Dimitri smiled wryly. “It seems I am destined to be a disappointment to all I encounter. Have you heard rumors of Russian girls being sold in the markets?”
With a flick of his hand, Koman sent his servants scurrying from the room, leaving them alone to speak in privacy.
“In truth, Muhammad Ali Pasha’s disapproval of the slave trade has made the traffickers meticulously cautious. The females are no longer paraded through the bazaar for a gentleman to purchase.” The baron pulled a handkerchief from the sleeve of his robes, his gaze sliding uneasily away from Dimitri’s. “You must receive an invitation to the private auctions.”
Dimitri tensed. The bastard. It was obvious the man was intimately familiar with the slavers and their delicate wares.
“I am certain a gentleman of your standing could swiftly procure the necessary invitation,” he said.
“Undoubtedly, but it would be such a bother. Far better to allow the officials to tend to such affairs.” With a forced smile, the baron backed toward the entryway. “Ah. If you will excuse me?”
“Of course.”
Dimitri made no effort to halt the idiot as he scurried out of the room.
Why bother? The baron was a worthless idiot who Dimitri was embarrassed to claim as a fellow Russian. But there had to be at least one person in the house who could be of use.
With that thought in mind, Dimitri left the smoke-filled room and dredged up memories of the brief tour he had taken of the house last eve. There was a separate counsel building near the pasha’s citadel, but Dimitri recalled Koman waving a dismissive hand toward an office before leading him to his private quarters.
Passing the stairs that led to the upper rooms, Dimitri turned down a short hall and entered the large chamber that held a traditional desk and chair. Tall shelves lined with leather-bound books consumed the walls and a Persian carpet covered the floor. The double doors leading to the inner courtyard had been left open and Dimitri sucked in a deep breath of the fresh air. Although his profession meant he spent many nights in dark gambling houses filled with smoke and sin and lust, he found it increasingly unpleasant to mingle among the desperate souls.
Yet another warning he was growing old, he wryly accepted.
Stepping over the threshold, Dimitri halted as a thin gentleman with a thick mane of brown hair, dressed in a modest gray jacket and black waistcoat, rose to his feet. At first glance he appeared a somber man with unremarkable features and retiring demeanor. But Dimitri was accustomed to seeking the worth of a man beyond his outward appearance.
He, better than anyone, understood that a man could create any guise he desired.
“Stanislav, is it not?” he asked. “Baron Koman’s secretary?”
Stepping around the desk, the man offered a deep bow, his brown eyes filled with a shrewd intelligence.
“Yes, my lord?”
Dimitri waved a dismissive hand. “Please call me Tipova, I am no gentleman.”
“May I be of assistance?”
“That is my hope.” Dimitri folded his arms over his chest. Stanislav was young, but there was an air of tidy efficiency about the office otherwise absent throughout the rest of the house. “There must be one person on the baron’s staff who possesses the skill and ambition to ensure that Alexander Pavlovich is unaware that his Egyptian ambassador is a fat, lazy letch with no interest beyond his enormous appetites. I am betting that person is you.”
The man paled, his gaze darting toward the door. “Sir—”
“Any deception came to an end the moment I stepped over the threshold,” he warned his companion. “Now it is your decision whether my recommendation to Alexander Pavlovich includes the removal of the entire household or merely the baron.”
Stanislav froze, his expression revealing his flurry of emotions—suspicion that Dimitri was attempting to lure him into a trap; fear that he might be tarnished with his employer’s incompetency; and a burgeoning hope that his secretly nourished ambitions might at last be fulfilled.
It was the hope that at last triumphed, and with a small gesture, the secretary headed toward the private chamber attached to the office.
“If you will follow me?”
“You are a gentleman destined for a fine career,” Dimitri murmured.
“I can only hope I survive to reap my just rewards.” Once they were in the small chamber that held nothing more than a narrow bed and wooden armoire, Stanislav closed the door and turned to face Dimitri. “What do you desire of me?”
“You know why I am in Egypt?”
