Seduced by the Prince's Kiss

by Bronwyn Scott

‘A business call with flowers, Captain?’ she questioned with another dimpling smile that hid her growing trepidation over his unorthodox presence. After what she’d learned last night, she could no longer believe he was here for her alone. ‘I don’t know if I should be flattered or confused.’ She gave a breathy laugh. ‘If it’s business you’ve come to discuss, I am afraid Prince Shevchenko isn’t available at the moment.’ She didn’t want to admit she didn’t know where he was. She was acutely aware that without Stepan’s presence, she and the captain were the only two people in the house aside from the servants—Mrs Batten was still down at her sister’s. Too bad. Anna would have liked to see Mrs Batten giving the captain a dressing-down for his early call.

  ‘I have business that is better done with you. I need a woman’s opinion.’ Captain Denning helped himself to toast and tea. ‘I have been thinking about the spices I mentioned at our picnic. Do you recall the saffron and the anise?’ She tried to keep her expression neutral, but he smiled, suggesting she’d not been successful. ‘I thought you might. You would know them better than me, I think. They are from the south of Russia, from your home, I believe.’ He settled a napkin in his lap, making himself at home. ‘Or they can be. I understand they are grown there. Can you tell me about them?’

  ‘I am not an herbalist.’ Anna-Maria hesitated. What was he getting at? Was he probing for information or was he merely issuing a warning?

  ‘Come, Miss Petrova, no need to be shy,’ Captain Denning pushed. ‘Saffron is expensive. It is the purvey of wealthy women such as yourself. I do not forget you’re a princess.’ He flattered her shamelessly. ‘Surely, you know what it is used for? How the women get it?’

  ‘Some use it for hair dye. I imagine they get it at an apothecary. It’s not illegal.’ Anna-Maria set down her fork, challenging the captain.

  ‘It is illegal when a tax is not paid on it coming into the country.’

  It was time to go on the offensive. She fixed the captain with a hard stare. ‘Are you insinuating that I have something to do with illegal saffron?’ The claim was meant to make him appear ridiculous in his speculations. He remained woefully unperturbed.

  ‘Not you, my lady. But perhaps Prince Shevchenko knows something about it? After all, the herb is Russian and he is Russian. The spice was imported recently and he was the last with a ship to arrive heralding from that part of the world. If he, or you, could help me solve the riddle, I would be grateful.’

  She shook her head and rose, signalling the conversation was done. He rose with her. ‘I am afraid we have no help to give you, as you should already have been aware. You saw no record of saffron or anise in the Lady Frances’s ledgers. It did not come from the prince’s ship. Now, if you would excuse me? I have things to do this morning.’ She intended to leave the room. If he could break rules, so could she, but he had the door to his back and he easily blocked her passage with a hand at her arm, his body filling her only exit.

  ‘Do not think to fob me off with a smile and a haughty air, Miss Petrova.’ His grip was hard, his eyes cold. ‘I thought you and I were becoming friends. We danced, we rode together, we picnicked. Then I come here today asking for a little friendly help and you all but throw me out.’

  She tugged at her arm, but he did not let her go.

  ‘Let me be clear, I am here hunting smugglers. I will find them, Miss Petrova. I will bring them and their accomplices to justice. Do you know what justice is for a smuggler? It is hanging. It’s a most unpleasant way to die. The neck snaps, the bowels go. Hopefully one is dead before that happens, but it’s not a guarantee. The neck does not always break cleanly. They are painful, those last few moments.’

  Bile rose in Anna-Maria’s throat, but she would not look away from him, she would not blink. It was what he wanted. He wanted fear from her as he backed her to the wall, his grip on her arm too strong to break. She made contact with the wall none too gently. ‘I have nothing to be afraid of, Captain. If you’ve come here to threaten me or to frighten me, you have failed.’ It took all her courage to say that and a great deal of bravado. She wasn’t certain she didn’t have anything to be afraid of. What had Stepan done? Yesterday she would have fearlessly defied the captain with a certainty knowing that Stepan had no hand in the crimes of Shoreham. Today she knew better.

