Bound by Love (12 page)

“Please…” she gasped, lost in the throes of passion.

With one last stroke of his tongue he tumbled her over the edge of pleasure, swiftly covering her body with his own as she shivered in bliss.

Her legs were still spread wide and he slid between the cradle of her hips. God, it felt as if she were born to hold him in this precise manner. And perhaps she had been. What other explanation could there be for the ruthless need that held him in its grip?

Not that he particularly cared in this moment what bewitchment she had used to ensnare him. All that mattered was easing the blazing inferno that threatened to consume him.

Cupping her face in his hands, Stefan found her mouth with a kiss just short of savage. Her arms circled around him, her fingers stroking up his spine with a tentative caress. Stefan needed no more encouragement. They had both wanted and needed this since the moment their paths had crossed.

Easing his kiss, Stefan allowed his mouth to drift down the curve of her cheek and along the curve of her neck. His hands explored her shoulders, her arms, and at last cupped her breasts so he could tease her nipples with his thumb. She groaned in encouragement, her nails digging into his back.

Stefan muttered a low curse, abruptly realizing he was dangerously close to a climax. Christ, what was the matter with him? The woman could make him feel like an overanxious school lad with no more than a few awkward touches.

Settling more firmly against her eager body, Stefan
poised his erection at her entrance. He gritted his teeth, desperately reminding himself she was a virgin as he pressed slowly into her heat.

She stiffened at the intrusion, her breath coming in ragged shreds. Stefan forced himself to still until she became accustomed to his penetration, his body quivering at the effort. Only when he felt her tension ease did he begin gently rocking against her, his mouth returning to tease at her nipple as he slid a hand between them and rubbed her tiny bud of pleasure.

Murmuring encouragement in her ear, Stefan quickened his pace, the feel of her tight passage gripping his cock sending shock waves of ecstasy radiating through his body.

He was close…so close.

She arched her hips off the bed, rising to meet his thrusts, then she gasped softly beneath him, her passage clenching about him as she found another release.

The tiny ripples were like a spark to the tinder and, arching his back, Stefan allowed the looming bliss to slam through his body.

S
TEFAN WAS NOTHING
less than furious as he stormed out of the stables at Hillside.

Not his usual mood after a night of satisfying passion.

But then, he had never before taken a woman beneath his own roof. He far preferred to meet his lovers away from Meadowland. And certainly, he had never had a woman who had sighed with pleasure in his arms disappear in a seeming wisp of smoke during the middle of the night.

“Damn.” He slammed the door behind him. “When I get my hands on her…”

“I trust that the
her
you are referring to is not my wife,” a dark, familiar voice drawled from behind him.

Spinning about, Stefan watched as his twin brother vaulted from the saddle of his snowy white mount and tossed the reins toward a groom who rushed forward to lead the horse away.

“Edmond.” He smiled, noting Edmond’s dust-stained appearance. Clearly he had ridden hard from London. Not that Stefan looked much better than his twin, he ruefully acknowledged. Although he had bathed and attired himself in black breeches and a jacket the precise shade of amber of Leonida’s favorite necklace, he knew his dark hair was tousled from the numerous times he had run his fingers through the curls and his cravat yanked off and stuffed in his pocket. “I did not expect your return so soon.”

Edmond wearily rubbed the back of his neck. “I spoke with the Queen’s advisors and did my best to persuade them that it was in her best interest to avoid unnecessary
scandal, but I do not hold much hope. Even her closest friends are no longer capable of controlling her.”

“She is determined to attend the ceremony?”

“Yes.”

Stefan shrugged. “You have done your duty.”

Edmond gave a short, humorless laugh. “Let us hope the King agrees with you.”

“She is his wife, not yours.”

“Thank God.” Edmond’s hard expression softened, a certain indication he was thinking of Brianna. “And speaking of my wife, I am anxious to see her. Did she accompany you to Hillside?”

“No, she managed to slip away yesterday while I was occupied and came to Hillside to meet with the workmen, so I made it quite clear to my staff that she was to spend today resting.”

Edmond lifted his brows. “You are a brave man.”

“Thankfully you have returned to bear the brunt of her anger,” Stefan pointed out, not at all disappointed to leave his childhood friend in the hands of her husband. Not only was she bound to be furious when she realized she was not allowed from the estate, but he had other matters to occupy his thoughts.

