Emma sank onto one of the sofas, weary after her endless night of pacing.
“You are obviously of the desert and yet there is something oddly English about you.”
“Ah.” With a practiced motion he flipped open the box and took a small pinch of the snuff, placing it neatly on his wrist before bending his head to inhale the perfumed tobacco. He returned the box to his pocket and met Emma’s small smile. “My father sent me to school here when I was just twelve. He believed, as the pasha does, that a closer connection to the West is vital for our survival. I lived in this country until my father’s death six years ago.”
That certainly explained his ease with the English language.
“Then you are a diplomat?”
“When the occasion demands.” He shrugged, his expression somber. “On this journey, however, my purpose is to bring to an end an ancient practice that has been a blight on my country’s reputation.”
“I fear I do not comprehend.”
“The slave trade.”
“Oh.” She shook her head in confusion. “I thought…”
His eyes narrowed as she broke off her hasty words.
“You thought we were all savages who were so desperate for soft white flesh that we encourage the infidels to peddle their females in our markets?”
She wrinkled her nose, accepting she was very much in the wrong. How often she had to hide her outrage when she had overheard herself being referred to as a Russian savage? It was shameful that she would offer the same obtuse assumption.
“Forgive me.”
He held up a slender hand, his expression rueful. “No, it is I who begs your forgiveness, Emma. For too long our corrupt officials have turned a blind eye to the traffickers. The pasha, however, seeks to improve our relationship with England as well as the Continent and he has made a vow to bar the peddling of females in our markets.”
She nodded in sympathy. Despite the best efforts of the Romanovs, much of Russia still remained mired in the past. Change was never a simple matter for people to embrace, even when it might be for their own good.
“Does this have something to do with my sister?”
“I believe so. During the past few years I have noticed a number of Russian whores in the brothels of Cairo. I, of course, began my search for those responsible in Russia. You can imagine my frustration when I could discover no evidence of ships carrying unwilling females to Cairo.”
Emma was quick to realize the truth. “Because they were traveling to England.”
A pleased smile curved his lips, as if she had somehow fulfilled his expectation.
“You are intelligent as well as beautiful,” he murmured. “Yes, the girls are taken from Russia to London and sold for the private pleasure of wealthy Englishmen. Eventually the men become weary of their trinket and wish to be rid of her with as little fuss as possible.”
She ignored the sick dread in her stomach. If she allowed herself to dwell on all the horrible tortures that Anya might be enduring she would go stark raving mad.
Instead, she concentrated on the caliph’s unexpected information.
It appeared that Dimitri had underestimated his father once again. They had assumed that once the Russian girls had been sold to the English roués that they would eventually be left in a local brothel. But if the caliph was right…
Dear Lord, she had to find Anya.
Emma surged to her feet, her hands trembling as she pushed back the thick curls that tumbled about her shoulders.
“You suspect they are taken to Cairo?”
His hooded gaze seared over her pale face before lowering to her slender body.
“They are no longer innocent, but there are a great many of my countrymen who harbor a lust for such pale, perfect beauty,” he admitted, his voice low and husky.
Emma shivered, sternly refusing to allow her thoughts to stray from Anya and the beasts who held her captive.
“Do you believe the same men who have brought them to England also arrange to have them taken to Cairo?”
“Yes.”
She pressed a hand to her heaving stomach. “Is there no limit to their depravity?”
“It would seem not.” His dark features hardened, a lethal fury flaring through his eyes. “From what I have managed to discover, Count Nevskaya’s servants remain in London until they collect the Russian females that have been returned to them, as well as the English girls that are their payment, and travel to Egypt. Once there, they sell the Russians in the markets before continuing back to St. Petersburg with the English maidens to pleasure the count and his friends.”
“There is little wonder Dimitri was incapable of untangling their sordid business.”
“Tipova,” the caliph growled. “Do not speak his name in my presence.”
She blinked at his fierce response. “Why?”
“I went to great trouble to prepare my trap only to have Tipova blunder into my snare and send my prey fleeing into the night.” He straightened from the mantel and crossed to stand before her. “Along with your sister.”
“Anya.” Emma instinctively grasped his arm. “You know where she is?”
His warm hand covered her fingers, his male scent cloaking her in a musky spice.
“If she was among the females taken from the warehouse, then she is currently aboard a ship called the Katherine Marie and headed for Cairo.” The Katherine Marie? Emma would have fallen to her knees if he had not grasped her arms to keep her upright.
“Dear God, I failed her,” she breathed, barely aware of being pulled into the caliph’s arms and held against his chest. “It does not matter how I try, I always fail her.”
Still holding her close, he bent his head to whisper in her ear.
“It is not too late, Emma.”
She pulled back to meet the dark glitter of his gaze. “What do you mean?”
“My ship is being prepared as we speak. I intend to sail for Cairo within the hour.” He smiled with a blatant challenge. “Will you join me?”
A PRISTINE LAYER OF WHITE snow draped London as Dimitri wearily entered the Huntley town house.
