Where were Anya and the girls that Valik was holding hostage? If they were near she should surely hear something from them?
Were they bound and gagged? Were they being forced into silence by guards?
Were they…
She squashed her increasingly panicked thoughts, stepping toward the center of the room.
“Anya?” she called softly. “Anya?”
There was a rustle of fabric and Emma watched as the curtain across the door was thrust aside and her sister stepped into the room.
She sucked in a sharp breath, her anxious gaze running over her sister’s loose curls that were several shades lighter than her own and the pale face with a pair of large blue eyes that Emma had always envied.
Despite being clad in odd baggy trousers and a small embroidered vest that left her stomach exposed, she looked precisely as she did the morning she had disappeared and Emma felt a pang of surprise tug at her heart.
Perhaps she had expected Anya to look…different.
As if her terrifying adventure should have altered her in some visible manner.
Instead, she regarded Emma with a familiar petulant expression, her chin jutted to a stubborn angle.
“Emma?” Her voice was sharp. “What are you doing here?”
Emma blinked back her tears of joy, telling herself that Anya’s less than welcoming reaction was merely shock at her unexpected arrival.
“It was my intention to rescue you,” she said, her voice choked with emotion. “Unfortunately, it would appear that I am to be hoisted on my own petard.”
“Hoisted on a what?”
“It does not matter. Where are the other girls?”
Anya shrugged. “They are being prepared for the auction in the rooms across the hall.”
Unable to reign in her need to touch her sister and assure herself that she truly was unharmed, Emma rushed across the room, wrapping her arms around the startled Anya. “Oh, dear Lord, it is so wonderful to see you.”
“Emma, release me,” Anya commanded. “I cannot breathe.”
“Forgive me. I am just so relieved to know you are alive. You cannot imagine how terrified I have been.” Emma pulled back, her hands running over her younger sister as she had done when she was little and had taken a tumble from a tree. “Come, let me look at you. Are you hurt? Have they…”
“For God’s sake, Emma, would you just stop your tugging on me?” Anya snapped, shoving away from Emma’s lingering touch with obvious impatience.
Emma bit her lower lip, wondering if Anya was fearful that she was about to be scolded on being so foolish as to have run off with virtual strangers. Her sister resented being in the wrong and tended to strike out in defense.
“Of course,” Emma said, gently tucking one of her sister’s curls behind her ear. “At least assure me that you are well.”
“I am perfectly well.” Anya pushed Emma aside. “Or I would be if you would stop fussing over me.”
Emma wrapped her arms around her waist, attempting to hide her pain at Anya’s dismissive manner. She did not expect her sister to gush in delight that she had risked her life to come in search of her. Or even to offer a simple gesture of gratitude.
But should Anya not be at least a tad relieved she was no longer alone with the bastards who had kidnapped her?
“I cannot help myself,” Emma said slowly. “I have been frantic to find you since you left Yabinsk.”
“Well, as you can see, I am fine.”
“Yes, I suppose so.” Emma shook her head, accepting her sister’s words. Which allowed her to turn her thoughts to the question that had plagued her since she had discovered her sister missing. “Anya, why did you…”
“You know why I left, Emma,” Anya interrupted the hesitant question, pacing the small space with jerky steps. “You might have been content being an eccentric spinster who everyone mocks behind your back, but I would rather die than be cursed with your fate.”
Emma winced at the brutal description. “I never expected you to share my fate. There is no reason you cannot wed a decent man and have a home and family of your own.”
“A decent man?” Anya tossed her head, her golden curls shimmering in the lamplight. “You mean Boris Glavori who buried his first wife after forcing a dozen children on her? Or perhaps the butcher who came to call on me with blood beneath his nails?”
“Surely anything would be preferable to being taken captive by slave traders?”
“You know nothing.”
Emma shook her head in growing confusion. “Then explain it to me.”
Anya hunched her shoulders, refusing to meet Emma’s gaze. “It is true that Count Tarvek and his brother proved to be hideous creatures who should be beheaded without delay. I do not comprehend how they could ever claim to be gentlemen.”
“I assure you they will soon reap their just rewards,” Emma promised.
“But not all the men in their employ are evil.”
Emma froze, a sense of dread lodging in her heart. “What are you saying?”
With a sudden movement Anya turned away, heading back toward the curtained doorway.
“You should never have come after me.”
“But you must have known I would.” Emma followed in her sister’s wake, baffled. This was not going at all as she had imagined it would. Where were the other girls? And why was Anya behaving as if Emma were an unwelcome intruder rather than a savior? “You are my sister. I love you, Anya. I would protect you with my life.”
They entered a room barely as large as a closet with a narrow cot and a chipped washstand. Bending down, Anya yanked a leather satchel from beneath the bed and clutched it to her chest.
“Well, it is because of you that Mikhail and I have not yet managed to escape,” she said. “I can only hope that you have not yet again ruined our plans.”
“Who is Mikhail?”
“One of the guards.” Anya’s chin tilted at Emma’s horrified expression. “He happens to be desperately in love with me.”
