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Leonida shivered, the mere thought of meeting the wretched brute in the dark was enough to make her stomach clench in dread.

“No doubt he is,” she muttered. “That is why I dare not wait until morning. We must trust the dark will keep us hidden.”

Sophy shook her head. “I don’t like this.”

“Neither do I, but I must get the…” She bit back her impulsive words. Damn. If she did not take care she would never fool Stefan, let alone the enemies chasing her. “Package to Mother before it can fall into the hands of traitors.” She swallowed heavily as she recalled the feel of the dagger against her throat. “Or worse.”

The maid heaved a sigh and headed for the door. “Very well.”

“Sophy?”

“Yes?”

“Warn Pyotr that it might be quite late before I manage to escape. I cannot risk being caught.”

“What of your bags?”

Leonida shrugged. “I will take what I can and leave the rest. No doubt the Duke will enjoy tossing my possessions into the fire.”

AS WAS HIS CUSTOM, STEFAN retreated to his private study after dinner, intending to review the quarterly reports before his meeting with his secretary in the morning. The cluttered, shabby room had always been a place of peace for him. Within these four walls he could sip his brandy without interruption, surrounded by fond reminiscences. The memory of dangling on his father’s knee as the old Duke taught him to manage the accounts. Or standing at the window to study the sprawling lands that would one day be his responsibility.

Tonight, however, it was not his childhood recollections, or even the latest farming manuals that had arrived in the post, that plagued his mind.

No, that honor belonged solely to Miss Leonida Karkoff.

And her peculiar behavior during dinner.

It was not just that she had been quiet. Although Leonida could be one of the most charming and witty females he had ever known, she was by nature reticent. Like himself, she preferred to remain in the background rather than calling attention to herself.

Tonight, however, she had barely spoken a dozen words, her expression distracted, as if she carried a heavy weight on her shoulders.

So what the devil was on her mind? And why could he not shake the urge to seek her out and…What? Demand explanations that she would refuse to give? Offer her comfort she did not deserve? Take her to his bed and put an end to his agony?

With a low growl, Stefan slammed his glass onto his desk, indifferent to the brandy that sloshed onto the polished wood as he turned on his heel and left the cramped room. He resented the restlessness that held him captive. And the vague sense that his orderly existence had been disrupted beyond repair.

This was entirely Leonida Karkoff’s fault.

The thought was still uppermost in his mind when he shoved open the door to his bedchamber to discover the woman of his visions closing the drawer of his writing table.

A raw, savage heat raced through him as he drank in the sight of her slender body covered in no more than a linen night rail with her glorious hair flowing down her back. She was half turned away from him, the flickering candlelight making her gown nearly transparent, revealing the beauty beneath.

Christ.

Barely aware that he was moving, Stefan silently closed the door and turned the key in the lock.

When he had come up to his rooms, he had not been certain what he intended to do.

Now, he did not have a doubt in the world.

Prowling forward, Stefan waited until he was beside her before he spoke.

“What a pleasant surprise, my dove,” he drawled, thoroughly enjoying her squeak of alarm as she whirled to face him with wide eyes. “I have been longing for days to lure you into my chambers and here you are, waiting for me like an apparition from my dreams.”

She pressed against the desk, as if that small measure of space would keep him from devouring her. Foolish woman.

“Forgive my intrusion, I…”

He arched a brow as her voice faltered and her cheeks flushed a charming pink.


Tags: Rosemary Rogers Russian Connection Historical