Scoundrel's Honor (21 page)

Distantly, she was aware they had entered the seraglio and he was headed toward the private apartments. She could smell the burning incense and the precious oils beside the baths, but she made no effort to struggle from his grasp.

Why bother?

She wanted Dimitri.

Desperately.

Finding her apartments with unnerving accuracy, Dimitri stepped into her bedchamber where a fire already burned against the chill of the approaching night. He shut the door behind them and slid her down his body until she was standing directly in front of him.

“You have plagued my every dream,
milaya,
” he rasped, a flush staining his cheeks and his eyes glittering with a hectic fire. “I have never wanted a woman as I want you.”

A renegade warmth flooded her heart. Dear Lord, how many nights had she cried herself to sleep after being treated as if she were little better than a leper by the men in her village? Or scurried from the local shops after overhearing her neighbors laughing at her threadbare gown and haggard appearance?

To the world she had offered an impervious composure allowing her to tend to her business and protect Anya from the censure of others. But inside…

Inside she had hidden the wounds that never healed.

Not until Dimitri, a tiny voice whispered.

He had been the first to see beyond her ugly wool gowns and prickly independence to the vulnerable woman beneath. And more important, the first to make her feel as alluring and desirable as any other woman.

It was a rare gift she would always treasure. Even after he was gone from her life.

She thrust aside the jagged pain threatening her heart.

In this moment she did not want to think of the inevitable loneliness in her future or the past betrayals. Tonight she would accept the pleasure Dimitri offered.

“This means nothing,” she muttered, more for herself than for her companion.

Then, before she could falter, she reached to pull the silken robes over her head, tossing the heavy fabric aside to reveal she wore nothing but slippers beneath.

Dimitri's breath hissed through his teeth, his body so stiff he looked as if he had been transformed into a statue. Although no statue had eyes that blazed with a pure gold fire.

“Emma,” he rasped, his voice thick with longing. “You have missed me, have you not?”

“No.”

A sudden smile curved his lips at her refusal to admit her inner emotions, and with hands that were not entirely steady, he hastily rid himself of his own robes before tugging off his soft leather boots.

“Your body tells me otherwise,” he husked, his gaze on her beaded nipples as he prowled toward her.

She shivered, already anticipating the feel of his hands on her bare skin.

“I do not deny that I desire you.” She bravely met his smoldering gaze. “But there is nothing more.”

Dimitri cupped her face in his hands, a hint of pique tightening his features. Almost as if he were disturbed by her indifference.

Which was ridiculous, was it not? What interest did he have in her beyond the use of her body?

“Do you wish me to beg for your affections?” he asked in a rough voice.

“You beg?” She laughed at the mere thought. “You would not know how.”

“You wrong me.” He leaned downward, softly teasing her lips with his. “It was one of my finer talents before I was sent to school. All I had need of was a cane and a rag to tie over my eyes and I could make a small fortune.”

She squashed the thought of Dimitri as a small boy
struggling to survive on the streets of St. Petersburg. She was already far too vulnerable.

“Do not remind me how talented you are in deceiving others,” she husked.

He swore at her stubborn resistance, then parting her lips with the tip of his tongue, he plundered her mouth with unrestrained passions.

Emma's pulse raced as his tongue slipped into her mouth and, arching against the hardness of his chest, she shoved her fingers into the thick satin of his hair. He groaned, wrapping her in his arms as he urged her backward. Still holding her mouth captive, he tumbled them both onto the wide divan.

All thoughts were lost as he landed on top of her, his heart beating a rapid tattoo against her tender breasts.

He should have been too heavy, too overwhelming, too…male. Instead, she savored the feel of being pressed into the velvet cushions and the rough scrape of his hair against her skin.

This was no gentle seduction. No sweet love play.

This was a raw craving that refused to be denied.

“Emma…” Breathing heavily, he brushed heated kisses over her face, his hands outlining the curve of her hips. “It has been too long.”

It had been too long. Far too long, she admitted to herself, arching beneath him in a silent plea for relief from the need clawing deep inside her.

“Then why are you wasting our time together with conversation?” she demanded, her voice strained.

He growled, his mouth trailing down her throat and over the upper curve of her breasts. Emma had no notion where her brazen manner was coming from, but she was too impatient to worry over it. She had spent too many nights dreaming of being in Dimitri's arms to squander a moment.

