Chapter 22
It was almost dark before Stefan directed them off the plantation road to find a suitable spot to make camp that night. Not so far back they had passed another plantation at which they could probably have spent the night, but since no one suggested they even try, Tanya could only conclude she was the reason they were going to rough it instead. They simply didn’t trust her when other people were around. Actually, they didn’t trust her, period, as she found when she asked if she could have a few moments alone in the bushes.
One of the things they had purchased along with the provisions was a long rope, likely Stefan’s idea, since he was the one who tied it to her wrist and kept hold of the other end before he was willing to let her out of his sight. But she had to talk, sing, or hum continuously, he didn’t care which, as long as he could hear her. That was taking precautions a bit far as far as she was concerned, but she did as he had instructed, well aware that he would come charging into the shrubs after her if she didn’t.
She chose merely to count numbers aloud, and was back before she had reached fifty. She didn’t even consider cutting the rope from her wrist while she had the chance, not when they were all up and alert. But she was going to escape tonight, somehow, and preferably with one of the horses if she could manage it. She just hadn’t yet figured out how, and was shying away from the obvious conclusion that she would have to seriously hurt whoever had the watch when she was ready to go. Serge and Lazar? She couldn’t hurt them, for they seemed to be merely following the orders of the two cousins. Vasili? Without a qualm. Stefan? She just wasn’t sure.
Blankets had been spread out on the ground when she returned from the bushes and presented her wrist to Stefan so he could untie the rope. Serge was just lighting a fire, and Lazar was taking out the extra cooked meal they had brought along—a ham, sweet potatoes, and several loaves of sweet-smelling bread. They had bought enough provisions to last a week, along with a few cooking utensils and several rifles to supply fresh game. But from what she had heard in the general conversation that went on around her during the day, none of them knew how to cook. She wondered how much fuss she ought to put up before she agreed to do the task for them. None. She wasn’t going to be there for another meal if she could help it.
They were settling down on their blankets around the fire, hers too damn close to Stefan’s, in her opinion, when he asked her to dance for them. Tanya was so surprised by the request, she didn’t answer for a moment. The man had been rotten to her all day, from his nasty insinuations that morning to his diabolical lessons in the afternoon. And whatever had attracted him to her before was gone now, so she couldn’t figure out why he would want to watch her dance. Unless this was another attempt to humiliate her somehow. If she agreed, would he suggest she remove her clothes first?
It made her angry that that might be his motive, angry enough to reply, “For all of you, no. For your king—if he insists.”
She said it merely to get back at Stefan, and because she was positive Vasili wouldn’t ask it of her, not even to relieve boredom. That would, after all, be admitting that he had liked her dance, and Vasili wouldn’t do that when he despised everything about her.
But she wasn’t sure her answer had had the desired effect on Stefan. His expression didn’t change. And his voice was no more than moderately dry when he spoke.
“Our king is too exhausted to appreciate it, is that not so, your Majesty?”
Vasili took one look at Stefan and said, “If I wasn’t, I am now,” and turned over to sleep.
Tanya heard a chuckle from Lazar on the other side of the fire, but he, too, turned his back on them. Serge, on her left, did likewise. That they were all three already going to sleep told her that Stefan had the first watch. And when she glanced back at him, it was to find him still reclined on his blanket, resting on one elbow and watching her.
“Will you reconsider?” he asked as their eyes met and held, and a tension suddenly built.
Oddly enough, Tanya became flustered, thinking about dancing just for him. Could she make him want her again if she did? Did she want him to want her again?
The drift of her thoughts was annoying under the circumstances. But she couldn’t deny it. He might not find her desirable any longer, but she couldn’t say the same. Unfortunately, she still found him very attractive, and right now even more so, lying there with his jacket and waistcoat removed, his cravat long since discarded, a wave of black hair falling over one brow, and his sherry-gold eyes becoming more and more intense with her silence.
But recalling his question, and that she wasn’t likely to ever see him again after tonight, she finally shook her head in answer. And she refused to regret it. He might be the only man who had ever stirred up her innards, but the very fact that he could do that made him more dangerous to her than any other man. Because a man didn’t fit into her future plans, no man did, and this one in particular, with his lies, his arrogance—his utter contempt for her. She had to be a little bit crazy even to consider enticing him.
All he did was shrug in response to her second refusal, but a moment later he sat up and said, “Then come here.”
Her eyes narrowed on him suspiciously. She was already closer to him than she wanted to be, her blanket placed right alongside his.
“Why?”
“I will prepare you for sleep.” He was drawing the rope across his lap as he said this, adding, “I regret the necessity, Tanya, but there is no reason for any of us to lose sleep now that we have this.”
“This” was the rope. When she realized that he meant to tie her up with it, she almost laughed. Thank God she hadn’t offered to hunt for food that morning, for she would have had to reveal her hidden knife to do so. That knife was now going to get her out of this mess with no trouble at all, because they would all be sound asleep, thinking her secure for the night.
She crawled closer to him, slowly, so as to appear reluctant about it. “Is this really necessary?”
