Rosemary Rogers - Scoundrel's Honor

“There is no relationship, merely a set of unfortunate circumstances that have forced us to join our resources for the time being.”

He pressed closer, caught by surprise when a raw awareness of her slender body seared through him. It was inconceivable. He enjoyed his women soft and vulnerable. The sort who depended upon him to offer support and protection. Not aging tartars who smelled of soap and starch.

“Then let me clarify the joining of resources.”

Her color deepened at the hint of huskiness in his voice. “What do you mean?”

“You desire my assistance, then you will have to follow my rules. Otherwise you can turn around and leave now.”

A tense silence filled the room he had recently converted into his private office, then without warning, Emma was shoving him away and pacing toward the window that overlooked the street.

Dimitri couldn’t deny a grudging respect for her courage. He knew only one other woman who would not have fainted or fled by now.

His mother.

The realization did nothing to ease his potent need to tame the prickly female. His mother’s courage had put her in an early grave.

“Fine.” Slowly turning, Emma regarded him with an unflinching gaze. “What are these precious rules?”

“The first is that I will not tolerate an ill-tempered termagant in my presence. If you cannot control your sharp tongue, then I will discover a means to tame it.”

Her eyes widened. “Tame? If you think I will tolerate being beaten by—”

He was moving before he could halt the impulse, his hands holding her face steady as he lowered his head and covered her mouth in a soft, coaxing kiss. He had intended to teach her a lesson in controlling her shrewish tongue, but at the first taste of her honeyed innocence his passions stirred, his body hardening. His hands tightened on her face as he deepened the kiss.

Just for a moment she softened against him, her lips parting in a sweet surrender. Then, with a choked moan, she jerked back, her eyes blazing with a fury that did not entirely mask her startled desire.

“Why, you…”

Well versed in the ways of women, Dimitri easily caught the hand she lifted to slap his face, bringing her fingers to his mouth.

“The second rule is no striking your master,” he could not resist taunting.

Flecks of gold smoldered in the hazel eyes. “Master?”

He kissed her slender fingers. “You are in desperate need of my assistance, which means that while you remain in St. Petersburg you are in my power.”

“I will not be treated as if I am a serf.”

“You will do precisely as I say and you will do so without complaint.”

She jerked her hand from his grasp, marching toward the door with her chin high and her back stiff.

“This is absurd.”

“If you walk out that door, Emma, I can assure you that you will never find your sister.”

EMMA HALTED AT THE soft threat.

Dimitri Tipova was not at all what she had expected. She had been prepared for a rough, ill-mannered oaf who used his fists, not his wits, to control the underworld. Certainly, she had never dreamed he would be a sophisticated, well-educated gentleman who was as beautiful as an angel and as wicked as Lucifer.

And that kiss…

No. She hastily thrust aside the feverish memory of her first kiss.

She was suitably rattled without the distracting thought of Dimitri’s warm, seeking lips and the potent heat that speared through her body.

Slowly turning, she met his ruthless gaze. “You know where she is?”

“No, but—”

“Then I will find someone less offensive to help me.”

He strolled forward, the scent of sandalwood and warm male skin teasing at her senses.

“There is no one in all of Russia who has devoted the time and resources that I have to uncovering the habits of those noblemen who prey on children.” Halting directly before her, he cupped her chin, his gaze briefly dipping down to her mouth before returning to meet her wary gaze. “And more important, I have only to whisper in the requisite ears and there will be no one in St. Petersburg willing to lend you help.”

“Herrick warned me that you had your share of arrogance, but you cannot possibly believe you possess the power to influence every citizen in St. Petersburg.”

“So naive,” he mocked. “Tell me, Emma, how many merchants would be willing to speak with you once it became known that the goods they purchase from my warehouses were about to double in cost? And how many servants would agree to speak with you once they learn you are a suspected spy for Alexander Pavlovich in search of traitors to the crown? As for society…” His soft chuckle brushed over her cheek, causing her stomach to clench with a startling excitement. “Well, even presuming they would be willing to meet with a commoner, they would have you tossed in the nearest dungeon for daring to implicate a noble in such a wicked crime.”

She clenched her hands, wanting desperately to walk away from the conceited beast and never look back. Unfortunately, she suspected his words were not empty boasts.

Could she truly risk the opportunity to find Anya just because this man threatened to drive her to madness?

“Why are you being so cruel?” she demanded.

“Not cruel—efficient,” he corrected. “As you said, for the moment we have need of one another. I have no intention of spending the next days, perhaps weeks, being flayed by a shrill-tongued harpy. If you behave as a lady and do as I say, we shall rub along quite nicely.”

“So I am expected to be a proper lady while you are at liberty to behave as an ill-mannered brute?”

“You are at least intelligent.” A slow, wicked smile curved his lips. “Do we have a bargain?”

Emma sucked in a sharp breath, not for the first time wishing she had been born a man. How delightful it would be if she possessed the power to knock the arrogant toad onto his backside.

“Do I have a choice?” she gritted.

“Of course.” He peered deep into her eyes, almost as if willing her to obey his words. “You can return to your home where you belong.”

“I will not leave St. Petersburg without my sister.”

“Even if I give my word I will do my best to discover her whereabouts and return her to you?”

“And why would I trust the word of a—” Her insult was sharply interrupted as his head swooped down and he kissed her with a seeking demand that made her heart skip a beat. Dear…Lord. After the death of her father she had resigned herself to becoming an old maid. At the time she had regretted the loss of many things, most notably the lack of a companion who could share her joys and fears and the mundane events that were all a part of life. It had not occurred to her that she might rue the lack of a man’s touch. Not until Dimitri had revealed just how potently addictive that touch could be. Arching back, she struggled to breathe. “Stop that.”

He studied her from beneath his thick tangle of lashes. “I did warn you that I would tame your unruly tongue.”

Emma grimly stiffened her spine, refusing to dwell on her tingling lips or the restless, achy sensation that gripped her body. Obviously she was coming down with a chill.

“I cannot believe that Herrick would request that I meet with you,” she muttered. “Do you make a habit of attacking helpless females?”

“Helpless?” His sharp burst of laughter echoed through the room. “I have hired savage, fully-armed bandits who inspire less fear than having to face your expression of cold disapproval.”

She turned her head to stare at the leather-bound books lining the shelves, determined to hide her reaction. What did he expect? Simpering and batting her lashes was not going to save Anya from disaster.