  ‘You’re a lovely young woman and possibly a naïve one.’ The captain’s eyes dropped to her lips, but it brought on none of the sensations Stepan’s gaze did. ‘I would be inclined to overlook any complicity on your part due to your own innocence.’

  ‘In exchange for what, Captain?’ Anna-Maria parried. The man was the basest of animals if he thought she’d betray Stepan for the sake of her own protection. If he believed that, he didn’t understand the depths of Kubanian friendship.

  ‘For your gratefulness.’ His eyes lingered on her breasts and her mouth, leaving no mistake as to what he defined as gratefulness.

  ‘I have nothing to offer you,’ she replied staunchly. Whatever favour she might have briefly shone on the captain out of courtesy for his rank was rudely erased in these moments. He’d showed himself to be a wolf in sheep’s clothing. For the first time, she saw the true danger of him. It was not in his rank, or in his assigned duty, but in his manner. Here was a man willing to prey on those he perceived as weak and vulnerable.

  ‘If you change your mind, you know where to find me. No excuses, Miss Petrova. Now, I think a down payment on that gratefulness is in order and I’ll be on my way.’ Without warning, his mouth claimed hers, hard and bruising, his body trapping her to the wall. She struggled, pushing at him with her hands, but he was strong, far too strong for her. His tongue invaded her mouth and she bit down, hard, tasting blood. He reared back in shocked surprise, a hand swiping at his mouth and coming away red. ‘You little bitch!’ He raised his hand to strike her.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Anna-Maria braced herself for the blow, but it never fell. ‘Step away from her!’ Stepan roared through the doorway, seizing the captain’s arm and pinning it behind him. ‘How dare you lay hands on a princess of Kuban, you filthy cur?’

  ‘You are assaulting an officer of the King!’ Denning wasn’t to be outdone. He got a leg behind Stepan’s, effectively tripping him. The two men went down, crashing into the breakfast table. China clattered, silverware jumped as they brawled on the floor, fists pummelling. Denning might have more experience in dirty fighting, but Stepan was more prepared.

  She wasn’t sure that was the right word. Perhaps premeditated was more apt. Denning hadn’t been expecting strong resistance when he’d kissed her. The men rolled towards her and Anna leapt out of the way, taking refuge by the window. She had never seen Stepan like this, fury unleashed. It was one thing knowing a man could fight. It was another to see it. It was both impressive and frightening.

  She stifled a scream as Denning bit down on Stepan’s hand, earning a half second of distraction. Stepan retaliated, finally able to get on top of him. Straddling the captain, he landed a bout-ending facer to Denning’s jaw. He dragged the stunned officer to his feet, manhandling him towards the door.

  ‘I wasn’t aware forcing oneself on a woman was the King’s law. What an uncivilised country this must be,’ Stepan spat. He shoved Denning into the care of two waiting footmen. ‘The captain was just leaving. Please make sure he does.’

  Anna-Maria sank into a chair, her courage leaving her now that the fighting was over. But Stepan was still bristling. ‘Are you all right?’ He was beside her, kneeling at her chair, searching her face as he took her hands.

  ‘I am fine. He was just...rough. He didn’t harm me.’ She lowered her voice. Her own hurts and fears could wait. She searched his face. ‘If he catches you, he will hang you,’ she whispered. ‘And it will be my fault. He will not forgive you for this latest insult.’ This morning had been about more than smuggling. It had been a blow to Denning’s masculine pride.

 
Stepan gave her a hard stare. ‘He’d have to catch me first.’ The mysterious something crackled to life between them, flickering in his eyes, and she knew he saw it in hers, recalling the power of last night, rekindling the need to have that power, that pleasure again.

  ‘I do not find that at all humorous.’ She wanted to be in his arms, wanted to assure herself that he was here and whole.

  ‘Good. It was not meant to be.’ His eyes glittered with danger and sensuality, drawing her in all the while pushing her away. ‘As this morning so aptly demonstrated, smuggling is a perilous business.’

  His words did not reassure her. For the first time, it hit her with full force what she’d walked into the middle of. This was a deadly game of cat and mouse with complex layers. On the surface, this was about smuggling, about bringing lawbreakers to justice. Those lawbreakers were different depending on whose side you were on. To Stepan, this was a battle against injustice. But beneath that surface lay another dark competition between two men for a woman. For her.

