While the bath was being readied, Stefan came over to her and drew the waistcoat together to fasten it. She brushed his hands aside and did it herself, but recalled she had to start the lulling.

Nervous with him standing so close to her, she remarked, "There were so many clothes in that top trunk, they can't all be yours. Do I have you to thank for what I've borrowed, or one of the others?"

"I believe I will feel bourgeois now if I admit that both of those trunks are mine alone, so you have only me to thank."

She glanced up in surprise. "You can't have even more clothes in the bottom one."

"Certainly I can, not that I will use them in this country. Much too conspicuous. That trunk should have remained on the ship that awaits us in New Orleans, but Sasha is of the absurd belief that everything brought along for this journey should be brought along for the entire journey."

"Conspicuous?" She dared not ask about that waiting ship if she was to keep her temper.

"They are clothes I would wear only in Europe, where the sight of nobility is nothing out of the ordinary."

Lord help her, was he going to prove as condescending as Vasili? "I see — no, I don't.

Are you saying you're a titled aristocrat?"

"In Cardinia, it is customary for the king to draw his personal guard from his nobles. It is fortunate when those he has to choose from for this honor are the friends he happened to grow up with."

"In other words, you all hold titles? What would yours be, then?"

"Would a count strain your belief?"

Everything he was saying strained her belief, but all she did was shrug and say, "You have me curious now to see what's in that other trunk."

"Ah, curiosity. " He grinned. "A reason to remain with us."

She almost choked on that one. Give up freedom merely to appease curiosity? He had to be teasing her. But his mood was mellow and she wanted to keep it that way. And she hadn't once snapped at him for his talk of nobility. Her ploy was working, and now was an excellent time for the crowning touch.

"You haven't given me much choice about remaining with you, but it would have been easier to bear if you were traveling by land."

"I fail to see—"

"I hate boats," she cut in with a feigned shiver. "Most people do who can't swim."

"You needn't fear the water, Tanya. You are my responsibility on this journey, so be assured I will protect you with my own life."

In other words, if she jumped in the river, he'd jump in right after her to save her from drowning. How gallant of him, but she didn't appreciate his gallantry under the circumstances. She'd have to make sure he wasn't around when she did her jumping, like while he was taking his bath.

However, she said, "Thank you — I think... no, a little relief is better than none at all."

"You really are worried about it, aren't you?" he asked with concern.

"These steamboats are known to explode, particularly if the captain is in a hurry to reach his destination. Ours isn't, is he?"

"If he is, then I will have to disabuse him of the notion. Does that reassure you?" She gave him a doubting look, which brought on a smile. "I can see, then, that I will just have to get your mind off this worry. I wonder if you know how adorable you look in your sloppiness, with your hair in wild disarray, your clothes hanging as loose as a night-rail, and your dirty little face. Now what are you frowning for? Don't you want to look adorable?"

She didn't need that kind of distraction and told him so by picking up her belt and slapping it around her waist. Her hair was another matter. Running her fingers through it, she could only find two pins left.

"Sasha," Stefan called, chuckling, "I believe our Tanya needs a brush. "

He moved off then and began pulling his shirt out of his trousers in preparation of removing it. The tub had been filled. Only the servant, Sasha, remained in the cabin.

When the shirt was lifted over Stefan's head, Tanya stood there mesmerized by that broad expanse of male back, darkly bronzed and well defined with muscle. Sasha, holding out the brush to her, had to clear his throat to gain her attention. Disconcerted, Tanya took the brush and turned her back on the scene.

Watching Stefan undress was...

She whipped around to see his belt come off and drop to the floor, where his shirt now lay. He was undressing, actually undressing! And he didn't appear the least bit concerned whether she watched him.

"Don't you think you ought to wait until I leave the room before you—"

"No."

That was all? Just "No"? She started for the door. She was halted before she even got close to it.

"Where are you going, Tanya?"

She wouldn't look back at him. "I'll just wait outside until you're finished," she offered.

