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 like 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?"
Tanya sucked in a sharp breath, then drew back her foot to give his shin her reaction to this latest defaming innuendo. His arms tightened slightly around her, but in reflex rather than retaliation. In no other way did he acknowledge the pain she'd inflicted, so she answered his question in a calm voice that belied the fury behind that kick.
"What I prefer is no one telling me what to do. It took all my life to get to this point, where I have no one to answer to but myself. Now you show up here with your ridiculous tale, your threats, your insults, and your arrogant assumption that you can take over every aspect of my life. Well, you can't. You don't have that right. No one does anymore, and no one ever will again."
"It's too bad there is no time to discuss this unusual existence you desire for yourself, which so few of us ever achieve. As for our right to take you in hand, you are Cardinian by birth, and every Cardinian is subject to the supreme power of his ruling sovereign."
"Like hell. That's what I don't accept, Stefan, so that excuse is not valid as far as I'm concerned. In this country you can't justify what you're attempting to do. It's unlawful no matter how you look at it."
He looked up toward the ceiling to say, "Why am I arguing with her?" which made Tanya bristle until he added in sharp command, "Lazar, Serge, wait for us below." Then she stiffened, filled with apprehension.
His gaze came back to her as the others squeezed past them, and the very fact that his eyes were only sherry-hued eased her tension somewhat. But he also brought one hand up to caress the back of her head in what was clearly an attempt to soothe her, and she simply wasn't sure how to interpret that.
"I have concluded, Tatiana, that I was, perhaps, a bit hasty in demanding the removal of your clever disguise. Of course, just now," he added with the softening of his expression which presaged a smile, "it merely gives you the appearance of a grubby urchin. But if that is how you wish to look, so be it.
She didn't trust this mellowness after the storm, not one little bit. "What exactly are you saying?"
"Tha
t we will forget the consequence I promised for your defiance, and go on from here with a bargain."
She distrusted that even more, but said, "Go on, I'm listening."
"If you will agree not to cause a disturbance of any sort, then you may board The Lorilie without restraint."
Her eyes narrowed to green sparks. "Otherwise I get crated aboard?"
"Bound, gagged, and crated," he clarified.
"What about this one instead?" she said tightly. "I agree not to tell anyone what you tried to do here, if you simply take yourself off and never darken my door again?"
The arm still around her lower back squeezed just enough to remind her who was ultimately in control right now. "Make no mistake, Tatiana, you are coming with us. Your choice is merely how."
"But I don't want to!" she cried. "Doesn't that matter in the least?"
Slowly he shook his head. She hissed through her teeth in frustration. She was going to be abducted no matter what she said or did, but there was no choice to make in what was being offered, not if she intended to escape at the very first opportunity.
"All right," she said with ill grace. "I'll walk if that's my only option."
"Without causing a disturbance?"
"I won't speak to anyone, if that's what you mean."
"Excellent. Just remember, Tatiana, that this is a bargain, and like any bargain, there will be a consequence to bear if it's broken. I believe you already know what that is."
Don't you dare blush again, missy! He's just trying to put the fear of—him—into you, but his threats won't be worth sour beans once you escape.
To him she said, "If you're in such an all-fired hurry to leave, don't you think it's time you let go of me?"
"What I think is that this bargain needs to be sealed with a kiss first."
"N—!" was all she got out before his lips covered hers.
Tanya would have struggled right away, except it occurred to her that this was a golden opportunity to lure Stefan down a path of confusion, at least where her feelings were concerned. If he was arrogant enough to think she liked his kisses and because of them might be resigned to her fate all the sooner, then he could let down his guard, making her escape that much easier. The trouble was, she did like his kisses. There wasn't the least bit of unpleasantness in the way his mouth moved sensually over hers. So there was no pretense in her yielding to that kiss.
Once a Princess Page 8