Scoundrel's Honor (20 page)

She would not be at all pleased if he intruded upon the household, tossing about demands and hauling her away from the palace.

For now he had no choice but to try and convince Emma that he was far more capable of assisting her in retrieving Anya than the caliph.

Hardly an easy task considering she held him responsible for allowing her sister to be taken from London.

Circling the shallow pond surrounded by lotus plants, Dimitri had just caught sight of the grilled gate that separated the women's quarters when a rustle had him spinning toward the fountain in the center of the courtyard.

His gaze narrowed as a dark, slender man with black hair and matching eyes stepped into view. Dimitri knew at once that it was Caliph Rajih. What other man would wear robes so richly trimmed? Or carry himself with the
sort of arrogance that made Dimitri long to pummel his too-handsome face?

A mocking smile tugged at the man's lips as he offered a low bow.

“Welcome, Dimitri Tipova, I have been expecting you.”

Swallowing a curse, Dimitri folded his arms over his chest and hid his frustration behind a mask of polite indifference.

“How very disappointing. I had not realized I was so predictable.”

“Do not be too disappointed.” The caliph strolled forward, his utter confidence warning Dimitri that he had several guards hidden nearby. “Most men are predictable when a beautiful woman is involved.”

“You have Emma?” he asked, needing to be certain.

“She is an honored guest in my home,” Rajih confirmed.

Dimitri struggled between relief that Emma was near and an irrational rage at the knowledge she had chosen to abandon him and place her trust in this man.

“Guest?” he gritted.

“Of course.” Rajih chuckled. “Do you prefer to believe she is a prisoner that I forced to Egypt against her will? Perhaps you have imagined rescuing her from my harem and earning her undying gratitude?”

Dimitri made a sound of disgust. “You know nothing of Emma if you believe she would express any gratitude at being rescued, even if that was what she desired. She is more likely to blacken my eye and demand to know why I had not arrived sooner.”

“Yes.” The dark eyes flared with a genuine emotion that made Dimitri grit his teeth. “She is quite spirited.”

“A polite means of saying she is willful, stubborn and
happy to toss herself into danger in the pursuit of her sister?” he demanded.

“I would never be so ungentlemanly.”

Dimitri offered a sardonic laugh. “Thankfully, I was raised upon the streets of St. Petersburg and not the hallowed halls of Eton. I have a peculiar habit of speaking my mind.”

Rajih waved a slender hand toward the gates of the harem. “If she is such a bother, I question why you would have traveled such a distance, not to mention risking my wrath by intruding into my home without permission, in pursuit of her.”

“Because she is mine.”

Silence filled the gardens at his stark words. Then, without warning, the caliph tilted back his head to laugh with rich amusement.

“I do not believe she would agree with your claim.”

Dimitri stepped forward, shocked by the primitive sense of possession thundering through his blood.

What was the matter with him? He was a man who prided himself on his cold cunning and ruthless logic. Only fools allowed themselves to be ruled by their passions.

But there was nothing cold in his urgent desire to bury the dagger he had hidden beneath his robes in Caliph Rajih's heart.

“For now, I am more interested in ensuring that
you
recognize my claim,” he growled.

“It would be a good deal more believable if she had not eagerly fled your company to be with me.”

Dimitri's breath hissed through his teeth. “Emma is desperate to rescue her sister. She would bargain with the devil if she thought it would bring her closer to Anya.”

“Yes, I am aware of the guilt and fear that haunts my beloved's heart,” Rajih murmured. “And unlike you, Tipova, I am willing to do whatever necessary to ease her pain.”

Dimitri winced, despite the knowledge the man was being deliberately provoking. It was true. He had failed Emma. Oh, he could claim any number of reasonable excuses for his decisions, but all that mattered was that Emma had turned to another man rather than believing he could be trusted to offer her what she most desired.

“What do you want of her?” he asked.

“Is that a jest?”

“Do you intend to keep her as your concubine?”

The caliph glanced toward the harem, his expression unwittingly soft with yearning.

“That would, of course, be the reasonable choice. She is beautiful and highly desirable, but she is also a foreigner with no connection to power and wealth. Even worse she is opinionated, ill-tempered and impulsive.”

“Do not toy with me.”

“Very well.” Rajih turned back to meet Dimitri's fierce gaze. “The thought of taking her as my wife has become a near unbearable temptation.”

