Once a Princess

by Johanna Lindsey

  The older man made a sound of disgust before he turned back to Stefan. "He bears a grudge, this one. He blames you for Arina's indifference to him, even though she now lives with some Austrian duke. But I have the last say here, and I say you do not have to fight him."

  Latzko was obviously worried that he wouldn't get his money if something happened to Stefan. But this time Stefan wanted the fight, had been fiercely glad to hear the challenge issued.

  "I have already accepted, Latzko, and it will happen now, this minute."

  "Stefan!" Lazar objected behind him, but Stefan merely sent him a silencing glare as he dismounted.

  Vasili wasn't as easily shut up. "Let one of us fight in your stead, then. Your position is such that you cannot take these arbitrary risks anymore."

  "I will decide what is a risk and what it's worth. This risk is needed to keep the skin on Tanya's back."

  Vasili's brow shot up in understanding. Stefan needed something to expend his anger and fear on before he faced his betrothed. It was a wonder he'd contained those emotions these past twenty-four hours.

  "Well, heaven forbid she should lose any skin," Vasili said dryly now, knowing full well the girl was in no such danger. "Go ahead and get it out of your system this time. But you are going to have to think seriously about curtailing these little pleasures in the future, Stefan, you really are."

  Stefan only gave a curt nod while he removed his sword and coat. He wasn't wearing a knife. Latzko supplied him with his own, a long-bladed dagger with a good grip on it. And he no sooner had it in hand than Pavel brought his own knife in a downward swing to stab him, to end the fight right there. But Stefan hadn't been expecting a clean fight, not after his last experience with this man. Pavel's dirty tricks had made Stefan angry enough to beat him senseless. He wondered if he'd have to kill him this time, as he caught Pavel's wrist, threw it back, and slashed with his own knife, drawing first blood in a small nick on Pavel's upper arm.

  They circled each other now, knives extended, looking for another opening. Neither man had slept in a day and a half, but they didn't feel it; felt nothing but the raw emotion goading them on.

  Pavel was eaten up with hate and jealousy. Stefan had relived the horror of his brother's death when he couldn't find Tanya in the woods. But how quickly that had turned to a killing fury when they found the tracks of those three ponies. If he had caught up with the ones who had taken her before now, he would have shown no mercy. Pavel could count himself fortunate that Stefan didn't know yet that he was one of them.

  Pavel finally leaped, a false move, since he then dived for Stefan's feet to knock them out from under him. Stefan did go down, face first, but rolled, just missing the knife that ended up buried in the ground where his back had been. He responded with a kick to Pavel's head, which gave Stefan time to get back on his feet, but didn't daze Pavel nearly enough.

  Pavel came up charging in an attempt to knock Stefan over again, but Stefan held his ground and they connected, hands locked to each other's wrists. It was now a matter of strength, of who could hold back the other's blade while making use of his own. They were almost evenly matched in this, both tall and muscular. Stefan still had the advantage—he was angrier.

  It ended with Stefan's blade sinking into Pavel's shoulder. The other man stumbled back. Stefan retained his dagger, but he didn't need it anymore. Pain allowed Pavel's exhaustion to catch up with him and he sank slowly to his knees.

  "You win a second time," Latzko told Stefan, officially ending the fight. "If he ever thinks to challenge you again, I'll kill him myself."

  Stefan couldn't care less. "Where is she?" was all he wanted to know.

  Latzko flipped his thumb toward his house. "In there. Sleeping. And she wasn't touched, other than to tie her up. But a word of caution, my friend. My men didn't just stumble upon her. I sent them to Warsaw on business. There they were approached and bribed to kill the lady. Fortunately for her, my men don't usually act on such things without my approval. Even more fortunate, the payment turned out to be worthless, rubies made of glass."

  "So you decided to sell her back to me instead?"

  The older man shrugged. "What else could I do with her? I'm too old to keep her."

  "You're too greedy to keep her."

  "True." Latzko grinned. "But come, you're welcome to stay the night, rest—"

  "We'll leave now, Latzko, but thank you just the same."

