Scoundrel's Honor by Rosemary Rogers Page B

until they slowly parted in invitation. “Yes, moya dusha, open for me.”
    She groaned, her hands clutching at his shoulders as if she struggled to keep herself upright.
    â€œThe cognac…” she muttered.
    He gripped her hips, pressing her against the blatant evidence of his arousal.
    â€œIt is not the cognac that is causing your head to spin and your heart to race.”
    She arched back to stab him with an angry frown, but Dimitri did not miss her small shiver of awareness.
    â€œYou believe yourself to be irresistible?”
    â€œIt is the hunger that burns between us that is irresistible,” he corrected, his voice hard. He had made his fortune on catering to other’s weaknesses. He had never dreamed he might himself become a victim. “I always thought this sort of craving a myth. Now I do not know whether to have you locked in my dungeon or hauled off to Siberia.”
    She licked her lips, and Dimitri swallowed a groan as his cock hardened with tormenting anticipation.
    â€œDo not say such things,” she breathlessly commanded.
    â€œEven if they are the truth?”
    An unmistakable fear darkened her hazel eyes as she lifted her hands and pressed them against his chest.
    â€œI may be attired as a tart, but I assure you I am a lady,” she gritted.
    His lips twisted. “I am painfully aware you are a lady, Emma Linley-Kirov, and for the moment you are under my protection.”
    â€œThen release me.”
    His gaze lowered to her honeyed lips that could drive a saint to sin.
    â€œIs that what you desire?”
    â€œYou must.”
    â€œDamn.” Pushing away from the delectable heat, Dimitri shoved his hands through his hair and struggled to regain command of his rebellious body. “You should never have come to St. Petersburg.”
    Â 
    A T ANY OTHER TIME , Emma might have been dazzled by her surroundings.
    Who knew that a den of iniquity would be a sprawling honeycomb of ivory-and-gold rooms with crimson carpets and marble columns that soared up to the vaulted ceiling painted with Greek gods playing among the clouds? Or that the massive chandeliers would cast a blazing light over the elegant gentlemen who weaved their way among the card tables and flirted with the women dressed in low-cut gowns?
    She had assumed the place would be dark and cheap with furtive men hunched over their cards, or tossing dice in the corner.
    Which only proved she truly was naive as Dimitri claimed.
    Dimitri…
    She covertly glanced at the man walking at her side, a dangerous excitement fluttering in the pit of her stomach. Even elegantly attired, there was no disguising the ruthless predator that lurked just beneath Dimitri’s polished exterior.
    Not that his dark beauty and experienced touch was an excuse for the manner in which she had melted beneath his kiss. Or the prickling awareness that continued to torment her. She was supposed to be a sensible female of advanced years, not a giddy maiden who dreamed of being rescued from her life of drudgery by a handsome prince.
    After all, she was quite reconciled to being a spinster, and even if Dimitri were a prince rather than the Beggar Czar, he was not interested in making her his princess. Just like Baron Kostya, Dimitri considered her worthy of a quick tumble, but nothing more.
    She felt an odd pain knife through her heart, but before she could consider the cause, a tall, silver-haired gentleman in a burgundy jacket and gold-striped waistcoat that did nothing to flatter his rotund figure deliberately stepped in their path.
    â€œTipova,” he said, his beady eyes skimming over the veil that once again hid Emma’s face before latching on to the swell of her bosom. “As always you have managed to create a sensation.”
    Dimitri wrapped an arm around her shoulders, shielding her from the rude leer.
    â€œI fear I cannot take the credit on this occasion, Prince Matvey.”
    â€œDo you intend to introduce