Once a Princess

Chapter 21

Three hours must have passed since they started walking south, yet none of Tanya's companions had mentioned food. The change in her appearance was mentioned again and again, however, and each time she looked up, she caught at least one of them staring at her, even Stefan, as if they still couldn't believe she'd actually turned out to be pretty. Serge and Lazar seemed delighted that it was so. Vasili she couldn't read, except that he hadn't made any derogatory remarks so far this morning. And she already knew what Stefan thought, which made no sense when you figured that he could get more for a pretty exotic dancer than he could for an ugly one.

She tried not to think about being more valuable to them now, because that would make them even more vigilant of her. She thought about her hunger instead, easy enough to do with all the noise her stomach was making. And it finally occurred to her that as finely dressed and mannered as her abductors were, they might not know how to survive in the wilderness. That would be a laugh. No, it wouldn't, not when she was stuck with them.

Tanya was about ready to reveal that she knew how to hunt for food when Serge, scouting up ahead, called back that he'd found something. The something turned out to be a rather large plantation house, with all the accompanying outbuildings that made places of this size selfsufficient. This one turned out to have everything her abductors could have asked for — a hot meal already prepared, supplies to take with them, and four sturdy horses, all of which they could apparently afford to buy. There were more horses available, and the men had more money with them, but obviously she wasn't going to get a mount of her own.

She supposed that would have been too much to hope for. Nor was she left alone for a single moment, even to use the convenience, especially to use the convenience. Stefan escorted her to the outhouse himself. He even inspected the interior to make sure there were no other exits before allowing her those few minutes of privacy. She'd like to know how they were going to manage this when there wasn't an outhouse around. Did he think he was going to stand there and watch her? Like hell.

They didn't stay at the plantation any longer than necessary, possibly because they didn't trust Tanya around other people. She'd been warned beforehand not to cause a disturbance there, though the consequences weren't spelled out. Regardless, she wouldn't have heeded that warning if she had thought someone on the premises might have been able to help her. But the owner was an old man. His wife was an invalid Tanya didn't even get to meet. And everyone else was the couple's slave; they couldn't help her any more than they could help themselves.

When it was time to leave, Tanya didn't have to ask whom she would be riding with. With a hand on her elbow, which had been there during the entire visit, Stefan walked her right to the horse he'd chosen, a large sorrel mare, lifted her into the saddle, and mounted behind her. The position, which more or less placed her across his lap, she didn't like at all. With one of his arms supporting her back, she was comfortable enough, but she could see Stefan with no difficulty at all. It was bad enough that she was so close to him, touching him in too many places, feeling his heat — the man always felt hot to her — but looking at him as well was too disturbing by half. She could close her eyes, she supposed, or get a stiff neck looking forward. But trying both options left her with the clear impression that he was watching her, and that was just as bad.

It didn't take her long to inform him, "I want to change position, Stefan, and sit facing forward."

"Astride?"

"Yes. "

"No."

She met those sherrygold eyes and demanded, "And why not?"

He held her gaze only for a moment, and then he was looking over her head, his jaw clenched, his lips tight, for all intents and purposes ignoring her, yet he answered, "Your skirt won't allow it."

Her skirt was kind of narrow in comparison to one designed to accommodate innumerable petticoats, but it wasn't that narrow. "It would only show a little skin or none at all, since I'm wearing boots that already cover a third of my calves."

She thought that had sounded quite reasonable, but his eyes were a degree lighter in color when they dropped down to her again. "A little is too much. Kindly remember who you are, Princess, and begin acting with some decorum as befits your station, rather than as a tavern — wench."

The pause told her plain enough that "whore" had been his first choice in descriptions. For some reason that she couldn't imagine, she was annoying him enough to call forth the insults again. And if she was going to get them, she might as well deserve them.

"What was it? The word skin? Calves? I am a tavern wench, Stefan, and there aren't too many words that don't fit in my vocabulary. Would you like to hear a few more you might find objectionable, you son of a bitch?"

Their eyes did battle for nearly a full minute of silence, his definitely glowing now, hers shooting some green sparks of her own. And then he surprised her, conceding all.

"Sit as you like. Show as much skin as you like. You may also say whatever you like, little Tanya."

She made a face of disgust that he was giving in that easily after prodding her temper for a fight. But she still quickly rearranged her limbs before he changed his mind. And not being able to see those devil's eyes was much better for her peace of mind. Now maybe she could start concentrating on her escape again...

Even as she was leaning forward to tug her skirt down as far as it would go, Stefan's arm slipped around her waist to draw her hips more firmly between his legs. Tanya wasn't alarmed, however, thinking he was merely assuring that she didn't fall off the horse. But he didn't let go when she straightened, and a moment later his forearm moved up until his hand flattened over her right breast with enough pressure to bring her entire back into tight contact with his chest.

The gasp no sooner left her lips than she heard his voice at her ear, continuing as if there had been no pause after his concessions. "But you will discover, if you haven't by now, wench, that the way a woman behaves is the way she will likely be treated."

Tanya's eyes flared wide with the realization that he was merely giving her a lesson, albeit an outrageous one, and not taking liberties because he had any desire to touch her. That was so humiliating, her eyes closed against the thought, but flew open again because the lesson wasn't over. His fingers curved around her breast, squeezing gently as his hand undulated, and although he probably didn't expect or want her to feel anything but shamed by this lesson, that particular caress aroused her anyway.

She pried his fingers off her, thankful that he let her, and pushed his hand aside. "I got your point," she said bitterly.

"I don't think so."

And his hand came back, traveled up to caress her throat, then down, over both breasts, across her stomach, down one leg. Her skirt was stretched so tautly over her thighs, she shouldn't have felt more than the slightest touch of his hand there, but his fingers managed to curve around her leg anyway, making her feel as if the skirt weren't even there — and started back up slowly.

She caught his hand and pulled it off her again, but back it came to her breast. And this time she couldn't pry it loose.

"I'll scream," she promised.

"That will merely gain you an avid audience."

She had completely forgotten they weren't alone out here. As it was, they had probably already gained notice from one or more of the others. And his hand squeezed again.

"All right, damn you, I'll sit the way you want me to!"

"A wise decision, Princess."

But he didn't remove his hand from her breast until she had completely turned around and was settled back in his lap once more. She glared up at him then, frustrated beyond endurance that there was no way she could have won that little battle.

"Have I called you a devil's spawn, Stefan?"

"Yes."

"What about bastard?"

"That too."

"You know I despise you."

"That was inevitable."

She said no more and stared off to the side of the road they were now traveling on, refusing to look at him again. But his last remark lingered in her mind, bothering her repeatedly throughout the long afternoon. Was it inevitable? She wasn't so sure. But why did he think so?