hat does that look like to you?”

“Blood.”

“Not that,” Tanya said in exasperation tinged with embarrassment. “The tear in the sheet.”

Serge moved up to the side of the bed for a closer examination. Tanya waited impatiently. She wished she hadn’t had to do this, to drag him out of bed a second time that night to show him the proof of her attempted murder. If he and Stefan had had the decency to believe her before, she wouldn’t have had to. And the only reason she had discovered the proof for herself was because that damned virgin’s blood was right next to it on the sheet, and that had drawn her eyes to the spot. But when she did notice it, she had stopped fretting about Stefan and had gone straight to Serge’s room. Someone had to believe her about what had happened tonight, and she wasn’t about to try to convince Stefan again.

Besides, after she’d thought about it, and got angry about it, she decided she didn’t want Stefan seeing that blood on the sheet, so she hadn’t even considered going to him with what she’d found. If his anger was so blinding that he could miss something so monumental, the fact that she had willingly given him her virginity, then he could rot before she’d tell him—or show him.

That she hadn’t heard Alicia return to her own room possibly had a little to do with her decision. And she had listened for her, too. But obviously Stefan had gone back to spend the rest of the night with his mistress, was curled up in bed with her now, sleeping or... He could definitely rot.

She watched Serge as he stuck his finger through the hole, right into a similar hole in the mattress beneath. “It’s the cut of a knife, your Highness,” he said, drawing the same conclusion she had.

“Exactly.”

“I’ll get Stefan.”

“Don’t bother. He’ll just think I put it there. But I want at least one of you to believe me and take precautions, because I wasn’t dreaming tonight. A sound woke me, I reached for my knife, but I was too slow. My pillow was used to try and suffocate me. I finally must have pricked one of the attacker’s arms with my knife—”

“Then that is his blood on the sheet?”

“No,” she gritted out. “As I was saying, he released the pillow and I immediately rolled off the bed. But it was so dark in here, he might not have realized I wasn’t in the bed anymore. It looks like he tried to stab me then, and I guess he might have tried again if I hadn’t started screaming.”

“Then you were cut?”

She wished he would stop worrying over that red stain. “No, I wasn’t.”

“Then whose blood is that?”

“Mine,” she said, hoping he’d conclude that it was her time of the month and let it go at that.

“I don’t—” He didn’t get any further, his face suffusing with heat. But he didn’t draw the conclu­sion she had hoped he would. “Stefan returned here after we searched the house.”

It wasn’t really a question. And since Stefan might mention it to him, there was no point in denying it. “Yes.”

“Was he very angry on finding you a virgin?”

Did he have to be so damn discerning? “He didn’t notice. He was too angry to begin with.”

Serge’s cheeks got even hotter. “I will get him now. He has to see—”

“Like hell,” she fairly snarled. “I’m not dealing with his anger again tonight, thank you. And I don’t care what he thinks, so forget about that damn stain, will you? Just tell me you believe someone tried to kill me.”

“I do.”

She sighed in relief before asking, “Do I have enemies that no one has told me about?”

“None that I can think of now. Those you had are all dead.”

“Would someone want me dead to keep me from marrying Stefan?”

“That is a possibility, yet there are not many who know of your betrothal, or remember it, and even less who know that you are still alive. You disap­peared when you were only a baby. Most people think you are dead.”

“How nice.”

He smiled at her tone. “It was better to let them think so while there were still Stamboloffs lurking about. But even though Stefan was sent to bring you home, it is doubtful Sandor would announce your existence until you were there to prove it.”

“All right. Obviously we’re not going to figure out who or even why. Tell me this, then. Why would this would‑be murderer try to smother me—which was taking a good deal of time, I don’t mind telling you—when he had that knife on him? He could have just stabbed me to begin with.”

“Perhaps he didn’t want to take the credit for it.”

“What do you mean?”

“He could have wanted it to look like you merely died in your sleep—”

“I’m in perfect health!” she interrupted indig­nantly.

“—for some inexplicable reason,” he continued. “That way, no one would hunt him down.”

“And he would get away with it, no one the wiser,” she grouched. “I have to tell you, I really don’t like this bastard, whoever he is.”

“But killing you, your Highness, was more im­portant to him than not being hunted down, or he wouldn’t have resorted to the knife when his first plan failed.”

“Then I guess it’s fortunate I had enough breath left to scream.”

“Very fortunate,” he agreed, then insisted, “Ste­fan will have to be told.”

“About the attacker.” She shrugged. “Fine. You can try to convince him, because I won’t.” And then her eyes narrowed threateningly as a blush suffused her cheeks. “But don’t even think about telling him about that bloodstain, Serge. He made love to me and left here still thinking I’m a whore. And if he couldn’t even feel my maidenhead, he’ll never be­lieve that blood is what it is. He’ll think I cut myself to put it there, and I’m not going to be accused of deception on top of everything else.”

Her plain speaking had his cheeks glowing again. “When he is in that kind of rage—”

“You aren’t going to make excuses for him, are you?” she asked coldly.

“He had also been drinking quite heavily tonight, your Highness.”

“I see you are,” she said in disgust and turned her back on him. “I’m not going to get any sleep tonight until there is a lock on that door. Stefan was going to take care of it, but he got distracted. Would you mind seeing to it before you go back to bed?”

“Certainly, your Highness. I will attend to it my­self, as well as sleep outside your door.”

“You needn’t go that far,” she protested.

“On the contrary. Stefan would have it no oth­er—”

“Hang Stefan!”