Once a Princess

by Johanna Lindsey

  But there was definite danger in her strategy, as she discovered when he finally set her away from him, and it took her a long dreamy moment to be drawn back to the present. Losing herself to the kiss hadn't been part of the plan. Nor had she counted on feeling a very strong desire to draw him back to her mouth for more of the same.

  Tanya quickly tamped down that crazy urge, as well as the mushy feeling in her innards. The damned devil had powers she'd better not tempt again. But looking at him, she didn't think he seemed any more pleased with the results of that little experiment than she was.

  His next words proved it. "And to think I had actually begun to wonder if a mistake might have been made, that you might—­miraculously—be chaste after all. Foolish of me, wasn't it?"

  Tanya fought this newest wave of heat surging up her neck to her cheeks, hating for him to know he'd scored another hit so easily if he should notice. But it wasn't just embarrassment that she felt, it was anger too, that he could say something like that just because she had kissed him back. And the anger prompted her reply.

  "Well, you won't ever know for sure, will you?" she taunted him.

  Stefan merely smiled, a smile that smugly stated as plain as any words, That's what you think. And he had made a promise to her in that regard, hadn't he? Something about her sharing his bed before their journey ended. Why were they all so convinced she was a whore? She almost asked him, but she didn't think she could stand any more insults right now. And there wasn't any time, if his sudden look of impatience could be interpreted correctly.

  It could, since he reached for her arm as he turned toward the stairs. "Come along, Tati—"

  "Wait a minute!" she cut in sharply. "What about my things?"

  He didn't even glance back as he continued to pull her along. "Perhaps next time you will do as you are told when you are told."

  In other words, she'd lost her chance to take along even a change of clothes. Tanya almost dug in her heels to protest, just for the hell of it, but she'd just as soon have all her possessions here awaiting her return than risk having to leave anything behind with these devils when the opportunity came to part com­pany with them. She was aware, however, that Stefan thought he was getting some subtle revenge by de­nying her. So let him think it.

  But there was one other matter she had to take care of. It wouldn't hurt to have a little help in getting away from these men, and only Dobbs could supply that by sending someone after her. He couldn't do that if he didn't even know she was gone. And he wouldn't have heard all of the commotion in the hallway to alert him that something was wrong, be­cause it was his habit to sleep right after he finished his breakfast. This he did like a dead man until The Seraglio opened for business in the late afternoon. If he had heard anything, he'd be yelling to find out what was going on.

  Tanya dug in her heels this time. "You have to let me at least say good-bye to Dobbs."

  He didn't stop, and she was jerked along despite her efforts to hold him back. "Why?" he demanded. "He lied about you, without even knowing why we sought you. That man is no friend of yours."

  "I know it, but he's still the closest thing I've ever had to a relative."

  "Not anymore."

  He said that so automatically, it had a ring of truth that disconcerted her. Lord help her, he was a con­vincing liar, but she wasn't fooled.

  "Let me guess," she sneered. "I suppose you'll tell me now that you are a relative of mine?"

  He had her halfway down the stairs, and still didn't even glance back to answer. "We share a common ancestor, five generations removed. We are, in fact, very, very distant cousins."

  "And I believe that about as much as I do the rest of what you've told me. You're afraid to let me tell Dobbs I'm leaving."

  "I believe he would try to prevent your going, yes. You are, after all, of great service to him, aren't you? A slave without the cost. Very convenient for the man. "

  She'd thought the same thing herself when she had become old enough to realize that Dobbs didn't have any right to demand so much from her. Now she was his housekeeper, maid, cook, laundress, nurse, and—for the tavern—manager, clerk, purchasing agent, waitress, sometimes bartender and dancer, and as Stefan and his friends would have it, a whore when she had the time. When, she'd like to know, did she ever have any spare time? But she was finally going to be paid for a whole life of servitude—with The Seraglio.

  However, if these men had their way, she was going to lose that, and her freedom as well. They intended to make her a whore in truth. Well, there was no way she was going to let that happen.

  They were halfway across the common room when Stefan paused, perhaps realizing that, for the sake of the pretense, he'd been a bit harsh. "If you do have friends you would like to bid farewell to, and they live close by, I suppose we could spare a moment or two for good-byes."

  Friends? The only friends she'd ever had were barmaids, and that was before she'd become their boss. But that wasn't the kind of friends she believed he was referring to, for she'd never felt close to any of them. Only Lelia could she call an actual friend, and that had been for a very short time a long time ago.

  "There's no one," she said, her answer imme­diately saddening her since she'd never really thought about this lack in her life before.

  "Not even a lover you are particularly fond of?" Stefan persisted.

  Anger instantly replaced her sadness. "Oh, too many. Do we have all day?"

  She got jerked along again for that piece of sar­casm, and could have kicked herself when she saw the carriage and the rest of the men, who were going to do all they could to prevent her escape, standing ready to surround her. Couldn't she have named someone, even one of Dobbs' old cronies, instead of trying to get in a dig to annoy Stefan? Great going, missy., Why don't you just help with this abduction? You couldn't be making it any easier for them if you tried.