  In the house, Stefan found that Tanya actually was sleeping, totally unaware that he had come for her and, in a small way, avenged the ordeal she had been put through. But she didn't look the worse for wear, she looked exquisitely beautiful, peaceful in sleep, without a care in the world. He wondered if she even knew how much danger she had been in, that if the one who was trying to kill her could have afforded better than jewels made of glass, she might be dead now. He wondered if she knew how much agony he had gone through, first thinking wolves had got to her, then fearing it had been the assassin.

  He didn't wake her. He picked her up carefully and carried her out of there, handing her to Serge only long enough for him to mount and take her up on his lap. She did stir then, briefly opening her eyes to see him.

  "Oh, hello, Stefan." She closed her eyes again and smiled, snuggling closer against him. "Did you meet Latzko? Nice fellow, but I hope you didn't have to pay him too much money."

  "A paltry sum," he grunted. "Had he known it, he could have asked for the moon, and I would have gotten it for him."

  "The moon?" She yawned, but once that was done, her smile was even wider.

  He was chagrined. He hadn't meant to admit some­thing like that. He said what he'd meant to tell her. "You can thank your friend Pavel that I didn't go looking for a switch the moment I got here. Now I'm too tired to beat you."

  That took care of her smug little smile. "Why would you want to beat me?"

  "We'll discuss it later."

  Her eyes opened wide. "No, I want—"

  "Later! "

  "Your putting me off was what led to this, you stupid man," she grumbled.

  "A demonstration of your willfulness? I think you'll continue to wear those bindings until I get you home. "

  But she didn't. He cut her loose himself when they met up with the coaches that evening at the estate of some baron, a man who bubbled over with welcome, ecstatic that King Stefan should honor him with a visit. The man's entire house was put at Stefan's disposal, including his own luxurious bedroom, which Stefan merely accepted as his due.

  Tanya found herself sharing the same room. She'd been bristling the rest of the afternoon, getting no more sleep. She was prepared, thinking they'd be having their fight, which was going to be a royal one, then and there, but she was wrong. Stefan, after locking the door and pocketing the key, promptly lay down on the huge and rather ancient bed the room contained and went to sleep.

  Chapter 46

  Tanya spent the night in a very comfortable armchair, but she still felt a crick in her neck when she was awakened by a nudge on her shoulder. She opened her eyes to see Stefan looming over her—and nearly gasped at his expression. How long had he been up and stewing over the events of the past two days, to put that kind of fury on his features? Or was it that?

  "Dare I say good morning?" she asked warily, only to find herself yanked out of the chair and roughly shaken.

  "You were told there are wolves in this part of the country!" he blasted at her.

  "Yes, and bears and—"

  "Do you know how quickly a wolf can tear you apart?" was his second blast, the one that made her understand.

  God, she had forgotten about his brother! After such an experience, that might be the only thing Stefan had thought of when they couldn't find her.

  "I'm sorry, Stefan," she said sincerely, not even thinking about lying now. "You were ignoring me. I just wanted your attention, and to tell you that you were wrong. I've been kissed by another man, and I didn't feel anything. It does matter who's doing the kissing. "
/>   Hearing, even if in a roundabout way, that she desired him had a very swift effect on Stefan. His anger, merely induced by fear, crumbled beneath his instant arousal. He was already holding her shoulders, had been about to shake her again. He drew her to him now and took her mouth almost savagely.

  Tanya didn't have to wonder what had brought this on. His anger, of course, or so she assumed. So much for rashly made promises. But the fight was over as far as she was concerned. So was her own anger, which she'd gone to sleep with last night. It was really amazing how kissing could calm them both down in one way but fire them both up in another, more pleasurable way.