“He is a trafficker?” Emma rasped.
Anya sniffed. “I should have known you would find fault without even knowing him.”
Emma itched to grab her sister and give her a violent shake. As relieved as she might be to have at last found her, there was no doubt Anya had not changed a wit. She was still stubborn, impulsive and utterly selfish.
“Have you taken leave of your senses?” she gritted. “My God, he is responsible for kidnapping children and selling them to monsters.”
“He has kept me safe when others would have harmed me and he intends to take me to his home in Austria.”
Emma swallowed her angry words. Why bother? Anya had never listened to anything she had to say before. And perhaps she should try and consider what her sister had endured.
After all, she must have felt scared and alone when she realized she had fallen into the hands of slave traders. If this guard had shown her a bit of kindness and had sheltered her from the others, then it was perhaps not surprising that she would have attached herself to him.
“My dear, you are not thinking clearly,” she said gently. “Only to be expected after all you have endured. Once we have returned home—”
“Never.” Anya stepped backward, a sulky pout tugging at her lips. “I will never return to Yabinsk and you cannot force me.”
“Perhaps we can visit England before returning to Russia,” Emma coaxed, refusing to acknowledge the possibility they might not find a means to escape from Valik’s clutches. “We do have family there, after all.”
Anya stomped her foot. “You have not listened to a word I have said.”
“Certainly I have listened, but you cannot expect me to allow you to remain at the power of a slave trader. It is insanity.”
“He is a good man.”
“Even if I could be persuaded to believe he is a saint I would not let you be with him.” Emma grasped Anya’s shoulders, willing the foolish girl to recognize common sense. “You are a child, Anya
, and you belong at home with me.”
The moment the words tumbled from her lips she wanted to call them back. Over the past months Anya had become increasingly sensitive to being seen as a girl rather than a woman.
Whirling on her heel, she stormed back into the larger room, her cheeks stained with color.
“You always ruin everything.”
“Anya, this is ridiculous.” Emma clenched her hands, following behind her sister. “I have traveled from St. Petersburg to London to Cairo to find you. Once we find a means to escape then we will discuss your future.”
Anya never slowed as she headed to the back of the attic. “I no longer have to obey you, Emma Linley-Kirov.”
“Did you ever?”
“I am a grown woman and I will make my own decisions.” Reaching the small ladder, Anya turned back to glare at Emma. “I will never return to that horrid cottage.”
Emma faltered, her heart twisting with distress. Had she not sacrificed everything to ensure her sister could have a stable home?
“Was it truly so bad?” she rasped.
“It was horrible. Like being caught in a poacher’s trap.” Anya shuddered, her pretty features hard with disgust. “God, there was nothing but snow and mud and ignorant villagers who had nothing better to do with their days than to make life a misery for others.”
“But we had each other.”
“Each other?” Anya’s shrill laugh grated against Emma’s tender nerves. “No, I was just another cross that St. Emma had to bear.”
“Anya,” Emma breathed, studying her sister as if she had never seen her before. And perhaps she hadn’t. Before their father’s death he had warned Emma that she was spoiling little Anya and that it would be better for the young girl to take on a few of the responsibilities around the cottage. Emma, however, had wanted to protect her sister from the tedious chores. Now it seemed that her effort to help Anya had only created resentment in the younger woman. “That is not true.”
“Of course it is.” The blue eyes darkened with a simmering antipathy. “You have reveled in your role as martyr since mother died. Do you know how often I was scolded to be properly grateful that you had sacrificed yourself for me?”
“Would you have preferred that I had abandoned you?” Emma wrapped her arms around her waist, as if she could protect herself from Anya’s cutting condemnation. “Or taken you to an orphanage?”
Anya sniffed. “You could have sought help from our relations. There had to have been at least one family member who would have offered to provide us with a decent allowance so we did not have live as though we were no better than serfs.”
Emma grimaced. “I could not beg for charity from complete strangers.”
“Only because your pride was more important than my happiness. If you had considered my feelings at all then I would never have allowed the count to lure me away from home.”
Emma shifted uneasily. How could she deny the charge? She had allowed her pride to prevent her from seeking assistance from the family she had never known. Of course, she could hardly have suspected that Gerhardt Herrick would be so kind. Or that he would have been so willing to acknowledge a distant relative.
At the time she had only known that it was her responsibility to find the means to support her sister and she had done the best she could.
“Anya…” Her soft plea was interrupted by the sound of a slamming door from below and the rumble of male voices. Emma stiffened, an icy fear flowing through her veins. Valik had warned that the auction would be held tonight. Was it beginning? “What is that?”
“Yet more trouble. No doubt because of you.”
With a last glare, Anya turned to climb the stairs.
“Where are you going?” Emma demanded.
“I told you that Mikhail intends to take me to his home.”
“How do you intend to escape?”
“He promised he would tend to the details.” Reaching the top of the ladder, Anya reached up to push open a trap door. “I am to meet him on the roof.”
Emma tilted back her head, unable to believe after all that had occurred that her sister could still behave in such a reckless fashion.
