Free Prince Of Dreams by Lisa Kleypas Page A

stopped abruptly. “You bribed your way in.”
    “I made a donation,” he corrected.
    Emma gave an exasperated laugh. “Is there anything your money can't get for you? What do you want now?”
    “I intend to escort you home, cousin.”
    “Thank you, but I have a carriage waiting outside.”
    “I took the liberty of dismissing it.”
    “Presumptuous man,” she said without heat, sliding her hand into the crook of his proffered arm. “Do you always get your way?”
    “Almost always.” Nikolas escorted her from the building, ignoring the curious stares that followed them. “I like to watch you make speeches, Emelia. I admire a woman who doesn't try to hide her intelligence.”
    “Is that why you followed me to London? Because you admire me so much?”
    He smiled at her impudence. “I'll admit to having taken an interest in you. Would you condemn a man for that?”
    “Condemn, no. But I have plenty of suspicions. Especially where you're concerned. I think you're nothing but a great big mass of ulterior motives, Nikki.”
    A low laugh of delight came from his throat. He led her to the curb, where a splendid lacquered carriage awaited them. It was drawn by a team of four gleaming black Orlovs, the finest carriage horses in the world. A pair of tall, black-liveried footmen attended the vehicle.
    Emma preceded Nikolas into the carriage and settled herself on upholstery of burgundy velvet in a shade so dark, it looked black. The interior was filled with gleaming panels of precious inlaid wood. The windows were framed in gold and crystal, and the lamps were encrusted with semi-precious stones. Even with her family's considerable wealth, Emma had never been inside such a luxurious vehicle. Nikolas sat opposite her, and the carriage pulled away with magical smoothness as it passed over the rough London streets.
    Temporarily dazzled, Emma wondered about the life Nikolas had led in Russia, and all that he'd been forced to leave behind. “Nikki,” she asked abruptly, “do you ever see any of your family? Have they ever come to visit?”
    He showed no reaction, but she sensed that he was puzzled by the question. “No…nor would I expect it of them. All ties were severed when I left my country.”
    “But not blood ties. You have sisters, don't you? Tasia once mentioned that you have four or five—”
    “Five,” he said flatly.
    “Don't you miss them? Wouldn't you like to see them?”
    “No, I don't miss them. We were virtual strangers to each other. Mikhail and I were raised separately from our sisters.”
    “Why?”
    “Because my father wanted it that way.” A bitterly amused look crossed his face. “We were rather like the animals in your menagerie, all of us caged and at my father's mercy.”
    “You didn't like him?”
    “My father was a heartless bastard. When he died ten years ago, he wasn't mourned by a soul on earth.”
    “What about your mother?” Emma asked tentatively.
    Nikolas shook his head and smiled. “I prefer not to talk about my family.”
    “I understand,” she murmured.
    Nikolas's amusement lingered. “No, you don't. The Angelovskys are a bad lot, and each generation is worse than the last. We started out as feuding royals of Kiev, then mingled the line with some crude peasant stock, and added a Mongol warrior who thought nothing of drinking blood from his horse's veins for refreshment on a long journey. We've only gone downhill from there—I'm a good example of that.”
    “Are you trying to frighten me?”
    “I'm warning you not to entertain any illusions about me, Emma. ‘A corrupt tree cannot bring forth good fruit.’ You'd be wise to remember that.”
    She laughed, her blue eyes dancing. “You sound like Tasia, quoting the Bible. I've never thought of you as a religious man.”
    “Religion is entwined in every part of a Russian's life. There's no way to avoid it.”
    “Do you ever go to church?”
    “Not since I was a boy. My brother and I used to think angels lived in the