Sins of a Ruthless Rogue

Clayton glowered at him. “I am not.”


“I expect you to start spouting couplets about her golden locks any moment.”

Clayton’s attention drifted to the tendrils of Olivia’s hair that had come loose during their escape.

He couldn’t look away from the gentle pressure of her hand or the slight lift on her lips as she spoke to Blin, her words soft,

comforting, admiring as she tended a cut on his head. The big man puffed with pride at her words. No wonder he followed her

blindly around.

Clayton gritted his teeth against the urge to step closer so she’d glance at him. Damnation, he wasn’t a child. He’d ask why she was

avoiding him as soon as they were alone.

“Olivia with hair of soft gold. Let’s escape Golov and cavort in the mold. Hmm . . . perhaps not one of my best,” Ian mused.

“Shut it, Ian.”

Ian shrugged. “If you want her to stop avoiding you, you might try to stop scowling. Just a thought. What did you do to gain her

indifference? Maddie and I always suspected you’d be a terrible kisser, but—”

“Enough!” His voice was loud enough that Olivia finally glanced over, but then jerked her gaze back to Blin.

But Ian never shut his mouth. “You might also ask yourself if there’s a reason she might want distance from you.”

“Damned mill.”

“Is it worth losing her over?”

“I won’t lose her over it.”

Ian shut his mouth, but his astonishment lasted for only a moment. “You’re letting it go?”

“No. I’m simply altering my plan.”

“Does it still involve destroying her mill?”

“Only partially.”

“Sounds like it will work brilliantly.”

It had to. “She’s stubborn, but she knows why I have to do it.”

“Who’s the stubborn one?”

Could he let the mill go completely? In exchange for Olivia? He’d have given up anything to get her back safe from Golov, but this?

Olivia was only on the other side of the small room, and he despised the distance between them. He wanted her by his side.

If he married her, he’d have the right to keep her there.

The decision seemed as natural as breathing. And yet his breathing no longer seemed to function properly, coming high and fast in

his chest.

“Clayton, catch Kate!”

At Olivia’s yell, Clayton lunged in time to grab Kate as she slumped toward ground.

Kate’s gaze was unfocused as he helped her settle against the wall.

They were still unclear on just how much Kate knew. He knew she was a revolutionary. Olivia had told them that much as they

climbed into the sleigh. He had started to question Kate, but Olivia had stopped him with a look he didn’t understand but knew

enough to obey.

But he couldn’t give Kate any more time.

Since he still wasn’t precisely clear what Golov had done, he tried to be as gentle as he could. He rested a hand on her shoulder.

“Kate?”

She either shook herself or shuddered, but then brushed off his grasp. “Who was he?”

“Who?”

Her hands fisted at her sides. “My husband. Who is he?”

He looked to Olivia for help.

“Golov told her the Sergey she knew wasn’t the real Sergey.”

That was what brought her to this? Kate had once helped a town in southern Siberia battle raiders while armed with only farming

equipment, flaming cow dung, and a pistol. The village named itself after her.

But now he understood her devastation better than he ever could have before.

Empathy. Hell, he might start composing couplets after all.

“I knew nothing of this,” Clayton said. Although it did explain why the Foreign Office was so insistent on faking Sergey’s death and

getting him out of there when things grew difficult. He was one of their own.

“I did,” Ian said, lifting his thumb from the water and prodding the blister there.

“What?” Clayton found his question echoed by both Kate and Olivia.

“It may or may not have been my idea to use an impostor.”

“Then who is he?” Kate asked.

Ian shrugged. “No idea. I just told Glaves my brilliant suggestion on how to get one of our men close to a man who trusted no one. I

didn’t handle the specifics.”

When had Ian begun advising the Foreign Office on strategy?

Kate rested her head on her knees.

Olivia went to her side, the compassion on her face making Clayton ache with pride.

“You said you knew where he is now?” she asked Clayton.

Kate hadn’t earned the information, but he’d tell her for Olivia’s sake. “Llanfyr along the south coast of Wales.”

Kate’s eyes flashed for a moment, focusing again, as if that kernel of truth gave her the strength to continue. She shifted, lowered

her knees, and tucked them under her. “Ask your questions about Vasin.”

“Who are the other agents?” Olivia asked.

“One was a clerk for Metropolitan Stanislav, I believe.”

“Evidence agrees,” Ian seconded. “The timing of when the clerk was placed with him matches.”

“The metropolitan deserved to be disgraced. What he did to those girls—” She cut herself off with a slow exhale. “The plan was to

have all the major powers in Russia disgraced. The church. The royal family. The army. By the time the final agent moves at the fete .

. .” She closed her eyes briefly. “. . . killing the entire royal family, there will be no clear favorite to fill the void. Vasin intended to be

poised to move into place with his vision of equality and democracy, but now there will be nothing but chaos.”

Clayton wasn’t used to being beaten, especially by a dead man. The Trio had outwitted Vasin once; they’d do it again.

Of course, now he had Olivia instead of Madeline.

But Clayton found himself confident with the new arrangement.

Kate wiped her hands across her face. “I don’t know who Vasin put in place to kill the emperor, but it would be someone whose

dedication he didn’t doubt. One of his inner circle. But then again, I imagine he’d choose someone no one would connect to him.”

Olivia frowned. “Who was supposed to give the signals?”

Kate frowned. “I don’t know.”

Pieces were coming together in Clayton’s mind. “We may not know who he is, but we know what he will do. Remember the final line

of the code? Then you will know the time is ready to light the fire of freedom. The code must have belonged to the final agent.”

Ian was lying in the center of the old wooden dining table. He waved his hand with the injured finger above him as if he was

conducting music. “He’s decided to have his own little revolution.”

“But then why involve Arshun?” Kate asked.

Olivia cast a questioning glance at Clayton. “And why not choose someone who would have made a better leader afterward?”

“Because he never intended Arshun to rule. He needed Arshun to take the blame.”