“You are placing your trust in a slave trader who has not even shared his plan of escape?” she rasped, reaching to grab the skirt of Anya’s gown. “For God’s sake, he will have you completely at his mercy.”
Anya kicked out, dislodging Emma’s hand. “Let go of me.”
“Please, Anya, listen to me.”
“No.”
Anya shoved her satchel through the small opening before scrambling behind it, pulling herself out of the attic and onto the roof.
Emma grabbed the ladder and prepared to climb after her sister. “Wait.”
Anya peered through the opening, her curls tumbled about her pale face.
“I am sorry, Emma, but you cannot come with us.”
Emma’s eyes widened in stunned disbelief. “You intend to leave me here to be sold in a slave auction?”
“You should never have followed me.”
“Anya.”
The trap door was slammed shut and Emma listened in amazement as there was the sound of scraping, as if something were being shoved over the door to keep it from opening. Still, Emma remained poised on the ladder, refusing to believe her sister would actually abandon her in the attics while she made her own escape.
No matter what happened in the past, Anya could surely not be so heartless?
It took nearly a quarter of an hour for Emma to accept that her sister could indeed be that heartless. She had climbed the ladder, pounding on the trap door that would not budge and futilely calling for her sister who refused to answer.
At last she had been forced to accept defeat.
“Dear God,” she muttered, laying her head against the wooden rung of the ladder and closing her eyes in weariness. “I have been so stupid.”
WITH AN ANNOYED impatience, Dimitri allowed the two guards to roughly drag him through the brothel, at last shoving him onto a low divan in the parlor.
It had taken three attempts to at last be caught by the ridiculous fools. He had all but approached them and requested a waltz before they had noticed him pretending to pick the lock of a side door. He could only assume that the men had grown weary of guarding females who had yet to earn a single ruble for them.
Now, he turned his head to watch as Valik entered the room, his hair tousled, as if he had run his fingers through it more than once. The expression on his beefy face, however, was smug. No doubt he was preening at the mistaken belief he had accomplished something no other man had managed.
“Ah, Dimitri Tipova,” the Russian drawled, halting directly before the divan. “You cannot know how I have longed for you to pay a visit.”
Dimitri settled more comfortably on the cushions, stretching out his legs and crossing them at the ankle.
“I should have visited you much sooner if you had not been fleeing from me in terror.” He flicked a glance toward the two guards who both stood like mindless statues. “Not that I am surprised. Those men who peddle in the flesh trade are by nature spineless cowards who skulk in the dark and prey on the weak.”
“You dare to lecture me?” Valik gave a sharp laugh. “You command every criminal in St. Petersburg, including a dozen whores. Christ, you chop off the hands of anyone who irritates you. And you look down your nose at me?”
Dimitri shrugged. “I do not force anyone into a life of sin, I only demand that they obey my particular laws, and in return I offer them my protection from those predators who are without honor.”
“Arrogant bastard.”
“So I have been told.”
“You may think you are better than me, but I am the one who came out the victor. I captured the notorious Dimitri Tipova.”
Dimitri lifted a mocking brow. “Surely you cannot believe that I stumbled into such an obvious trap? I did not rise to my current position by being stupid….” His gaze returned to the hulking gu
ards. “Or careless.”
The sneering smile faltered and Valik waved a dismissive hand toward his companions.
“Leave us,” he commanded, waiting until the men had lumbered from the parlor before returning his attention to Dimitri. “You cannot fool me. You are desperate to rescue your lover.”
Stark, brutal fury speared through Dimitri at the realization that Emma was even now in the filthy brothel, being held against her will and no doubt terrified.
“Oh, I fully intend to rescue Emma,” he said, his soft voice only emphasizing his lethal intent. “It is in your hands whether you end this encounter with enough wealth to begin a new life. Or as a corpse.”
Dimitri hid a smile as the man took an instinctive step backward.
“You are in no position to threaten me,” he snarled, obviously angered by his display of cowardice.
“You think not?” Dimitri smiled. “I assure you that you have only moments to decide whether you wish to conduct a profitable business arrangement with me or be escorted to the pasha’s citadel by Caliph Rajih’s guards.”
Dimitri watched in satisfaction as Valik paled at the threat.
Rajih had not been pleased when Dimitri had insisted that he enter the brothel alone, insisting that they wait until he could call for his servants and they could surround and attack the brothel in a coordinated effort. And Josef had treacherously agreed with the bastard. But Dimitri had refused to yield.
There would be no guards, no attacks and no shots fired until Emma was safely in his hands.
“You are bluffing,” the large man rasped.
“If you have heard anything of my reputation then you should know that I never bluff.”
Valik clenched his hands, suspicion tightening his features as he paced the floor.
“The caliph knows nothing of me or this brothel.”
“How do you think I found you?”
He shot Dimitri a skeptical frown. “You want me to believe he sent you here?”
“Do not be an idiot,” Dimitri retorted. “The caliph dared to steal Emma away from me while I was occupied in London and brought her to this godforsaken country.” He did not have to pretend his surge of annoyance. “I intend to punish him, not become his lackey.”
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