His heart nearly stopped. “Never.”

“You were given the opportunity to earn the fair lady's heart, but you cared more for your revenge,” Rajih challenged.

“You know nothing of the matter.”

“I know that Emma believes you betrayed her trust as well as her heart. She will never forgive you.”

“That is for Emma to decide.”

“Her decision was made when she stepped onto my ship.” Rajih shrugged. “Accept your loss as a gentleman and walk away.”

“I seem to waste an inordinate amount of time reminding others I am no gentleman,” Dimitri snarled. “Emma will never be your bride.”

“You have no means to stop me.”

“I will see you in hell before I allow you to take Emma from me.”

“I already have taken her,” the caliph reminded him.

“Not for long.”

Dimitri charged forward, fully intending to kill the bastard with his bare hands. Emma was his. No man, powerful prince or not, was going to steal her away.

He had taken a handful of steps when the garden was filled with burly servants dressed in robes and armed with curved swords that gleamed with a deadly promise in the torchlight. Still he continued forward, his calculating intelligence for once overwhelmed by primitive emotion.

Thick, muscular arms grabbed him from behind, then a large fist slammed into his jaw from the side, briefly making him lose consciousness. When he awoke it was to discover that he was framed by two of the servants, his arms held in iron grips as he was being roughly hauled through the back gate and tossed onto the street.

Rising to his feet, Dimitri dusted off his robes and lifted his head to discover Rajih standing just inside the gates.

“A small warning, Tipova,” he drawled. “The next time you enter my home uninvited I will have you beheaded.”

Dimitri narrowed his gaze. “You will regret standing in my path.”

 

E
MMA HID IN THE MIMOSA,
watching the gates being slammed in Dimitri's face and Rajih leading his servants back toward the inner courtyard.

The sound of raised voices disturbed the night air, luring her from her private rooms, but by the time she had pulled on her robes and made her way out of the house, the servants had Dimitri in their hands and were tossing him out of the palace.

Now she stood in shadows, watching the man she had assumed she would never see again.

She had been shocked last evening when she had overheard Rajih's conversation with the Frenchman. He had sounded as if he had been expecting Dimitri's arrival in Cairo. Which was absurd, was it not?

Dimitri had achieved what he desired. He had the witnesses he needed to stand before Alexander Pavlovich and swear that Count Nevskaya was involved in the slave trade. Why would he travel to Egypt rather than St. Petersburg?

The question badgered her throughout the sleepless night and restless day.

Now she watched as Dimitri slammed his hand against the sturdy wrought-iron gates, his face shrouded in shadows. Not that she actually needed to see his face to sense he was infuriated at having been so rudely tossed from Rajih's home.

He was a man who gave the commands and expected others to obey them.

A wry smile touched her lips as her heart fluttered and her blood heated. Despite the velvet darkness and the distance between them, she could feel the tug of his compelling presence. It did not seem to matter that she was furious with him. Just the very sight of Dimitri was enough to make her tingle with awareness.

Waiting until Rajih had disappeared into the inner courtyard, Emma moved toward the gates, ignoring the tiny voice that whispered she was being a fool.

No doubt it would be far more sensible to return to her quarters and pretend that Dimitri had never arrived in Cairo. Surely she had enough troubles keeping Rajih at a proper distance and finding her sister?

But her curiosity would not allow her to simply walk away.

Or at least she told herself that it was curiosity.

Any other explanation was too dangerous to ponder.

“Why are you here?” she rasped, stepping into the pool of light from the nearby torch.

“Emma,” he breathed, his expression impossible to read as his golden gaze swept over her. “Unlock the gate.”

“No.” She wrapped her arms around her waist, feeling oddly vulnerable in the loose silk robes, her hair tumbling about her shoulders. “Please answer my question.”

“You know why I am here,
moya dusha.
” His husky voice brushed over her like a caress, shivers of unwelcome pleasure racing through her. “I came for you.”

“Then you have made a wasted journey.”

“I would travel twice as far to be near you.”

“That would be quite charming if I did not know you so well, Dimitri.”

His lips twisted. “Somehow I do not think that a compliment.”

“You did not follow me. If you are here, then it is for your own purpose.” She took a step closer. “Did Sanderson manage to escape from your grasp?”

“So far as I know he is still in the custody of King George and his guards, although Huntley promised he would be taken to St. Petersburg to be questioned by Alexander Pavlovich.”