It didn't work. "I don't think so."

"Look, I'm not going anywhere, Stefan. The boat is in the middle of the damned river, so I can't go anywhere. Summon one of the others to watch me if you must, but I can't stay in here with you... while you... This isn't proper by any standards, but particularly yours."

"Perhaps," he allowed. "However, we must by necessity make a few exceptions now. Besides, you aren't going to convince me that seeing a naked man is going to bother you, Tanya. So we will worry about what is proper and what isn't when we reach Europe, where it will matter."

This was an insult to her country as well as to her, and a flat refusal to let her leave the cabin. But the door was probably unlocked. She could just... who was she kidding? He would be after her instantly. And even if she managed to hit the water, he would be too close behind her for her plan to work. She'd be losing her only chance, because he wouldn't trust her again after that, no matter what she said or did. Unfortunately, he didn't trust her right now either, or he wouldn't be so adamant about her remaining with him.

She'd have to wait a little longer for her freedom, and wait until Stefan wasn't around. She would have a better chance of succeeding at night anyway, when they would have a hard time seeing her in the water. That might lead to their thinking she had drowned, and in that case, she wouldn't have anything else to worry about — except the long walk home.

In order to continue her pretense of accepting the situation, she had to ignore that insult about her familiarity with naked men and silently endure Stefan taking his bath in her presence. One was easier to do than the other.

She vigorously began to brush the snarls from her hair, pausing only when she heard distinct sounds of water splashing. Her face was heating up again, and that infuriated her. Why should she be the one embarrassed when he was the naked one?

"Your Highness?"

Sasha's hand appeared at her side, offering a strip of leather for her to use on her hair. She took it, keeping her mouth shut about correcting his form of address. That they even had the servants trained for the pretense was almost a guarantee that the royalty ploy was used frequently. She again wondered if they didn't have other girls stowed away on The Lorilie right now, all thinking they were betrothed to the handsome Vasili. So how did she get so lucky to end up with the devil in control of her? Probably because he was allotted the troublemakers, which they had found her to be from the start.

She was getting really angry again at the fate she had stumbled into through no fault of her own. She also felt like a fool standing there in the middle of the cabin with her back to Stefan. Well, no more of that. If he wanted to disconcert her with his nakedness, she'd see how he felt with the shoe on the other foot.

She crossed over to the chair, sat down, and proceeded to stare at Stefan while she continued to brush her hair. He really was in the tub — and naked. But she'd seen bare chests before, and more. There had been a fire scare one night at the brothel next door to the tavern, and all the girls and their customers had run out in the street in their various states of undress, providing some hilarious entertainment for everyone else along the street who came out to watch.

But there wasn't anything funny about Stefan in that tub... well, maybe a little bit funny. The tub was a small round one, and he had to scrunch up to fit in it, his knees bent to his chest. Presently, Sasha was pouring water from an extra bucket over Stefan's justwashed hair, so he didn't even know yet that she had decided to be entertained by him.

Even naked, he was a swarthyskinned devil, though his knees weren't nearly as dark as his upper torso, proving that some of his coloring was helped by the sun. And the hair on his body was minimal, except for a Yshaped thatch of black curling down the center of his chest. She looked at the scars on his face, barely noticeable from a distance, and tried to recall the empathy she'd felt when she first saw them. She couldn't. The man had proved too aggravating since then to arouse any kind of compassion in her now.

Sasha handed him a towel to wipe the water from his face and eyes. When the towel was lowered, Stefan was looking toward the spot where Tanya had been standing. It didn't take him but a second to turn his head and find her in the chair. He raised a black brow at seeing her watching him. She lifted one of her own. He laughed. She didn't. He stood up. She was positive she was going to faint. She wasn't that lucky.

Lord help her, he was raw masculinity, hard and splendidly formed, broad of shoulder, narrow of hip, thick of leg. And the root of his manhood... She closed her eyes. He laughed again, a wicked sound that mortified her. And she had thought she could play this out and embarrass him?