She sprinted to the side from the direction she had been running in and dropped to her knees behind a clump of ferns. She had to hold a hand to her mouth to silence her labored breaths, but no sooner did she hear Stefan's pounding footsteps than he dropped down to his knees right in front of her, scaring the life out of her.
She shrieked, then shrieked again as his weight bore her down to the spongy ground. A hand in the back of her hair brought her face up, and then his mouth was over hers and warning bells went off in her head. Not again! Didn't the man know how to deal with his anger any other way? She kicked and bucked under him, but that just moved his body into a more threatening position. Without her skirt to hamper him, his hips settled easily between her legs. If he weren't fully clothed himself . . .
It didn't seem to matter when the bulge of his manhood pressed against the core of her. What she felt had to be as devastating to her senses, for her innards came to life, spiraling downward to protest, or welcome, Lord help her, she wasn't sure which. But she'd never felt anything so strange and debilitating, frightening and thrilling at once. It temporarily took the fight out of her as she stilled to examine the sensation, but then she was snared by the passion in his kiss.
She'd never tried to deny how much she liked his kissing, much as she wished it were otherwise. Now was no different, and it took everything in her to resist the urge she now had, to put her arms around him and kiss him back. Was he still angry? She couldn't tell any longer, nor did she particularly care, if this was all he was going to do to her.
That thought and every other one froze, however, when Stefan's hand came between them to slowly discover the feel of her breasts. New sensations burst upon her senses, a tingling and tightening in her nipples that shook up her innards again. But his hand didn't stay there. It moved down over her stomach, down to where he was pressed so tightly to her core. Then his fingers were there, entering her, and she tried to tell him to stop, but his mouth wouldn't release her lips. And then she didn't want him to stop.
She bucked again, but it was an involuntary reaction this time, because what she felt could only be described as wildly pleasurable. All because he was angry? The man could get angry at her anytime he wanted . . .
They heard it at the same moment, his name being called. It sounded a long way off, the voice unrecognizable to her, but probably not to Stefan. His head came up. She was being given another reprieve, only this time she didn't want it. And this time she couldn't see his expression as he looked down at her, to tell if he had worked off enough of his anger or if it was still there, just subdued—which was worse as far as she was concerned. He made love when he was furious, but he spanked when he was only half so. She didn't care to have another child's punishment, thank you, yet she had no idea what to expect now. Even his eyes were too shadowed for her to tell if they were glowing.
"If you ever risk your life again as you did by jumping off The Lorilie, I will find a stick, which is apparently all you are impressed by, and beat you with it," he promised, his voice low at first, but it picked up in volume as he continued, leaving his no doubts about the depth of her anger. "Do you have any idea what I went through, searching for you in that river? For ten minutes I combed the water, thinking you had been struck by that paddle wheel, going crazy with fear because it was too dark to see anything! And when I do finally see something, it is your white-sleeved arm, pulling you steadily toward shore without the least difficulty. "
Tanya's eyes had rounded incredulously long before he finished. His anger stemmed from concern for her? If he hadn't said it so passionately, she might think this was another ploy. But she didn't doubt that she had really frightened him, and strangely enough, she now felt guilty about it, which was utterly ridiculous. He was a despicable purveyor of prostitutes, wasn't he? An abductor for nefarious reasons, at the very least. But a moment ago she hadn't thought so. A moment ago she hadn't thought about anything except the incredible new things he was making her feel, some of which she still felt, for he hadn't removed his fingers from inside her yet.
She doubted he was even aware of that fact, but she certainly was. It made it extremely awkward for her to answer him in kind, even to remind him that as the unwilling member of their little group, she had every right to try to escape, whatever the means.
"Why don't you say something?" he demanded.
She had the feeling he expected an apology. He wasn't getting it.
