tefan had calmed down some by the end of dinner, thanks to the enormous amount of wine he had put away with very little food joining it. It had occurred to him that perhaps Americans were different in the way they handled certain situations, and that possibility was what actually took a big chunk out of his anger. After all, Tanya might lose her temper frequently with him, even with his friends, but he couldn’t recall her ever letting it loose in front of strangers, and she would consider Alicia a stranger.

Then again, women adhered to certain rules of conduct when they were together. Two of them could be sworn enemies who would go for each other’s throat in private, yet they could behave like perfect friends in public.

Once he’d begun, he came up with even more excuses for Tanya’s seeming indifference to the situation. She could be intimidated by Alicia’s sophistication and elegance. Tanya’s upbringing made her ignorant of social protocol. She hadn’t even changed for dinner, was still wearing the clothes she’d worn on arrival, while Alicia had turned herself out in grand style, her white silk gown new, her jewels abundant. And Alicia was cattily showing off.

He’d seen her do this before and it had never bothered him, the way she fingered her jewels in front of other women, drawing attention to them as if they were trophies. These trophies were three long ropes of pearls around her neck, diamonds at her ears, and not one but four rings on her fingers, each one worth a small fortune. And she took every opportunity to flaunt them in front of Tanya.

Tonight this habit of hers annoyed him, not so much Alicia’s typical competitiveness, but that his mistress had jewels he had given her, while his future bride had not a bauble to her name. How much more was Tanya annoyed by it, though carefully keeping her envy from showing?

That was at least one thing he could rectify, and before he left the city—tonight, in fact, since they were leaving first thing in the morning. He didn’t care if he had to drag a jeweler out of bed, he was not going to have his bride arrive in Cardinia looking less grand than even the lowliest member at court.

It didn’t occur to Stefan as he set off to do just that, with Serge and several bottles of vodka to keep them warm, that he was procrastinating, clearly avoiding making a decision about Alicia, and avoiding being alone with her. When it did occur to him, he was naturally disgusted with himself. Yet by the time he returned to the house, a small, jewel-encrusted chest on the coach seat beside him, he had come up with still another reason to put off a confrontation with Alicia, and this one was more logical than all the rest. He was now too intoxicated to make a decision tonight, one way or the other.

Besides, he had reasoned that he really ought to wait until the morning and speak to Tanya first, alone. If she gave him hell about Alicia, then he would quite cheerfully send his mistress away. But if she said nothing at all about it, then he’d know that the excuses he had come up with were only that, and it really didn’t make any difference to her what he did.

That was his final intention, but he hadn’t counted on a mistress determined to reestablish her claim on him. When he stumbled into the bedroom Sasha had prepared for him, instead of the one he had shared with Alicia before he went to America, it was to find her in this new room anyway, curled up in bed and waiting for him.

“It wasn’t necessary for you to change rooms, Stefan, just for appearances,” she gently chided him. “Your little princess doesn’t care where you sleep.”

That was not the wisest thing she could have said to him just then. She realized it when he set down the jeweled chest he was carrying and turned glowing eyes on her. She also realized he wasn’t exactly sober. That, at least, she could count in her favor. However, she doubted even that when his voice came out sounding so chilling.

“I don’t recall inviting you here, Alicia.”

She tried laughing that off. “You didn’t have to, darling. I have shared your rooms for the last two years. Since when have I needed an invitation?”

She was right, of course. She was also forcing him to face his decision about her head‑on, right now, when he no longer was clearheaded enough to do so. But there really was no decision to make, was there? He didn’t just want Tanya. There was a lot more to it than that, a lot more that she had managed to make him feel for her. With Alicia, all he felt was a desire not to hurt her, bred from two years of familiarity and a certain fondness that their time together had produced.

“Alicia—”

“Come, Stefan, let me put you to bed,” she cut in quickly, before he could actually tell her to leave. “I can see you have had a little too much to drink tonight, so you probably don’t need me, but let me at least make you comfortable.”

He came over to the bed and she immediately moved the covers aside for him, at the same time revealing that she was naked beneath them. The one thing he had always liked especially well about Alicia was her body, and she knew it. She also knew that, like most men, he became amorous when he was drunk, wanting to make love whether his body was agreeable or not. She had never liked accommodating him at such times, but tonight was definitely an exception: her future was at stake.

She wasn’t stupid. She knew things had changed with him. One look at that damn princess was all she needed to tell her that Stefan wouldn’t mind at all marrying the bitch, or bedding her. But such a beautiful creature would never want him in return. Didn’t he know that?