  ‘I want you to know why I stopped last night, Anna.’ Stepan’s grip on her hands tightened, his voice low. ‘I would not have, if I thought I could offer you anything at all.’

  He would have made love to her on the rug before the fire. The very image sent a primal shiver of desire skittering down her spine. Even in the light of day, the words conjured up a heat low in her belly. Leave it to Stepan to declare himself in the most unorthodox of ways. Whenever she imagined the moment, they were wrapped in one another’s arms in the lingering remnants of a kiss or something more, not sitting in the middle of the breakfast room, his knuckles raw and bleeding.

  Perhaps that, coupled with the intensity of her own desire, accounted for her own unorthodox response. ‘You don’t have to be a smuggler, Stepan.’ She whispered the words, knowing already the request bordered on blasphemous. ‘You can stop now. Denning can’t catch someone who doesn’t exist. We could be together and you would be safe.’ She wanted those things above all else. She stood and reached for him, her arms seeking to go about his neck. She would show him...

  ‘No, Anna. Although you’d tempt the devil himself.’ He disengaged her arms and stepped back, his dark gaze shuttered. He’d closed her out. Again. The realisation pierced her deep at the core of her soul. He wanted to be alone. Not just temporarily, not just physically, but always and in all ways. He was alone in this room right now even though she stood before him.

  ‘Don’t shut me out.’ She ground out the words with terse force. ‘Don’t tell me you don’t want me. You’ve already admitted as much. And I want you.’ She would fight for him right now with words, with kisses, and the servants be damned.

  Something flickered behind that shuttered gaze. ‘You don’t know what you want, Anna. In London you will have choices, so many different types of men and lifestyles to choose from. Dimitri has hopes for you. You cannot possibly decide until you see what is on offer. You’ve been nowhere; you’ve seen nothing.’

  ‘I’ve seen you. Whatever else there is to see is unimportant,’ she said simply. Once, she would have railed at his words. Today, she was steady, her course unfazed. ‘This is not about Dimitri. This is about us, Stepan, and what we can be. That is our choice alone.’

  He pushed a hand through his hair, pulling it loose from its leather tie. ‘I cannot risk you, Anna-Maria. No matter what I want, I have to give you up.’

  A more superficial woman would believe he was choosing his cause over her. That woman would see this as rejection. A devilish stab of jealousy would gouge her over the realisation if she let it. But Anna knew better. She saw it as protection, as the sum of who he was: a man who was noble and good, who put the needs of others above his own. She held his silver gaze. Gingerly she reached for his scraped hand. ‘You don’t have to choose, Stepan. It doesn’t have to be me or your cause. I only meant to imply you had a choice to walk away if you wanted.’

  She wet her lips. ‘If you won’t walk away from it, then I’ll walk towards it.’ She could not do otherwise. Her choice had been made long ago, she could see that now, and come what might, heaven or hell, she would not back away from it. ‘I choose you, just as I chose you over my father’s refusal to leave in Kuban, just as I chose you over my fear on that ledge in the mountains. I have always chosen you. I always will.’

  ‘It’s not only that, Anna. I can offer you nothing.’

  She shook her head. ‘You and I understand that term quite differently. Let me be the judge of what you offer. It has always been more than enough for me.’

  Something palpable passed between them at her words and she knew in her bones this was a moment that would change everything. It would change them and it would change what lay between them. Stepan nodded slowly, accepting her complicity. He gave her his hand, warm and strong. ‘Then come with me. I have something to show you.’

  * * *

  She went without question, letting her silence be proof of her trust, her belief in him. He led her down a staircase secreted behind the panels in the study to the caverns below Seacrest, the sound of the surf growing louder as they descended. Stepan spoke little on the stairs, only referring to the hidden passageway, saying, ‘In case you ever need it.’ She could imagine the reasons why she’d need to know: in case she ever needed to escape, or needed to hide herself, or needed to warn him. There were too many reasons, dangerous reasons that reminded her how precarious their situation was, of the danger she’d committed herself to. It did occur to her that this was one last strategy of Stepan’s to warn her away despite her brave speech.