She frowned, unable to accept he would allow Sanderson out of his sight before he was certain Count Nevskaya had been publicly humiliated.

“Then…” Her puzzlement disappeared as she was struck by a sudden thought. “Ah. Of course.”

He narrowed his gaze, as if sensing he was not going to be pleased with what she had to say.

“Of course?”

“You will have need of Valik.” She shrugged. “He is the obvious liaison between your father and Lord Sanderson. With his testimony there is no one who can doubt Count Nevskaya's guilt.”

“It is true I intend to locate Valik.” He lifted a hand to halt her angry words. “But only because he can lead us to Anya.”

She stiffened. Did he truly believe she was so gullible?

“It is too late to feign concern for my sister. You could have rescued her in London, but you chose your obsession for revenge.”

His expression hardened at her accusation. “I could defend myself by pointing out that by exposing my father, as well as Lord Sanderson and his cronies, I prevented a number of innocent girls from suffering the same fate as your sister.”

Emma glared, not willing to listen to his arguments.

“Just go away, Dimitri.”

His grip tightened on the gate, his eyes flashing with a warning that sent a chill down her spine.

“You will never be rid of me, Emma,” he swore. “It does not matter where you go or how far you run, I will always be near.”

E
MMA SPENT THE NEXT DAY
pacing through the harem, torn between the fear that Dimitri might actually storm the palace and attempt to take her by force, and a treacherous disappointment when he did not so much as make an appearance.

She was clearly losing what few wits she had left, she told herself. Dimitri Tipova had made his choice in London. Just as she had made hers.

There was nothing left for them to say.

As night began to fall she pulled on a silken robe in a soft shade of ivory that was richly embroidered with silver thread and tiny emeralds. Her curls were still damp from her bath and she left them loose to flow down her back. Then, with a dab of the jasmine oil that Rajih had sent to the harems that morning, she stepped into the gardens.

She was weary of her sense of isolation.

As lovely as her surroundings might be, she was accustomed to being endlessly occupied with one task or another and, of course, being among others. There was no privacy to be found in her coaching inn, or even the cottage with Anya and her friends constantly underfoot.

The hours of peaceful silence allowed her far too much time to imagine the horror and fear Anya must be enduring. Or worse, to ponder the memory of Dimitri as he stood at the gates of the palace, his presence still calling to her with irresistible force.

Entering the garden, she paced toward the fountain, pleased to discover the air had already cooled as dusk
began to spread across the sky in dazzling shades of pink, peach and a vivid fuchsia.

She glanced in appreciation toward the distant sand dunes that appeared purple in the fading light. A line of camels stood silhouetted in the gathering shadows and the sound of exotic birds chirping filled the air. It was a vision out of a dream.

She bent down to run her fingers through the water pooling at the base of the fountain.

“Good evening, Emma.”

Recognizing the rich, masculine sound of Rajih's voice, Emma straightened, her brows lifting as she caught sight of his lean form fitted in a dark uniform with gold braiding and several medals pinned to his chest. She had seen him in elegantly tailored clothing and the loose robes of his people, but the sight of him in full military dress was a sharp reminder of his power and position.

“Oh.” She pressed a hand over her racing heart. “You startled me.”

“Forgive me.” He bowed before drawing closer to study her with a blatant sensuality. “As exquisitely beautiful as ever.”

She smiled. “While you appear quite forbidding. Is there a special occasion for such finery?”

“Much to my dismay I have been commanded to make an appearance at my uncle's home.”

An edge to his voice warned Emma there was more to his annoyance than the invitation to dinner.

“Has something happened?”

“My uncle indicated that he was entertaining several foreign dignitaries.”

Her smiled widened. “Ah, so he wishes you to be at hand to charm them?”

“That would be my assumption under normal circumstances.”

She tilted her head to the side, studying him with a searching gaze.

“Are these not normal circumstances?”

He stepped close, his hand cupping her chin and his thumb lightly stroking her lower lip.

“Not so long as Dimitri Tipova remains in Cairo.”

“Dimitri?” She hid the sudden pounding of her heart, pretending nonchalance. “Is he in Cairo?”

The dark face was unreadable. “He is.”

“And…” She licked her dry lips. “He is to be a guest at tonight's dinner?”

