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“I do not know…”

“I am not a fool,” he growled. “You are here to find the Countess’s letters. Which will save me the bother.”

Accepting her charade was hopeless, Leonida instead concentrated on his unwitting revelation.

“So, they are here.” She tilted her chin. “Which means whoever is attempting to blackmail my mother has been lying when he claims to have them in his possession. The Countess will be quite pleased.”

“Not for long,” he warned, moving with surprising speed for a man of his bulk.

Before Leonida could react, he had a large, extremely sharp dagger pressed to her throat.

“Are you mad?” she breathed, as outraged as she was frightened. The man smelled of rotting teeth and desperation.

“You will find the letters and deliver them to me.”

“Or what? You will kill me?”

“After I spend a few days making you regret having disappointed me

.” He leered down at her stubborn expression. “Or perhaps it would not be regret. A Russian woman needs more than a soft English steer between her legs. She needs a Siberian bull.”

Leonida didn’t have to pretend her revulsion. “You are vile.”

He deliberately pressed the knife deeper. “I will give you until tomorrow night to bring me the letters. I will wait behind the stables for you at ten o’clock.”

“But…” She struggled against the surge of panic. “I do not know where they are.”

“Then you had better concentrate on searching for them rather than playing with the Duke’s cock.”

She ignored his vulgarity. Later she could be horrified by the thought that this hideous man had been spying on her and Stefan.

“What if I cannot find them?”

“Then I will slice your maid’s throat and take you someplace where we can be alone. After that…” His smile was one of cruel anticipation. “Well, you will disappear into the cursed fog that smothers this country. Such a tragedy.”

“If I disappear the Emperor will not rest until he punishes those responsible.”

“A risk I am willing to take. Get me those letters.”

She swallowed the painful lump in her throat. “I will not betray Russia.”

“Oh, I think you will,” he sneered. “Loyalty becomes an indulgence when you have a knife to your throat.”

“And what would you know of loyalty?” she hissed.

His features twisted with a terrifying hatred. “You think I should owe allegiance to an Emperor whose soldiers raped my mother and left her in the gutter to die? Or perhaps to the whores who took me in and allowed me to be used by the depraved noblemen who liked young boys?”

She might have possessed a measure of sympathy for his horrible life if he did not have a knife pressed to her throat.

“And your employer?” she instead demanded. “Are you loyal to him?”

“So long as he pays.”

“I have wealth. I could pay you a large amount.”

“A temptation, I must admit. Unfortunately my—” his eyes flashed with something that might be dread “—employer is not a gentleman who would kindly accept being betrayed.”

“You could disappear,” she desperately urged. In this moment she would give her entire fortune to be rid of this man. “How would he ever find you?”


Tags: Rosemary Rogers Russian Connection Historical