"That is at least one worry we won't have," Stefan answered, adding, "She can't swim."

"Who told you that?"

The dubious question broke through Stefan's confidence, the implication waking his lagging instincts. With a particularly foul curse, he shot to his feet and left the room. Lazar and Vasili exchanged a glance before swiftly following him.

Serge was just lighting a cheroot when they joined him on the dimly lit deck. "Where is she?" was all Stefan asked.

Serge nodded ahead of them to where a door was just opening. There was no time to experience any relief, however, at finding Tanya still aboard, for there was a flash of white legs — her skirt had been tucked up into her belt — as she ran straight to the railing, vaulted onto it, and dived cleanly into the river — right in front of the paddle wheels.

Stefan would swear his heart stopped beating in that moment of fear and dread as he leaned over the railing, searching frantically for a sign that the girl hadn't been pulled in and ripped to pieces by the huge side paddle that was churning the water on that side of the riverboat to foam. And then it dawned on him that because of the paddle wheels, which gave them added speed on top of the current already propelling them downriver, Tanya would now be behind the ship — floating broken and lifeless, or swimming to shore. Drowning wasn't a possibility, after he'd witnessed how skillfully that dive had been executed. His own dive over the side wasn't nearly as well done.

The three men left standing at the rail held their breath until they saw Stefan clear the path of the paddle wheel. It was Vasili who broke the silence. "I don't suppose we could go on to New Orleans and simply wait for Stefan to join us there?"

Serge shook his head slowly. Lazar chuckled. Vasili groaned. A moment later three more bodies hit the water.

* * *

Tanya was struggling for breath by the time she crawled out of the water. She was a good swimmer, but she'd never tried it before with boots on, and definitely wouldn't try it again. And swimming against the current? Her muscles were screaming with strain, her legs and arms trembling. She couldn't have got up and walked away right then to save her soul.

Fortunately, she didn't have to try. A glance over her shoulder showed that The Lorilie was gone from sight around the bend in the river, just as she had counted on. She couldn't make out anything else in the water, not even floating debris. Of course, it was extremely dark now, a solid sheet of clouds obscuring moon and stars. That had been to her benefit in case anyone tried to "save" her, that and waiting for the boat to pass so she could swim to the opposite side of the river from which she had jumped into.

But if her luck held, Serge might not even have noticed her swift departure. And she couldn't quite picture him jumping in to rescue her anyway. He would have gone to fetch Stefan, and she would have "drowned" by the time he had removed his coat and boots to make the valiant effort.

So they would assume. However, that was an assumption on her part as well, and she wasn't going to be that careless again. After a few minutes' rest she would head inland, away from the river. She had an advantage over any of her pursuers even if Serge had followed her into the water, simply because of the distance she would have gained between her jump and anyone else's occurring farther downriver. Besides, what she couldn't see she could hear, and the only noise, aside from her labored breathing, was the soothing river sounds of water rumbling past — until she heard a man's voice.

It was indistinct, but it could have been a shout for all she knew. Distance was deceiving. It could also have just been the wind, but Tanya wasn't taking any chances. She pulled herself out of the mud and scrambled up the riverbank, then had to stop herself from panicking and running pellmell through the brush, thereby giving her own position away.

Although it was nerveracking not to run when every instinct prompted her to, she managed to proceed quietly at a hurried walk. But uppermost in her mind was the blaring question: would they really come after her, strand themselves in the countryside without clothes or money, go through all that hardship, just to sell her to a brothel? The answer was no. They would find someone else to take her place. But if she were a genuine princess? Then yes — no! She couldn't let herself fall into the trap of believing their crazy tale. Besides, if she thought there was any truth in what they'd told her, especially that she would have to marry Vasili, she would run even harder to escape them.

Tanya made good headway considering the thickness of the wooded area she was presently passing through. But it wasn't long before she was wishing she had waited until after dinner to make her escape. As dark as it was, she couldn't even begin to look for food until morning. And unless she stumbled upon a plantation or other dwelling where she could beg a meal, she'd have to hunt for it herself.

But she did have her knife with her, so finding food wouldn't be too difficult, just timeconsuming. She had tucked the weapon into the bottom of her boot so she wouldn't lose it in the river. But now she stopped long enough to empty her boots of water and put the knife back on the side where she usually wore it, using the time to listen carefully to the sounds around her.

If that was a voice she had heard earlier, it could have been on the other side of the river. That was why she had swum to the Louisiana shore, an added precaution she had decided on at the last minute, and just possibly a stroke of genius. With a river between her and any pursuers, she had very little to worry about. But that was another assumption so she wasn't going to count on it.

On the negative side, she had stranded herself on the wrong bank of the river, with no money for the ferry to get back to Natchez. But before she considered swimming back across, which she wasn't at all sure she could manage, she would try bartering Stefan's fine waistcoat for the fare. She'd have to clean it first, for it along with the rest of her was coated with wet mud.