If he didn’t, Alicia had to make sure he did. She was finally the mistress of a king. She had put up with Stefan for two years, patiently waiting for Sandor to die or step down in favor of his son, and she didn’t care which. Now that one of the alternatives had finally happened, she wasn’t about to lose her position just because Stefan had to get married.

When he just stood there looking at her, but making no move to sit beside her, she began to panic, wondering if anything she could say or do would make a difference at this point. If he had actually fallen in love with that woman...

That horrid thought brought her swiftly to her knees in front of him. “Silly man,” she pouted as she reached to remove his coat for him. “You could not have picked a more inappropriate time to drink too much. You may not want me tonight, but after such a long absence from you, I cannot say the same. But I suppose I can wait if I must. And I can’t really blame you after I saw the way that woman behaves toward you. She could drive anyone to drink.”

Stefan didn’t bother correcting her about the state of his condition. He wasn’t anywhere near so drunk that he couldn’t cover her on that bed and make love to her all night. And after his own ridiculously long abstinence, it would undoubtedly take all night before he was finally satisfied. But since it was the wrong bed and the wrong woman, he said nothing. Her remark about Tanya, however, he couldn’t let pass.

“What behavior are you referring to?”

“Why, the way she completely ignored you at dinner. And she didn’t even care that you saw how friendly she has become with Lazar.”

The insinuation cut with razor sharpness. The only reason he didn’t bleed was that he knew where La­zar’s loyalties lay. But the pain of Tanya’s “friend­ships” with other men was still there, and he could not thank Alicia for reminding him of it.

Tightly, he said, “It has occurred to me that her behavior tonight can be attributed to her having wit­nessed that thoughtless display of affection you greeted me with on our arrival. She is my betrothed, Alicia. You knew better than to be so obvious in who you were!”

Anger was making him sober up, but it was the word “were” that increased her panic. “But I didn’t even notice her with you,” she insisted, hoping to placate him and exonerate herself at the same time. “And I was so happy to see you, I couldn’t help myself. I know I was careless, and it won’t happen again, but she didn’t care about that, Stefan. I know she didn’t.”

“How do you know?”

Alicia lowered her eyes, pretending a reluctance to say any more. She even managed to get his shirt off while he waited for her to answer, his concen­tration so great he wasn’t aware of what she was doing.

Finally he repeated the question, and none too softly. “How do you know?”

She still wouldn’t look at him, was swiftly opening the front of his trousers. “I’m sorry, Stefan, but I spoke with her at length this afternoon.”

She said no more, forcing him to drag this confes­sion out of her. “And?”

“She said she was relieved to know you had a mistress to keep you from bothering her in that way.”

He moved away from her as his anger increased tenfold. “Damn her, she actually said that to you?”

“And more,” Alicia said as she sat back on her heels, wishing she could have at least removed his trousers before he started pacing. She might not love Stefan, but he was a magnificent lover, and she had missed that in his absence—if nothing else.

He whirled on her now. “What else?”

“Stefan, you really don’t want to hear this.” When all he did was scowl at her, she figured she’d evaded enough. “Well, she admitted she can’t bear your... that is to say, she doesn’t like...”

She didn’t go any further, but she stared pointedly at his left cheek. The scars there twitched, then dis­appeared, his face had darkened so with heat. Alicia stared at him in amazement. God, he was a handsome man when you didn’t notice his scars. It was too bad she had such an aversion to them herself. Of course, without them, she knew she would never have won this man, so it was an aversion she kept strictly to herself.

Now that the damage was done, Alicia felt safe in criticizing the princess. “She’s just a vain girl, Ste­fan, so what can you expect? She knows how beau­tiful she is, and knows that she could have any man she wanted—”

“Enough!”

Stefan couldn’t believe how much those words hurt. It was exactly what he had feared, that Tanya wouldn’t be able to ignore his disfigurement. He should have known she was lying when she’d claimed she barely noticed his scars because of his eyes. Her constant rejection of him proved it. And that she yielded to his kisses occasionally was just as he had first supposed—she was a whore at heart as well as in fact. But vain? No, about that Alicia was merely guessing. He’d never known anyone less vain or con­ceited than Tanya. But that was all he could see in her favor right now.

He hadn’t noticed Alicia approaching, but he felt her cool breasts first as she pressed them into his bare chest, just before wrapping her arms around him. “Let me help you forget about her for a while, Stefan,” she purred up at him. “You know I can.”

He did know it. He also needed a woman, needed one so badly it was painful. And this one knew how to pleasure a man with the skills of a harlot.