Johanna Lindsey - Once a Princess

The arms that came around her were achingly tender, drawing her against a comforting chest. She assumed it was Lazar, but didn't look to be sure since she didn't care at that point. Sympathy broke the dam, it seemed, for she became loud then, great racking sobs echoing through the woods. Crying, for crying out loud, and when she'd been so furious just minutes before. How utterly embarrassing. And she couldn't even say why she was doing it — certainly not because that devileyed devil didn't like her anymore.

She was making so much noise, it was a while before she could even hear the soothing words coming her way. When she did hear them, she stiffened, pulling back. But the arms around her only tightened. She was going to be comforted whether she liked it or not, by him. What unmitigated gall. There wasn't anything he could say...

"I'm sorry, Tanya. At times I am the devil they call me. I did warn you of that, did I not? And sometimes when I am surprised—"

"You mean disappointed, don't you?" she interrupted bitterly.

"Surprised will do," he replied. "I have never dealt well with surprises."

"You have unusual reactions for a lot of things, don't you, Stefan?"

Pointing that out wasn't the wisest thing she could have done just then, when his arms were still around her. But she was in danger of being kissed only when he was angry, or sealing bargains, and that danger was undoubtedly gone now that he knew what she really looked like. She should be relieved. So why wasn't she?

He was quiet for so long, she was sure he wasn't going to reply to her remark, but he did. "You deal with my unusual reactions very well, do you not?"

Up came the color to her cheeks, and she had no gray pallor to hide any of it, only his wide chest for the moment. "That was a short truce," she said tiredly.

His hand ran over the back of her head, pressing her even closer to him. Comforting even while he was insulting? The man didn't do anything in a normal way.

"Actually, I meant no offense," he said softly near her ear. "There are women of vast experience who are still terrified of me when I... but an innocent girl would be even more so. You have that, at least, in your favor."

And nothing else? But he didn't say that. He wasn't trying to insult her, after all.

"Some innocents would react just like I do," she retorted. "But I don't suppose I will have to worry about it anymore, will I?"

He sighed. "I've made you angry again."

All Tanya noted was that he hadn't answered the question. "You can let go of me now, Stefan. The rain has stopped in case you haven't noticed."

She heard him chuckle, and he tipped her face up so she could see that he was smiling, his way of telling her that he at least was willing to forget the harsh words that had passed between them and start over — again. But he didn't know that she hated it when he smiled. He didn't know that her heartbeat sped up each time he did. She looked at those lips, felt the length of him pressed so close to her, and experienced that fluttering In her innards again. Hell and high water, how could he still do that to her after his recent nastiness?

She felt him tense just before he released her, giving her an idea that he had sensed what she was feeling and didn't like it. She turned away from him before she could see it in his expression too.

"What have you decided for our direction?" she asked in a neutral tone.

"South."

They would choose the opposite of the way that she wanted to go.

Three hours must have passed since they started walking south, yet none of Tanya's companions had mentioned food. The change in her appearance was mentioned again and again, however, and each time she looked up, she caught at least one of them staring at her, even Stefan, as if they still couldn't believe she'd actually turned out to be pretty. Serge and Lazar seemed delighted that it was so. Vasili she couldn't read, except that he hadn't made any derogatory remarks so far this morning. And she already knew what Stefan thought, which made no sense when you figured that he could get more for a pretty exotic dancer than he could for an ugly one.

She tried not to think about being more valuable to them now, because that would make them even more vigilant of her. She thought about her hunger instead, easy enough to do with all the noise her stomach was making. And it finally occurred to her that as finely dressed and mannered as her abductors were, they might not know how to survive in the wilderness. That would be a laugh. No, it wouldn't, not when she was stuck with them.

