“My nerves are quite shattered,” he drawled, the golden eyes blazing with an indefinable emotion as he glanced down at her puzzled expression. “I intend to return you to the protection of Vanya.”
“But—”
He placed a silencing finger against her lips. “Do not play with fire, Emma, unless you wish to be burned.”
CHAPTER FIVE
THE MANSION THAT COUNT Fedor Tarvek shared with his younger brother Sergei was not the finest in St. Petersburg. Situated on the banks of the Neva, it had once been a grand structure with an ornate frieze carved over the front entrance and tall windows that overlooked the formal gardens. Unfortunately, time and neglect had stolen the original charm, and there was no hiding the growing shabbiness of the estate.
Slipping silently through the cavernous rooms, a portion of Dimitri deplored the rotting floorboards and the mold marring the once handsome furnishings even as he appreciated the lack of servants. He preferred to invade another’s privacy without interruption.
Intent on his search through the upper bedchambers, he nearly missed the slender man who silently approached the house through the kitchen garden.
With a lift of his brows, Dimitri hurried down the stairs.
He had sent Josef to keep watch on Count Fedor and Sergei, knowing the brothers would attend Czar Alexander’s inspection of his troops that afternoon. They might secretly despise the emperor, and even attempt to undermine his rule when possible, but they dare not publicly ignore his summons.
It seemed the perfect opportunity to discover if the Tarveks were hiding any nasty secrets.
Silently leaving the house by a side door, he gestured toward his servant and headed for the back of the stables, not surprised to discover Josef had hidden his horse next to his own dappled-gray mare in the overgrown bushes.
They had spent a number of years working together. Perhaps too many, he ruefully acknowledged, watching the wiry man round the edge of the stables. They were both reaching an age where they should be considering an occupation that did not include a noose or firing squad.
“That was speedy,” he muttered. “The drills cannot have ended yet.”
“Oleg is keeping watch on Tarvek and his brother.” Josef’s expression was sour. “I thought you would desire to know that Vanya Petrova was among the crowd.”
“Alone?”
“Nyet. She has a young female companion with her.”
Dimitri tensed, telling himself it was anger that made his stomach clench and his heart miss a beat. After all, he had specifically commanded Emma Linley-Kirov to avoid being seen when he had left her at Vanya’s the night before. He had told her he would contact her when he decided what was to be done next.
“A female companion with honey hair and hazel eyes?”
“That is more than a mere man can say.” Josef shook his head in disgust. “She is wearing one of those foolish bonnets that make it damned well impossible to know what’s beneath the tangle of ribbons and feathers, but I would bet my last ruble it’s the dragon from Yabinsk.”
As would Dimitri.
Emma was stubborn enough to flaunt herself beneath the noses of the men who would kill her without hesitation.
“Damn. I’m beginning to believe she was sent to St. Petersburg to punish me for my numerous sins,” he muttered, untying the reins of his horse from the bush. “Come along.”
Josef grimaced, twisting the scar that ran down the side of his face. The disfigurement terrified many, which suited Josef, but Dimitri knew he had received the wound protecting his sister from his drunken mother.
“I will remain and search the house.”
“That will not be necessary. There are no females being held hostage in the cellar or convenient map to reveal their location. Although…”
Deliberately allowing his words to trail away, Dimitri mounted his horse and headed toward the narrow lane that led out of the estate. He knew his companion’s curiosity would overcome his reluctance to mix among the nobles.
There was a muttered curse, then the sound of scrambling as Josef retrieved his horse and urged the beast to match Dimitri’s steady pace.
“What did you find?”
Dimitri reached beneath the black multicaped coat he had chosen to cover his plain attire and riding boots. With a crowned beaver hat pulled low on his forehead and a heavy muffler wrapped around his lower face he was impossible to recognize. Even his stocky mare was unremarkable.
Being a successful criminal meant blending into the background when necessary.