Sins of a Ruthless Rogue

“You were his butler. How did Vasin pass codes between his generals?”


Oborin smoothed his knotted hand over the embroidered blanket covering his legs. “I don’t know.” He blew out a long stream of

smoke. “But my granddaughter will need a job soon.”

Ah, that was the price the old man set for his help. That type of arrangement had been Ian’s specialty. Clayton preferred threats. “If

there is a revolution, it will start at the palace. Your son still works there, does he not?”

Oborin chomped down on the stem of the polished black pipe he held in the side of his mouth and spoke around it. “Despite all his

talk of equality, Vasin wasn’t one to trust the servants. He always wrote his orders in the library, allowing no one inside while he

worked.”

It might be a coincidence, but something had caught Clayton’s attention. “Always?”

Oborin nodded.

“What if he received a note elsewhere in the house? Where would he go to read it?”

Oborin tapped the pipe on the arm of his chair. “To the library. Even at night. He often had me stoke the fires there at odd hours.”

“Were there any books consistently out after that?”

“No. Vasin was fastidious. Never a thing out of place.”

Damn.

“What happened to Vasin’s things after he died?”

“Things had pretty much fallen apart by then. The emperor took all his lands and property. He would have had him executed if Vasin

wasn’t nearly dead from his illness already.”

Another useless path. Clayton paused before brushing aside the cloth that acted as the door. “I’ll see what I can do for your

granddaughter.”

Oborin slowly removed his pipe. “The few possessions he still retained went with him to his nephew’s wife when he fell ill.”

Ah, perhaps this path wasn’t so useless after all.

Clayton pushed aside the cloth and stepped past a row of ivory pipes. Perhaps he’d been too hard on Olivia. Everything she’d done

last night to raise his suspicions could be explained away. It was possible that his distrust of her was making him harsher than the

situation warranted.

Where was she?

He’d been certain anyone from Prazhdinyeh wouldn’t have been able to follow them through the market, but what if—

Then he spotted her. At the edge of the shop. Speaking to a huge bearded man. One of the revolutionaries he’d seen at Arshun’s.

He started to reach for his knife and had taken two steps when he realized she was shooing the man away, casting a worried look

over her shoulder.

He’d left Olivia alone for less than an hour and she’d already made contact with the enemy. He’d given her an opportunity to redeem

herself and she’d just hanged herself instead.





chapter Ten

Blin had taken only three steps away from her when Clayton appeared a few feet away. Olivia lunged between them, blocking

Clayton from following the big man, allowing Blin to disappear into the crowd.

Clayton grabbed her waist to set her aside, but she gripped his arms, refusing to be moved. “It’s not what you think. He wanted to

make sure I was safe.”

“And I want to find Arshun.”

Her grip weakened, and he shook her off him, but then swore. Blin was gone.

She braced herself for his tirade.

Instead, he stepped away from her. He traded his sheepskin cap to a boy sitting in a doorway for one of his marbles. Then picked a

low-crowned hat from the shop behind him.

As soon as the hat was on Clayton’s head, he stumbled.

Olivia caught his arm again, but he shook her off.

“I will drink when I want, woman!” He spun toward a man selling spirits, and after a few coins disappeared, Clayton held up a bottle

with a crow of victory, which earned him bemused chuckles from the men in the shop.

What was he doing? She barely managed to remember to speak in Russian. “I can explain about—”

But Clayton spun her in a circle, which ended with her back flat against the wall between two shops. His chest pressed against hers,

his lips brushing in light kisses across her forehead.

Sweet heavens.

He set the bottle down. “Found your revolutionaries already, I see. What did he want?” But his voice was a growl in her ear and his

fingers bit into her waist even as his lips continued their soft exploration. Not so sweet, then.

“He protected me at the count’s. He followed me to ensure I was all right.”

“Was he pleased when you told him I’d looked at the code?”

She pushed against his chest. “It’s not like that. I told him I was well and sent him away. Now get off me, you oaf.”

But he wouldn’t release her. “Don’t resist.”

If he thought to punish her, he’d picked his method well. His words spurred a dangerous tension inside her. She liked the pressure

of his fingers. It was honest. Consistent. Unclouded with any of the layers of civility they both pretended to possess.

She had to fight the urge to lean toward him to increase the pressure of his lips. To feel the stubble along his jaw burn across her

cheek.

“What are you doing?” she managed to ask, as she tried again to pull away, gasping in frustration and pleasure when he refused to

let her go.

“Creating a scene.” Clayton’s hand skimmed down her waist and over her hip. But his hand didn’t stop there. He tucked his hand

behind the back of her thigh and lifted her leg so it rode up the outside of his hip.

“I know you’re angry with me—” Her words ended as his hips pressed against her. He was aroused. And despite her frustration, she

couldn’t help her body’s instant response.

“I’m not angry with you.”

“You think I am a revolutionary.”

“I have all along. Confirmation changes nothing.”

“Except now you are mauling me against a wall.”

“Mauling?” He stilled, and she regretted her choice of words. But then he rocked his hips again, the action rubbing the sensitive spot

between her legs. She bit her lip to contain her moan.

“You have no idea the amount of restraint I am showing right now.” His growl swept over her skin like a caress.

“Even though you think I am a lying traitor?”

“I think of you as nothing more than a means to an end.” His fingers twisted in her hair. And this time her hips bucked against his.

“What end?”

He exhaled slowly before he spoke. “There’s a woman I care about far more than you, and I need to keep her safe. And to do that I

need to make the cabbage farmer and his wife disappear.”

She didn’t flinch at his words, but she did push at him again. “You’re drawing more attention to us, not less.” How did her hand end

up fisted in the lapels of his coat?

His hand slid down her calf and around her ankle. “I need to send a message.”

“What? That you’re stronger than me. That you can make my body be as much a traitor as you think I am?”

Clayton hissed between his teeth at the space right above where she’d tied the scarf. He was about to kiss her there. Suddenly, the