  She was caught up in that pleasure very swiftly. The thrust of his tongue was met by some thrusts of her own. She helped him shed the blouse he unbuttoned for her. Her skirt just dropped at her feet. He didn't seem surprised that she was naked now, since she'd removed her underclothing last night to sleep, leaving on only the outer wear for modesty's sake, as she'd done on the riverboat. But he probably wasn't paying attention, no more than he had the last time, and that was something she'd just have to accept for now, because she had no intention whatsoever of stopping him.

  Quite the opposite, actually, was taking place, since she was the one who moved them slowly toward the bed this time. And once there, she was the one who made sure their kiss wasn't broken as she grad­ually lowered herself and him to the mattress. She had to worry not only about their being interrupted, which tended to recall him to his senses, but also about that damn promise of his, which would end this quicker than anything else could if he remem­bered it.

  So she was frantic to keep Stefan in his mindless, rage-induced state, and wouldn't even let go of his head when he began removing his clothes. Only when he was as naked as she was did she relax enough to simply enjoy what was happening. And then she found herself caught up in that wildness again, that pure, wanton desire clamoring for release.

  This time, it was she who wasn't paying close attention to everything he was doing. She was so centered on the sensations his hands were provoking in her, as they explored with maddening slowness from neck to loins, that it took her a while to realize he wasn't kissing her anymore. In fact, he was watch­ing her in fascination. When she finally opened her eyes, he stilled his hands, their gazes locked, and she saw that he wasn't the least bit angry.

  Tanya was struck by such a keen sense of frustra­tion at that point, she blurted out, "Damn you, Ste­fan, don't calm down now!"

  To her complete chagrin, he burst out laughing, and was still grinning when he asked baldly, "Why?" He bent and gently bit her lower lip, then laved it with his tongue. "You think I'm not going to continue making love to you?" His lips nibbled now between words. "Think again, little houri. You have belonged to me, with your father's blessing, since the day you were born. " His hand swept her breasts in an unmistakably possessive manner. "You are the only woman who has ever been truly mine. I won't take you again mindlessly, Tanya. Didn't I promise you that?"

  She wasn't really expected to answer that just then, was she? She was so overcome with ecstatic delight over those key words "belonged" and "truly mine" that she had to give back some of that joy or burst with it. Her arm curled around his neck to draw his mouth more firmly back to hers, her tongue slipping past his lips to thrust and tease, while her other hand boldly sought his manhood, satin on steel, and ca­ressed with the gentlest touch.

  Her innocent touch brought a groan rumbling from his depths that had her innards curling up and sighing with satisfaction. She was making love to him, and he was letting her. And when she thought she couldn't bear another minute of it, he took over, gathering her close and filling her with his heat. But unlike before, he moved slowly this time, sen­suously, deliberately prolonging the wonder of it, then finally with deep, grinding thrusts where he reached for the core of her, and brought her to a shattering climax that racked her body with fierce pulsations that continued to his final thrust, only with slightly less force, then nearly exploding again when she felt his own hot spasms.

  She didn't want reality to intrude. It hadn't been pleasant the last time. But of course they couldn't lie there forever, clinging to each other, much as she wanted to. It was morning. Everyone else would be up and readying to depart. And Tanya still had to account for her foolish behavior that had sent her right into the arms of bandits.

  So it was with some surprise that she felt his lips softly grazing her cheek and heard him ask with only mild curiosity, "Who kissed you and made you feel nothing?"

  Without the slightest guilt for what kind of fury her answer might bring down on his golden head, she said, "Vasili," then promptly exonerated him by adding, "But he hated doing it, grouched the whole time, and only gave in when I said I'd ask someone else to kiss me if he wouldn't."

  Stefan raised himself up on an elbow to give her an incredulous look. "You went asking for kisses?"

  "Only to see if you were right or not."

  "You couldn't just draw on past experience for an answer?"

  She didn't let that bother her. She was too sated and mellow to be bothered by anything just then.

  "I hate to disappoint you, as I did Vasili, since he asked the same thing, but my past experience isn't as great and varied as you both think."

  He smiled then. "And here I was going to admit, to my own amazement, a gratitude for it."

  Tanya almost choked, but she knew what he was referring to and blushed, retorting, "That wasn't ex­perience, that was pure instinct."