  At the bottom, Stepan stood aside with a flourish of his hand. ‘My workshop.’ Workshop was far too modest of a term. The cavern spread before her was filled with adolescent boys working at various tasks: sorting through trunks, taking inventory and stacking casks. This wasn’t a workshop, but an underground factory. They could be as loud as they liked, any sound they made was muffled by waves and stone.

  She was careful with her face, aware that Stepan watched her take it all in. ‘So this is where it all happens? What do you do exactly?’ She studied the casks. ‘I thought they’d be bigger.’

  Stepan laughed. ‘I’ll give you a tour. We start with distilling. The vodka comes unmixed at full strength, which could kill a man if he drank it. This way, we can import as much product as possible in the smallest cask possible.’ He arched an eyebrow at her unspoken query. ‘Smaller things are easier to hide.’ He pointed to a large tub in the corner. ‘We mix the undiluted vodka with enough water to make it potable and then we fill up half ankers with the final product and ship it out.’ He held up a set of half ankers. ‘The men who carry them are called tub men. They simply walk to London or to a waiting wagon with these.’

  ‘Walk? You expect me to believe they just walk right out with these over their shoulders?’ The simplicity of such an arrangement seemed at odds with the danger it presented.

  Stepan shrugged. ‘Well, the bat men go with them as guards if need be. It’s hard to protect oneself while wearing a cask.’

  ‘I’m overwhelmed. This is impressive.’ She shot Stepan a look. They circled the cavern and she saw the obvious—the spice trunks Denning was after, the silks, finer than anything any London draper could lay claim to, the Turkish carpets. She saw the less obvious, too—all the young men it took to run this enterprise of Stepan’s. He was keeping several families in food and shoes.

  ‘This reminds me of Aladdin’s cave from the fairy tales.’

  ‘This is only the back cave. There’s another one further up, closer to the beach where we unload. It’s vacant right now while Denning’s at large,’ Stepan explained as they walked among the crew. He stopped and spoke with the boys at intervals, smiling and complimenting them, shaking hands and slapping shoulders.

  He introduced each of them by name. There was Timothy from London, who’d been working in a brothel doing odd errands in the middle of the
night to pay for his board; Malcolm and Matthew, two brothers who’d swept floors in a gaming hall and slept in the alleyway behind it; there was Irish, who didn’t know his real name, who was younger and thinner than the others, but fiercely loyal to Stepan. ‘Found me in the rubbish, milord did, when I was six and my parents threw me away,’ he boasted. ‘Now, I’m his lookout because I’m small and no one can see me.’ When he was six? That meant he couldn’t be more than eight now. Anna felt a piece of her heart break.

  Stepan ruffled the boy’s ginger hair. ‘He’s right. Irish is the best.’ There were others to meet: the local lads who were fourteen and fifteen and trying to earn a wage for their families, some of them without a father at home and younger siblings to feed. With each one, the affection between them and Stepan was genuine and it touched her to see Stepan in such a setting. This was a man born to lead. He simply couldn’t help it.

  Stepan’s mouth was close to her ear when he spoke. ‘Do you see why I can’t walk away? While there is still injustice, while there is still need, while these boys and others like them need a champion, I must fight as best I can.’

  ‘This is your Marseilles.’ She gave him a soft look. ‘I’ve always seen, Stepan.’ It wasn’t enough to simply give these boys jobs. He could do that well enough with the legitimate end of his shipping business, but it wouldn’t solve the larger problem. The economic injustices would still exist. He could help far more people this way directly and indirectly. Ruslan had his revolution and Stepan had his.

  She recognised Joseph and he winked as they passed. ‘Show her the good stuff, milord, it’s behind the curtain.’

  Stepan led her into an alcove where two trunks stood open, carefully packed with ells of silk. Stepan reached inside the wrappings and pulled out a length of ice-blue fabric. ‘This is some of the best silk in the world.’

  Anna fingered it appreciatively and then smiled as their hands brushed, sending a tingle up her arm. ‘Freedom feels beautiful,’ she whispered. ‘Thank you for showing me.’ The gift of bringing her here was an extraordinary show of trust. She was overwhelmed.