  Chapter 13

  "For God's sake, Stefan, have her do something with her damn hair," Vasili said the moment they were all settled in the carriage. "She looks like a slattern. "

  "Neat and smudged, my friend? Is that the effect we're looking for?" Stefan asked, his tone so dry it wouldn't soak up water.

  Tanya went one better. She was angry enough at the look of disgust Vasili had shot at her to sit forward and shake her head vigorously, sending her hair first into Lazar's lap, then into Stefan's, making it messier than it had been. Stefan sat on one side of her, and Lazar, who sat on the other, burst into laughter. Serge held his mouth tightly and stared up at the ceiling. Vasili flushed and looked out the window, ignoring her if he couldn't improve her, but oh, how nice it was, she thought, to see someone else turn pink for a change.

  Stefan, however, gathered the entire cascade of her hair into his hands and began to salvage whatever pins still clung to it. When he had them all, he held them out to her.

  "Would you mind, Tatiana?" Her mutinous expression told him she would. He shrugged. "Since I brought it down, I suppose I could put it back up."

  Have him perform such an intimate task for her? She swiped the pins from his one hand, then her hair from the other. Lazar continued to laugh, so she sent him a furious glance, which didn't affect him in the least.

  "Who would have thought there would be so much of it, rolled up in that little bun you sported," Lazar commented, still grinning. "Your mother had golden hair, I'm told. I never met her myself, but Stefan did. He was there at your betrothal, I believe. He could probably even describe her for you, if you asked him."

  "I'm not interested in that fairy tale, so don't continue it for my sake."

  "What's this?" Vasili turned to ask. "You mean she still doubts who she is?"

  "There's no doubt about it, mister," Tanya answered before anyone else could, as she worked at putting her hair back in order. "You men have to be half-wits if you think I believe any of the nonsense I've heard today."

  "Is that so, wench? Then how do you explain that mark upon your arse?" he sneered crudely.

/>   "Ask Stefan," was all she said, despising even conversation with that disdainful peacock.

  All eyes turned to Stefan. Even Lazar leaned around Tanya to hear the explanation. Stefan actually smiled.

  "She thinks one of us is adept at climbing trees to peek through second-story windows."

  Vasili snorted. "Much too undignified."

  "Speak for yourself, Vasili." Lazar grinned. "I for one see some definite merit in such an endeavor—if the view is interesting enough. "

  "You are more likely to be climbing out of windows, rather than up to them."

  Tanya was surprised to hear Vasili sneering at someone other than herself. A glance to the side showed that Stefan was clearly amused at the turn the conversation had taken. Tanya wasn't. Everything seemed to be either amusing jokes or ridicule to them, with no middle ground. How was she supposed to deal with that? Hopefully not for long.

  She gave a last pat to her bun, not caring if it was crooked, and looked out the window to determine how much time she still had. Not much. They were nearing the docks now. Another minute or two . . .

  The one thing she couldn't risk was getting on that riverboat with them. With so many other people about, Stefan was sure to have her locked away in a cabin where she couldn't talk to anyone. It was amazing that he was taking the chance that she would remain quiet and docile. Did he really think she would stick to a bargain when her freedom was involved?

  The carriage stopped. The door was opened by a swarthy little man who immediately started jabbering away in some foreign tongue. The men appeared to know him. The servant, Sasha? He sounded complaining, though Tanya couldn't comprehend a single word he was saying. He was also anxiously urging them to hurry, if his wild gesturing was any indication, and then he rushed ahead, probably to inform the captain that his last passengers had finally arrived.

  Was the riverboat that close to departing, then? Tanya certainly hoped so, for that would definitely aid her in what she planned to do. The plan she had come up with in those past few moments before they arrived wasn't the most ingenious. Timing would be everything. But it could work, if she could be rid of Lazar and Stefan.

  Vasili she didn't worry about.. He out of all of them didn't want her along and made no bones about it. So he wouldn't expend himself to try and stop her when she set off down the docks. Serge would likely give chase, but he was too stocky to be able to catch her. And the docks this time of day were crowded, another point in her favor, particularly if Serge came after her. She'd be wending her way agilely through the crowd while he'd be knocking people down trying to keep up with her. There would be no contest.

  The only difficulty in the plan was getting Lazar and Stefan out of the picture, because either one of them, she was sure, could catch her with little effort. Those damn long legs would do it, not to mention the fact that they were in superb physical condition. They both had to be eliminated from the chase before it began, and there was only one way to do it. But Lord help her if it didn't work.

  To her immense relief, Vasili and Serge got out of the carriage first. For the plan to work, she needed them in front of her, not behind her, when they all started up the ramp to the boat. If they went on ahead, so much the better, but she wasn't that lucky.

  Serge took care of paying the driver of the carriage while Stefan lifted Tanya to the ground. Their baggage was apparently on board already, along with the servant, Sasha, another reason they wouldn't want to risk having the boat leave without them while they chased down a troublesome captive. They would give up because of that, and she could then go home and put the whole unpleasant encounter behind her—somehow—and start carrying a pistol.