“Absolutely,” he assured her. “Unless you would like to sleep under me?”
That he could say something like that now was infuriating, especially since he didn’t mean it, and was no doubt being sarcastic, but hearing it still set her pulses racing.
She just managed to keep from screeching at him to go to hell, and instead purred, “Oh, I don’t know. I’m used to being weighted down, but you might not find it a very comfortable sleeping arrangement. “
That apparently struck a sore nerve, for his lips tightened, his jaw clenched, and his eyes were definitely starting to glow. Interesting. Why would references to her familiarity with men still bother him? Damn, his attitude made no sense. It never did. Even when he had wanted her, he hadn’t liked thinking she was a whore—except for that first night. It hadn’t bothered him when he was willing to pay for her services, had it? In fact, that night he’d seemed glad enough that she was supposedly a whore.
She ought to prove the matter to his satisfaction before she left them. That would set him back on his ear, wouldn’t it, in showing him how wrong they were about her. It would give her something to gloat about—Where did these thoughts keep coming from? The last thing she needed was to come away from this experience with knowledge of fornicating. It was bad enough that she’d found out how nice kissing could be.
She thrust out one hand to him, but he didn’t take it, merely waited, so she reluctantly gave him the other. He made quick work of wrapping the rope around her wrists several times before he began tying knots that even he wouldn’t be able to untie in the morning. That done, he proceeded to wrap the other end of the rope around his waist half a dozen times.
Tanya hadn’t expected that, but all was not lost. There was about a foot of rope left between her hands and his chest, more than enough to enable her to raise her knees and reach her boot without touching him. But being tied to Stefan’s waist left her facing him, and he her, and if he should happen to turn over once he was asleep, he’d pull her hands with him. Well, she�
�d just have to pull him back in that case—or be gone before it happened.
She lay down now since Stefan did, and instantly discovered the disadvantages to this arrangement. It wasn’t very comfortable lying on her side without the support of at least one arm for her head. And if she had actually wanted to go to sleep, she would have found it next to impossible with Stefan so close, watching her. And he was watching her. His eyes were no longer glowing. They were shadowed now that the firelight wasn’t shining directly on him. She could still make out his features clearly, but, unfortunately, nothing of his thoughts or his mood. Yet she had the feeling he wanted to say something, or was waiting for her to say something. Theirs was an intimate arrangement, after all, cozy even, almost private, and obviously neither of them was the least bit sleepy yet.
She tested her conclusion, asking, “When are you going to own up to the real reason I’m here?”
“When are you going to accept that you are a royal princess?”
Stalemate. “Good night, Stefan. “
“Would you like to know some of your family’s history?” he inquired softly.
She closed her eyes against the temptation to believe that he might really know something of her true family. But of course he didn’t. Anything he told her would be a creation for his own benefit.
“Don’t bother,” she said with just a tinge of bitterness, adding, “Iris used to make up stories for me when she put me to bed, but Dobbs made her stop when he found out about it. He didn’t want me growing up soft and fanciful.”
“So you grew up hard and … ?”
“Pragmatic.”
“I would have said skeptical.”
“That too.”
“And distrustful?”
“I never thought about it, but I guess so,” she said. “What about you?”
“Arrogant,” he said without the slightest hesitancy.
She looked at him now and smiled. “You admit it.
“I am well aware of my faults, little Tanya.”
“Do you have so many, then?”
“Wouldn’t you say so?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I suppose … but I think I’m getting used to some of them. Your temper, for instance. “
Now, why had she said that? Mentioning his temper could only make them both think of making love. And his hands weren’t tied. She was within his reach. God, what a stimulating thought.
“Good night, Tanya.”
The curtness in his voice told her plain enough he didn’t like the reminder. Tanya closed her eyes again and sighed inwardly.
Good-bye, Stefan.
Chapter 23
Tanya couldn’t ride straight for Natchez, as much as she wanted to. Her horse-riding skills weren’t good enough to ensure that she could stay well ahead of any pursuit on a direct route. As it was, she’d been unseated nearly a half-dozen times in the first two days she’d spent getting acquainted with the horse she had appropriated for her use. So her roundabout journey home took five days in all. And if she weren’t so worried about The Seraglio and how Dobbs was managing without her, she still wouldn’t venture into town. But she’d been gone a total of seven days, and she couldn’t begin to imagine what kind of shambles the tavern would be in. She had to get back.
Nonetheless, she was plainly and simply afraid Stefan would be there waiting for her. Of course, logic told her they wouldn’t come all the way back to Natchez for her. And even if they did, would they wait when they didn’t find her there? All she could do was hope not, and take as many precautions as she could.
Waiting on the outskirts of town until the wee hours of the morning was the worst, but she couldn’t risk entering The Seraglio while it was open for business—if it was still open. If Stefan had followed her, then that would be where he would await her. But even if he wasn’t there, she was without her disguise, so she had to wait anyway.
