You Belong to Me

by Johanna Lindsey

  "You can mention it, but I wouldn't buy it—and neither do you."

  Lazar shrugged, inclined to agree after their tour of St. Petersburg. He didn't think the three burly men were that ugly, however, but that was a moot point. "What does it matter if she's slept with one of them or all?"

  "It doesn't, except that if she's going to con­tinue to curtail my amusements, and I have little doubt that she intends to do just that, I'm damned if I'll allow her any of her own on this trip."

  "I suppose that's only fair." Then Lazar grinned, his humor restored. "Do you plan to threaten them the way she threatened the serving wench?"

  "If I have to," Vasili growled.

  And since Lazar had only been teasing, he groaned and said no more.

  14

  It wasn't easy to abandon twenty-five years of refined breeding. There were times when a little dirt was acceptable, when one's job was a dirty job. Then there were times when one had to remain spotlessly clean. Al­exandra knew both times very well, but bringing the two together took constant con­centration on her part. Her friends weren't helping in that respect.

  Timofee kept looking as if he were going to burst into laughter at any moment. Stenka was teasing Alexandra by copying her ac­tions. Konrad couldn't keep the disapproval from his expression, but fortunately, he wasn't sitting where Vasili could see him.

  Somehow she managed just fine, and only had one near blunder when she started to reach for her napkin at the end of the messy meal. But she caught herself in time and licked her fingers instead, then wiped her sticky hands on her clothes, mentally grimac­ing as she did so. It was a nice touch, however. She might even wear the same clothes tomorrow, possibly even longer.

  Actually, that wasn't a bad idea at all. By the end of the week, she ought to be reeking. The oh-so-impeccably groomed count from Cardinia would have to stand upwind of her if he wanted to have words with her. She could convince him that she found bathing unhealthy and never bathed more than once a month.

  As for convincing, she was sure she'd done a splendid job of it with the meal. She had known to the second, without looking to con­firm it, when Vasili had started watching her. It had been a disturbing sensation, to actually feel those honey-gold eyes on her. But he had to be disgusted, maybe even revolted. She knew she would have been if she'd been able to watch herself.

  Perhaps she went a little too far when she left the common room with her friends, still not glancing in Vasili's direction, passing near his table yet pointedly ignoring him. Com­mon courtesy demanded at least an acknowl­edgment of his presence, which she hadn't given him all evening. He was her betrothed, after all. But for the time being, common cour­tesy was on the list of prohibitions she had made for herself, and she had to be scrupu­lously consistent about adhering to it if she wanted her plan to work.

  Yet she had to wonder, when he showed up at her door a while later, if that last bit of rudeness on her part hadn't goaded him to visit her.

  She certainly hadn't expected his sudden appearance. She was already dressed for bed in one of her plain white cotton nightgowns. Nina had already brushed out her hair and was still mumbling under her breath about the bath she'd ordered that Alexandra had refused to make use of. Nina was presently brushing the dust from their clothes with a few extra grumbles about the food stains she'd been told to leave alone. She didn't even hear the knock at the door, not that Alexandra expected her to answer it.

  She answered it herself, by habit pulling on the dark blue velvet robe that had been laid out for her. Modest by nature, she was grate­ful for the robe when she saw who stood there. She even drew the garment closer to her throat and held it there with both hands, a reflexive defense against the potent mascu­linity that exuded from the man who was her betrothed.

  He said nothing at first, his eyes moving slowly over her—they seemed lighter in color than she remembered—finally resting on her hair, which flowed over her shoulders in shin­ing waves. Those few moments of silence un­nerved her, and she was further unsettled when it seemed he had to force his eyes away from her to scan the room.

  When he saw Nina, he said to her, "Your mistress and I require a few minutes of pri­vacy."

  Nina responded to his commanding tone with a quick nod and headed straight for the door. Alexandra bristled at his presumption and her friend's defection. The last thing she wanted was to be left alone with him, espe­cially after all those gloomy predictions the Razins had made.

