Johanna Lindsey - Once a Princess

"Have you said something worth listening to?" Stefan asked.

"He's not drunk enough yet," Serge remarked and filled all four glasses again.

"Just because he doesn't slur his words—"

"Never mind that," Lazar interrupted. "Stefan, Vasili thinks what you need is a woman, any woman. "

Lazar was definitely coming in blurred. "Vasili thinks too much."

"But in this case we all agree. And that pretty blond wench he has been spending his nights with ever since we came aboard is now awaiting him in his cabin. She's yours if you want her."

Stefan swung his head around and experienced a moment of dizziness for the effort. "Are you giving your women away again, cousin?"

Vasili shrugged. "For a good cause."

"Ever the generous one, eh? And I do appreciate it, Vasili. But if memory serves, and I'm not so sure it does right now, that little blonde is too pretty for me. "

"God, I hate it when you—"

"Dammit, Stefan—"

"Oh, enough," Stefan grumbled. "You're becoming nags, the lot of you. Since when haven't I handled my own difficulties, in my own way? So go to bed. There is no reason for us all to wake up with headaches."

"I fear it's too late for that. " Serge grinned, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "Or weren't you counting how many bottles we've gone through this evening?"

"And we would just as soon keep you company," Lazar added.

Stefan drained the last of his glass and shoved it aside. "Then I will take myself off to bed. But if you hear our little Tanya scream, just ignore her. I will merely be taking your advice."

They all three gaped at him. "Are you serious?" Lazar asked.

"Why not? After all, I have your unanimous consent. Do I really need hers?"

"Stefan, perhaps you should wait until—"

"Stefan, I don't think—"

"What is this now? Doubts? Perhaps you are suddenly remembering that she is a royal princess? But don't worry about it. By the time I reach my cabin, I will likely change my mind — or not."

Stefan chuckled to himself as soon as he was outside the gambling room. But his humor over teasing his friends didn't last more than a few seconds. He was tired, exhausted really, yet wide awake. He was pleasantly inebriated, yet his mind refused to acknowledge it. And he had his friends to thank for putting tempting ideas into his head.

How much would a whore protest if he simply took her? Not much, he realized, because she was probably used to men wanting more from her than she was willing to give. In her profession, she would meet all kinds and be forced to take the good with the bad. But he couldn't do it. As much as he wanted her, he wanted her willingness more.

And where did that leave him? Knowing what hell was like. And he could see no end to it. If this trip down the Mississippi River was bad, he still had an ocean voyage to look forward to, and no gaming room to distract him. A lot of good gambling had done him, however, since just about every hand had found him thinking about Tanya instead of his cards.

Standing outside his cabin with key in hand, he was almost afraid to enter. She would be asleep, but the difference that made could be measured on a pen point. So why did he put himself through this? He didn't have to sleep in there. But he knew why. There was the slim hope that the very thing he despised about her would bring her to him, in the dark, where she could forget that she knew what he looked like. Of course, he was deluding himself. She was too strong-willed to let a little thing like sexual need control her. He even admired that about her. Despite what the others thought, she was going to make a fine queen. He wondered if he would survive to see it.

Jesus, he must be more intoxicated than he'd thought. He was getting pukingly melancholic, and that wasn't like him. She was only a woman, and they were easy enough to come by even for him, with the right amount of coin. And he had expected nothing from her before he'd found her. Actually, he had expected precisely what he was getting.

He opened the door carefully so as not to wake her. But that gesture suddenly struck him as being entirely too generous on his part, so he slammed the door closed. She sat up in bed immediately and looked straight at him without surprise. He'd noticed that about her before, how quickly she came awake, and without the least bit of grogginess or disorientation.

She had left one lamp burning low, but then she did that every night, probably out of a dislike for the total blackness that prevailed without it, rather than any consideration for him. And each night he put the light out, but she never complained about waking to darkness in the morning. Of course, she hadn't been talking to him before tonight.

She was still wearing the yellow gown, but that was another thing she did consistently, sleeping fully clothed. However, she had loosened some buttons due to the constriction in the bodice of the dress, and now one shoulder of it was halfway down her arm, the actual bodice slipped low on that side but hanging in place because of the fullness of her breasts.

Stefan wished he hadn't noticed. His eyes were suddenly glowing so fiercely, the floor pallet he turned toward should have burst into flames.

"What time is it?" Her voice came at him, not annoyed, just flat.

"How the devil should I know?" he shot back, definitely annoyed.

"It was a damned simple question. You don't have to snap my head off."

He whirled around — too fast. Dizziness took over, making the room sway for a moment until both hands pressing against his temples brought it under control. He fixed his gaze on her then and saw that she had corrected the droop of the dress and was staring at him wideeyed.

