Johanna Lindsey, Once a princess.txt

by Once A Princess (lit)

  Chapter 11

  Tanya’s eyes were still wide with disbelief after Stefan closed the door behind him, for the second time leaving her alone in her room. Heat her backside? Did that mean what she thought it did? She’d like to see him try it. On second thought, she’d rather not.

  She glanced at the washbowl that he had shoved her toward before leaving. Since he’d already found her out, she had no reason not to wash her face clean—except one. She simply didn’t want to, and that was an excellent reason as far as she was concerned. No one had the right to order her about anymore, and the freedom she’d tasted since Dobbs’ illness was too precious to give up. Dobbs might still think he was in charge, but Tanya did whatever needed to be done because it needed to be done, and she did it in her own time, not when ordered to.

  Now here was this devil acting as if he had some kind of right to assume control of her life, taking away her freedom and choices, even the choice of how she wanted to look, and threatening dire consequences if she didn’t jump to obey him. A spanking, for crying out loud. God, that was rich. She’d suffered beatings that had laid her low for days, sometimes barely able to move, and she was supposed to be frightened now of a measly child’s punishment? Not even a little, but she still didn’t want that devil anywhere near her backside again, to spank her or to do anything else.

  However, she didn’t doubt for a moment that the man would do exactly as he said. And he’d already proved how easily his strength could force her to his will. So she’d just have to make sure he didn’t have the opportunity again.

  She set to motion, first retrieving her knife, then sticking her head out the window on the slim chance that something might be different out there. But the view was just as she knew it to be: the ground too far down for her to jump, and the tree just out of reach, even if she pushed off the windowsill and leaped toward it.

  She turned to face the door, and sent up a little prayer as she approached it that Stefan wasn’t waiting for her on the other side. There was only the one stairway that led downstairs, but there was another room across the hallway next to Dobbs’ room. Both rooms faced the street and had windows only a few feet above the sloping porch roof, a roof she was well acquainted with, since she’d replaced several of its shingles. And from that roof it would be easy to swing down to the ground. Then she’d simply disappear until those four devils got tired of waiting and went off to dupe some other poor girl.

  As a child, she’d often take off for days at a time, once for a whole week, when she knew Dobbs was looking for her with his stick. She came home each time to an even worse beating than she would have had, not because she couldn’t survive in the wilds, but because she got too lonely being by herself. But she wouldn’t have to be gone long this time, a few hours at most. And even if she had to stay away for a few days, now that she was older, she was sure loneliness wouldn’t be a problem at all.

  Briefly she thought of telling Dobbs about her dilemma, but she just as quickly dismissed the notion. Even if he would help her, what could he do in his present condition? He was, in fact, more likely to aid those devils than her if the price was right, and she’d already seen how quick Stefan was to toss money about.

  With knife in hand, Tanya put her ear to the door, but could hear nothing. Best as she could figure, she had about two minutes left to make herself scarce. Would he have gone downstairs to wait?

  She wanted to open that door stealthily so she could determine if her own window might be the better option after all. But the damned hinges on her door squeaked, giving her no alternative but to yank it open suddenly, using surprise to her advantage if Stefan was there.

  He wasn’t, but she wasn’t lucky enough to find the hallway empty either. The one who had introduced himself as Lazar Dimitrieff was there instead, standing with his back to her door. It was the only bit of luck to come her way yet, and she made quick use of it, pressing her knife into his side before he could turn around.

  “If you move even an inch, mister, we’re going to spill blood on this floor, and I wouldn’t like that, since I’m the one who will have to clean it up later.”

  “Then by all means,” he said agreeably, “I am yours to command, Princess.”

  Tanya cringed. She’d whispered her threat. His answer sounded like a trumpet blast by comparison, guaranteed to bring on the cavalry—or one dark devil.

  “I take it you consider yourself expendable?” she asked, and jabbed her knife forward a bit.

  He got the point, both points actually. Still, he didn’t sound too concerned, even though a small circle of red appeared around the hole her knife was making in his jacket.

  “What exactly do you hope to accomplish?” was all he wanted to know.

  “I’m leaving.”

  “Ah, then you mean to take me with you?”

  “No farther than I have to,” she assured him. “So just turn slowly when I turn, and keep your back to me.”

  “Our king won’t like—”

  “Your king can go polish his teeth for all I care,” she bit out. “It’s that dark devil Stefan I don’t want to deal with again—­ever.”

  That brought a burst of laughter from him that had Tanya grinding her teeth together. “I believe he feels exactly as you do right now.”

  “I’m absolutely delighted to hear it,” she retorted. “Now move!”

  The door she wanted was closer to the stairs, so she backed that way, pulling Lazar along with her, sparing a look once, twice, to make sure no surprises came up behind her. She knew her time was running out—unless Lazar hadn’t been there just to guard her, but to escort her downstairs too. She didn’t waste time asking him, especially since he was cooperating now. She had to concentrate on figuring out how she was going to get out the window and still keep him from stopping her. Damn, why had she never learned to use a pistol instead of a knife? This would have been so much simpler if she didn’t have to keep Lazar close at hand.