With great effort, she remarked in a casual tone, "You know, if I was traveling with you across a whole ocean to this Cardinia of your imagination, and I had to worry about this kind of thing happening every time someone got you angry, I'd go crazy. What do you do when there isn't a woman around for you to jump on?"
"I wait until I find one." There was a measure of amusement in his answer, but not in his voice when he added, "Did I hurt you, Tanya?"
"A fine time to wonder," she snorted. "Are you finished berating me?"
"Probably not."
"What about the kissing? Are we done with that?"
"Definitely not. "
The mention of kissing must have recalled to him the position of his fingers. Suddenly they moved slightly.
Tanya gasped and then snapped, "Well, you can't have both."
"Certainly I can."
She was positive he was only teasing her, for his humor was blatantly clear now. He was probably grinning from ear to ear, though she couldn't see it. She didn't care either. It was the languorous combination of feeling tired but sexually aroused that weakened her protest. She had to fight to resist him. She managed it.
"You aren't even angry with me anymore, Stefan, so let me up."
He didn't budge. "It would be a misconception on your part, little Tanya, if you are thinking I have to be angry to make love to you." His head bent, his lips grazing her cheek all the way to her ear. With his warm breath sending tingles all over her, he continued in a whisper, "I wanted you last night, today a dozen times, right now more than ever. Tell me to love you, Tanya. Demand it of me!"
Nothing in half measures for this devil. Demand it of him? She definitely liked the sound of that. But she didn't dare—did she?
Tanya was that close to giving in to what she was feeling when some loud throat clearing announced that they were no longer alone. Stefan sighed, kissed her cheek, and leaned away from her. His voice, however, was terse when he addressed his unwelcome friend.
"Though the loyalty that sent you into the river after me warms my heart, right now I could wish you to Hades. The princess requires a moment of privacy, so turn around."
Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment again. She was naked, but had temporarily forgotten that mortifying fact. He hadn't. He sat up and shrugged out of his coat, dropping it into her lap as she sat up also. She donned it quickly, savoring the heat inside from his body, even though the coat was still quite damp. For a covering, it was far from adequate, with only a few buttons that would have closed at, Stefan's lower chest, but didn't even begin until Tanya's navel. But at least it was a frock coat, full-skirted, that reached below her knees, so it served its purpose as long as she held it tightly closed.
More sounds were heard in the brush now, as the other two drew near. Tanya found out who had discovered them first when Lazar called out, "Over here. "
Coming back at him was the question, "Did you find Stefan?"
"Yes, and he our little fish."
The "little fish" made a face that no one could see in the dark. She wondered if she could quietly slip away while they were shouting back and forth. The hand she didn't see coming lifted her to her feet and stayed at her elbow to disabuse her of that notion. She wouldn't be getting away again tonight. Stefan was definitely going to make sure of that. But tomorrow . . .
Chapter 20
It had been a goodly number of years since Tanya had slept outdoors, but she wasn't startled when she awoke to humid river smells and grass tickling her nose. She was used to waking clearheaded and alert. Dobbs had taught her t
hat, for he was his grouchiest in the mornings and quick to slap if an order wasn't understood and acted upon immediately.
She wondered about Dobbs now, and what had happened yesterday when he awoke in the late afternoon and she didn't come running at his first yell—or his third or fourth, which had been the case lately as her independence asserted itself more and more. Who had opened The Seraglio for him? Jeremiah? But he was only good at pouring drinks. He didn't even know how to replenish the supply.
The list grew in her mind, of the things that needed to be done at the tavern that neither Jeremiah or Aggie would know the first thing about. And they had no dancer until April's foot healed. For one or two nights they might be able to get away without entertainment, but then the word would spread and their business would drop drastically.
Panic crept up on her as she began to envision her future livelihood suffering a severe setback because she wasn't there to watch over it. The Seraglio might even be forced to close, or worse, Dobbs might make a deal with someone else. Her entire future could be ruined by this forced absence. Damn Stefan for finding her last night.