“As you wish,
moya dusha,
” he rasped, his hands shifting to cup her breasts so he could ravage them with his lips and tongue and teeth.

She cried out in pleasure, her legs parting so he could settle between them. The hard length of his arousal pressed against her inner thigh. She shuddered, already damp with longing.

“Dimitri.”

“Patience,” he urged, his lips moving down the soft swell of her stomach, his hands slipping beneath her backside to lift her to his seeking mouth.

“Dear…Lord,” she breathed, trembling beneath the onslaught of sensations.

He was wicked, decadent and as beautiful as a bronzed god in the flickering firelight.

What woman could possibly resist?

Certainly not Emma.

Biting her lower lip to keep her moans from filling the harem, she felt Dimitri shift until his mouth could nibble on the flesh of her inner thigh, his hands holding her still as she squirmed in pleasure.

His lips stroked ever higher, at last finding the very source of her desire. She closed her eyes in appreciation, her fingers clutching his hair as he stroked his tongue through the heart of her femininity.

Her head spun and her soft pants filled the air. That exquisite pleasure was beginning to build in her lower belly and still he continued with his caresses. Over and over he teased the tiny nub, seeming to take delight in her muffled groans.

At last she tugged at his hair, hovering on the edge of pure bliss.

“Please,” she begged, her voice barely recognizable.

His head lifted to meet her dazed gaze, his eyes glowing with a fierce craving.

“What would you have of me, Emma?”

Your love.

The words whispered through her mind only to be roughly shoved aside.

She would not ruin this night with impossible dreams.

“I need you,” she whispered.

“Yes.”

Surging upward, he entered her with one smooth thrust.

Emma sucked in a sharp breath, her hands sliding down the rigid muscles of his back as he set a relentless pace that had her soaring toward the stars.

T
UCKING
E
MMA AGAINST HIS
side, Dimitri breathed deep in an effort to slow the thundering pace of his heart.

A task that would have been considerably easier if his potent awareness of her was not still rampaging through his body and urging him to take advantage of their rare moment together.

It had been too long.

Far too long.

And the need to drown himself in the pleasure of her sweet desire was nearly overwhelming.

Unfortunately, he could not ignore the manner Emma's body was stiffening as sanity returned, her tiny hands reaching to press against his chest.

“I have missed you,
milaya,
” he whispered, pressing his lips to her hair as he sought to temper the palpable regret in the air. “This was—”

“Exquisite?” he interrupted. “Astonishing? A miracle?”

“A mistake.”

“No, Emma, the only mistake was attempting to leave me. We belong together.”

Her eyes shimmered like the finest emeralds in the firelight.

“I did not leave you, Dimitri.”

His fingers stroked the satin skin of her shoulder, his body already stirring at the feel of her warm curves pressed against his body.

“No?”

“No.” She shifted to meet his gaze with a somber expression. “I followed my sister. Something you attempted to prevent me from doing.”

His grip unwittingly tightened. “My only desire was to keep you safe.”

“That was not what I wanted of you.”

“I understand your need to rescue Anya,” he said. “I even admire your courage.”

“And yet you locked me in Lord Huntley's house while you allowed Anya to be taken from London.”

He swallowed a sigh. How many years had it been since he had explained his decisions to anyone? Quite likely it had not been since his mother's death.

And most certainly he did not apologize. Not ever.

At least, not until Emma Linley-Kirov.

“For how long do you intend to punish me for my impetuous decision?” he asked, his voice low.

She shifted on the cushions, a faint color staining her cheeks.

“I am not attempting to punish you. I am merely explaining why we cannot possibly be lovers.”

His brows lifted as he swept a glance down her naked form.

“And yet we are.”

She arched away, her features hard with a frustrating denial. “No.”

“Emma, I have apologized for not putting Anya before my revenge scheme, but I truly believed we would easily be able to find the girls once Sanderson was captured.” He struggled to maintain his patience. Why did she have to be so damnably stubborn? “What more would you have of me?”

She tilted her chin. “Your promise that you will let me
make my own decisions even when you do not agree with them.”

“You mean I am to turn a blind eye when you wish to charge into danger?”

“It is my right.”

“It is madness.”

With a sudden surge, she wiggled out of his grasp and slid off the bed, grasping her satin robe and pulling it over her beautiful body before he could halt her. His lips twisted as he rose to his feet and pulled on his own clothing.