Being reminded of the condition of her clothes, Tanya headed back toward the river. She had walked a mile at least already, possibly two, so it should be safe enough to get near the water's edge for the few minutes it would take her to wash her clothes. Then she would have to find some place to get a few hours' sleep, for after the day she had been through, she was utterly exhausted in both body and mind, and she couldn't afford to make any mistakes simply because she couldn't think clearly.

She found the perfect spot on the riverbank, with a fallen tree on one side holding back the river's full current, and a drooping tree on the other side, both thickly branched enough to block her from view up and down the riverbank. She had planned to merely dunk herself again, then leave the water more carefully this time, without getting muddy. But with the added concealment from the two trees, she decided she could spare the extra few minutes to scrub her clothes properly and wash herself more thoroughly, especially since she felt so uncomfortable and itchy she could barely stand it.

Scanning the opposite riverbank first, which was no more than a barely discernible black outline, then the area behind her, thickly shadowed but quiet, Tanya proceeded to strip off everything but her boots. And from long habit she was nothing if not efficient, even when she was tired. It took five extra minutes at the most before she was dumping the water out of her boots again, shivering but clean, and wishing she could take the time to let her clothes dry before putting them back on. But time she didn't have, and even though it was dark as sin in her little spot on the riverbank, she was too selfconscious to remain naked any longer than she had to.

She was squeezing a few more drops of water out of her skirt when she heard the crunch of leaves directly behind her and froze, praying it was an animal, a dog, even a wild one. But if it had to be a man, considering her present naked state, she hoped it was only Stefan and not some stranger who might... Was she crazy? Stefan? Let it be Serge... no, not even him. Vasili. Vasili wouldn't give two hoots to see her naked, much less be tempted by it — oh, God, she wasn't thinking clearly! But the voice behind her was clear and familiar, and as cold as the river water still dripping from her hair.

"First the white shirt, now the beacon of your white body. If I didn't know better, Princess, I would think you wanted to be found."

Chapter 19

The very idea of wanting to be found by him, was so absurd it didn't bear comment. Not that Tanya could think of anything to say in that mortifying moment of knowing that Stefan's eyes were upon her, and probably so brightly glowing, she wouldn't be surprised if she now stood in two beams of yellow light. And that awful word—"found." He'd found her because he'd spotted that damn white shirt she was wearing, his white shirt. She hadn't even considered how noticeable it would be in the dark.

All her precautions for nothing. Caught — no, by God, not until he had his hands on her.

Tanya whipped around, swinging her wet skirt high as she did, hoping Stefan was close enough — and alone. He was both. The heavy skirt slapped across his face, blinding him for the seconds she needed to dash past him.

His sound of rage was terrifying, more like an animal's growl, and prompted her to run faster. If he hadn't been furious already, she'd just tipped the scales. But she couldn't think of that now. She simply ran, tearing through the brush, to hell with the noise she was making. She had to gain distance on him, enough to find a place to hide.

The first sharp sting of a branch against her side reminded her that she was wearing boots and nothing else. Lord help her, where did she think she was going naked? But she couldn't worry about that now either, not with that enraged devil so near. She couldn't hear him behind her, but she was making too much noise herself to hear anything, and that just frightened her all the more, not knowing. She had to know.

She sprinted to the side from the direction she had been running in and dropped to her knees behind a clump of ferns. She had to hold a hand to her mouth to silence her labored breaths, but no sooner did she hear Stefan's pounding footsteps than he dropped down to his knees right in front of her, scaring the life out of her.

She shrieked, then shrieked again as his weight bore her down to the spongy ground. A hand in the back of her hair brought her face up, and then his mouth was over hers and warning bells went off in her head. Not again! Didn't the man know how to deal with his anger any other way? She kicked and bucked under him, but that just moved his body into a more threatening position. Without her skirt to hamper him, his hips settled easily between her legs. If he weren't fully clothed himself...

It didn't seem to matter when the bulge of his manhood pressed against the core of her. What she felt had to be as devastating to her senses, for her innards came to life, spiraling downward to protest, or welcome, Lord help her, she wasn't sure which. But she'd never felt anything so strange and debilitating, frightening and thrilling at once. It temporarily took the fight out of her as she stilled to examine the sensation, but then she was snared by the passion in his kiss.

She'd never tried to deny how much she liked his kissing, much as she wished it were otherwise. Now was no different, and it took everything in her to resist the urge she now had, to put her arms around him and kiss him back. Was he still angry? She couldn't tell any longer, nor did she particularly care, if this was all he was going to do to her.

That thought and every other one froze, however, when Stefan's hand came between them to slowly discover the feel of her breasts. New sensations burst upon her senses, a tingling and tightening in her nipples that shook up her innards again. But his hand didn't stay there. It moved down over her stomach, down to where he was pressed so tightly to her core. Then his fingers were there, entering her, and she tried to tell him to stop, but his mouth wouldn't release her lips. And then she didn't want him to stop.

She bucked again, but it was an involuntary reaction this time, because what she felt could only be described as wildly pleasurable. All because he was angry? The man could get angry at her anytime he wanted...