  She had almost reached the room she wanted when she decided she would have to leave him out in the hall for the few extra seconds that would gain her. A shove to his back, the door slammed behind her, and a running dive through the window ought to see her rolling down the porch roof before he even en­tered the room. And he was too big to follow her with any kind of speed. She’d be out of sight before he could do anything.

  Another step brought her to the door, and up against a solid wall of immovable man. Even as she groaned in frustration—to be so close!—a large hand closed tightly over hers and moved it carefully away from the man in front of her.

  “Just what do you think you are doing, Lazar?” Tanya blinked, hearing that question put to her rescued captive rather than to herself, as if he had been assisting in her escape. But more importantly, it wasn’t Stefan who asked, but that stocky fellow they called Serge.

  “Humoring her,” Lazar answered as he turned about and casually pried the knife loose from Tanya’s fingers. “She is soon to be our queen, after all.”

  “So she is, and all the more reason she shouldn’t be playing with knives where she might get hurt. Stefan should have unarmed her himself. “

  “He did, but I would guess she made him so fu­rious, he forgot to take the weapon with him when he left her. “

  Tanya was gritting her teeth by now. She dearly loved being ignored most of the time, but this was ridiculous.

  “If you wouldn’t mind, I’d appreciate it if you realized I’m still here, much as I wish I weren’t.”

  “Sorry, Princess. ” Lazar grinned down at her, then suddenly laughed as he got a good look at her face. “I don’t believe she has done what Stefan or­dered her to do,” he said to Serge.

  That one’s hand came around to turn her face to­ward him, giving him a quick look at her before she knocked his hand aside. “So she hasn’t.”

  Lazar’s blue eyes were back on her, full of amuse­ment. “I distinctly heard what our friend promised to do to you if you defied him, Tatiana. Perhaps you would lik
e to return to your room now and wash before we take you below?”

  That would be the wisest thing to do at this point, sandwiched between them as she was, with her chance to escape postponed for now. But Tanya had always had a rebellious, stubborn streak that had been responsible for more than a few of the beatings she’d received over the years. And she hadn’t been prom­ised a real beating after all, so she’d rather they knew right up front that she was going to be as difficult as she possibly could be, no matter what threats came her way. Just maybe, they might then decide she wasn’t worth the trouble.

  “I wash once a month—when I feel like it,” she said brazenly, smiling so there’d be no doubt that that was a lie she intended to stick to. “And I’ve got at least three weeks to go before I get anywhere near water again.”

  “So you intend to defy Stefan?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Serge groaned behind her. Lazar chuckled. Tanya tried slipping out from between them while they were both distracted, but was chagrined to have an arm slip around her waist from behind in what she would swear was no more than reflex.

  “It’s not funny, Lazar,” Serge grumbled over her head, totally ignoring the small hands prying at his arm. “She’s going to make Stefan even angrier than he is now, and right now he’s too angry to be around.”

  “He knows it. That’s why he left.” Lazar tipped her chin up to study her face now that at least half of her haggardness had been rubbed off. “But I have a feeling his mood won’t improve either way,” he added thoughtfully. “We expected to find a beauty, and it looks like that is what we may have here after all.”

  “Yet he seemed to like her better when he thought she wasn’t,” Serge concluded with another groan.

  “My thoughts exactly. But I wouldn’t worry about it,” Lazar said with blatant cheerfulness now. “For a change, he’s not going to take his black mood out on us—he’s going to take it out on her.”

  If that was said just to make Tanya rethink her stubborn position, it didn’t work. But that didn’t mean she liked hearing it. And she definitely didn’t like the way they continued to talk around her.

  She jabbed Lazar in the chest with a pointed finger, demanding, “If I’m to marry your king, why is Ste­fan the one giving me orders?”

  That had Lazar grinning again for some reason, a joke shared with Serge obviously, since he glanced at him before answering. “Because until you are wed, you have been placed in Stefan’s care—at our king’s insistence. So it would be to your benefit, Princess, to pacify him rather than antagonize him, don’t you think?”

  Lord help her, they had an answer for every little discrepancy in their scheme that she tried to point out. “What I think hasn’t mattered one bit so far, so why should it now? But answer me this. Does my being placed in Stefan’s care mean that he can take liberties with me?”

  If everything they had told her was true, that she really was to be married and all the rest, then that question should have angered Lazar, or at least dis­turbed him. But his grin didn’t even falter.

  “Stefan can do whatever he likes, Princess,” he said offhandedly. “He is answerable only to the king. “

  “And Vasili couldn’t care less.” She pointed out the obvious.

  “Vasili frequently defers to Stefan. They are cousins, after all, and Stefan is older.”

  “But Vasili is king.”

  Lazar shrugged, as if to say it was all in the family, but he asked, “Would you rather Stefan were king?”

  “I would rather Stefan dropped dead.”

  “Unfortunately for you, Princess”—Stefan’s frigid tones drifted toward them from the top of the stairs—“I haven’t yet.”

  Chapter 12

  Tanya would have avoided facing Stefan—or, to be more exact, letting him see her face—for as long as possible, but she didn’t have much choice in the matter. When Serge turned around at the sound of Stefan’s voice, he took her with him, his arm still firmly around her waist. In fact, that put her in the forefront to receive the full blast of those devil eyes. And if her words hadn’t made them glow, then her unwashed face definitely set fire to the coals.