  So her voice was a bit sharp when she said, "You don't have to leave, Nina."

  No one paid her the least attention. Vasili stepped into the room, held the door for Nina's exit, and closed it behind her. Alexan­dra considered shouting before Nina got out of earshot, for her not to go far, but that smacked too much of cowardice.

  Besides, whatever worry she felt was over­ridden by pure annoyance, which was unmis­takable in her tone. "Couldn't this wait until tomorrow, Petroff?"

  His eyes came back to her. Were they even brighter now? Impossible.

  "No, it can't wait, not if I'm going to get any sleep," he replied as he took the step that narrowed the distance between them and forced her to tilt her head if she wanted to maintain eye contact with him. "You do want me to get some sleep, don't you, Alexandra?"

  His tone sounded too ominous by half. "Are you actually assuming it matters to me one way or the other?"

  "It should." His tone became even softer. "You see, I've just discovered I'm rather per­verse and selfish in that respect. If my needs aren't seen to, why, then, I ask myself, should yours be?"

  Alexandra hated to say it, but had to. "Are we talking about sleep?"

  "Are we?" As he said it, he reached for a lock of her hair that rested on her shoulder, and rubbed it between his fingers. "So this is what it looks like," he added to himself. Spun moonbeams came to mind.

  Vasili wasn't sure what he was doing. An­ger had brought him here and it was still with him, but now it was more self-directed, and not the only emotion he had to deal with. That damn dinner. He'd never forget it, and how he'd gone from fury to satisfaction and back to fury again, ending up furious with himself rather than her.

  He shouldn't have continued to watch Al­exandra and her appalling eating habits. He should have taken his satisfaction and relief to bed with him, and the serving wench, too, de­spite the fact that he no longer found her ap­pealing. But he hadn't left the common room soon enough. And so he'd witnessed the very sensual way Alexandra had licked her fingers, which had instantly stirred his senses to vi­brant life.

  He'd groaned then. He groaned again now, though silently, because he still didn't have his desire under control. It was intolerable that he could want her again when he de­spised everything about her: her manners, her morals, her apparent vicious tendencies.

  He recalled those vicious tendencies and that embarrassing scene he had suffered through, and remarked none too pleasantly, "What a little savage you are, sweetheart."

  Alexandra should have been pleased, de­lighted, even laughing over his derision, so she had no business blushing, yet that was what she was doing. And it got worse when he added with a deliberate sneer, "Tell me, do you bring that kind of passion to your bed?"

  Stiffly, she replied, "You don't expect me to answer that, do you?"

  "Maybe I expect to find out firsthand."

  Had she been blushing before? She could swear she was giving off steam now.

  "I wouldn't have thought you'd be in such a hurry to seal our fate."

  He cocked a brow at her in a look that was designed to provoke by its very arrogance. "Is that remark supposed to be pertinent to any­thing?"

  "You'd be forcing this marriage, which would put an end to any mind-changing for either of us."

  He actually laughed before he told her, "Don't be absurd, Alex. What's one more lover to you when you've already had so many?"

  By his expression, she realized he wasn't merely trying to offend her this time. He re­ally believed what he'd just s
aid—which gave her a horribly contradictory feeling. She was glad, she truly was, that he could think such a thing about her, because it could aid her own plan. So why did she feel insulted?

  She tried, desperately, to change the subject by picking one word out of what he'd just said. "Only my friends get to call me that," she stated, in reference to the "Alex" he'd used.

  His smile was condescending, as if he were about to explain something to a simpleton. "But I'm more than a friend. I'm soon to be your husband, with all the rights that entails. Shall we have a demonstration of some of those rights?"

  "The only demonstration you'll be giving is how to leave a room in a hurry. You can begin now."

  His answer was to grab her shoulders and slowly pull her toward him. The unexpected move brought her hands away from her throat to brace flat against his chest so she could push. Her effort was useless. He didn't budge.

