Scoundrel's Honor. Rosemary Rogers

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      His features might have been carved from granite in the sunlight slanting through the grotto window.

      “I did not ask for her sacrifice,” he growled.

      She frowned, puzzled by his lack of gratitude. Surely he must understand a woman was willing to sacrifice anything for the people they loved?

      “Dimitri?”

      His eyes grew distant, the muscles in his jaw knotted as he recalled his past.

      “One morning she attired me in my finest clothes, which meant they did not yet have holes in the knees and elbows, and we walked for what seemed to be miles until we at last came to a magnificent palace. I will never forget marching up the front steps and ringing the bell as if we were welcome guests.” His lips twisted. “I was terrified.”

      Emma smiled in understanding. Approaching Herrick Gerhardt’s elegant home mere days ago had taken every bit of courage she could muster. And she was supposedly a mature woman.

      “How old were you?”

      “Eight, or perhaps nine.” He shrugged. “Certainly old enough to realize we were not where we belonged.”

      She ignored the urge to reach up and stroke the sleek raven hair pulled into a ribbon at his nape. The wounded boy that lurked deep inside Dimitri made him no less dangerous. Indeed, the wave of tenderness that swept through her was far more disturbing than the potent attraction that tingled within her.

      “Were you turned away?”

      “No, my mother was quite determined, and my unmistakable resemblance to my father managed to get us over the threshold and into the count’s private study.” Shoving away from the wall, Dimitri paced to the center of the grotto. “I understood very little of the conversation beyond the fact my father did a great deal of shouting and my mother refused to leave. It was only later that I learned she had threatened to approach the count’s wife and inform her that he had forced himself on a mere child if he did not see to my education.”

      Emma carefully considered her words. The tension in the air was tangible.

      “Clearly her threat was successful.”

      His breath hissed through his clenched teeth. “It was successful in the sense I was sent to school in Moscow, but my father was far from pleased to be outwitted by a mere whore and set about destroying her life.”

      Emma winced, already suspecting that the poor woman had suffered for her bold courage.

      “What did he do?” she husked.

      “He had her evicted from her home, and then he ensured her wealthy patrons would no longer seek her companionship. It became more and more difficult for her to earn a decent living and she was forced to take rooms in the sewers of St. Petersburg.” The golden eyes darkened with a bleak loss that tore at her heart. “It was only a matter of time before she had her throat slit and her body left in the gutter.”

      CHAPTER SIX

      AS THE WORDS ECHOED through the grotto, Dimitri wondered what the hell he was doing.

      He never shared his mother’s tragic story. There were a handful of people who knew his mother had been a whore, and that she had been left to die in the gutter. And, of course, there was no denying his connection to the count.

      But the sordid, intimate details…those he kept buried deep inside.

      Until this woman. Emma Linley-Kirov stirred emotions he’d struggled for years to forget.

      There was a rustle of wool and the light touch of slender fingers on his arm. Dimitri sucked in a startled breath. When had he developed an addiction to the scent of soap on warm, feminine skin?

      “What happened to you?” she demanded.

      He searched the wide hazel eyes, finding nothing but gentle understanding. Not that he was particularly surprised. While most women would be shocked by his mother and the life she had been forced to lead, Emma appeared almost…admiring.

      And why would she not?

      She possessed the same reckless courage and stubborn determination to risk her foolish neck for those she loved. His gut twisted with that same white-hot anger he had felt when he’d discovered she had been prancing about St. Petersburg for all to see.

      “I was too far away to realize what was happening and it wasn’t until I fled the school when I turned fifteen that I realized she was dead,” he snapped.

      Her eyes widened at his blunt explanation. “You must have been devastated.”

      “I was infuriated.” He grasped her shoulders, glaring down at her pale, fragile face. “If my mother had never confronted the count then she still would have been alive.”

      She met his gaze without flinching. “And you blamed her for leaving you on your own?”

      “I blamed her for taking a stupid, unnecessary risk,” he gritted, refusing to recall the endless nights he’d cried himself to sleep when he discovered his mother was forever gone from his life.

      Emma frowned. “She loved you and wanted to do whatever she could to provide you with a future. You should be proud of her.”

      He tightened his grip, his eyes narrowed. “Do you think your precious Anya would be proud to learn you had died attempting to rescue her?”

      She stiffened and met his glare with her own.

      “I have to do this.”

      “For your sister?” he snapped. “Or for your own selfish need to be a martyr?”

      She paled, her eyes suddenly appearing too large for her face. “So I am not only a bitter spinster, but a tedious martyr. It is fortunate your opinion means nothing to me.”

      Dimitri growled in frustration. “My opinion is that you are a stubborn minx who has mistakenly convinced herself that accepting help from others makes her weak. Return home, Emma, and allow me to search for your sister.” He leaned down, whispering against her lips. “Or better yet, come with me and I will ensure your protection.”

      He heard her breath catch. “I doubt protection is what you offer.”

      Dimitri pulled back, his gaze sweeping possessively down her slender body.

      “Once you are known to be mine there is no one who would dare harm you.”

      A frantic pulse fluttered at the base of her throat. “Except you.”

      Unable to resist, Dimitri skimmed his lips down the curve of her neck, lingering on that revealing pulse.

      “I swear I would treat you with exquisite care.” His voice thickened, his anger altering to a blaze of desire. “You would want for nothing.”

      She moaned, briefly melting against him before she abruptly stepped away to regard him with a leery frown. Her body might recognize that she belonged to him, but her mind was not yet ready to concede defeat.

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