ould you mind kissing me?”

Vasili stiffened to his full six feet, impressive in his indignation. “I beg your pardon?”

Tanya flushed, but she wasn’t giving up yet. They were close to Cardinia. Another three or four days, she had been told. But ever since leaving Danzig, Stefan had been deliberately avoiding her again, not as completely as on the Carpathia, but nearly as much.

Almost immediately he had stopped riding with her in the coach, sending Serge or Lazar, or both, to keep her company in his stead, while he rode with Vasili and the guards outside. Now she was lucky if she even caught sight of him through her window. Nor did he come to speak to her when they stopped at villages or great estates for food or to pass the night. Once they had camped in the open. She didn’t know where he had slept.

When they had left Danzig, it was like leaving civilization behind. The countryside had been pretty bleak and barren, with winter upon it. Houses or farms became a rare sight, towns even rarer. The occasional castle held Tanya’s interest the most, but not for long. Clouds or fog sometimes surrounded them so completely, it was difficult to see the road even a few yards ahead. She had yet to see a sunny day. It had rained often, and yesterday there had been a few snowflakes, though a frigid wind had whisked them away. The weather alone would have put her in a gloomy mood if the situation with Stefan hadn’t.

She was definitely beginning to regret her childish behavior during their last conversation. She had let her temper get the better of her, as usual, this time because of her jealousy, and that in turn had alienated Stefan again. And just when she had discovered that he wasn’t indifferent to her. Well, he was now. But that last taunt of his, that she didn’t care who was kissing or touching her once it was happening, had really bothered her after she thought about it. He’d implied she might protest first, but she was easy to conquer once she got heated up.

It was an insult, not as bad as his similar one about her not caring whom she bedded with, but an insult just the same. Only how did she know if it wasn’t true? She’d never given any other man the chance to prove it one way or the other, stopping them all from kissing her the way Stefan did. So what if he was right? She didn’t want any other man kissing her. There were dozens of them now in their party, but she didn’t want any of them. She wanted only Stefan. But if one of them kissed her, really kissed her...

She had decided at last to find out for herself. If she was as wanton and fickle as Stefan claimed she was, then she damn well wanted to know it. And Vasili was a very logical choice to find out with. At that moment, he would probably like to vindicate himself, because he had actually been showing some guilt ever since he had accepted her innocence as fact. So he ought to delight in proving that if she wasn’t an actual whore, she was at least one by na­ture.

He was also the most handsome man she’d ever known, and if she was going to prove this experiment beyond a doubt, she might as well use the big guns, so to speak, and make it as tough on herself as she could. And once she did prove it in her favor—and she was confident of that outcome—then she would have some ammunition to confront Stefan with. But she was going to have that confrontation one way or another, before they entered Cardinia.

Stefan said she had to live with him, but she wasn’t going to go on living with him like this. If she wasn’t positive that there was at least some hope of Stefan ever coming to love her, then she would just as soon leave before they reached Cardinia and the whole country knew about her existence.

Now she looked Vasili straight in the eye and re­peated her question in a tone he couldn’t doubt was serious. “I asked if you wouldn’t mind kissing me.”

“Actually, I would mind,” he replied, still indig­nant, then glanced about the camp they had set up about an hour ago, looking for Stefan.

Tanya guessed as much. “He went with Serge to the village that is supposed to be a couple of miles from here. At least that’s what Lazar said.”

Vasili’s eyes came back to her, narrowed. “So if he isn’t around, what was the point of that ridiculous request? It was to make him jealous, wasn’t it?”

“As if he would be,” she snorted. “No, I asked for my own benefit, because Stefan says that no mat­ter who kisses me, they’ll get the same response from me. I want to know if that’s so.”

“You must be joking!” he exclaimed.

“Do I look like I’m joking?”

“But I seriously doubt that Stefan meant it. He hasn’t exactly been in a good mood lately, in case you hadn’t noticed. And when he gets like this—”

“He made the observation before we left Danzig.”

Losing on that point, Vasili tried another, his voice actually scolding. “You don’t just go around asking men to kiss you, Princess.”

That had her blushing again. “If this weren’t im­portant, I wouldn’t. But that is why I asked you instead of someone else, to keep it in the family, so to speak. Now, will you just do it and get it over with?”

“No, I will not,” he said flatly, with finality.

“Why not?”

“Because Stefan would kill me if he found out.”

“He wouldn’t do any such thing,” she scoffed.

“I would just as soon not put it to the test, thank you.”

She was surprised. She really thought he would help. “Very well, I’ll just have to ask someone else.”

She turned to leave. He reached out and grabbed her arm. He looked totally flustered now.

“You must have some past experience to go by for this comparison. At least one man who has kissed you before Stefan. Rack your memory, for God’s sake.”

“I did. The few other kisses I’ve had were stolen, and necessarily brief, because I tended to draw my knife very quickly.”

Vasili gave in then, but with complete ill grace. “Oh, very well. “ He leaned forward to place his lips on hers for all of five seconds.

When he leaned back, Tanya was shaking her head at him in disgust. “You know what kind of kiss I meant, Vasili. That wasn’t it.”

He flushed furiously now and grabbed her hand, pulling her along behind him across the camp. “Where are we going?” Tanya demanded.

“If I am going to do this properly, it isn’t going to be for public consumption that Stefan will be bound to find out about.” And then he looked back at her suspiciously. “You aren’t intending to tell him, are you?”

“If I do, I won’t mention names.”

That must have satisfied him, for he said no more. His destination was the other side of her coach, which she slept in when they camped out in the open like this. No one was near it now, but when she retired, there would be at least four attendants sleeping in front of either door, including the two women who were acting as her maids, as well as a number of guards set to watch the coach all night long. She might not have felt like a princess before they reached Europe, but she was being treated like one on this trip, with servants galore keeping her from lifting a hand to her own care.

Vasili stopped as soon as he was certain no one could see them, and immediately drew Tanya into a lover’s embrace. The kiss began hesitantly on his part, but he soon got into the spirit of it. And Tanya was determined to participate as well, to relax, to open her senses to feel the experience. That was easy enough, since she was getting good at this sort of thing. Vasili, on the other hand, was an expert at it, quite as good as Stefan. But that’s what she had hoped for, to really put it to the test.

The experiment ended about five minutes later, when she tapped Vasili on his shoulder. He released her and stepped back, running an agitated hand through his golden locks.

There was a soft glow in his eyes that was quickly extinguished as he gave her an inquiring look. “Do you have your answer?”

She grinned. “Yes.”

“Well?”

“You don’t really want to know, do you, Vasili?”

Her beaming expression told him plain enough that he’d failed to stir her. He burst out laughing.

“You never have been good for my self‑esteem, Princess, so spare my feelings in this case.”