  "I wasn't trying to insult you, Tanya," he said gently.

  She knew that. That it was so was what she found hard to believe. But if this was the kind of reaction she could expect from him when he wasn't troubled by guilt, which she now understood had been the problem last time, then she'd just have to see that they made love more often.

  "Could we stay here today to—explore this 'grat­itude' of yours more fully?"

  He laughed and rolled back, his arms tight around her so she went with him. His hand moved to smooth her hair and keep her face pressed to his chest.

  "I wish we did have more time, but my father is anxious for our arrival. He will know to the hour when we should be expected, and this delay—"

  "Will worry him." She sighed. "I understand."

  He whacked her bottom then, and told her to get dressed. But she received four more delaying kisses while trying to do as ordered. The man couldn't seem to keep his hands off her this morning. She felt the same way. It was so unusual, having him like this, and she couldn't have been happier.

  When they were ready to leave, she took advantage of his pleasant mood to ask, "What was that remark you made about Pavel sparing me a switching all about?"

  "Nothing important," he replied, but then he caught her chin in his hand to add sternly, "Don't ever ignore specific warnings again, Tanya."

  She smiled, aware that that was going to be the extent of his scolding. "Then don't ignore me again, Stefan. I do foolish things when I get angry."

  "God, don't we all."

  Chapter 47

  The capital city of Cardinia was merely that, a city, not unlike Warsaw, which they had passed through, or Danzig. Tanya didn't know why she'd had a fairy­tale setting in the back of her mind, complete with castle and rosy countryside. There was no castle, but it snowed for her arrival, which added a wonderland beauty to this place where she was going to live. The city proper was enclosed in an ancient wall that was no longer guarded and crumbling in places, but the city had stretched beyond this wall centuries ago.

  As in any city, there were many large, elegant homes in certain sections, then there were many not so elegant in other sections, but they all looked only slightly different from the homes she'd seen else­where in Europe. Commerce was thriving. There were large stores and small shops, open markets, vendors, even warehouses, next to parks, cafes, churches. Carriages and sleighs clogged some streets where the snow had been swept to the sides but an icy crust remained behind, while other lanes
were empty, the snow pristine white and undisturbed. Tall bronze statues were centered in squares, and winter­-naked trees lined many streets.

  The palace formed a square by itself. If not a towering castle, it was incredibly large nonetheless. Three stories high, it covered an entire block in the city proper, with the majority of official rooms at the front of the palace and many more rooms stretching down the side blocks, a barracks comprising the rear of the square, and open gardens and courtyards in the center of these four long, connecting buildings.

  Tanya was delighted with the city, after having seen nothing but small villages and the occasional estate of a nobleman for days. But she was totally amazed by the palace, the grandeur of it, the opu­lence. The entrance was mammoth, the entire three stories high, where an official with armed guards at his sides, many more stationed about the hall, would have stopped them if Stefan hadn't been recognized. Wide corridors of marble were lined with large por­traits in solid gold frames, separated by consoles on the walls set with silver lamps, or pedestals holding busts or small statues, or doors with footmen standing at attention on either side.

  She was dazed by it all as she was ushered down one corridor, then another. Was she actually sup­posed to live in a place like this? And if she was being taken to the room she would be given, Lord help her, it must be at the end of the next block.

  But she wasn't being shown to her rooms, which were going to be in the same wing as Stefan's. She should have known he would go immediately to his father. She just wished he hadn't thought to bring her with him.

  Stefan might be king now, but she hadn't always thought so, and she still thought of him only as Ste­fan. But his father had been king for twenty years, the length of her life, a real king as she saw it, and she wasn't up to meeting him just yet, was forgetting all the protocol and correct forms of address Lazar and the others had drummed into her.

  It was no wonder she curtsied to the Prime Min­ister, who was seated at the desk in the anteroom outside the royal chamber, when he looked up in surprise. Fortunately, his surprise was such that he didn't notice her blunder.