. “Myself, I am from London and still rather unfamiliar with the confusing jumble of streets, but I should be delighted to offer myself as a guide.”

“My stay is far too brief for sightseeing.” This time she jerked hard enough that he was forced to release her hand or attract the notice of the fellow shoppers. “Good day.”

“At least allow me to give you my card.” He smoothly blocked her path, pressing a gilt-edged calling card into her hand. “I am staying at the Montmacier on the Rue de Varenne. If you decide to linger in Paris I hope you will send me a note.”

“There is no chance of me lingering.”

“Still, if you have need of me, for any reason, I want you to know you can depend upon me.”

She frowned. Why the devil was he being so persistent? Did he believe a widow without protection was easily
seduced? Perhaps he hoped she was lonely and naive enough to fall into the arms of the first man to show her a bit of attention?

“That is not necessary.”

“Who is to know?” He shrugged. “A young lady in Paris can never be too careful.”

Her lips twisted as she considered the seemingly endless troubles that had plagued her since leaving Russia.

“I suppose that is true,” she said dryly, feeling an unmistakable sense of relief as she caught sight of Sophy weaving a determined path in her direction.

“Remember,” he said, his voice low and urgent. “You have only to send word and I will do whatever in my power to assist you.”

She shook her head. “Are you always so eager to offer your services?”

“Only to beautiful ladies,” he smoothly retorted.

Sophy appeared at her side and without giving the maid the opportunity to catch her breath, Leonida was steering her away from the unwelcome gentleman.

Suddenly her cramped chamber at the hotel did not seem nearly so odious.

“Good day, sir.”

C
HARLES HELD HIMSELF
brutally still as his prey walked away. He did not twitch or blink. Instead, he concentrated on drawing in one breath after another, counting his heartbeats, and willing the red haze that fogged his mind to fade.

She had been there. In his grasp. His hands had itched with the need to grasp her slender throat and demand the letters he knew she had hidden, but there had been too many witnesses, too many King’s Guards. All he could do was try and lure her to a more private setting, and even that had been thwarted by the bitch.

Damn her.

For two days he had waited in the shadows for his op
portunity to strike. Since receiving his servant’s message that the Karkoff wench had managed to slip away and was not to be discovered on any of the roads leading north, he had kept watch on the routes leading from Calais to Paris.

Luck, for once, had been with him. About damned time. And he had recognized Leonida’s maid when they had halted at an inn not far from the city. He had directed his newly hired henchmen to ensure the carriage was made unusable while he had returned to Paris to make certain that the wheelwright that was sent for by the groom understood that there was a nice reward to be had if he could prolong the repairs as long as possible.

It should have been a simple matter after that to retrieve the letters, but the worthless woman had refused to leave her rooms at the hotel. Just as annoying, the maid he had managed to bribe claimed that there were no letters to be discovered among Madame Marseau’s belongings.

Unconsciously, Charles slid his hand into the pocket of his breeches, smoothing his hand along the small dagger. His hunger was becoming unbearable.

He was still standing there when the red-haired urchin who had nabbed Leonida’s purse returned, his ugly face split with a wide smile.

“Did I do it right?” he demanded.

“Perfectly.” He flipped a coin that the lad deftly caught. “And here is your reward.”

“Is there anything else,
monsieur?
”

On the point of sending the boy away, Charles hesitated.

He had been forced to allow Miss Karkoff to temporarily slip from his grasp, but that did not mean he could not sate his burning need.

There were always women in need of his special attention.

“Actually, there is.” The cold that encased his soul began to thaw in anticipation. Blood. Sweet blood. “I want you to take me to your mother.”

L
ATE THE NEXT MORNING,
Leonida stood in the back parlor of the hotel, pacing the threadbare carpet with impatient steps. The swish of her black crepe gown was the only sound to break the silence, her fingers anxiously toying with one of the dozen black ribbons that held the gown together from the high neckline to the heavily flounced hem.

Waiting until a subdued Pyotr left the room and shut the door behind him, Leonida turned to regard Sophy with a blazing frustration.

“
Mon Dieu
. I am convinced we have managed to discover the most incompetent wheelwright in all of France.”

“A blustering idiot, if you ask me,” Sophy muttered. “I should be very surprised if he even knows how to fix the wheel.”

“I am beginning to wonder myself. I will give him until tomorrow morning and then I will insist on another to repair the carriage.” Leonida rubbed her aching temples. She had not slept well since leaving Meadowland and the ceaseless worry was beginning to take its toll. “Damn.”

Moving to her side, Sophy rubbed a comforting hand down her back. “Ah well, no use pining over what can’t be changed. We will be home again soon enough. And there can be no one to know we are in Paris.”

“No,” Leonida forced herself to agree, although she was not nearly so confident as she wished to be.

How could she be when she felt as if she was being constantly watched when she left her room? And she was ab
solutely convinced that her belongings had been disturbed more than once.