“Indeed,” Edmond said dryly. “If Brianna is not here, then may I inquire what brings you to Hillside?”

“I thought you were anxious to be reunited with your wife?”

Predictably Edmond folded his arms over his chest and narrowed his gaze. He might be impatient to be reunited with his wife, but he would not leave until he knew precisely why Stefan was there. Edmond was worse than a mother hen when he thought his brother was troubled.

“Now I am truly curious. Does this have anything to do with my lovely, young guest?”

“Your lovely, young guest has done a flit.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Stefan clenched his hands at his sides, recalling his initial sense of stunned disbelief when Goodson informed him that Leonida was missing and that her bed had not been slept in.

At first he had assumed that she had risen from his bed in the earlier hours and had taken a walk in the garden or was once again searching Meadowlands for some mysterious object. It was not until he realized her maid had also disappeared that he more closely examined her chambers to discover a number of her gowns and personal items missing.

His disbelief had altered to fury as he had made his way to Hillside, already knowing he would find her carriage and groom missing.

“She disappeared in the middle of the night, taking her carriage and her maid and God knows what else with her,” he gritted.

“Did she leave a message?”

“You believe she would leave a note thanking me for my generous hospitality?” Stefan snarled.

Edmond’s gaze sharpened. “I see.”

“I am pleased that one of us does.”

“Tell me, Stefan, would Leonida have any reason to feel the need to slip away in the dark of night?”

Stefan waved an impatient hand. “That is what I am attempting to determine.”

“I was referring to you, dear brother,” Edmond said softly. “Did you offer her a reason to feel she must flee?”

Stefan stiffened.

He had, of course, considered the unpleasant notion that Leonida had bolted because of their night together. For any woman the loss of her virginity could be a bewildering experience and she might have overreacted. The thought had oddly twisted his stomach with dread.

Thankfully, he had swiftly come to his senses. Leonida might have been an innocent, but she had readily welcomed him into her body. More than once. And by the end of the night she had been quite bold in her caresses.

Whatever her reason for fleeing, it had nothing to do with the explosive passion between them.

“No.”

Edmond appeared unconvinced. “Hmm.”

“Take care, Edmond,” Stefan warned, not prepared to discuss his erotic obsession with Leonida Karkoff.

Edmond’s lips thinned, but he was wise enough to realize that Stefan would not be pressed. “She must have some reason for her abrupt departure,” he instead accused.

“I can only presume she completed the task she was sent to perform.”

“And what task would that be?”

“Stealing some item from Meadowland.”

Not surprisingly, Edmond regarded him as if he feared that Stefan had taken leave of his senses. “You think the Countess Karkoff’s daughter is a common thief?”

Stefan snorted. “There is nothing common about her.”

“Have you discovered anything missing?” Edmond demanded. “The silver? Mother’s jewelry? The Van Dykes?”

Stefan shifted impatiently. He had Goodson searching the mansion, but thus far the butler’s meticulous gaze could detect nothing absent or mislaid.

That did not, however, ease the suspicion that clawed through him.

“No.”

Edmond studied him with a somber expression. “Stefan, you have behaved in a most peculiar manner since Miss Karkoff arrived in Surrey. Are you quite certain that your unwanted fascination with the woman has not convinced you to view her with suspicion?”

Stefan grimly shrugged aside his brother’s accusation. He could not deny his perverse fascination with Leonida Karkoff, but it had nothing to do with his distrust. She had brought that on herself.

“I view her with suspicion because she has devoted the past days to searching Meadowland as if she were on a
treasure hunt,” he retorted. “She was most particularly interested in Mother’s chambers.”

“You are certain?”

“Absolutely.”

Edmond shook his head. “What could she have been searching for?”

“I would presume it has something to do with Mother’s connection to Russia, but the few belongings she brought from St. Petersburg are not excessively valuable.” Stefan’s jaw clenched. “At least, to no one beyond ourselves.”

Edmond scowled, as prickly as Stefan when it came to protecting their parents’ memories. “And now she has disappeared,” he said flatly.

“Yes.”

“What do you intend to do?”

Stefan did not hesitate, turning toward the carriage he had left in the stable yard. “Go after her.”

Grasping his arm in an iron grip, Edmond whirled him back to meet his concerned expression.

“Stefan, wait.”

“What is it?”

“You are the Duke of Huntley. You cannot simply leap on your horse and dash around the countryside.”