She had bartered the horse to get across the river, instead of Stefan’s waistcoat. The ferryman had just loved that trade, but she had no further use for the animal anyway and was delighted to get rid of it. Dobbs would probably have a fit when he heard about it. Horses weren’t cheap.
When Tanya deemed the hour was late enough, she made her way stealthily into town, keeping off the main streets as much as possible. The tavern was quiet when she reached it, the doors closed, no lights burning, but she had no way of knowing if it had opened today or not. Next door, the brothel was still entertaining customers. So was the gambling house across the road. But neither establishment was making enough noise to allow her to break into the tavern if the doors were locked. And both were.
Tired and hungry at this late hour, Tanya didn’t relish her options. She could either climb to the porch roof and hope one of the upstairs windows was open, or wait until tomorrow for the tavern to be opened—if it would be—and risk what she had tried to avoid tonight.
She climbed the porch roof. It took all of ten minutes and one near fall, but she made it. And to her utter relief, Dobbs’ window was open and easy to enter. Inside the room, however, it was pitch-black, the moonless night that had aided her through town now hindering her.
She found the bed by bumping into it. “Dobbs, wake up. Dobbs!” she whispered urgently, shaking the mattress. He didn’t make a sound, not a snore, not a grumble at being disturbed. “Dobbs?”
“You won’t find him there, Princess.”
“No,” she groaned as a match flared to life and she swung around to see Stefan sitting in a chair by the door. All she could think to ask at the moment was, “Why are you still here?”
“Still? Ah, of course. We have been waiting nearly three days for you. Did you think we wouldn’t?”
“I had hoped!” she exploded and dashed for the window.
She didn’t waste time climbing through it, she dived. Her knee hit the sill, her shoulder hit the roof, and her boot snagged on something. She was still cringing with the pain from her landing when the “snag” began to pull her backward. She immediately flipped over to kick at Stefan’s hand, but got her other foot caught for the effort.
With dread, she heard him say, “Give me your hand or I’ll pull you in by your legs, and at the moment I don’t care how badly you get scraped in the process.”
She didn’t doubt that he meant it, but she tried kicking loose from his hold once more. That effort started him pulling.
“Wait! Here.” She pushed herself to a sitting position to offer her hand. For a moment she didn’t think he was going to take it. But he did, and she was hauled in so quickly, she had no chance to try anything else, even if she thought to.
The room was dark again, Stefan’s light having been extinguished when he bolted after her. He let go of her now to light another. She wished he hadn’t. He looked angry enough to wring her neck.
But his voice was merely mild when he informed her, “You are caught, Tanya. Accept it.”
“I can’t,” she cried feelingly.
“You will.”
Those two words seemed to hold more than a warning, as if he knew something she didn’t. And he sounded so confident, triumphant even.
She turned away from the glow in his eyes. He moved to light the lamp by the bed. She stared at Dobbs’ bed—without Dobbs in it.
“My God,” she gasped suddenly. “Has Dobbs died?”
“Not that I know of.”
She turned back to him, infuriated by his offhand tone. “Then where is he? What have you done with him?”
“I haven’t done anything to him.”
“Stefan!”
“First I’ll have your knife, Tanya, the one that cuts so easily through thick rope.” When all she did was stare at him, he started toward her. “You can hand it over, or I can strip you down to find it for myself.”
“You aren’t undressing me, damn you!” she told him as she bent to retrieve her knife.
“Whatever is necessary, Princess, will be done. Don’t deceive yourself by thinking otherwise, because you are n
ot going to slip through our fingers again. “
She would. She had to. And that resolve made her stare at the knife in her hand.
“You might want to recall the last time you tried it,” he said, guessing her thoughts. “You won’t have any better luck this time.” She met his eyes without answering, so he added, “You’re determined to provoke my temper, aren’t you?”
“Does that mean I’m in danger of being tossed on the bed?” she goaded sarcastically.
“It means you’re in danger of ending up over my knee again.”
“Like hell!” She slapped the knife down in his open palm.
“Is that the last of them?”
“Yes.” But he was staring so hard at her, she shouted it again. “Yes!”
When he continued to stare, she knew he was debating whether he ought to search her anyway. And she couldn’t blame him for doubting her. That he finally nodded his acceptance clearly showed how he felt about her now. He didn’t want to search her. Last week he would have jumped on an excuse to do so.
Well, to hell with him. She was glad he didn’t want her anymore. She had enough to contend with without letting his or her lust get in the way. She turned and headed for the door.
He sighed, then said, “Don’t make me chase you again, Tanya.”
She stopped, infuriated that he sounded so damn patient. Was he never going to lose his temper with her again? she wondered.
“I’m just going across the hall to bathe and change my clothes. Then I’m going to get something to eat, or were you planning on leaving town tonight?”
“You may clean up at the hotel. We have rooms there—”
“I prefer my own room, thank you,” she said crossly, then swung around to give him a frosty smile. “But there’s no reason for you to wait for me. You can come by to fetch me in the morning.”
Johanna Lindsey, Once a princess.txt Page 15