In the distance a church bell tolled and the sound of the coal wagon rattled over the cobblestones, but a sleepy silence remained settled over the elegant neighborhood. It might be near ten in the morning, but society remained snuggled in their warm beds. It would be hours before they were primped and prepared to meet the day.
Worthless nitwits.
Allowing the waiting butler to take his outer garments, Dimitri shoved his fingers through his damp hair and climbed the steps.
His every instinct urged him to travel directly to Emma’s chambers. The sight of the wounded fury burning in her eyes as Huntley had carried her away had plagued him the entire morning.
It was infuriating. He had only been protecting the stubborn minx despite her determination to get herself killed. God almighty, what sort of female would disguise herself as a stable boy and sneak about a neighborhood that would terrify the most hardened criminal? And then to attempt to charge after the Russian brute as if she were indestructible…
Obviously, Emma Linley-Kirov was in dire need of a man willing and able to restrain her dangerous impulses.
So why did he feel an overwhelming compulsion to seek her out and banish the shadow of betrayal from her eyes?
Climbing the marble steps, he was jerked out of his thoughts as Huntley appeared on the landing above him, clearly having lain in wait for his return.
“Tipova. At last.” The duke wore a brocade gown with his dark hair tousled and his face unshaven, but his casual appearance did not lessen his imperious manner as he gestured for Dimitri to follow him into the book-lined study. He waved a slender hand toward the walnut desk as he crossed to toss another log into the fireplace. “The brandy is on the desk.”
“I prefer my vodka,” Dimitri said, pulling out his silver flask as he strolled to stand beside the bay window that offered a view of the snowy street below.
&nbs
p; Stefan replaced the fire screen, then joined Dimitri at the window.
“You look like hell.”
“Which is precisely how I feel,” Dimitri admitted.
The duke’s astute glance lingered on the bloody rip in Dimitri’s coat.
“Shall I summon a surgeon?”
“I have recovered from far worse.” He took a drink of the vodka. “Have you spoken to Emma this morning?”
“It is still early. She is asleep in her bedchamber.”
Dimitri narrowed his gaze. Emma was frantic with her concern for her sister, not to mention anxious to stick a dagger in his heart, he would bet his last ruble she was pacing her floor as she awaited his return.
Assuming she had not found a means of slipping past Huntley’s servants.
“Are you certain?”
Huntley grimaced. “I personally locked her in her rooms despite my wife’s fervent protests. Any debt between us is now paid in full.”
A sympathetic smile touched Dimitri’s mouth. He had been subjected to Leonida’s “fervent protests” during her stay in St. Petersburg.
“Agreed.”
“Tell me what happened after I left,” Huntley commanded. “Did you manage to locate Sanderson?”
Dimitri rubbed the aching muscles of his neck, still awaiting the sense of elation he had expected to feel. He told himself that he was too weary to properly celebrate his victory.
“I apprehended him as his carriage was leaving his town house. By the amount of luggage he had packed I assume he intended to be away from his home for a considerable length of time.”
“Did he struggle?”
“He fell to his knees, weeping like a baby.”
Huntley shook his head in disgust. “Spineless coward.”
“He did manage one lucky shot,” Dimitri muttered, his arm aching from the bullet wound. “The bastard.”
“Where is he now?”
“Your message to Liverpool ensured the prime minister was prepared for my arrival with my captive. Liverpool swore that Sanderson would be well guarded until he could finish his confession to the king.”
“And then?”
“Then he is to be given into my care to be taken to Alexander Pavlovich.”
“What of the others?”
Dimitri shrugged as he turned to pace the floor. Despite the exhaustion that clung heavily to his body, he felt oddly restless.
Or perhaps not so oddly, he wryly acknowledged.
The incessant need to be with Emma was an itch that would not be dismissed. She was his to protect, a savage voice whispered in the back of his mind. Not Huntley’s.
“The king’s guards have been sent to capture Timmons and Jergens. They should be in custody by the end of the day,” he muttered, unnerved by the primitive sensations that smoldered deep in his heart. “It will take weeks, if not months to gather the various servants involved.”
“So it is done.”
Dimitri turned back toward his companion, his expression grim.
“Not entirely.”
“Ah.” Huntley gave a nod of comprehension. “Anya.”
“Your servants have been searching through the stews, but thus far they have found nothing.”
“That is unfortunate.”
Dimitri’s sharp laugh echoed through the room. “It is more than unfortunate. Emma will hold me responsible if we do not find her sister.”
Huntley offered a smile of sympathy, wise enough not to bother with absurd assurances that Emma would understand Dimitri was only doing what was best for her. They both knew the woman could not be reasonable when it came to her sister.
“They cannot hide forever, and I assure you that I have the roads leading from London being watched,” he promised. “They will not slip past my guards.”
“And the docks?”
With a shrug, the duke moved to pour himself a glass of brandy. “I have sent word that anyone seeking passage for a number of young ladies is to be detained.”
Dimitri’s brows snapped together. “Huntley, men who are in the smuggling trade do not purchase tickets.”