Of course, it could be the unseen watcher was no more than a figment of her troubled imagination. And maids were bound to have moved a few items during their daily cleaning. Still, her desire to leave Paris became more urgent with each passing moment.

“No one could know.”

Sophy regarded her with a sympathetic smile. “You should go and have a hot bath. That will make you feel better.”

“What of you?”

The maid’s smile widened, a twinkle entering her eyes. “Pyotr mentioned he had a tear in his coat. I told him I would come to his room and darn it for him.”

Leonida blinked in surprise. “Sophy.”

“If we are to be trapped in Paris for days on end then at least I should enjoy a few hours of harmless flirtation.”

“Indeed.” Leonida’s heart twisted with something perilously close to envy. Harmless flirtation. It was something a woman in her position could never comprehend. Most gentlemen regarded her as a prize to be won for political gain, and the one man who had truly seen her as a woman desirable in her own right now must hold her in utter contempt. She determinedly shook off the dark thoughts and summoned a weak smile. “Enjoy yourself.”

With a wink, Sophy left the room.

Left on her own, Leonida briefly considered a short stroll, only to have common sense convince her to climb the stairs to her chamber. The delay of repairing her carriage could not last forever. Until then she would be a fool to risk exposure.

Digging the key from her tiny silk bag, she entered the room and shut the door behind her. Perhaps a hot bath would not be such a bad notion. It would at least give her the opportunity to remove the revolting gown.

She had just stepped over the threshold and closed the
door behind her when a hand clamped painfully over her mouth and she was jerked against a hard male body.

Shock held her motionless, shards of fear piercing her heart as an arm wrapped around her waist, keeping her back tightly wedged against the solid muscles. Then a familiar, exotically male scent teased at her nose as the intruder leaned down to whisper in her ear.

“Did you truly believe you could steal from me and simply slip away, my dove?”

Stefan.

She shivered, a combination of disbelief, fury and a painful awareness battling for supremacy.

No, this was not possible. She struggled against his ruthless grasp, refusing to contemplate the last time she had been held in his arms.

Not surprisingly, he did not allow her to escape, although his hand shifted from her mouth to wrap around her throat.

“Let me go.”

“Never,” he rasped, his warm breath stroking over her cheek and sending a thrill of excitement down her spine. “You escaped me once, it will not happen again.”

She closed her eyes as a haunting regret bloomed in the pit of her stomach. There had not been a night when she had not lain awake recalling his every touch, his demanding kisses, his soft words of pleasure. In an odd way, it pleased her that her last memory of Stefan would be his beautiful face softened and sated as he slept at her side.

Now it would all be destroyed by the fury she could feel vibrating through his body.

“How did you find me?”

“One of my tenants happened to catch sight of your carriage on the road to Dover.” His voice was low and dangerous. “It did not take a great deal of imagination to realize you must be attempting to flee to Paris.”

“That does not explain how you discovered this hotel.”

“I learned that a young widow’s carriage had broken down just outside of Paris. I checked with the local wheelwrights and happened to catch a glimpse of your groom and followed him here.”

Damn that worthless carriage. If not for the stupid wheel breaking off they would be well on their way to St. Petersburg and Stefan would never have caught her.

“Very clever.”

“Not particularly.” His grip on her neck loosened to allow his fingers to brush at the sensitive skin. “If I had not allowed myself to be bewitched by a pair of angel eyes and a body meant to torment a man, you would never have been allowed to escape in the first place.”

She gritted her teeth, willing herself not to respond to his light caress.

“Escape? I am not your prisoner, your Grace.”

He nipped her ear. “You will call me Stefan, and you are now very much my prisoner.”

“You have no right.”

“No?” he challenged in scathing tones. “As Duke, and by tradition the current magistrate, I have every right to hold a disreputable thief as my captive and return you to Surrey.”

A mortified heat flooded beneath her cheeks. Lord, how had she ever allowed her mother to convince her to become involved in her crazy scheme?

Nadia Karkoff might be an expert at manipulation and political maneuvering, but Leonida possessed a deep aversion to deceit.

Which perhaps explained why she was such a dismal failure at it.

“How dare you?” she blustered, her words sounding weak even to her own ears. “I am no thief.”

“A thief.” His hand cupped her chin. “And a liar as well.”

Leonida’s embarrassment shifted to anger. Whatever her sins, she had only done what was necessary to protect her mother and the Emperor.

Stefan would do exactly the same in her position.

“I swear if you do not release me, I will.

“What?” he taunted.

Her nerves simply snapped. She was weary, terrified and not at all pleased to be treated as some sort of hunted animal.

Before she could even consider the consequences, she lowered her chin and sank her teeth into the soft skin between his thumb and finger.

Stefan gave a startled grunt, then with a humiliating ease, he had her off her feet and was striding across the room to toss her onto the bed. Before she could catch her breath, he had landed on top of her, his heavy body pressing her into the mattress.

