Scoundrel's Honor by Rosemary Rogers Page A

chin lifted as she tugged off the cloak with a swift motion and handed it to the waiting servant. In a heartbeat, the crowd came to a captivated halt as all eyes turned toward Emma.
    It was not that her gown was particularly shocking. Indeed, it was a deceptively simple sheath cut to reveal her shoulders and gathered beneath the gentle swell of her bosom. It was more the shimmer of the gold satin that molded to her slender body. And the tiny diamonds that glittered along the low-cut line of her bodice that drew attention to the perfection of her ivory skin.
    Combined with the satin tumble of honey hair and the promise of her sensuous lips, it was enough to make every male in the club crave to have her in his bed.
    Including Dimitri.
    Muttering a startled curse, he grasped her upper arm and hauled her through a nearby alcove, tugging her down the short hall until he could thrust her into the privacy of his office. It was a plain room, with cream walls and parquet floor. The desk set near the fireplace was a pale cedar that matched the rest of the furnishing and the draperies were a soft shade of rose.
    Slamming shut the door, he turned to glare at his companion in the muted light of the fireplace.
    â€œWhat the devil are you wearing?”
    With a sharp tug, she freed her arm from his grasp. “You were the one to insist I dress in an appropriate fashion.”
    Clearly, he had been out of his mind, he acknowledged, searing a hungry gaze over the delectable curve of her breasts.
    â€œAppropriate, not designed to create a riot.”
    â€œIt is no more revealing than those gowns worn by the finest ladies in St. Petersburg,” she protested.
    â€œThen why did Prince Matvey nearly knock himself senseless by walking straight into a wall? And why did one of my most trusted servants drop an entire tray of champagne?” he growled.
    â€œYou are being ridiculous. I witnessed women wearing far more daring gowns before you so rudely hauled me away.”
    A voice of reason whispered that he was overreacting, but Dimitri was in no mood to listen. Not when his entire body burned with the need to haul her to the nearest bed.
    â€œPerhaps more daring,” he husked, “but none so enticing.”
    She nervously licked her lips, the unwitting gesture making Dimitri groan in frustration.
    â€œFirst you complain my gown is too prudish and now you complain it is too revealing. Are you never satisfied?”
    Unable to resist temptation, he stepped close enough to trail his fingers along the elegant line of her shoulders. His body stirred, hardened; responding to her with a near painful intensity.
    It wasn’t uncommon for him to desire a woman.
    He was a healthy male with all the normal appetites.
    But this biting ache combined with a fierce possessiveness was utterly unfamiliar.
    And equally unwelcome.
    â€œIronically I was quite satisfied until my peaceful existence was disrupted by an intimidating spinster who is far too fond of her independence.”
    She shivered as his fingers traced the plunging line of her bodice.
    â€œDimitri.”
    He stepped closer, breathing in the tantalizing scent of warm woman and clean soap.
    â€œI never knew such skin truly existed,” he rasped. “It is as soft and perfect as fresh cream.”
    â€œWe are supposed to be searching for the gentlemen who took Anya.”
    â€œIn a moment.” Wrapping one arm around her waist, he carefully lifted the veil, his gaze sweeping over her pale, beautiful features. “First I must taste you.”
    â€œNo—” Her protest fell on deaf ears as he captured her lips in a branding kiss. He wanted to wrap her in his arms until she melted with soft compliance. He wanted to mark her with his touch, his scent, his desire. He wanted to ensure that every man who caught sight of this woman understood that she belonged to him. Only him. “As sweet as honeyed almonds,” he muttered, his tongue teasing her lips