Stefan arched a brow at his brother’s absurd words. “A lecture on responsibility from you, Edmond?”

“I will admit that I have not always been renowned for my predictable nature,” Edmond conceded with a wry smile.

“You have been a rake, a gambler, and you have quite often disappeared for weeks on end without allowing anyone, including me, to know where you have gone.”

“All true, but I always had the assurance that my brother could be counted upon to rescue me from any difficulty. Just as so many others count upon you.”

Stefan impatiently jerked his arm free. “I know my duty.”

“Then you know you must remain at Meadowland. If you wish I can contact my associates in Russia—”

“No,” Stefan sharply interrupted.

A part of him realized he was behaving irrationally. He possessed a hundred servants he could send in pursuit of Leonida, not to mention a local militia who would be delighted to oblige the Duke of Huntley. A much greater part, however, refused to even contemplate allowing anyone but himself the pleasure of capturing the current bane of his existence.

He told himself that it was simply fury at her attempt to betray him, but he knew it was far more than that. Leonida…belonged to him. And until he was prepared to let her go, he would do whatever necessary to bring her back to where she belonged.

“Miss Karkoff is my problem and I intend to deal with her personally.”

“So you admit it is personal,” Edmond growled.

“This is not your concern, Edmond.”

“Damn.” Swallowing the urge to continue the argument, Edmond heaved an aggravated sigh. “At least promise me that you will take your servants.”

“I am capable of organizing my journey.”

Edmond tossed his hands up in defeat. “You do know that you have taken complete leave of your senses?”

Stefan smiled wryly. That was the one thing he was absolutely certain of.

“Go tend to your wife,” he murmured, heading to his waiting carriage.

Paris

L
EONIDA HAD RASHLY PRESUMED
that escaping from Meadowland without alerting Stefan to her flight or having her throat slit by the dangerous Russian lurking near the estate would be the most difficult part of her journey.

Stupid, of course.

Her choice to return to St. Petersburg over land rather
than by sea had been the only sensible decision. Not only would anyone searching for her be bound to look toward the north, but she could not bear the thought of being trapped on a boat with nowhere to escape.

Unfortunately, she was obliged to travel in disguise and without being able to draw on her mother’s accounts she was forced to depend on what money she had in her purse. It also meant being stuck in Dover while her groom Pyotr haggled to sell their carriage, locate fraudulent passports and purchase tickets for the ferry, while Sophy searched the shops for a handful of black crepe dresses and veiled bonnets that would hide her from prying eyes. There was another delay in Calais as Pyotr found a suitable carriage that could carry them along the muddy roads that led to Paris.

It was little wonder her patience was stretched thin by the time they reached the outskirts of the city and a particularly nasty rut snapped the back wheel off the carriage. And that her nerves shattered completely when Pyotr informed her after the second day of waiting for the carriage to be repaired that it still was not finished.

She, Sophy and Pyotr stood just outside the limestone-coated hotel with wrought-iron railings and carved garlands above the narrow windows. The hotel could claim little more than reasonable rates and a proximity to
Saint-Honor
, but it was all she could currently afford.

Besides, it was the last place anyone would search for Miss Leonida Karkoff.

“The wheelwright claims he should have the repairs done tomorrow,” Pyotr growled.

Aggravated beyond bearing, Leonida snapped open her black lace fan. The narrow streets stifled any breeze, allowing the summer heat to gather among the buildings squashed closely together. The unpleasant warmth made even her feel like wilting.
Mon Dieu
. She was barely able to breathe behind the thick veil on her bonnet and the heavy black crepe gown was beginning to scratch against her damp skin.

“But he promised to be finished today.”

Pyotr shrugged. A tall, solid man with a thatch of brown hair and matching eyes, he possessed a stoic calm that Leonida depended upon. It was, in fact, the reason she had insisted he travel with her from St. Petersburg.

“It seems he was called from his shop by the Marquis DeSavois who was in the middle of a race from Paris to Boulogne. The wheelwright only returned this morning.”

Leonida heaved a disgusted sigh. “I suppose a mere widow cannot compete with a marquis, no matter how idiotic he might be.”

“That does appear to be the case.”

“Very well.” Leonida wrestled back the frustration that coiled through her. What was the purpose in stomping her feet and screaming like a lunatic? Without the funds to purchase a new carriage, she was stuck waiting for the old one to be repaired. “It seems I shall have to tell the hotel manager we will not be departing after all.”