They had returned last night to where she had left her clothes, she and Stefan going on ahead, so she had time to dress before the others joined them. Stefan had decided to wait out the night there, and much to Tanya's disappointment, since she had hoped to slip away again while they were all sleeping, he had set up a watch, with each of them taking turns through the night. They had had no fire, no blankets to keep warm, and she had slept in her damp clothes, while the men had stripped down to almost nothing so they could spread their clothes out on the surrounding shrubbery to dry.
Tanya hoped they had had the decency to, now that it was light, but she hadn't looked yet. She had turned over onto her stomach during her sleep, so her own clothes were still damp where she had lain on them. But the men were awake. She could hear low-voiced conversations, though they had reverted to that foreign language they all knew, so she didn't bother to listen.
They were undoubtedly making plans, deciding which direction to take. She wondered if they knew the area, because she certainly didn't, not on this side of the river, nor on the other side for that matter, not this far from Natchez. But that was their problem. Hers was finding one more opportunity to part company with them, a virtual impossibility because none of them would trust her farther than they could reach.
She finally turned over and sat up, finding them gathered near the water's edge. Vasili and Serge sat on a log, Vasili trying to buff the mud from his boots with a handkerchief. Lazar squatted on the ground counting money, so one or more of them must have been carrying some when they decided to come after her. Stefan stood facing the water, possibly considering hailing some passing river craft. She could have told them that was a good way to get robbed and killed with so many unsavory types traveling the Mississippi these days, an option only for the really desperate. She was desperate, but they weren't, not yet anyway. But then they weren't exactly upstanding honest people themselves, were they? she thought disagreeably. So they would probably fit right in with thieves and murderers.
Her movement had drawn Serge's eyes to her, then Lazar's. When they didn't look away from her, she glanced down to make sure the waistcoat was still covering her breasts adequately. It was. Looking back, she saw Vasili staring at her now, too, and he seemed surprised, almost amazed. Well, what the hell?
"Have I grown two heads or something?" she demanded irritably.
Stefan turned at the sound of her voice, took one look at her, and uttered a curse that burned her ears.
Lazar started laughing at that point, Serge smiled, but they all still stared at her as if they were looking at something that totally defied belief.
Tanya wasn't usually so dense, but she was so used to being properly made up before she faced anyone, even Dobbs, that it didn't occur to her immediately that her camouflage was washed clean away. When she did finally recall scrubbing herself from top to bottom last night in the river, she repeated Stefan's curse, though silently. She wasn't supposed to have run into them again after she did that. And look at their damn reactions. She was rendering them speechless, for crying out loud. Well, not quite.
When Lazar had finished laughing, he said to no one in particular, "It stands to reason that she would look like this with her mother a renowned Austrian beauty and her father one of the handsomest men Cardinia has ever produced. This is what we expected, not the well-worn hag she painted herself. And Stefan warned us she was not as she appeared to be."
"I expected worse, not better," Vasili said.
"You merely call this better?" Serge asked, chuckling now. "They will come from all over Europe to have a look at her, once it is known she outshines even her mother. And to think I felt sorry for—"
Two throats cleared so loudly, Serge was effectively cut off. Stefan, silent so far, stepped forward stiffly to help Tanya to her feet.
"The question is," he said in a tone frigid enough to predict what was coming, "why would a whore hide a face worth her fortune?"
The fortune-producing face turned bright crimson, which infuriated Tanya even more than the insult did. She was getting sick and tired of blushing every time they dumped their contempt on her. Obviously, nothing was going to stop the insults from coming her way, so she had to stop letting them affect her. She didn't even know why she was reacting this way, when she had been called worse things in her life than a whore and had been too thick-skinned to even notice. She definitely needed to toughen up here if she had to pass another day with these four, or start fighting back in kind.
Right then fighting back appealed to her, so even though it had been a rhetorical question, at least not asked of her, she answered anyway, her smile deadly sweet. "I'm only one woman, Stefan. There was never enough time to handle all the customers this face attracted."