  Only he noticed that her robe fell open. With her excessively modest nightgown it shouldn't have mattered, and it wouldn't have if she didn't have such large breasts that were no longer hidden beneath her arms. His eyes were drawn to the unbound pair in­stantly.

  He drew her closer to him. Her braced arms were actually bending ...

  "What the hell do you think you're doing, Petroff?" she demanded, grateful not to hear the panic she was feeling in her voice.

  He heard it, and ignored it. "I'm thinking I'm going to find out what you taste like."

  "No!"

  Her refusal wasn't too late, it was merely ignored. His strong arms were drawing her so close now that she was flush with his body, feeling more of it than she'd ever hoped to feel. And warm lips took care of any more protests she'd been about to make, at least temporarily. Shock took care of the rest.

  Not once had she considered that this might be one of the dangers of this trip. How could she have, when she knew exactly how Vasili felt about marrying her, and he knew she felt exactly the same? Yet here she stood, wrapped in his arms, being kissed by him. The shock came from discovering immedi­ately that Christopher hadn't taught her all there was to know about kissing, as she'd na­ively thought.

  She'd been thrilled with Christopher's kisses because she loved him, but the truth was, he knew next to nothing about kissing compared with this man. This man consumed her senses and controlled every one of them, and not just with his mouth, but with his body. The hand he placed on her back kept her from retreating from the slow rub and press of his chest, which gave her the oddest feeling, as if her breasts were being caressed and kneaded by turns. The position of his other hand on the soft curve of her behind was even worse, lift­ing her as it did until the hard bulge of him was settled directly at the juncture of her legs. She was assailed on every sensual front, over­whelmed by sensations newly discovered, and all the while his tongue made a deep, erotic foray into her mouth to complete the destruc­tion of her will.

  Vasili was no less caught in the storm of his own creation. What had started as a means to coerce her into backing down from her threat of public scenes became something else en­tirely. The second he felt the weight of those luscious breasts against him, she became sim­ply a very desirable woman. And Vasili never denied himself desirable women, especially when a bed was near at hand and the door firmly closed ...

  The door opened abruptly, slammed open, actually. Vasili and Alexandra separated just as abruptly, she in somewhat of a daze, he scowling at the intruder.

  "Sorry," Nina offered for the noise, but the reason for it was apparent when they noted she had her hands full trying to restrain the huge wolfhound that was determined to charge Alexandra with a greeting. "He was whining and disturbing all the horses," she said by way of explanation for Bojik's pres­ence.

  It was a blatant lie and Alexandra knew it, so she forgave Nina for her earlier defection— until the girl added, albeit innocently, "He's not going to be happy until he's sleeping with you, Alex."

  They all three blushed within seconds after that last statement, each of them thinking of a "he" other than Bojik—and that they were all thinking the same thing, and knew it, made it so much worse.

  Alexandra went down on one knee to sum­mon her pet, and the way he flew out of Nina's grip proved how little control she'd ac­tually had of him. Alexandra hid her hot cheek against Bojik's neck as she said frostily, "Good night, Petroff. And in the future, if you wish to speak to me, you will do so in public, at a decent hour."

  "Don't count on it—Alex."

  After the door closed again, loudly, Nina re­marked in a subdued tone, "You're lucky you didn't see his face when he said that."

  Alexandra glanced up now, but still made a quick scan of the room to assure herself he was really gone, before she asked, "Why?"

  "Because as expression go, his said he meant it."

  15

  If Vasili accomplished anything during his visit to Alexandra's room, it was ensuring that Alexandra shared his anticipated lack of sleep that night. She could not stop thinking about his kiss and the unexpected feelings it had produced in her, sensations she had never known she could feel. She also berated herself for standing there like a half-wit and letting him do that to her, regardless of the fact that she knew perfectly well she'd been too stunned to do anything but let him. Which wouldn't happen again, she promised herself. Not that there would be any more kissing with him at all, she also promised herself.

