"How much damage have you caused this time, your Highness?"

This time? Tanya tried to stop to address that, but Serge just kept walking and pulling her along behind him.

"Just what makes you think I am at fault here?" she demanded of his back.

"It was obvious even to me that you wanted to go in there expressly to make trouble."

That might be so, but how did he know it? And if he knew it, so did the others. Nor would it take Stefan long to figure it out. Well, so what? But she no longer objected to being returned to her cabin.

She thought about going straight to bed and pretending sleep. Of course, if Stefan was angry enough, sleep wouldn't prevent him from telling her about it immediately. She paced instead, and tried to think of a way to refute the allegations he was going to throw at her. And what if he was hurt? Was she crazy? Of course he was going to be hurt. That Corbell was a veritable giant of a man. But that wasn't what she had wanted. She had merely wanted to cause Stefan some difficulty, to get a little bit even.

The door opened much sooner than she had expected. Tanya whipped around with bated breath. Stefan was merely closing and locking the door as he did each night before retiring. Even when he glanced at her, he didn't seem to be annoyed with her or anything else. But in trying to assess his reaction to the way she looked, to judge his mood and if he was hurt, she was finally seeing him again, really seeing him without the red heat of her anger clouding her vision.

Lord help her, the attraction was still there, more powerful than ever. Her pulses picked up. The tenseness she had felt now turned to something else. How unfair could you get? After everything he had done to her, he shouldn't have any effect on her now at all, certainly not this giddy swirling in her innards that she knew to be desire. She couldn't still desire him. She refused to!

"Did you enjoy yourself?"

Considering what she was experiencing, it took her a moment to realize he was referring to what had happened in the gambling room. She tensed now, suspicious of his casual tone.

"Are you hurt?"

He shrugged as he dropped his coat on the clothes trunk. "A few bruises. Nothing to be concerned about. "

"I wasn't concerned. I was merely wondering why you didn't just tell him I was your wife, like you've told everyone else. That might have made a difference. "

"I didn't feel like it."

That was too casual for her mounting unease. "Didn't feel like it? Didn't feel like it!" she exploded. "You felt like getting beat up instead?"

"I'm not the one who had to be carried back to his room."

She tried to keep the surprise out of her voice. "You mean you won?"

"Certainly."

"Oh, certainly. How could I have doubted it? He was only a walking mountain."

"Sarcasm doesn't become you, Tanya. And he might have been big, but he was clumsy. The big ones usually are."

"You're big," she couldn't resist pointing out.

"Not that big, but then there are exceptions to the rule. "

"And what rules were you playing by tonight when you threw in the winning hand?" At his frown, she clarified her question. "I saw your three kings, Stefan."

He actually smiled, though he flicked a dismissive hand. "That is merely an idiosyncrasy of mine. I feel a certain unfairness in letting kings win for me. "

Which made no sense. The fact that he wasn't angry with her made no sense either. The fact that she was angry because he wasn't made the least sense of all.

"Well, I'm delighted you enjoyed yourself," she said crossly. "But of course you would. Gambling, fighting, those are diversions you men love the most, aren't they?"

She hadn't even noticed that he had been slowly moving toward her. He was now close enough to catch her arm, which he did, drawing her up against his body. She stiffened. He didn't acknowledge it. Both arms circled her now, keeping her firmly in place.

He only waited for her to look up at him before he said, "You forgot to mention the one diversion you are familiar with yourself, little houri." He grinned. "That means beautiful maiden, not what you are thinking."

"Sure it does," she scoffed, despite her confusion over whether he might be desiring her again. But that confusion wouldn't be quiet. "Stefan—"

"If you wanted a man, you should have asked," he admonished gently, "not tried to solicit a stranger. "

"I didn't!"

Her denial didn't annoy him, he simply ignored it. "I knew the exact moment you encouraged him, Tanya. It was there in his face. But I excuse your actions because you haven't had... because it has been a long while since you..." The second explanation must not have suited him either. He actually looked flustered, and finally settled on skipping it altogether. "The alternative is that you deliberately caused trouble tonight. I prefer to think you need a man badly enough that you will accept even me."