“Hellcat,” he muttered, his eyes dark with an emotion that made her shiver in alarm.

“Damn you.” She pressed her hands against his chest, acutely aware of the delicious heat already curling through her stomach. “Why will you not leave me in peace?”

“You know why,” he muttered, his tone distracted as his brooding gaze studied her flushed features. “Besides, you have something that belongs to me.”

Only brute force kept her from glancing toward the luggage she had tucked in a corner.

“And what is that?” she demanded.

A slow, worrisome smile curved his lips. “I have yet to discover, but I assure you I will enjoy the search.”

“You accuse the daughter of the Countess Karkoff without knowing what I supposedly stole, not to mention without proof?”

“Yes.”

Her hands slipped against the soft fabric of his dove-gray coat, landing on his shoulders. She shuddered at the feel of hard muscles beneath her palms.

Stefan was no soft, overly pampered aristocrat. He was a man who worked hard to maintain his estate and possessed the ruthless strength to prove it.

“You are outrageous,” she breathed.

“I am only beginning,” he said huskily, his head lowering to stroke his lips over her heated cheek. “You have no notion just how outrageous I intend to be.”

“Stefan, no.”

“Why did you come to Meadowland?”

“I did not. I traveled to England to visit Lord and Lady Summerville.” She gasped as his fingers tugged at the ribbon holding the high neckline in place. “Stop that.”

“A ribbon for every lie, my dove,” he warned. “Why did you come to Meadowland?”

“I told you, I…”

Another ribbon was untied, the heavy material of the gown falling open to reveal the thin shift that was all she wore beneath. It was too hot to endure the usual layer of underclothing.

“The truth.”

She licked her lips, her heart pounding. “My mother requested that I come to England.”

“Specifically to Surrey?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Her gaze lowered to the simply tied cravat, unwilling to meet his relentless stare as she sought a suitable lie. “I believe she hoped I could discover an interest in an English gentleman since I had refused all my Russian suitors.”

“Tut, tut,” he murmured, undoing the ribbons to her waist. “A maiden with your pedigree and beauty would never squander herself in the country. Not when you could have dazzled your way through London society.”

She made a sound of disgust at his ridiculous words. “I am not the sort of woman who dazzles anyone.”

“I must disagree.” His gaze ran a searing path down the plunging neckline of her shift, lingering on the hardened tips of her breasts that peeked through the lace. “I have never been so dazzled.”

She stirred beneath him, a restless need coiling through her body. “You…”

Her words cut off in a startled moan as he captured the nub of her nipple between his lips. The moistened lace molded to her body, his hot breath making her skin prickle in delight.

“Tell me the truth, Leonida,” he muttered.

Her fingers tangled in his hair, her body helplessly responding to his skillful touch. “I cannot.”

He shifted to tease her other breast. “Why?”

She struggled to think through the fog of pleasure clouding her mind. “Because my mother is in grave danger.”

“What danger?”

He did something with his teeth that made her back arch off the bed.

“I have sworn not to tell.”

“How very convenient.”

“Are you jesting?” she muttered. “It has been anything but convenient.”

“Poor Leonida,” he mocked, deftly unraveling the remaining ribbons and pushing the heavy gown off her shivering form. “Shall I make it all better?”

“What are you doing?” she stupidly demanded, her limbs melting beneath the slender hands that roamed with a growing urgency over her skin.

“I have decided the truth can wait, but I cannot,” he growled, spreading kisses over the curve of her breasts.

Her breath was squeezed from her lungs, her heart skipping a beat. “Oh.”

Lifting his head he regarded her with a tormented gaze. “Damn you.”

“Me?” Her eyes widened at his harsh tone. “I have done nothing.”

“You have plagued me since you first came to Surrey. I cannot concentrate on anything but you. I have neglected my duties, my tenants and even my brother.”

“If you will recall, I left Meadowland. You are quite at liberty to concentrate on whatever you please.”

“I will not have peace until I have rid myself of this hellish craving.” He caught her lips in a fierce, punishing kiss. “I want you out of my thoughts.”

“This hardly seems the best means…” she began, only to choke on the words as he grasped the bodice of her shift and ripped it in two. “Why the devil did you do that?”

“I will buy you another.” He groaned as he struggled to yank off his cravat, a flush of color staining his cheeks. “Christ, I will buy you an entire wardrobe. Just kiss me.”

Against all sense and reason, Leonida did.

L
EONIDA HAD NEVER BEEN STRUCK
by lightning, but she was fairly certain she now knew how it must feel.

Quivering from the restrained fury of Stefan’s lovemaking, Leonida sucked in a deep breath as the heavy male body rolled to lie beside her on the mattress, shocks of pleasure still jolting through her lower body.

Good lord…

Unlike the gentleness that marked their first night together, Stefan had unleashed the full power of his desire, taking her with a thunderous hunger that left her drowning in sensations.