“I think it is more likely he arranged for my uncle to host the dinner and insist upon my presence.”

She jerked in astonishment at the accusation. “How could he possibly have such influence among your family?”

“Tipova may not possess a title, but he has a vast fortune and he has made certain that the knowledge of that fortune is well-known throughout Cairo.” Rajih grimaced. “Including those members of my family who are always eager to attach themselves to wealth.”

Emma rolled her eyes. Of course. Dimitri was talented in the art of manipulation. Whether it was via money, power or sex.

“Even presuming that he was capable of arranging a dinner with your uncle, what would be the purpose?” she demanded.

“Obviously he wishes to keep me occupied.”

“Why?”

Rajih shifted his hand to run his fingers through her hair, his touch gentle and yet possessive.

“To steal you away, of course.”

“Absurd.”

“There is nothing absurd in his determination to have you as his own.” The dark eyes flashed with annoyance. “Nothing will deter him.”

Emma folded her arms across her waist. Why was her senseless heart fluttering with excitement? She was still far from convinced that she was the reason that Dimitri had traveled to Cairo. Or that if he had followed her it was anything more than wounded male pride.

She would lay odds that the man had never had a woman willingly leave his bed. Not, at least, until he was done with the affair. And it would only make it worse that Emma had left with another man.

“If he is foolish enough to believe he can simply carry me off I shall soon disabuse him,” she muttered.

He gently tugged her hair, his gaze scrutinizing her pale face. “Will you?”

“So far as I am concerned Dimitri Tipova is no better than any other man,” she snapped. “He is willing to use me for his own pleasure without concern for my needs.”

“Do not condemn all men,
habiba.
”

She wrinkled her nose at the realization she had been excessively rude to the man who had offered her nothing but kindness.

“It is not a matter of condemning men, Rajih, but an acceptance that I would be a fool to depend upon anyone but myself.” She touched his arm, a sadness settling in her heart. “I have been disappointed on too many occasions to offer my trust.”

A silence settled over the gardens, filled only by the splash of the fountain and the soft flutter of wings as a bird settled on a nearby sycamore branch. Emma shifted uneasily, unnerved by his steady gaze. It was almost as if Rajih was attempting to see into her very soul.

“A reluctance to trust does not mean you have managed to banish Tipova from your heart,” he said softly. “Your vehement reaction suggests that you still harbor feelings for the man.”

Heat stained her cheeks. “I harbor a desire to have him carried into the desert and eaten by the jackals.”

Rajih's lips twisted. “Ah,
habiba,
I regret I am incapable of inspiring such passion.”

She frowned at his words. Had he not just heard her claim that she desired Dimitri to be eaten by jackals?

“Anger and passion are not at all the same.”

“You are very innocent.”

Anger sliced through her at his patronizing tone. With a sharp movement she brushed aside his lingering hand and stepped back.

“If that is a kind means of saying that I am stupid I readily agree.”

Rajih shook his head. “I mean precisely what I said. There's a genuine purity about you that will remain untarnished no matter what happens in your life.” He shrugged, his gaze skimming down her slender body. “Unfortunate for you, of course.”

“Why unfortunate?”

“Because it is destined to attract the worst sort of bounders and scoundrels.” Then he reached for her, pulling her hard against his sculpted torso. “You are irresistible to those of us with jaded hearts.”

“Rajih.”

He pressed a finger to her lips, sensing her reluctance.

“I will not press you,
habiba,
but I do demand a promise.”

“A promise?”

“That you will not leave my home without first discussing your departure with me.”

Emma considered before agreeing to Rajih's request. She would not give her word lightly. Not when she expected others to fulfill their vows.

“I promise,” she at last agreed.

He brushed his lips over her forehead. “Thank you. I must go.”

“Wait.” She grasped his arm. “Have you heard nothing of my sister?”

“Not as yet,” he said, genuine sympathy in his dark eyes. “But hold on to hope, Emma. They will be found.”

She remained standing beside the fountain as Rajih bowed and turned to leave the garden.

Hold on to hope…

Such simple words, and yet they were increasingly difficult to cling to.

Lost in thoughts of her sister's torment, Emma did not hear the sound of rustling among the mimosa, or the soft tread of footsteps on the paved pathway. It was not until a pair of arms circled her waist and hauled her back against a hard chest that she realized the dangers of her distraction.

