Once a Princess (27 page)

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.”

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 fairy-tale 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.

“Stefan! Why did you not send word that you had returned?”

Stefan embraced the older man with a laugh. “I would have, except Sandor's man was waiting in Danzig and left immediately to return here, so I didn't see any point in sending another with news you would already have.”

“What man? Sandor didn't send anyone. We assumed you would.”

“Then—” Stefan paused to glance at Tanya. “It would seem your would-be assassin was rather clever after all. And that means Alicia would know what he looks like.”

“Assassin?” Max exclaimed.

But Tanya interjected first, with eyes narrowed. “If you're going to see your redhead to question her, Stefan, I'm going with you.”

“I don't even know if she was returning to Car
dinia, but in any case, someone else can question her.”

Tanya was only slightly mollified. Maximilian Daneff wasn't at all.

“
Assassin?
” he repeated, and regained Stefan's attention.

“Someone has made two attempts on her life since we reached Europe,” Stefan replied, then added in what was clearly an order, “I don't want another, Max.”

“I will see to it personally. But I do not think Sandor should be told. His health has improved, but worry could cause another setback.”

“
How
improved?” Stefan asked suspiciously.

“Now, my boy, none of that. You cannot really think your father would have staged—”

“Would he not?”

Max grinned. “Well, possibly, but as it happens, he did not. Your crowning
was
official. And I said his health had improved, not that he has made a complete recovery. However, the physicians are hopeful that he might have a few more years left,
if
he stays out of the throne room. Now, if I may welcome your betrothed, who certainly needs no introduction.” Max turned to Tanya and bowed formally, then said, “You are the very image of your mother, Princess Tatiana, except for your hair, which is pure Janacek. Welcome home.”

She would never understand why tears suddenly sprang to her eyes, but they did. Perhaps it was because this man had known her parents well, had known her as a baby, could tell her things not even Stefan could. Or perhaps it was simply because home
had been such an elusive thing to her all these years and now she was finally feeling as if she really had come home.

At the first sign of tears, Stefan drew her into his arms and grinned over her head at the Prime Minister. “It was nothing you said, I'm sure, Max, so don't look so stricken. The wench is just emotional and high-strung. You would not believe what I have had to put up with—” At that point he got a fist in his side and grunted. “You see?”

“You arrogant devil's spawn, you haven't had to put up with half of what I have. I'll have you know—”

“Behave, Tanya, or I'll have to think seriously about putting you over my knee again.”

“Like hell you will.”

“Now, children.” Max chuckled, because it was obvious neither of them was truly angry at the other. “I think it will do Sandor good to see how well you are getting along.” At Tanya's glance, he explained, “We were worried that Stefan would—”

“That's quite enough, Max,” Stefan cut in, and there was no doubting that this time he was displeased.

Tanya looked up at him and smiled. “Secrets? As if I can't guess he was going to tell me how much you hated having to fetch me home, that if you'd had your way, I would have been left to rot in America. I keep telling you I'm not stupid, Stefan, but you keep forgetting.”

“That is a matter of opinion, as far as I'm concerned.”

“Ouch.” She grimaced.

“
Now
will you behave long enough to meet my father?”

“If he's anything like you, I'm not at all sure I want to meet him.”

“Don't pout, little houri. Princesses concede gracefully.”

“But tavern wenches go for the jugular.”

He flushed. She did, too, realizing that no one here yet knew of her upbringing. But Maximilian made nothing of the remark, assuming they were merely jesting with each other, a private joke perhaps. And he was so delighted with this change in Stefan, he was barely listening to them. Sandor would be delighted too. They had both been so afraid that nothing was going to make Stefan accept the girl, whether he brought her home or not. But it looked as if he had more than accepted her.

“I'm sorry,” Maximilian heard the girl say.

“Don't be,” Stefan replied. “They, at least, have to be told, and it might as well be now.”

“Told what?” Maximilian asked, suddenly alarmed by their seriousness.

“We will tell you both together, Max, so warn him that we're here. I don't want to surprise him by just walking in.”

Max did as he was told, though reluctantly, and the next hour proved uncomfortable for all of them, but especially for Tanya as she listened to him sum up her life as nothing but a bleak and depressing existence. To hear Stefan tell it, you'd think she had suffered the agonies of hell, so she finally broke in
to paint a less severe picture, leaving out the hardship and remembering only the lighter moments, in particular the years shared with Iris.

But Sandor was visibly affected nonetheless, and she realized why when he said to her, “You must hate me, girl.”

“Why? I don't even know you.”

“I'm the one who sent you off with Tomilova. She was your mother's closest friend. She would have protected you with her life. But not once did I consider she might die, leaving you helpless and at the mercy of peasants.”

Tanya doubted Dobbs would appreciate being called a peasant. White trash he was used to, but peasant? The thought made her smile. She turned it on Sandor to reassure him.

“You don't regret what you never knew about in the first place, just as it would be pointless to regret what is done and past, so don't think I regret my life up to now. I don't. It taught me a lot, qualities a pampered and spoiled princess would never have learned. And there is something to be said for total self-reliance. I believe my upbringing has made me strong, certainly strong enough to put up with your son and his royal temper.”

Sandor hooted with laughter. “Spoken like a Janacek. That branch of the family always did have the better diplomats. We are grateful for your understanding, child. You are going to make a truly splendid queen.”

“When?” she and Stefan asked almost at once.

“Will next week be too soon? After all, this is
something we have waited years to see, and the preparations have been in the making for months.”

A mere week before the wedding? Tanya didn't mind. Sandor might have been waiting for years to see it happen, but she felt as if she had been waiting forever for this ceremony that was going to give her the right to call Stefan her own.