Scoundrel's Honor

by Rosemary Rogers

  “Dimitri,” she breathed.

  At her side Leonida cleared her throat, a mysterious smile curving her lips.

  “If you will excuse me, I promised Stefan I would save him a waltz.”

  Emma barely noticed the woman’s discreet departure. In truth she was not certain she would have noticed if the ceiling had tumbled onto her head.

  Not when her knees were threatening to give way and her breath annoyingly elusive.

  He halted directly before her, his golden eyes watching the emotions rippling over her face with unnerving intensity.

  “Did you receive my message?” he demanded at last.

  His words helped to shatter the odd sense of unreality, reminding Emma that she had waited day after painful day for this man to reveal that he had not forgotten her existence.

  “Wait for me is not a message,” she informed him stiffly. “It is a command.”

  His lips twitched. “What I have to say to you could not be put into a letter.”

  Emma lowered her gaze, belatedly realizing she was giving away more than she had intended. Hurriedly, she sought to turn the conversation.

  “Herrick revealed that you…”

  Her words stumbled to a halt as she struggled to find a delicate means to offer her sympathy.

  “Shot my father through the heart?”

  She lifted her gaze to study his guarded expression, her tender heart rebelling at the thought he might blame himself for his father’s death.

  “That you were forced to protect yourself,” she corrected.

  A rueful smile curved his lips, his hand reaching to tuck a stray curl behind her ear.

  “You would, of course, assume the best of me.”

  “If you wished to kill your father you could have done so anytime in the past twenty years.” She paused, wondering if he were truly as calm as he wished her to believe. “Did he follow you to Cairo?”

  The golden eyes darkened with a sudden impatience, his hands cupping her face as he regarded her with a sudden determination.

  “Count Nevskaya no longer matters. Indeed, nothing matters but you.”

  Emma scrambled away, her heart fluttering as she sought to confront him with a measure of composure.

  “Wait,” she husked. “There is something I must tell you.”

  He stilled, his eyes narrowing as he watched her nervously tug at the sapphire ribbon threaded beneath her bodice.

  “Why am I certain I am not going to like what you have to say?”

  She licked her dry lips. “I am leaving in the morning for Yabinsk.”

  Emma braced herself for a furious response. Dimitri, after all, was a man who expected to make the decisions for others and have them obeyed.

  Which made his rigid control all the more frightening.

  “Why?”

  “It is my home.”

  “You intend to spend the rest of your life alone in your cottage?”

  With an effort, Emma hid her flinch at the stark truth in his accusation.

  The rest of her life alone…

  It was her worst fear, but what choice did she have?

  “I have my coaching inn to keep me occupied and Anya might come to her senses and—”

  “Anya will never return to that cottage and we both know it,” he overrode her, shifting to block her path to the door.

  How had he suspected she intended to flee?

  “There is no need for you to be so cruel.”

  Frustration flared through the beautiful golden eyes. “Obviously there is every need. You are stubborn beyond reason.”

  Her chin tilted as she regarded him with a hint of outrage. Deep inside she knew it was foolish to hope that Anya would return to the cottage. And in truth, she was not certain if she could ever fully forgive her sister for her betrayal.

  But Dimitri Tipova had no right to criticize her decisions.

  “If that is what you believe then you will be pleased to be rid of me,” she muttered.

  Dimitri stepped forward, his hands lightly grabbing her upper arms as his features softened with regret.

  “Moya dusha, please forgive me, but you must realize that returning to the cottage will not bring back your family.”

  A familiar pain tugged at her heart. “I am well aware that my family is gone. You have no need to remind me.”

  “Then why are you leaving?”

  She heaved a resigned sigh. This man dared to claim that she was stubborn.

  “I cannot remain in St. Petersburg.”

  “Have you developed a dislike for the city?”

  “Really, Dimitri,” she snapped with impatience. “You must be aware that Vanya was wed earlier today.”

  He grimaced with rueful amusement. “I could not fail to notice since she devoted the past quarter of an hour lecturing me on my ill manners in missing the ceremony.”

  “Then you must realize it would be impossible for me to remain beneath the roof of newlyweds.”

  “They are not precisely the traditional newlyweds,” he pointed out. “They have been lovers for the past twenty years or more.”

  Emma refused to be swayed. Vanya’s wedding was, after all, no more than a convenient excuse to leave St. Petersburg.

  “I am still intruding.”

  They glared at each other for a tense moment, then a slow, worrisome smile tugged at his lips, his brooding gaze gliding over her wary face and down to the scooped line of her bodice.

  Emma shivered, her skin prickling as if she could feel the heat of his gaze.

  “Vanya would not agree, but it was never my intention that you should reside here.”

  “Your intention?” She stiffened at his nonchalant tone. “You have no say in where I live…”

  With his typical arrogance, Dimitri ignored her stern warning, his hands tightening on her arms as he yanked her against his chest. In the same motion his head swooped downward, claiming her mouth in a kiss of brazen possession.

  Tiny jolts of pleasure raced through her, heating her blood and causing her toes to curl in her ivory slippers. He tasted of champagne and untamed male as he teased his tongue between her lips, his grip easing so his fingers could lightly caress her bare arms.