  Mostly, though, she spent long hours trying to figure out why Vasili had kissed her at all, because she certainly didn't believe that it had had anything to do with keeping her awake, as he'd suggested, even if that was exactly what it had done. And what, heaven help her, would have happened if Nina hadn't come back when she had?

  Alexandra would have liked to think she would have come to her senses and shouted for the Razin brothers, who were sleeping in the room next to hers. But she couldn't be sure of anything last night.

  This morning, however, with a lack of sleep making her irritable, she was much more sure about what she would have done. She wouldn't have done any shouting, but would have slapped that profligate rake soundly for his effort, then warned him graphically what would happen if he ever tried it again. She had a new image to uphold, after all, and the new, ill-mannered, crude, outlandish Alexandra wouldn't tolerate being trifled with by that master seducer, even if he did think he had some rights where she was concerned.

  Hadn't she proved just that the previous evening in the common room? She had pulled that public scene off beautifully, yet she wished she hadn't had an underlying fury goading her. His propositioning another woman, right in front of her, shouldn't have affected her. She'd been warned it would hap­pen, and it merely confirmed that he was the despicable man she had already guessed him to be. But that, too, accounted for some toss­ing and turning last night.

  Alexandra was the last to arrive at the sta­bles for departure, which didn't help her dis­position any. If that golden popinjay had gotten a good night's sleep after disturbing hers, she'd have a score to settle that had nothing to do with her plan to get rid of her betrothed.

  The wagons had already been sent on their way and were far down the road, as were most of her horses. Stenka held Prince Mischa in readiness for her. Vasili, who was mounted on his roan stallion, was close enough to her horse that it was obvious he was waiting for her. To have more words? She'd be happy to oblige him.

  The look he gave her could have been merely inquiring, but she saw more in it than that—gloating smugness, to be exact. So the moment she mounted she turned to him and asked, "Why did you kiss me last night?"

  Vasili said nothing for a moment, and not because he was waiting for Stenka to move out of hearing distance. He was gritting his teeth against his surprise. He would get used to her bluntness. The advantage it gave her by catching him off guard like this was intolera­ble.

  Finally, tight-lipped, he gave her an answer. 'The little wench I would have been kissing last night took fright and disappeared."

  When he ended there, sh
e was forced to draw her own conclusion. "Ah, I see. If you don't get your first choice, you settle for sec­ond? But I have a third option for you that you would be wise to consider. Keep your pants on, Petroff—at least until you break this betrothal."

  She smiled as she said the last part. He smiled right back at her and leaned forward to reach for her neck. She knew exactly what he meant to do—draw her forward to kiss her again, to prove he wouldn't be dictated to. With a nudge and a yank from Alexandra, Prince Mischa reared up on his hind legs. Vasili was forced to control his roan, which shied away. Alexandra rode off before he had quite managed it.

  She considered that round hers—for all of five minutes. That was how long it took Vasili to catch up with her and literally lift her off her horse and onto his. The action was too un­expected and not the least bit pleasant. By the time he was done situating her for his com­fort, she was nestled firmly between his thighs, his arms caging her sideways against his chest. And being that close to him, sur­rounded by him, recalled to her too many sensations of the previous night.

  She pushed those feelings aside to glare up at him. "And what are you going to do now, Petroff—besides make an ass of yourself?"

  "Goad me any further, sweetheart, and we'll ride off to locate some private place to find out."

  She would as soon not, but didn't say so. Bojik was already barking at the roan's feet, making the stallion sidestep and dance ner­vously. All three Razin brothers rode up be­hind them to make their presence felt, Stenka having taken up Prince Micha's reins.

  They wouldn't say anything, at least not yet. She didn't want them interfering anyway, and getting on Vasili's bad side. This was not an alarming situation, after all—except to her emotions.

  "About my question?" she prompted.

  His answer was a curt "Call off the dog."

  She would have laughed, if she were in any other position. She lied instead. "Bojik won't listen as long as he thinks I'm in danger."

  "You have the best-trained horses I've ever seen. You expect me to believe you wouldn't give the same discipline to your dog?"