  The ramp was wide, but not quite wide enough for two to walk abreast with any degree of safety, since there were no railings. Thank God for that. And Serge and Vasili did go first, with Lazar behind them and Stefan behind Tanya, so he had to go over first. If she wasn't so nervous, she might enjoy this. But she hadn't counted on his being so close behind her that he could hold her elbow, which he did.

  "Watch your step, Tatiana," Stefan said, which gave her the idea to trip.

  But with strong resentment, what she replied was, "The name is Tanya, Tan-ya. If you call me by that foreign­sounding Ta-ti-a-na one more time, I will probably scream, and to hell with bargains. And furthermore, I can get up this ramp without your assistance, thank you."

  She jerked her arm forward then, but he was expecting that movement, as she knew he would be, and held fast. Which gave her the excuse to turn around to take issue with him about it. This she did with her. elbow jabbing backward. There was the chance, of course, that he'd take her over the side into the river with him, but instead he let go of her when she started to turn. He had probably been anticipating that she might try jumping over the side, not that she would dare to push him over, and that assumption allowed the plan to work.

  It was executed beautifully, better than she could have hoped for. And even before Tanya heard him hit the water, she had turned and was tripping into Lazar with an added little shove to the right, which sent him over the opposite side of the ramp from Stefan.

  She didn't wait around for Serge's and Vasili's reactions to what she'd done. Since they hadn't been watching, all they could know, until they were told otherwise, was that two of their party were in the river, not how they got there.

  Tanya leaped for the dock and took off at a full run, which lasted all of five seconds. "Noooo!" she wailed as her feet literally left the ground and the last voice she expected to hear growled into her ear, "Shut up, wench, or I will cuff you to silence.

  That son of a bitch would, too. His arm around her waist was already trying mightily to squeeze her to silence as he marched her back to the boat.

  Hell and high water, Vasili wasn't supposed to have come after her. He was just as tall and long-legged as Stefan and Lazar. She'd known he could catch her if he tried. But he wasn't supposed to have tried!

  "Why don't you just tell them you couldn't find—"

  The suggestion was cut off as her stomach made hard contact with his shoulder bone. She started struggling then, and screaming for help as soon as she caught her breath, but he managed to keep her up on his shoulder, and another hard bounce stopped her protests for a few more seconds.

  Long enough for her to hear him say to someone who was probably staring openmouthed at them, "My servant's wife. She hates boats, but he refuses to leave her behind."

  "I would," the stranger replied.

  "So would I, but the silly man loves her, so what can you do?"

  "That's a lie!" Tanya screeched, only to get another bounce on Vasili's hard shoulder.

  By the time she caught her breath, she was already on the boat. Her hair had come loose again in her struggle and was trailing on the deck. She had a difficult time pushing it out of the way when she reared up, then wished she hadn't when she saw the many passengers lining the rail all watching Vasili and his squirming bundle, rather than getting a last view of Natchez. The men looked amused, some actually laughing, while the women were stern-faced, likely feeling affronted. And farther away, Serge was talking to an officious-looking man—the captain?—and probably telling him some outrageous lie just like Vasili's, to explain why she had to be carried aboard. The passengers had no doubt been told something similar, which was why not a single one stepped forward to help her. Of Stefan and Lazar there was no sign. Maybe they'd drowned—hopefully.

  Tanya still tried to get the truth out for whoever would listen, her last and only hope, but it came out a jumbled concoction of frantic words, interspersed with all her ooufs each time she was bounced into silence. Finally she just screamed in pure frustration, which was also interspersed with ooufs.

  Too soon, she heard a door slam behind her and Vasili's irritated voice saying, "Come and stuff something in her damn mouth, will you, Sasha?"

  And then she was pulled off his shoulder and set down jarringly on her feet. But she wasn't so jarred that she didn't immedia
tely take a close-fisted swing at her tormentor. Uselessly, however. He was as fast as Stefan was in avoiding what she could dish out. She ended up turning herself half around with the swing and was left staring at Sasha—and the cloth he had wadded in one hand.

  The servant got blasted with everything Tanya was presently feeling. "Don't even think about it, you sawed-off little toady!"

  Unaffected by the insult, he merely turned his black eyes on Vasili. Tanya did too, and moved out of his reach.

  "Never mind, Sasha," Vasili said, having suddenly found something to be amused about. He even chuckled. "We'll leave her to deal with Stefan and his devil's temper. It's bound to be the worst we've seen in a long time."

  If that was said to frighten Tanya, it worked quite well. Until that moment, she hadn't remembered Stefan's promise of unpleasant consequences. And she hadn't just caused a commotion. She'd dunked two men in the river, one of whom supposedly had the authority to do with her anything he cared to do. Her fear didn't subdue her, however, not when she didn't have to face it yet.

  Her lip curled with contempt for the golden Adonis and his vindictive amusement. "And I'm supposed to be betrothed to you? You see why I don't believe it.

  His contempt was much more effective, all in the amber­-brown eyes that raked over her. "I hardly believe it myself. But I can assure you, little wench, you'll never share my bed." With that he laughed derisively, before adding, "Royal marriages don't even require a degree of civility between the partners. No, after the nuptials, I will see much less of you than I am forced to endure now, thank the good Lord. And you, Princess, can take what lovers you care to."