With her exotic surroundings and strange garb, she looked moons away from the prudish spinster who had entered his coffee shop in St. Petersburg. He wondered if she realized just how much she had transformed over the past weeks?

“You comprehend how impossible this is?” she was demanding, tying her hair in a braid with shaking hands.

His brows snapped together at her husky words. “Dammit, Emma, you seek to unman me.”

“Because I will not become a meek, biddable creature who is grateful to obey your every command?”

Biddable? He swallowed his instinctive laugh. He had never encountered a woman less biddable than Emma Linley-Kirov.

“Because you will not allow me to protect you.”

“I do not want your protection. I want—”

He stilled as she hastily bit off her words, a hint of panic in her eyes as if she had nearly revealed something she was determined to keep hidden from him.

“What do you want?”

She turned away, pacing toward the towering Oriental vase that was set in the corner of the room.

“It does not matter.”

With three long strides he was at her side, grasping her upper arm and turning her to meet his searching gaze.

“Tell me,
moya dusha.
What do you want of me?”

She shook her head, her eyes dark with an unreadable emotion.

“What you cannot offer.”

Dimitri refused to be bothered at the conviction in her voice. He would regain this woman's fragile trust. Eventually, she would put the past behind them and look toward a future together.

He would accept no less.

“Do not be so certain.” He skimmed his hand up her arm, cupping the back of her neck in a possessive motion. “I have not traveled such a distance to return home without you.”

She shivered, the pulse at the base of her throat fluttering with an unmistakable reaction to his touch.

“The choice is not yours.”

He allowed a wicked smile to curve his lips. “Perhaps not, but there is nothing to curb me from convincing you that your place is at my side.”

She studied him, her delicate features troubled. “Why?”

Dimitri paused, sensing the question was important to Emma.

“What are you asking?”

“You have had lovers before me.”

“Do you wish me to apologize for them?”

She grimaced, and Dimitri harbored the hope that she was bothered by the thought of him with another woman. God knew that he had been tortured by Caliph Rajih.

“Of course not,” she denied. “But I find it difficult to imagine you are always so reluctant to end an affair.”

He shrugged. It was true enough. He had never sought to prolong an affair. There was always the danger that his lovers would begin to hope that they could claim more than a temporary position in his life.

Of course, he had never before had a woman who continued to stir his interest, not to mention his desire, long after he should have tired of her companionship.

A part of him was terrified at his need to keep her near.

Any man instinctively understood that the moment a female became as necessary as breathing that he was in deep trouble.

The larger part, however, didn't give a damn if he were in trouble or not. The mere thought of his life without Emma was unbearable.

He brushed his lips over her forehead. “None have ever been like you.”

He heard her breath catch, but she obstinately pulled away from his touch, her expression set in grim lines.

“No doubt because they did not resist your need to be their savior,” she accused. “If I were foolish enough to give in to your urgings and return to St. Petersburg, you would soon grow weary of me.”

His anger stirred. Perhaps because there was a hint of truth in her words? He could not deny he made a habit of rescuing damsels in distress. And that he took pleasure in their feminine gratitude. It eased his guilt at his inability to save his mother.

But Emma had long ago transformed from a female in need of rescuing to the one female who could fill his heart with joy.

“Savior?” He shook his head, refusing to let her believe for a moment he considered her anything but a beautiful, desirable woman that he was determined to have in his life for all eternity. “Not even my dearest friends would believe I am anything other than a selfish pirate who takes what he wants and damn the consequences. And I assure you, I never intend to grow weary of you.”

She backed away, her arms wrapped around her waist. “It would not be a matter of whether you want to or not.
Once I am safely in your care you would have no reason to consider me as anything other than a burden you would be anxious to be rid of.”

Dimitri studied her guarded expression, sensing the hollowness of her words. Her fear went deeper than him losing interest in her.

“Do you know, Emma, I believe I at last begin to understand you,” he said slowly.

She touched the tip of her tongue to her upper lip. “I very much doubt that.”

“You are afraid.”

“Certainly, I am,” she hastily admitted. “I have been afraid since I discovered Anya missing.”

“You are afraid of your feelings for me.” He brushed a stray curl off her cheek. “That is why you continue to devise ridiculous reasons to keep me at a distance.”

Her face paled in the flickering firelight, the scent of incense nearly overwhelming.

“Your arrogance truly is astonishing,” she rasped.

His fingers lingered on her cheek, savoring the warm satin of her skin.

