The Courtesan's Bed by Sandrine O'Shea

Author:Sandrine O'Shea
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
Published: 2010-09-27T16:00:00+00:00

Régine sagged back against the tufted squabs. She tried to keep from trembling, and failed. “Odious man.”

Darius took her hand, removed the glove and kissed her bare knuckles. “You handled yourself magnificently.”

Dragomilov wove his charging mount recklessly between carriages and other riders, prompting them to rein their horses out of the way before he ran them down.

“I’ve known many men, but none like Dragomilov.” She looked at Darius. “He truly frightens me.”

“You have nothing to fear. I am your protector. I won’t let him hurt you.”

Suddenly, their idyllic afternoon seemed soiled. She told her driver to move on.

“Dragomilov is a cruel, sadistic beast. When in Odile’s bed, he thought it most amusing to take a sharp dinner fork and prick designs into her rump as if she were a roast he was testing for doneness.”

Darius recoiled in revulsion and swore. “Why did she allow him to abuse her so? Surely she could have found someone else?”

Régine shrugged. “I used to ask her those very questions, and each time, she’d laugh and make excuses for him, blaming his disgusting behavior on his drinking. Each time, he’d apologize and give her some new, more expensive bauble, and she’d always forgive him.” She sighed. “Odile valued money above her own welfare, I’m afraid, and thought a hefty bank account was well worth the pain.”

Darius rubbed his chin. “I can understand why you wouldn’t welcome such a boor to your bed.”

“Finally, he murdered her. Oh, he claims it was an accident. The Russians did what they always do, get drunk on vodka, turn out the lights and start shooting their pistols willy-nilly into the darkness.” She shook her head. “It’s all such a rip-roaring good time to them, and unfortunately, since they are nobility, they pay for the damaged hotel rooms and their wild behavior is tolerated.”

Régine rubbed her forehead, feeling a headache coming on. “Why me? There are dozens of more beautiful, accomplished women in Paris, many of whom would welcome his wealth and attentions.”

Darius smiled. “But none of them can hold a candle to you, my dear, and Dragomilov knows this.”

“I just wish the loathsome creature would go back to the steppes of Russia and leave me alone.”

He placed a hand on her knee. “What would you like me to do about Count Serge Dragomilov?”

His serious expression sent alarm flooding through her. “Nothing! I can handle him myself. I mean it, Darius. No fistfights. No pistols or swords at dawn.” She grabbed his hand and laced her fingers tightly through his. “Dragomilov is a crazy, thickheaded Russian. You must promise me that you won’t provoke him.”

His gray gaze turned so cold and fierce, she shivered. “I promise I will not make the first move to challenge him,” he said, “but if he does try to force himself on you, Régine, I swear on my mother’s grave that I will act. I’m not the type of man who will sit idly by and allow any harm to come to you.”

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