  Emma shuddered as anticipation fluttered in the pit of her stomach.

  She had ached for weeks for this man’s touch. His hard, lean hands exploring her body, his seeking mouth stirring a wicked need, his low voice whispering encouragement in her ear.

  Now she was forced to swallow a whimper of disappointment when he pulled back to study her flushed face.

  “If you prefer the country I have an estate near Moscow and another just beyond Kiev,” he murmured.

  She blinked, struggling to follow his words while her body trembled with desire.

  “You want me to live with you?”

  “Of course.” He peered deep in her eyes. “We belong together.”

  She shook her head sadly. “I cannot be the woman you want.”

  “No,” he readily agreed, “you are the woman I need.”

  She paused, uncertain. “Need?”

  “Before you came into my life, I thought it was enough to surround myself with those in need, filling the emptiness in my heart with a hatred for my father.”

  “You should not dismiss what you have accomplished,” she chided. “Herrick has told me of those you rescued from the streets.”

  “I am a sinner, not a saint, Emma.” He gently brushed her cheek with the back of his hand, his expression somber. “And I have begun to realize that a part of my need to be the savior is because it allows me to keep others at a distance.”

  “I do not understand.”

  With a sigh he dropped his hands and turned to pace toward the center of the room. Emma frowned, startled by the hint of vulnerability she had glimpsed in his eyes.

  “When people depend upon me, all I need offer them is my protection. There is no danger to my heart,” he confessed. “But you refused to accept my rules.”

&nb
sp; “Which is why we are so unsuited.”

  He swung back to meet her puzzled gaze. “No, it is why we are so perfectly matched.”

  “You are making no sense, Dimitri. We are forever squabbling with one another.” She shrugged. “How could we possibly be suited?”

  He hesitated, considering his words, then squaring his shoulders he peered deep in her eyes.

  “The simple answer is that I love you, Emma Linley-Kirov.”

  Emma stumbled backward, her hand pressed to her chest in a futile effort to still her racing heart. Obviously, the heat of the desert sun had damaged Dimitri’s mind.

  “No,” she breathed. “It is not possible.”

  Dimitri arched his brows, smiling wryly at her less than joyous response to his declaration of love.

  “Not possible?”

  “No.”

  He prowled forward, not halting until she was backed against the wall.

  “Perhaps you should explain, since I am quite certain of my feelings,” he said, the very softness of his tone conveying his sincerity.

  Astonishing.

  She shook her head, her mouth dry. “We have nothing in common.”

  “I suppose that is true enough,” he readily agreed. “You are a proper lady while I am a notorious criminal and the son of a whore. I have no doubt that you are far above my touch.”

  She gasped. Surely he could not believe such nonsense?

  “You must know that was not what I meant at all.”

  “Then what did you mean?”

  “I am not beautiful or sophisticated or fascinating.”

  “Emma—”

  “No.” She placed her hand across his mouth. Did he know how desperately she wanted to toss aside all reason and accept his pledge of love? It was only the fear that she could never truly offer what he needed to heal his wounds that made her hesitate. “I am a simple woman who desires a quiet life. I have had quite enough adventure.”

  Pressing his lips to her palm, Dimitri gently tugged aside her hand, his eyes glowing with a near feverish light.

  “Oddly enough, I have recently developed a taste for a quiet life, as well.”

  The mere thought was enough to bring a grudging smile to her lips.

  “You?”

  “I must admit that I am as shocked as you, milaya,” he teased, aimlessly rubbing his thumb over her inner wrist. “I never imagined that one day I would hand the reins of my empire to another.”

  “You mean—”

  “As of today Josef is now the Beggar Czar,” he proudly announced. “While I am a mere gentleman who is unencumbered by such vast responsibilities.”

  She shook her head in bemusement. It certainly seemed the day for surprises.

  “Why would you do such a thing?”

  He leaned down to brush a soft kiss over her lips. “Because I intend to devote myself to my wife and children.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  DIMITRI PRESSED HIS THUMB to the rapid flutter of Emma’s pulse at her wrist, wryly aware that she appeared closer to swooning than leaping for joy.

  How was it possible that a woman who had confronted scoundrels and kidnappers and slave traders without flinching was in a near panic at his marriage proposal?

  “Dimitri,” she at last managed to rasp. “What are you saying?”

  “I am asking that you become my wife.”

  “Your…wife?”

  His lips twisted. Perhaps he should have rehearsed his proposal. It was obvious he was making a botch of it.

  “Am I not speaking clearly?”

  She shook her head, her expression wary. “I comprehend the words, but I cannot accept that Dimitri Tipova, the scourge of St. Petersburg, could ever be satisfied spending his days seated in front of a fire in some remote estate.”

  “Ah, but I intend to keep myself fully occupied.”

  Her wariness deepened. “Occupied with what?”

  His gaze lowered to the temptation of her scooped bodice. She was exquisite in the beautiful ivory gown, but she would be even more beautiful with it stripped away to reveal her own ivory glory.

  He swallowed a groan as his body stirred in anticipation. “There are a few pleasant activities that come to mind.”