Tanya was about ready to reveal that she knew how to hunt for food when Serge, scouting up ahead, called back that he'd found something. The something turned out to be a rather large plantation house, with all the accompanying outbuildings that made places of this size selfsufficient. This one turned out to have everything her abductors could have asked for — a hot meal already prepared, supplies to take with them, and four sturdy horses, all of which they could apparently afford to buy. There were more horses available, and the men had more money with them, but obviously she wasn't going to get a mount of her own.

She supposed that would have been too much to hope for. Nor was she left alone for a single moment, even to use the convenience, especially to use the convenience. Stefan escorted her to the outhouse himself. He even inspected the interior to make sure there were no other exits before allowing her those few minutes of privacy. She'd like to know how they were going to manage this when there wasn't an outhouse around. Did he think he was going to stand there and watch her? Like hell.

They didn't stay at the plantation any longer than necessary, possibly because they didn't trust Tanya around other people. She'd been warned beforehand not to cause a disturbance there, though the consequences weren't spelled out. Regardless, she wouldn't have heeded that warning if she had thought someone on the premises might have been able to help her. But the owner was an old man. His wife was an invalid Tanya didn't even get to meet. And everyone else was the couple's slave; they couldn't help her any more than they could help themselves.

When it was time to leave, Tanya didn't have to ask whom she would be riding with. With a hand on her elbow, which had been there during the entire visit, Stefan walked her right to the horse he'd chosen, a large sorrel mare, lifted her into the saddle, and mounted behind her. The position, which more or less placed her across his lap, she didn't like at all. With one of his arms supporting her back, she was comfortable enough, but she could see Stefan with no difficulty at all. It was bad enough that she was so close to him, touching him in too many places, feeling his heat — the man always felt hot to her — but looking at him as well was too disturbing by half. She could close her eyes, she supposed, or get a stiff neck looking forward. But trying both options left her with the clear impression that he was watching her, and that was just as bad.

It didn't take her long to inform him, "I want to change position, Stefan, and sit facing forward."

"Astride?"

"Yes. "

"No."

She met those sherrygold eyes and demanded, "And why not?"

He held her gaze only for a moment, and then he was looking over her head, his jaw clenched, his lips tight, for all intents and purposes ignoring her, yet he answered, "Your skirt won't allow it."

Her skirt was kind of narrow in comparison to one designed to accommodate innumerable petticoats, but it wasn't that narrow. "It would only show a little skin or none at all, since I'm wearing boots that already cover a third of my calves."

She thought that had sounded quite reasonable, but his eyes were a degree lighter in color when they dropped down to her again. "A little is too much. Kindly remember who you are, Princess, and begin acting with some decorum as befits your station, rather than as a tavern — wench."

The pause told her plain enough that "whore" had been his first choice in descriptions. For some reason that she couldn't imagine, she was annoying him enough to call forth the insults again. And if she was going to get them, she might as well deserve them.

"What was it? The word skin? Calves? I am a tavern wench, Stefan, and there aren't too many words that don't fit in my vocabulary. Would you like to hear a few more you might find objectionable, you son of a bitch?"

Their eyes did battle for nearly a full minute of silence, his definitely glowing now, hers shooting some green sparks of her own. And then he surprised her, conceding all.

"Sit as you like. Show as much skin as you like. You may also say whatever you like, little Tanya."

She made a face of disgust that he was giving in that easily after prodding her temper for a fight. But she still quickly rearranged her limbs before he changed his mind. And not being able to see those devil's eyes was much better for her peace of mind. Now maybe she could start concentrating on her escape again...

Even as she was leaning forward to tug her skirt down as far as it would go, Stefan's arm slipped around her waist to draw her hips more firmly between his legs. Tanya wasn't alarmed, however, thinking he was merely assuring that she didn't fall off the horse. But he didn't let go when she straightened, and a moment later his forearm moved up until his hand flattened over her right breast with enough pressure to bring her entire back into tight contact with his chest.

The gasp no sooner left her lips than she heard his voice at her ear, continuing as if there had been no pause after his concessions. "But you will discover, if you haven't by now, wench, that the way a woman behaves is the way she will likely be treated."