Watching Stefan undress was...
She whipped around to see his belt come off and drop to the floor, where his shirt now lay. He was undressing, actually undressing! And he didn't appear the least bit concerned whether she watched him.
"Don't you think you ought to wait until I leave the room before you—"
"No."
That was all? Just "No"? She started for the door. She was halted before she even got close to it.
"Where are you going, Tanya?"
She wouldn't look back at him. "I'll just wait outside until you're finished," she offered.
It didn't work. "I don't think so."
"Look, I'm not going anywhere, Stefan. The boat is in the middle of the damned river, so I can't go anywhere. Summon one of the others to watch me if you must, but I can't stay in here with you... while you... This isn't proper by any standards, but particularly yours."
"Perhaps," he allowed. "However, we must by necessity make a few exceptions now. Besides, you aren't going to convince me that seeing a naked man is going to bother you, Tanya. So we will worry about what is proper and what isn't when we reach Europe, where it will matter."
This was an insult to her country as well as to her, and a flat refusal to let her leave the cabin. But the door was probably unlocked. She could just... who was she kidding? He would be after her instantly. And even if she managed to hit the water, he would be too close behind her for her plan to work. She'd be losing her only chance, because he wouldn't trust her again after that, no matter what she said or did. Unfortunately, he didn't trust her right now either, or he wouldn't be so adamant about her remaining with him.
She'd have to wait a little longer for her freedom, and wait until Stefan wasn't around. She would have a better chance of succeeding at night anyway, when they would have a hard time seeing her in the water. That might lead to their thinking she had drowned, and in that case, she wouldn't have anything else to worry about — except the long walk home.
In order to continue her pretense of accepting the situation, she had to ignore that insult about her familiarity with naked men and silently endure Stefan taking his bath in her presence. One was easier to do than the other.
She vigorously began to brush the snarls from her hair, pausing only when she heard distinct sounds of water splashing. Her face was heating up again, and that infuriated her. Why should she be the one embarrassed when he was the naked one?
"Your Highness?"
Sasha's hand appeared at her side, offering a strip of leather for her to use on her hair. She took it, keeping her mouth shut about correcting his form of address. That they even had the servants trained for the pretense was almost a guarantee that the royalty ploy was used frequently. She again wondered if they didn't have other girls stowed away on The Lorilie right now, all thinking they were betrothed to the handsome Vasili. So how did she get so lucky to end up with the devil in control of her? Probably because he was allotted the troublemakers, which they had found her to be from the start.
She was getting really angry again at the fate she had stumbled into through no fault of her own. She also felt like a fool standing there in the middle of the cabin with her back to Stefan. Well, no more of that. If he wanted to disconcert her with his nakedness, she'd see how he felt with the shoe on the other foot.
She crossed over to the chair, sat down, and proceeded to stare at Stefan while she continued to brush her hair. He really was in the tub — and naked. But she'd seen bare chests before, and more. There had been a fire scare one night at the brothel next door to the tavern, and all the girls and their customers had run out in the street in their various states of undress, providing some hilarious entertainment for everyone else along the street who came out to watch.
But there wasn't anything funny about Stefan in that tub... well, maybe a little bit funny. The tub was a small round one, and he had to scrunch up to fit in it, his knees bent to his chest. Presently, Sasha was pouring water from an extra bucket over Stefan's justwashed hair, so he didn't even know yet that she had decided to be entertained by him.
Even naked, he was a swarthyskinned devil, though his knees weren't nearly as dark as his upper torso, proving that some of his coloring was helped by the sun. And the hair on his body was minimal, except for a Yshaped thatch of black curling down the center of his chest. She looked at the scars on his face, barely noticeable from a distance, and tried to recall the empathy she'd felt when she first saw them. She couldn't. The man had proved too aggravating since then to arouse any kind of compassion in her now.
Sasha handed him a towel to wipe the water from his face and eyes. When the towel was lowered, Stefan was looking toward the spot where Tanya had been standing. It didn't take him but a second to turn his head and find her in the chair. He raised a black brow at seeing her watching him. She lifted one of her own. He laughed. She didn't. He stood up. She was positive she was going to faint. She wasn't that lucky.
Lord help her, he was raw masculinity, hard and splendidly formed, broad of shoulder, narrow of hip, thick of leg. And the root of his manhood... She closed her eyes. He laughed again, a wicked sound that mortified her. And she had thought she could play this out and embarrass him?
He must have had a similar thought, for he said, "When it is your turn, Princess, I assure you I won't be so shy."
She was never going to bathe again.
Chapter 17
Tanya didn't know how she got through that next half hour, watching Stefan being dressed and groomed by Sasha. Mostly she kept her eyes averted, or on the little servant, who turned out to be amazingly bossy for a man a good inch or two shorter than she was.
Stefan had warned him to speak only English, and once Sasha started, Tanya got to listen to a whole stream of grumblings and complaints that only a servant of long standing would dare to voice. Stefan merely shrugged, or ignored, or teased — which was interesting. Tanya wouldn't have thought someone as unapproachable and as volatile as Stefan seemed to be would be the sort who teased. Playful just wasn't synonymous with diabolical. But hadn't she suspected him of teasing her a few times today, only to dismiss the idea as being too unlikely?
She didn't like seeing this other side of him that even included affection for a servant. And she really hated it when he smiled, for her heart did a double beat each time, whether he was looking at her or not. He wasn't incredibly handsome like Vasili, but the more she looked at him, the more attractive he became, and that, for some reason, annoyed her the most. She preferred to keep their relationship black and white. Enemy — captive. No middle ground. Yet his kisses and the feelings they had evoked in her were never far from her mind. And the image of his naked body... She needed to get away from this man for more than just her freedom.
She breathed a sigh of relief now to see that he was finally completely dressed. The buffcolored trousers were too snug, if you asked her, and the forestgreen coat was so well tailored it did nothing but accentuate his fine figure. The shirt he wore was identical to the one she now sported, with pleated cuffs, but the waistcoat wasn't as fancy, merely embroidered yellow silk. His offsetting red cravat was tied in the careless primo tempo style, and Sasha produced a tan top hat that took all of twenty seconds to be placed just so over his black hair.
He was definitely dressed to leave the cabin, and Tanya could only wish at this point that he would hurry up and do so. Except now that he was ready to, he turned his attention back to her, approaching her with a mirror in hand. She stiffened with an idea of what that meant. She wasn't far wrong.
"Wash the paint off or repair the damage," he said, dropping the round mirror into her lap. "But do one or the other before we go to supper. "