  But when he moved slowly forward, it was his friends he addressed. “You two were not, by any chance, trying to persuade her—gently—to do as she was told, were you?”

  “Certainly not,” Lazar assured him. “We were merely discussing responsibilities and the like.”

  “And keeping her from leaving on her own,” Serge added.

  “Ah, so we have that to watch for, do we?”

  Tanya’s boot-heel came down hard on Serge’s toe to thank him for his big mouth. He grunted, but not until Stefan stood before her did Serge release her. This he did with a little shove that sent her careening off balance into Stefan’s chest. That one’s arms came around her to catch her, and stayed there like a steel cage, tangling in the hair at her waist and keeping her pressed to his length. She imagined she could actually feel the vibration of his anger, surrounding her in waves.

  “Let go of—“she began, only to be cut off with an emphatic “No.” Ominously, for her ears alone, he added, “You will wish to God you had not defied me, Tatiana.”

  She turned white under the gray pallor of her makeup for about ten seconds. By then her conviction that to them she was a commodity worth a certain price reasserted itself. Accordingly, they wouldn’t deliberately damage the goods, no matter how angry one of them was with her. Stefan had to be referring to the spanking he had promised, and as far as she was concerned, that was nothing to worry about.

  In the meantime, she heard that there was a car­riage now waiting below, that someone named Sasha had been instructed to meet them at the docks with their trunks, that they considered it fortuitous that their quarry had been found in time for them to leave on The Lorilie. But there was no time to waste. The riverboat was to depart within the hour.

  And then they were silent, and Tanya felt they were all three looking down at her, though to be sure she’d have to crane her neck to see, pressed so close to Stefan as she still was. Were they waiting for her to react to what she’d just heard? She wasn’t dense.

  They intended to get her on that boat with them. But perhaps it had finally occurred to them to wonder just how they were going to accomplish that when they didn’t have her cooperation.

  Apparently she’d read the situation correctly, for Stefan’s very next words were, “A crate, I think.”

  Tanya stiffened, and was about to protest heatedly, but surprisingly, Lazar beat her to it, reminding Ste­fan, “She is a royal princess.”

  The royal princess would have snorted in derision that the pretense was still being played out, except Stefan’s casual rejoinder was the last straw.

  “When she begins to look like one, she may be treated like one.”

  Tanya twisted around then, no easy feat in her steel cage, to demand of Lazar and Serge, “Are you going to let him get away with that just because he’s angry at me?”

  Serge wouldn’t meet her eyes. Lazar looked cha­grined at being put on the spot and said, “I believe it was explained who has authority over you, Tatiana. Whether you are transported or escorted is his de­cision, but perhaps if you ask him sweetly… “

  The thought was allowed to trail off, for her to interpret as she would. Sweetly? No chance in hell would she be sweet to the devil at her back, who was even now turning her around again so she couldn’t tempt his friends to her aid with eye contact or a pity-stirring expression. As if she would …. Of course she would! How else was she going to escape? Certainly not stuffed in a crate, and one probably from her own storeroom, none of which were big enough to offer her any degree of comfort.

  She dropped her head back so she could finally look up at Stefan. He seemed to have been waiting for her to do just that, for she met his gaze directly for a heart-pounding moment. And then his eyes moved slowly over her face, so she couldn’t doubt that the only thing he was thinking about right now was her
gray-smudged complexion, and how it should have been roses and cream.

  “You surprise me, Princess,” he said in a voice that was merely conversational in tone. “I was fairly certain that you would have done everything possible to keep me from lifting your skirt again.”

  Lifting? Oh, God, she hadn’t even considered that he might “heat her backside” without letting her skirt serve as padding. Suddenly a spanking from him became something to be concerned about and to be avoided at all costs.

  “I’ll wash now,” she offered in a breathless whis­per, hating to make that concession but seeing no alternative.

  “Now there is no time.”

  He wasn’t going to give her an out? “I’m not a child, to be—to be—!” She couldn’t say it, and a shuffling foot behind her made her realize, horribly, that this conversation had an audience, that they’d heard …

  As much as she was coming to despise the man who’d made her blush more today than she ever had in her life, right then all she could think to do was bury her face in his chest and be grateful it was wide enough to do so.

  “What you are, Princess,” she heard above her in what she hoped was a sigh, rather than a gust of exasperation, “is exceedingly stubborn.”

  “You expect me to go along with my own ab­duction?” she mumbled resentfully against his shirt.

  “We expect you to honor the betrothal that was arranged and decreed by your own father, and to stop fighting what you cannot change.”

  She flung back her head furiously. “Stop fighting, when you can’t even be truthful? You can’t even make up a decent lie to get me to go along with you! You create one that’s so implausible—”

  “That it can be nothing but the truth.”

  “The only truth here,” she said angrily, “is that I don’t want to go with you.”

  His expression was skeptical. “So you would have us believe you prefer a life of drudgery and servitude, is that it? A life which includes salacious perfor­mances both on the stage and in the bedroom?”