“Listen to me. You can trust your heart to my care. I will not abandon you as others have done.”

He felt her tense beneath his fingertips, her eyes wide and dark with wounds that she struggled so hard to keep hidden.

“Why would you say such a ridiculous thing?”

A dangerous tenderness swept through him. He desperately longed to scoop her in his arms and take her someplace where she could never be hurt again.

“Because those you loved and depended upon died, leaving you alone to shoulder burdens that have been far too heavy.” His thumb outlined her lower lip. “It is little wonder you protect your heart with such ferocity.”

For a brief, breathless moment Emma swayed toward
him, as if he had at last managed to convince her of his sincerity. Then, with a frightened shake of her head, she again stepped back, her spine stiff.

“Please just go away.”

Dimitri muttered a curse, fully intending to remain precisely where he stood until he had exhausted Emma's arguments. For all her protests he had not missed the brief glimpse of yearning he had seen shimmering in her eyes.

Emma might claim she wanted nothing more than her independence, but he had seen the truth of her heart.

It was the appearance of a robed servant who gestured at him from the arched doorway that ruined his plan.

Hurriedly hiding his disbelief behind a resigned expression, he brushed his lips over her cheek before stepping back and smoothing his tousled hair.

“Perhaps you are right,” he said.

She blinked, her defensive anger faltering beneath his unexpected capitulation.

“I beg your pardon?”

“This is not the time or place for such a discussion,” he forced himself to say.

“You are leaving?”

He smiled despite his annoyance at the ill-timed interruption. Emma could not entirely hide her disappointment at his announcement.

“It is what you desire, is it not?”

She hunched her shoulders. “Of course it is.”

With a chuckle, he leaned down to lightly kiss her lips. “Dream of me.”

He had reached the door when a delicate porcelain figurine went sailing past his head to smash against the stone wall.

“You are…impossible,” she shouted after his retreating back.

His smile remained as he followed the retreating servant toward the back of the harem.

It was odd that he had known dozens of beautiful women who were not only compliant, but eager to please him, and yet none had stirred more than a passing interest.

Perhaps fate had decided to punish him after his years of sin.

Only it did not seem like punishment. He stifled a groan as he recalled the explosive pleasure he had so recently enjoyed. For all the irritation that Emma offered, being with her was as close to paradise as a man could possibly find.

The servant slipped through a narrow door into the gardens beyond, and with an effort Dimitri shoved aside his thoughts of Emma and concentrated on the servant who slid to a halt in the shadows of the high wall surrounding the harem.

At a glance there was nothing about the veiled servant to capture his interest. There were at least a dozen females attired in precisely the same manner throughout the palace, although this particular servant was taller than most.

It was only Dimitri's familiarity with Josef and his willingness to go to any length to slip about unnoticed that allowed him to recognize the slender Russian man. And, of course, his ugly countenance that no veil could entirely disguise.

Reaching up a hand, Josef tugged aside the thin veil, and headdress, a taunting smile curling his lips.

“Yet another satisfied lover, eh, Tipova?” he mocked. “You have a remarkable talent with women.”

“My talent does not extend to appearing as one,” Dimitri teased in return, allowing his gaze to skim down the robes his servant wore with remarkable ease. Joseph was a magnificent actor who could play any role required. “You are exquisite.”

“Take care, Tipova. I have several daggers hidden beneath these robes,” the scar-faced man warned.

They both tensed as the distant sound of voices echoed through the gardens, reminding Dimitri they were standing in the gardens of a man who had only yesterday threatened to have him beheaded.

As if reading his mind, Josef silently turned toward the wall, running his hands over the smooth stones until there was a faint click and a portion slid open.

“Through here,” the man urged.

Ducking through the opening, Dimitri glanced about the dark street that ran beside the palace, abruptly realizing that Josef had managed to discover a secret entrance through the ancient walls.

“You never cease to amaze me, Josef,” he muttered as his companion joined him.

With swift, efficient motions, Josef rid himself of his robes to reveal a rough tunic and loose breeches worn by Turkish servants.

“I prefer a more tangible reward than mere amazement.”

“What of my heartfelt appreciation?” Dimitri laughed as his servant grunted his disapproval. “Do not fear, you will be properly rewarded.” His amusement faded as he glanced up and down the narrow street, ensuring they could not be overheard. “What have you discovered?”

“There was a man who resembled Valik's description who was seen in a café near the citadel.”