Her heart lodged in her throat as she instantly recognized Dimitri's warm scent. Not that she needed more than his touch to know who held her. There was no other man who could send thrilling quivers through her body at the mere brush of his hand.

It was wretchedly unfair.

No, there was no need to question that the man holding her captive was Dimitri. Nor to wonder how he had managed to enter the enclosed harem surrounded by guards. Dimitri could no doubt slip into the citadel and steal the pasha's jewels if he desired.

Splaying his fingers against her stomach, Dimitri bent his head to whisper directly in her ear.

“You play a dangerous game,
moya dusha,
” he warned. “If I ever witness you in the arms of another man again I will kill him.”

Emma struggled to breath, telling herself it was anger, not desperate longing, that made her tremble.

“So Rajih was right.”

His arms tightened. “Do not speak his name.”

“I will speak whatever name I might choose. You have no authority over me.”

He tensed, then surprisingly, she felt his grip ease, his lips brushing the curve of her ear.

“Such courage, and yet you tremble,” he taunted. “Do I frighten you?”

Excitement fluttered in her stomach, her toes curling as heat flowed through her veins.

It had been so terribly long since she had allowed herself to enjoy Dimitri's touch. Now her entire body ached with unfulfilled need.

Not that she was about to admit as much to the infuriating demon who was kissing a path of fire down the side of her neck.

“What woman would not be frightened when a man creeps into her private quarters and speaks of his intent to kill?” she accused.

“You must know I would never hurt you, Emma.”

“But you did hurt me, Dimitri.” The words tumbled from her lips before she could stop them.

Dimitri tensed, his warm breath teasing the delicate skin of her neck and sending jolts of pleasure down her spine.

“That was never my intention.”

Angered as much by her reaction to his touch as by his ridiculous words, she arched away from the potent heat of his caressing lips.

“Yes, it was. You have always known you would allow nothing to come between you and your revenge,” she hissed. “Certainly not me or my poor sister.”

“And if I tell you that I regret my choice? That I would make a different decision if we were back in that warehouse in London?”

She shook her head, refusing to consider his words
sincere. “I would say that it is very convenient to claim such regret now that you have what you desire.”

His grip tightened and with relentless determination he turned her in his arms to meet the blazing gold of his eyes.

“But I do not have what I desire,” he rasped, his hands gripping her hips and pressing her against the swollen thrust of his arousal.

Dangerous warmth pooled between her legs. “Stop now.”

“Emma, have you no regrets?”

She turned her head, unable to think clearly when he was so near.

“Of course I do,” she muttered.

He placed a hand against her face, firmly turning her face to meet his tense expression. For the first time she noticed the shadows beneath his remarkable eyes and the pronounced jut of his cheekbones, revealing that he had lost weight since she had last seen him. An annoying pang of sympathy tugged at her heart.

“Then surely you can find it in your heart to forgive me?” he asked.

“I do not wish to forgive you,” she said, as much to convince herself as Dimitri Tipova. “All I want is to find my sister and return home.”

“Your home is with me.”

Her heart faltered at the sheer certainty in his voice. “No.”

The golden gaze blazed over her face. “Yes,
moya dusha.
”

She pressed against his chest. It was so simple to swear she was done with Dimitri and his persuasive kisses when he was far away. But when he held her so close against him…

Emma shook her head in denial. “I have no need of you.”

“Perhaps I have need of you.”

Her sharp laugh echoed through the gardens. There was only one reason Dimitri would need a woman.

“To warm your bed?”

“I will not deny I am desperate to have you in my arms. But it is more than mere lust. You are meant to be at my side.”

“For as long as I please you.”

“For so long as we please one another.” In one fluid movement, Dimitri swept her off her feet, cradling her against his chest as he carried her toward the arched entrance of the women's quarters. “Allow me to please you,
milaya.
”

Her heart raced with a combination of anger and searing need.

“No. Rajih…”

Her words were brought to a shocking halt as he covered her mouth with a tempestuous kiss that stole her breath.

He tasted of vodka and male desire. A heady combination that made her entire body clench with an aching hunger.

“I warned you not to speak that name,” he muttered against her mouth. “The only man on your mind or your lips will be me.”

She would have denied his stark claim of possession if he hadn't kissed her again, her barely restrained desire flowing through her like molten lava. Instinctively, her arms lifted to circle his neck, her lips parting in silent invitation.