hey came in behind Stefan and stood at his back, so he was unaware that they were there. That suited Tanya. She was in no hurry to confront him now that she was in the same room with him. And the antic­ipation was pleasant, all the more so because both Lazar and Serge were sure that Stefan was going to be quite annoyed at her being there.

They were so certain, they had refused to come along, so only Vasili stood beside her as her escort. Without his intervention, she would have been taken right back to her cabin after dinner. She grudgingly acknowledged she had him to thank, though she hated being grateful to him for anything, even a means for some sort of revenge.

Merely annoying Stefan wasn’t enough, though she hadn’t figured out yet what else she could do. But an idea came to her when she noticed that the gambler sitting directly across from Stefan was pay­ing more attention to her than he was to the cards in his hand.

He was a big man, very wide across the chest, and from what she could tell, none of his bulk was fat. He wasn’t bad­-looking either, probably a few years older than Stefan, with dark brown hair and darker brown eyes. Like one other gentleman at the table, he had removed his coat and rolled up his shirtsleeves—possibly so no one could accuse him of cheating. At any rate, he had appeared to be taking the game in progress very seriously—until now.

There was a lot of money on the table, a very great amount, most of it before the brown‑haired gambler. The other two players had modest piles in front of them. Stefan was throwing in his last two bills to call the present hand. The play went around, cards were drawn. The big gambler actually had to be reminded that it was his turn to bet, because his eyes were again on Tanya instead of his cards.

“Are you in or out, Mr. Barany?”

Tanya started when she realized the question was asked of Stefan by the man on his right. She had never heard his last name before, never even thought to ask what it was. Come to think of it, Lazar was the only one among them who had introduced himself fully to her. Perhaps there was a Thomas or a Johnson among them who would shoot down their story of being foreign nobles. Stefan reached inside his coat to draw out more money. More? The man didn’t know when to quit, but she’d already learned that about him the hard way. Only this had to do with money—and losing it. Didn’t he care? A glance at Vasili told her he wasn’t the least bit worried. Of course, that man probably didn’t know how to look worried, or anything else, other than bored or contemptuous.

She watched Stefan throw in more money to call the second bet. The man to his left dropped out. The big one turned his cards face-up on the table, revealing three fives. His eyes came back to Tanya yet again while he waited to hear if anyone could beat his hand.

It took a lot of nerve, but Tanya finally smiled at him, not timidly or coyly either. After all, she’d watched the tavern girls for years, knew their subtle signals and the way they moved their bodies when they were interested in a man and wanted him to know it. She wasn’t sure if she was doing it right, however, but guessed she was when the man smiled back at her, a big, beautiful smile that made him look downright boyish and definitely interested.

But not to overdo it, she lowered her eyes—and just happened to see Stefan’s three kings before he laid them facedown on the table, which declared without saying so that he couldn’t beat the three fives. It didn’t make sense. She didn’t know all the intricacies of the game, but she did know three kings beat three fives. Didn’t Stefan know he had the winning hand? She felt compelled to tell him. She held her tongue. Helping him wasn’t in her plan.

Her eyes were drawn back to the big gambler as he stood up to rake in the winning pot. He was grinning, and looking straight at Tanya as he said, “You’ll have to excuse me, gentlemen, but I feel compelled to sit out a few hands.”

“It ain’t wise to tamper with a winning streak, Corbell,” the man to his right complained.

“Don’t I know it.” Corbell laughed. “But I’m merely going to direct that streak into other channels for a while.”

The complainer followed the direction of his gaze and laughed, too. Stefan finally seemed to notice this interplay. Tanya tensed, expecting him to turn now. He didn’t. He stood up and stepped into the path of Corbell, who was bigger than Tanya had guessed, a half foot taller than Stefan and much, much broader.

“I’m afraid you have made a mistake, Mr. Corbell,” Stefan stated calmly. “She isn’t available.”

Tanya gasped. Stefan hadn’t even looked at her, yet he knew she stood behind him, and knew what Corbell had meant with his subtle play on words.

But the mountain wasn’t discouraged, though why should he be? A man would have to be crazy to tangle with someone his size.

“I’d say she feels differently,” Corbell replied. “So why don’t you step aside?”

Stefan didn’t budge. “What she feels or wants is entirely irrelevant.” Then, without turning around he said, “Vasili, return her to my cabin while I endeavor to convince Mr. Corbell of his error.”

“Now hold on—”

That was all Corbell got out before there was the distinct sound of knuckles meeting flesh. Tanya only heard it happen. Vasili was dragging her out of there so fast she didn’t even have a chance to look behind her. And then she was shoved into the arms of Serge, who had been waiting outside the gambling room with Lazar. Words weren’t even exchanged. Vasili and Lazar went back inside, while Serge gave Tanya no choice but to return to her cabin.

“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.