“I heard rumors that you seek a female who was taken from St. Petersburg by slavers and that you believe she was brought to the streets of Cairo.”
Dimitri nodded in approval at the concise response. “What do you know of the woman?”
The man folded his hands behind his back, his expression clouding as he considered the question.
“There have been several Russian females sold in the slave markets over the past years.” He shook his head. “Unfortunately, the poor creatures are so broken by the time I can find them that they dare not speak of the men who have abused them. A pity. I can think of nothing I would enjoy more than having the animals drawn and quartered.”
Dimitri smiled. “Do not fear, Stanislav, soon enough those men responsible for the theft of the girls will be brought to justice. If not by Alexander Pavlovich’s hand, then by my own.”
The young man arched a brow at the cold, lethal intent that was threaded through Dimitri’s voice.
“I have heard that angering Dimitri Tipova is more dangerous than crossing paths with a wolf. Now I realize the rumors did not exaggerate.”
He gave a sharp laugh. Certainly he had cast himself in the role of a dangerous wolf, stalking his prey with patient cunning. Only Emma had made him realize that he had been little better than those he hunted, willingly sacrificing young girls to sate his personal lust for revenge.
“A pity the rumors did not also claim I was man of intelligence.”
The secretary frowned. “I beg your pardon?”
“Before I could detain those responsible they fled to England with several Russian girls.”
“Ah.” If Stanislav sensed that Dimitri was not being entirely forthcoming, he was wise enough to keep such thoughts to himself. “And you believe they were traveling to Cairo?”
“Yes. Can you discover if they have arrived?”
“Do you have the name of the slavers?”
“Valik.”
“Russian.” The secretary nodded, his absent expression revealing he was already considering the best means of acquiring the information Dimitri demanded. “That should narrow my inquiries. I will begin immediately.”
“Stanislav?” Dimitri called as the man opened the door and prepared to leave the room.
“Yes?”
“I prefer discretion, but do whatever necessary to locate the girls.”
“If they are in Cairo, they will be found, that I can assure you,” the younger man promised without hesitation.
Dimitri smiled. “Czar Alexander is fortunate in his choice of diplomats.”
DIMITRI WAITED UNTIL THE sun was setting before he made his way on foot through the crowded streets of Cairo to Caliph Rajih’s palace.
With his dark coloring and traditional robes, he easily blended with the natives, capable of moving through the pedestrians without attracting attention. Not that his robes made him invisible. Unfortunate, since he had not had the need to sneak past guards since he was a lad.
Trusting his youthful skills, he slid along the high wall surrounding the palace, using the shadows to conceal his presence from the numerous guards. Then, reaching the back mews, he climbed over the wooden gate and dropped onto the cobbled yard near the stables.
A wry smile touched his lips as he realized he had managed to knock over a small marble statue, a mistake he would never have made as a lad, but at least he hadn’t broken his fool neck. And for the moment, he hadn’t alerted the entire
household to his intrusion.
Aware his luck could change at any moment, he made his way to the gardens. His visits to Cairo taught him the women’s quarters would be placed at the back of the house and surrounded by yet another wall. Egyptian men were fiercely protective of their females.
Actually, he had always considered them well beyond protective. They were insanely obsessed with keeping their wives secluded.
He was dedicated to keeping women safeguarded, but why would a man desire a harem? The various females who drifted in and out of his life were enjoyable enough, but he had never felt compelled to lock them in his home. He had enough duties without adding a large number of wives he would have to tend to for the rest of their lives.
No, he had no urge to keep a female as his prisoner.
Not unless that female was Emma Linley-Kirov, a treacherous voice whispered in the back of his mind.
Clenching his teeth, Dimitri crushed the fury that threatened to overwhelm him.
From what he could discover Emma had gone willingly with the caliph aboard his ship. In fact, the dockhands they had questioned in London had been adamant in their assurance that the female in Rajih’s company had not only been a willing companion, but had frequently urged him to hurry.
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.”
EMMA 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?
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