Sins of a Ruthless Rogue

He shouldn’t be sitting by her. His rank was high and hers, nonexistent. A countess across the table cooed that it was an honor to

have been singled out for attention by such a favored gentleman.

She’d spoken to him once during the soup remove. But that had been simple pleasantries. Why yes, she did like St. Petersburg.

No, she hadn’t had a chance to see any of the glorious churches. No, she hadn’t heard about the fairs going on this week in

celebration of some saint’s day.

But this would be her chance. She had to ensure he believed the threat to the czar. “You must convince the czar to cancel the fete.”

Golov shifted forward in his seat. “Is that so?”

The footman set another plate in front of her. She waited until he moved away before she spoke.

“Arshun is intent on this revolution.”

“The count is an immature fool.” He straightened the cuffs of his black coat.

“Yes, but he’ll carry out this revolution. He’s hungry for power.” She took a risk. “A man in your position can’t appear ignorant when

the attack comes.”

“Ah, perhaps you do interest me after all.” A faint smile thinned his lips. “That is a bold gambit.”

“We don’t have time for anything else.”

“Nice use of the word we. Now, perhaps, I shall seek to help you. The baron’s an interesting man, is he not?” Golov ripped pieces of

the pastry in front of him into small, precisely sized bits. She hadn’t seen him eat once during the entire meal.

“Of course.” But she didn’t want to talk about Clayton. She wanted him to agree to do more to protect the czar. “The emperor will

hold you responsible if anyone is killed.”

“So you say. How did you meet the baron again?”

“We met as children.”

“Ah, then you may not know that the baron’s a hard man. He has many enemies.” Golov set his open hands on the table. “I would

help you protect him.”

“Would you?”

“Of course. We may not agree on everything, but I have promised to keep him safe. So I want to do my best.” He ripped each piece

of bread in half again, the yellowed tips of his fingers paler than the pastry.

He thought she’d spy on Clayton. Olivia lifted the glass of wine to her lips, but didn’t drink. “What would you want me to do?”

“Only inform me of his activities.”

“Don’t you already have a spy in the princess’s household?”

Golov crushed a bit of the pastry between his fingers. “I’m always in need of more information. The baron might be too stubborn to

know when he is in danger.”

“Why do you think I would help you?”

“The woman who tried to convince me to save the czar over dessert? I think you know how to turn a situation to your advantage. If

you help me, I can ensure you’re not harmed in the coming battle between us.”

“I thought you needed my help to protect him.”

“Only until the fete. After that, we have no agreement. So I imagine you can see the benefit to having friends on both sides. This is

nothing more than an old political struggle between the two of us. I would hate for you to get caught in the center. If he’s managed to

convince you he’s anything but a hardened assassin, then perhaps you’re not the woman I thought.”

He didn’t have to convince her. She’d seen it for herself.

“The baron killed a man in his bed while his wife and children slept only a few feet away,” Golov said. “I wouldn’t believe his claims to

honor.”

Clayton had never made those claims. His actions made them for him. If he’d killed that man, she’d no doubt it was necessary.

But she also began to understand what had caused the hurt she’d seen earlier. Death wouldn’t have been a simple task for him. Not

when he analyzed every little thing. When he remembered every moment. When he felt things so deeply. It would torment him.

She also began to understand the shield he’d erected a touch better.

“I could make you wealthy again.”

This time she took a long sip of her wine.

“I have heard mention of a mill that is of particular value to you.”

She set down her glass of wine. But despite the frantic beat of her heart, he’d made a very poor choice with his threat. “It is.”

“Perhaps more so than the baron.”

She longed to throw her wine in his face and toss his plate of massacred dessert across the table. Instead, she said, “Perhaps.”

Golov smiled, the grotesque expression contorting his skeletal face. “Sensible. I like a woman who is sensible.”

The emperor and his wife stood, and everyone else rose to his feet. Golov inclined his head. “I will speak with you later.” He trailed

the royal couple from the room.

As soon as the emperor left, a woman shoved her aside and grabbed a hothouse flower from the center of the table.

“What—” Then she spotted the professor pocketing a handful of forks.

“A gift.” Clayton appeared at her side and held out a spoon. There was a hint of mischief in his gaze, a playfulness that made her

chest feel fuller and yet lighter at the same time.

She eyed the offering. “Is your gift a night in Golov’s prison?”

Clayton stepped out of the way as two elderly women battled over a salt cellar. “The royal family never uses settings from official

events again. So people vie to bring home tokens to their family as a sign of imperial favor.” He held out the spoon once more.

“I think you’re more in need of imperial favor than I.”

“True enough.” The spoon disappeared into his pocket.

Kate joined their group. “I believe this signals the end of the evening. Unless you desire to linger.”

“No.”

Kate’s lips curved at the perfect unison of their response. “I’ll find a footman to send for our sleigh.” She disappeared into the crowd.

A beefy man in a green and red military uniform with a colonel’s braids and a chest full of medals jostled past her in his haste to

reach the head of the table. Her breath caught. “We need to find Golov.” Although she shuddered at the thought of more time in his

company. “I recognize that man from the count’s estate.”

Clayton followed the direction of her gaze. “No.”

“He arrived the same afternoon as Count Arshun. He’s one of Arshun’s associates. He wasn’t in uniform then, but I’m certain it’s

him. We can’t let him freely roam the palace.”

“We can when he’s Golov’s brother.”

When the colonel didn’t stop at the head of the table but slunk out the doors into the corridor, Clayton’s interest was piqued.

“We should follow him,” Olivia said.

Indeed. If the man was one of Arshun’s associates, then Clayton would definitely be following him.

And it would be advantageous to have something else to occupy his thoughts.

He trusted Olivia. Now what the devil was he supposed to do about her? It had been difficult to keep his distance when he’d thought

her a criminal, what was he supposed to do with her now?

And how would he ever make reparations for what she had suffered? He was the reason she’d been kidnapped. He was the reason