Even? Didn't he know he was the only man she would accept? No, of course he didn't. He thought she'd done what she'd done because she was desperate for a man, any man, because they had kept her so long from the occupation they assumed was hers.

Tanya didn't know whether to explode with righteous indignation or laugh. Actually, she couldn't do either. Right now he was sure her motive hadn't been to cause trouble. If he started to think otherwise, he'd be angry. Yet he had enjoyed that damned fight, so he wouldn't be that angry — probably just enough to put her over his knee again. But she wasn't going to make love with him just to get out of that. And she wasn't going to make love to him while he thought he would be doing her a favor. If and when she ever did, it had to be because he was desperate to have her. She wanted nothing less than the exquisite passion he had offered her that night by the river, not this hesitancy that wasn't like him at all. Actually, she wanted a whole lot more from him, she realized, but she was realistic if nothing else.

"I have surprised you?" he asked carefully.

"Do I look surprised? I guess I am, which is understandable, after your reaction to my freshly scrubbed face. What happened? Did I pick up some dirt smudges tonight? Is that why I'm suddenly acceptable again?"

Her tone was just sneering enough to gain her release. "You are, as you well know, exceptionally beautiful tonight."

But not once had he really looked her over. Even Vasili had looked her over. And every man she had seen tonight had spared at least one glance at her cleavage. But Stefan wouldn't look below her face. And his compliment had been so toneless, he might as well have been speaking of the weather. And that was supposed to convince her that he wanted her?

She stated as much, plainly. "You don't want me, Stefan."

He didn't try to correct her. He said merely, strangely, "One night I give to beauties like you. One night... no emotion... just pleasure. "

It was that "no emotion" that got to her, that cut through the hurt those words had caused her and left only a simmering anger. "What if one night won't do it? Do I then go visit Lazar tomorrow, and Serge after him?"

Those taunts finally got to him, too. He no longer looked emotionless. "You forgot to mention Vasili," he said tightly.

"No, I didn't. I still wouldn't have that condescending peacock, no matter how desperate I was. But you'll notice I'm no longer in need. Being pitied has a way of curing that."

"Pitied?"

"Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about!" she snapped. "But don't worry. If I find I need a man again, I'll know where to look."

She deliberately left him to wonder about that, turning her back on him and crawling into bed, fully dressed as usual. Stefan slammed out of the cabin. Good. Now he was angry — but not angry enough.

Chapter 27

Pitied? Try as he might, Stefan couldn't figure out why the woman had come up with that word. Who in his right mind would pity her? She was beautiful and of royal birth; she was going to have more money than she would know what to do with, a fortune left to her by her mother, estates scattered all over Cardinia that were hers alone, and more in Austria, not to mention the royal palaces, the royal jewels. She was going to be emulated at court, sought after. She was going to wield incredible power. And the only one who could tell her yea or nay was her future husband, whom she could have wrapped around her little finger if she had but tried. But she didn't know that. And she didn't believe the rest of it. Still— pitied?

The obvious answer was no answer. She had merely used that as an excuse to reject him. He should have expected it. He shouldn't have made the offer. Lazar had tried to tell him she had been looking for trouble, not a quick toss in the sheets. But like the fool he had been acting ever since he met the woman, he saw only what he wanted to see.

"Why don't you just bed the wench and get it out of your system?"

"Shut your mouth, Vasili," Stefan growled.

They stood at the bar in the gambling hall, three on one side of it, Serge behind it. Only one table in the room was still occupied. Two others had been broken in the earlier fight. But most of the passengers had found their beds. So had the bartender, after locking up his stock. It had taken a few more large bills, on top of those doled out for damages, to get the purser to reopen the bar.

"For once Vasili is right, Stefan," Lazar said. "It's better than drinking yourself into a stupor every night just so you can sleep in the same room with her, and then snapping at everyone the next day — everyone but her. "