Incredibly, color drained from his face, only to come back in such a rush she knew he was flushing in reaction. Well, score one for you, missy. Fighting back is going to be easier than you thought.
But she heard from behind him, "Jesus," and from another the warning "Think before you do anything, Stefan. "
And they couldn't even see that he had turned livid, since he was still facing her. They expected anger from what she'd said. Why? What difference did it make if she owned up to what they all thought anyway? If she told the truth instead, Stefan would probably get just as angry. Maybe she would try that next time.
Right now she braced herself, wondering if he would pounce on her as he usually did. Not with his friends present, apparently, for he merely tilted her chin up with one finger, his golden eyes roving over every inch of her face as if he would commit it to memory.
She knew what he was seeing, or she thought she did. Actually, she hadn't had a good look at her reflection in decent light for a number of years. But even if she had, she wouldn't have seen what he was seeing. Spiky lashes framed eyes that were captivatingly tilted, and weren't pale at all without the gray around them, just light in color and quite brilliant. Petal-soft skin was a roses-and-cream hue, and gently flaring brows were as black as her midnight hair. He saw the aristocrat in her high cheekbones, and passion in her lush mouth, with lips full and inviting. And he saw the strength, or stubbornness, in her jaw, as well as the slight curve at the tip of her small nose that kept her face from being haughty. He saw a face so lovely, even a poet couldn't do it justice with flowery description. And he disliked every inch of it.
Tanya saw that clearly in his expression, she just didn't understand it. The man had wanted her a dozen times yesterday, or so he claimed, when she had been at her most unappealing. Now he didn't? For crying out loud, she should have washed her face sooner.
When he finished his inspection, he said with deceptive nonchalance, "I see your point, Tanya. They would be lined up in droves, wouldn't they? Or do you service more than one at a time?"
Lord help her, he was going to get really nasty, now that he no longer wa
nted her for himself. Tanya didn't know whether to cry over that horrid insinuation or slap him. But she had forgotten how to cry...
The crack across his cheek was shatteringly loud in the stillness. Tanya had to bite her lip to keep from shaking her hand, it stung so badly. Stefan's cheek turned white, then filled with blood in the shape of her hand print, almost making his scars underneath it disappear.
Tanya felt such satisfaction on seeing that print, she didn't care if he turned around to look for a stick to beat her with, or slapped her back, as Vasili would have done the other night if Stefan hadn't stopped him.
But he did neither. He merely touched a finger to his cheek and raised a black brow, saying, "I take that to be a no?" She almost slapped him again. He must have sensed it, for he shook his head in warning. "Ah, no, Tanya. Once was perhaps deserved, but twice I will not accept. Behave—"
"Then get the hell away from me, because I've had a bellyful of your vicious taunts!"
She turned her back on him, but he didn't reply. After another moment, she heard him walk away, and it was all she could do not to break into a run in the opposite direction. But there were four of them to give chase, so all she'd end up doing was wasting her strength.
Another moment passed and Lazar approached her, extreme wariness in his expression. "I hesitate to ask, Princess, but are these edible?"
She glanced down at the branch of foliage he held in his hand. Wild berries. If she weren't so hungry herself, she'd tell him no, then sit back quietly and watch them all try to throw up what they had probably already eaten. She took the branch from him instead and popped a few of the succulent berries in her mouth, a good enough answer as far as she was concerned, since she was done talking to the lot of them.
But the damn berries wouldn't go down. She had a lump in her throat that felt as big as her fist, something she hadn't experienced since she was a child. She guessed she could still cry after all.
She didn't make a single sound, but the tears started flowing copiously. Lazar blanched upon seeing them. Tanya didn't notice his reaction or that he left her side. And then an argument started behind her that got really heated for a moment, though she wasn't paying attention to that either. Maybe they'd kill each other. She could hope . . .
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