"I haven't done anything to him."
"Stefan!"
"First I'll have your knife, Tanya, the one that cuts so easily through thick rope." When all she did was stare at him, he started toward her. "You can hand it over, or I can strip you down to find it for myself."
"You aren't undressing me, damn you!" she told him as she bent to retrieve her knife.
"Whatever is necessary, Princess, will be done. Don't deceive yourself by thinking otherwise, because you are not going to slip through our fingers again. "
She would. She had to. And that resolve made her stare at the knife in her hand.
"You might want to recall the last time you tried it," he said, guessing her thoughts. "You won't have any better luck this time." She met his eyes without answering, so he added, "You're determined to provoke my temper, aren't you?"
"Does that mean I'm in danger of being tossed on the bed?" she goaded sarcastically.
"It means you're in danger of ending up over my knee again."
"Like hell!" She slapped the knife down in his open palm.
"Is that the last of them?"
"Yes." But he was staring so hard at her, she shouted it again. "Yes!"
When he continued to stare, she knew he was debating whether he ought to search her anyway. And she couldn't blame him for doubting her. That he finally nodded his acceptance clearly showed how he felt about her now. He didn't want to search her. Last week he would have jumped on an excuse to do so.
Well, to hell with him. She was glad he didn't want her anymore. She had enough to contend with without letting his or her lust get in the way. She turned and headed for the door.
He sighed, then said, "Don't make me chase you again, Tanya."
She stopped, infuriated that he sounded so damn patient. Was he never going to lose his temper with her again? she wondered.
"I'm just going across the hall to bathe and change my clothes. Then I'm going to get something to eat, or were you planning on leaving town tonight?"
"You may clean up at the hotel. We have rooms there—"
"I prefer my own room, thank you," she said crossly, then swung around to give him a frosty smile. "But there's no reason for you to wait for me. You can come by to fetch me in the morning."
"Enough!"
"Oh, my." She widened her eyes with feigned innocence. "I haven't made you angry, have I? No, of course not. I'm still standing."
He really didn't like being reminded of what had passed between them as a result of his temper. Her taunts had made his eyes glow again, but he was exhibiting remarkable control. He didn't even take a step toward her.
His voice, however, cut like steel through her rancor. "It was Sandor's death wish that you be found and brought home to assume your rightful place on the throne. All of these delays you have caused could mean that he will die before we return. If that is the case, Tanya, then you can be assured that you will experience my full wrath... and my pain."
She wished he hadn't put it quite that way. "Who is Sandor?"
"Our beloved king these last twenty years."
"But you said Vasili—"
"Because of Sandor's ill health, he abdicated in favor of his only son just before we set out to find you."
More fairy tales again. Did he continue them to provoke her temper?
"Why don't you save that for someone a little more gullible than I am? I'm going to take my bath now, Stefan. Wait if you must."
She turned again, only to be stopped again. "You cannot make free with this place any longer, Tanya. "
"Like hell I can't. This is my home, and before long it will belong to me outright."
"I don't think so."
She was beginning to really hate that particular phrase of his. "Look, Stefan, I've been pretty even-tempered, considering what you've put me through. No screaming, very little crying, no fainting. I didn't even go berserk when I found you here again. And do you know I could have cut all of your throats the other night while you were sleeping? But I didn't, did I? Because I hoped — stupidly, I now realize — that you would have sense enough to give up on a lost cause. So you go ahead and take me wherever it is you're taking me. But once you're out of it, I'll come back here. There isn't anything that will keep me from coming back here."
"Madam Bertha — I believe that is your neighbor's name? — would probably welcome you with open arms, but I don't intend to give her the opportunity. "
Tanya frowned. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"It means that you will not be allowed to return to this country again. It also means that I bought this tavern from Mr. Dobbs for enough money to keep him in the lap of luxury until his demise. And rather than burn it down, and possibly the town with it, which was my first inclination, I then sold it to the brothel next door — at a considerable loss."
"You're lying! You couldn't have had that kind of money with you! Nor would you go to such extremes!"
"Any extremes, Tanya. Anything deemed necessary to fulfill Sandor's last wish," he said in a hard tone, only to add matteroffactly, "Our letter of credit was waterstained, but still legible and more than sufficient to meet Mr. Dobbs' exorbitant price. But if you still doubt me, then I will take you next door this minute so that you may ask Madam Bertha exactly who owns this property now."
Lord help her, she believed him. He was too blasé about it, too ready to offer proof. The effect on her was awful. Pain pressed at her chest. Her face drained of color. And if she hadn't gone berserk before, she did now.
She didn't know how she reached him, but her hands began to hurt, drawing her to an awareness that she was pounding on his chest with both fists, and he was letting her, making no move to stop her, letting her shriek at him and call him every foul name imaginable. And then his arms wrapped around her and he was holding her while she cried her heart out.
"It isn't as bad as all that, Tanya."
"You don't know what you've done!"
"I've made it possible for you to walk away from this life without any regrets."
She stiffened. His arms tightened. She pushed away from him anyway, and the look she gave him, awash with tears, was incredulous.
"You destroy the life I had planned for myself and I'm not supposed to regret it? For as long as I can remember, I have worked like a slave in this tavern, and not once, ever, was I paid for it other than with food, a bed, and a slap every time I turned around. Even my clothes were Iris' and Dobbs' castoffs. But finally, and only because that old bastard couldn't care for himself anymore, I was going to be compensated. And you take that away from me on an arbitrary whim?"
"Not arbitrary. Your continuous attempts to return here left us with only two options. To eliminate your reasons for coming back here, or to see you married immediately to settle the matter."
"What happened? Wouldn't that jackassed peacock you call a king volunteer to marry me sooner than he had to?" she sneered, telling him how little she believed him. "Not that it would settle any matter, because I'd take a leaf from that tale you told the captain of The Lorilie and leave him in a minute."
"I see," he said tightly.
"No, you don't. You'll never comprehend what you've stolen from me, my dreams, the one thing I wanted more than anything — control of my own life. Only rich widows achieve the kind of independence I craved, but I'm not willing to marry first to become a widow. I could have had it without that—"
She broke off, overwhelmed again by her loss — and the need to strike out at the cause. She gave in to the need.
He caught her fists this time. "Enough!"
"Never!" she cried. "I can never hurt you enough for what you've done. And as soon as I get my hands on a gun, I'm going to shoot you, you son of a bitch!"
To her utter fury, he smiled at that. "You will have to remain with us, won't you, to await that opportunity?" And he picked her up and carried her out of The Seraglio for the last time.