  “You cannot remain forever in bed,” she muttered.

  He chuckled at her ridiculous accusation. “You should never underestimate my desire for you.”

  “I am not jesting.”

  He felt her pulse leap, but she remained uneasy, as if afraid that she might shatter if she lowered her guard.

  That knowledge tugged at his heart with a small pang of tenderness.

  He cupped her cheek in his hand. “Neither am I, but I do have other plans.”

  “What plans?”

  “To begin with I must learn the duties expected of a gentleman farmer.” He pretended to be offended when she regarded him as if she feared he’d taken leave of his senses. “You need not smirk, I have no intention of brandishing a hoe or mucking among the pigs, but I never acquire a new business without discovering the means to make it a profitable enterprise.” A determined grin curved his lips. He was astonishingly eager to begin his life on his country estate. There was nothing he loved more than a new adventure, and beginning a family with Emma would be the greatest adventure of all. “Before I am done I will know the cost of each and every seed that is planted, where to purchase the latest farming implements and which of the staff have been stealing the silver.”

  A grudging amusement shimmered in her eyes. “That will indeed keep you occupied.”

  “I shall also need to learn how to perform the typical pastimes of a gentleman of leisure.”

  “I am almost fearful to ask.”

  “I might be a master at tossing dice and picking a pocket, but I have never learned to hunt or fish or play snapdragons.”

  She frowned, clearly puzzled by his ramblings. “Why would you wish to play snapdragons?”

  Dimitri faltered, his palms suddenly damp and his mouth dry.

  He had never before been so nervous. Not even when he had been taken hostage by a particularly nasty highwayman.

  Of course, nothing before had ever been so important.

  “So I can teach our children,” he said, his voice thick.

  Her mouth opened, but nothing came out but a tiny squeak of shock.

  “Oh.”

  “You do want children, do you not, Emma?” he asked, gently.

  “Yes.” She blinked back sudden tears. “Yes, I want children very much,” she husked.

  He grimaced, gazing into her hazel eyes and knowing that he would never truly deserve this beautiful, courageous woman.

  “I know I would not be the man that most females would choose to father their children.”

  Her brows snapped together, her chin tilting. She was always determined to see the best in others.

  Which was no doubt one of the reasons he found her so endearing.

  “You are wrong, Dimitri.”

  “Impossible, I am never wrong,” he teased.

  “I cannot imagine a more worthy man.”

  He shook his head. “I was raised on the streets, hating the man who raped my mother. I know nothing of how to be a decent father.”

  Her wariness faded, her hand lifting to cover his hand that was pressed to her cheek.

  “You have been protecting and caring for others since your mother’s death,” she said. “Besides, there is only one thing a father truly needs to offer his children.”

  “And what is that?”

  “Love.”

  With a groan he wrapped her in his arms and hauled her tight against his body.

  “If I love them half so much as I love their mother, then I shall be the greatest father in all of Russia.”

  “Oh…Dimitri.” Arching back her head, she regarded him with all the emotion she had been hiding behind her brittle composure. “I love you, too.”

  His heart swelled, the years of bitterness forgotten. Never had he th
ought to ever feel such overwhelming joy.

  Certainly not with a headstrong, spirited, independent woman who refused to leave him in peace.

  “I always suspected that you were a woman of intelligence,” he retorted with a smug smile.

  She rolled her eyes. “So modest.”

  “You still have not answered my question, moya dusha.” He paused, his smile fading. “Will you marry me?”

  Breathlessly awaiting her response, Dimitri was unaware of the elegant, silver-haired gentleman who stepped in the room in a claret jacket with a black waistcoat trimmed in silver buttons.

  At least he was unaware until the man had the audacity to interrupt the precious moment.

  “You might wish to hear what I have to say before you give your response, Emma.”

  Easily recognizing the male voice, Dimitri weighed the pleasure of pulling his pistol and shooting the intruder against Vanya’s annoyance at having her wedding so rudely interrupted.

  At last it was the embarrassed pink that brushed Emma’s cheeks that had him turning to confront the damnable man, his arm keeping her tucked protectively against him.

  “Gerhardt,” he growled. “This is a private conversation.”

  The older but still-handsome man strolled across the room, deliberately ignoring Dimitri’s warning. Not surprising. Herrick Gerhardt was perhaps the second most powerful man in all of Russia.

  “Am I intruding?” he murmured.

  “Yes,” Dimitri snapped. “Go away.”

  “Dimitri.” Emma flashed him a chiding glance at his rudeness, reminding him that Herrick was one of the few people she could claim as family.

  Herrick smiled, easily sensing Dimitri’s smoldering frustration.

  “I do have a reason for thrusting myself into such an obviously private moment.”

  “A desire for an early grave?” Dimitri muttered.

  The older man’s smile widened, stirring Dimitri’s suspicions. What was the devil playing at?

  “Actually, I have just finished a most intriguing conversation with Alexander Pavlovich,” Herrick drawled.

  “And why would your conversation with Czar Alexander be of interest to us?” Dimitri demanded.

  “He was most delighted to learn that you have seen the error of your ways and have turned away from your life of sin.”