“Perhaps not as a rule, but those men had no plans to flee London without notice. It is not a simple matter to arrange for a ship willing to sail with illegal cargo.”
“True enough,” Dimitri grudgingly conceded, still far from satisfied.
There were a large number of captains willing to turn a blind eye to smuggled goods with the proper incentive, but there were only a handful who were willing to dabble in the slave trade. It would surely take Valik a few days to arrange passage out of England.
Unless…
The flask dropped from his hand, the fine vodka spilling across the Persian carpet.
Huntley stepped toward him with a frown. “Tipova?”
“It is a simple matter if there is already a ship waiting,” he gritted.
“What?”
“The Katherine Marie.”
Huntley’s eyes widened. “Bloody hell.”
“Well, I hope the two of you are pleased with yourself.”
As one they both turned to head toward the door, only to be halted as Leonida swept into the room, appearing remarkably beautiful in an ivory morning gown trimmed with sable and her golden hair artfully curled, but it was the angry flush on her cheeks and the tears glittering in her eyes that captured Dimitri’s attention.
“Darling, now is not the best time…” Huntley began, then paused as his wife pointed a finger directly in his face.
“She is gone.”
An icy dread sliced through Dimitri. “What did you say?”
Leonida turned to glare in his direction, her expression one of furious accusation.
“Since I refuse to starve my guests while they are being held as a prisoner beneath my roof I had a breakfast tray prepared,” she hissed. “When I entered Emma’s room I discovered her bed had not been slept in and that her belongings were missing. She is gone and you have no one to blame but yourself.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
EMMA STOOD AT THE BOW of the ship, watching the dancing waves that shimmered the color of mercury in the sunlight. In the distance, the coast of Alexandria was drawing ever closer, making her shiver at the exotic silhouettes of domes and obelisks that stood starkly against the vivid blue sky. Dear Lord, had she been a fool to come here?
It was a question that had haunted her since she had allowed Caliph Rajih to lead her from the Duke of Huntley’s town house to his waiting ship.
Not that Rajih had given her cause for alarm, she conceded. In truth, he had behaved as a perfect gentleman during the voyage, joining her only for dinner in her private cabin before placing a chaste kiss on her lips and disappearing topside.
Emma could not discern whether his restraint was because the rough seas had demanded his full attention among the crew or because his flirtations in London had merely been a means to lure her onto his ship.
Or perhaps he considered her a female worthy of more than a convenient affair that would make her a source of amusement among his crew.
Unlike some gentlemen of her acquaintance…
Her hands tightened on the brass railing, her teeth clenching at the unwelcome thought of Dimitri Tipova.
No, she would not waste her time thinking of the man who had sacrificed her sister for his own revenge.
“Imposing, is it not?” a soft male voice whispered in her ear.
She turned her head to discover Rajih at her side, her eyes widening in surprise at the sight of him standing in his traditional white robes. Accustomed to seeing him in European attire, she could not deny a faint shiver of appreciation at the sight of his sophisticated facade stripped away to reveal the ruthless man of the desert beneath.
Of course, what woman would not appreciate the striking beauty of his dark, austere features and black eyes that burned with a restless intelligence?
Disturbed by her unexpected reaction to his presence, she abruptly turned to regard the vast citadel that Rajih was p
ointing out with obvious pride.
Constructed of pale stone, the large fortress consumed most of the island where it had been built to defend the city of Alexandria. Her gaze obediently skimmed fortified walls and forbidding castles that no doubt had terrified potential invaders.
“Very impressive.”
“Yes, however it is a pity that the famed lighthouse that once stood in that precise location was destroyed. It was said to possess a vast mirror that could offer glimpses of distant cities and could cause attacking ships to be consumed by flames.”
A portion of her tension eased at his light tone. As was no doubt his intention, she acknowledged with a faint smile.
“A most astonishing mirror.”
“It was. But now it is lost like so many of our treasures.” He shrugged, the anguished regret she sensed deep inside him at the callous plunder of his country tempered by a grim determination to regain command of Egypt’s future. “But enough of the past.” He swept his hands toward the busy quay. “This is the future.”
Emma’s attention turned toward the docks, momentarily dazzled by the large crowd milling along the banks of the river. Men with turbans, veiled women, sailors, fishermen, hawkers and children in all hues filled the air with a near-deafening clatter.
It was confusing and strikingly foreign and for a moment, Emma breathed in the brilliant sights and sounds. How different this was from her cold, barren cottage in Yabinsk.
Never in her wildest fantasies could she ever have considered the thought of standing at the bow of a ship with a handsome caliph at her side as they arrived in Egypt.
With a shake of her head she sharply reminded herself of the reason for her to be so far from home.
“Exquisite, but far more crowded than I expected,” she admitted, her brow furrowed with concern. “How will we ever find Anya among so many?”
“It is doubtful the men will linger in Alexandria. They will earn a far better price for their merchandise in Cairo. For now there is nothing to be done but to appreciate the charms of the city.” Rajih stepped closer, a smile curving his lips as she gave a sudden exclamation of delight. “Tell me what you see.”
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