"Lord help us, you're drunk, aren't you?" she asked in genuine surprise. "No, don't bother to deny it. My experience in this area happens to be lifelong."

"Vast indeed," he snorted.

"Scoff all you like, Stefan, but I was learning how to handle drunks before you... well, before you could have had your first taste of whiskey."

"Whiskey?" he sneered. "I'll have you know I was weaned on vodka straight from our Russian neighbors, so I believe I shall claim superiority in all areas of drink."

"I stand corrected."

His eyes narrowed on her. "You wouldn't be so foolish as to try humoring me, would you, little Tanya?"

"Absolutely not. "

"Wise of you, because I wouldn't like that."

"I knew that."

His eyes narrowed even more, but her expression, wavering before him between a total blur and crystal clarity, was damned inscrutable. So he kept his suspicions to himself. Besides, he didn't particularly want to begin a fight with her now, when his exhaustion was catching up with him. Proof of that was the difficulty he was having just removing his coat. He ended up turning a full circle while trying to get the damned thing off.

"Do you need some help, Stefan?"

It took him a moment to find her on the bed again. Help? From her? He must have misunderstood.

"It's that damn whiskey," he explained to her, just in case he had heard her correctly. "I believe it sneaks up on you. "

"That's a fact," she agreed.

"You — ah — weren't actually offering to help me undress, were you, Tanya?"

"No, but I thought you might need a little assistance in finding your bed tonight."

His disappointment in that answer was acute — and enough to prick his temper. "I will have you know there is not a single thing wrong with my eyes."

"That's a matter of opinion," she mumbled.

"What's that?"

"I said, that was my opinion."

He wasn't mollified. Arrogantly he continued, "Besides which, a blind man couldn't miss that bed." He marched to it and sat down to prove his point. "You see?"

"But, Stefan—"

"You are determined to annoy me, aren't you?"

"Absolutely not," she assured him. "But are you aware that you don't sleep here?"

"Don't try to confuse me," he said as he leaned over to remove his shoes and nearly tumbled off the bed. But with one hand braced on the floor while he tugged on shoes that didn't want to come off, he added, "I know damn well I have been sharing this cabin with you. It is driving me crazy, so I ought to know it."

"Why is it driving you crazy?"

He scowled at his foot. "Don't change the subject, Tanya. We were discussing this cabin."

"You're right, of course. The cabin and sharing it. I sleep in the bed and you sleep on the floor. Have I got that right?"

She just had to rub it in, didn't she? Wasn't it enough that he had given up the bed for her and hadn't once tried to join her in it?

"You don't have that right at all, Princess." One shoe finally came off and flew out of his hands to hit the far wall. "I might lie on the floor, but if I have managed to sleep there, I don't remember it."

"Is that why you're taking the bed tonight?"

Stefan straightened up so fast, he nearly blacked out. He dropped back on the bed the rest of the way as pain streaked through his head. And he was unaware that he was holding his other shoe when he brought his hands up to press them against his temples once more. However, the shoe was swiftly extracted from his fingers.

"Lord help me, what next?" she exclaimed. "You shouldn't have moved so quickly, Stefan."

He would have laughed if it wouldn't have hurt. And he refrained from saying, "No kidding," because it was finally occurring to him what all this nonsense was about. The damned woman had been humoring him. She should have told him to get the hell out of her bed when he'd mistaken it for his own. But no, that wasn't the way to handle a drunk. Just what had she thought he would do if she hadn't agreed with him? But he knew the answer to that, too. The same thing he had done before when his anger got out of control.

For a moment he wondered how far she would go to keep him a happy drunk. Wasn't she fortunate that he was too tired and too drunk to explore that thought fully? But he wasn't asleep yet.

He opened his eyes to see her staring down at him. She stiffened then, making him realize that her thigh was the soft pillow cushioning his head, and that he had surprised her by not being passed out, as she had likely assumed from his prolonged silence.

"As long as you're already here, Stefan, there is no reason for you to stir yourself. I can sleep on the floor for one night. "

"That's generous of you, but speaking of no reasons, I can't think of a single one to prevent us from sharing the bed instead — only for one night."

"I can think of several—"

"Don't. "

"I'll just—"

"Be still, Tanya! My head has just stopped aching, so don't make any sudden movements to start it up again. "

He wasn't sure, but she seemed to be grinding her teeth together before she suggested, "Don't you think you would be more comfortable if you put your feet up on the bed and stretched out properly?"

If she thought he would release her thigh when he moved, he would have to disappoint her. "Thank you for mentioning it," he said and rolled sideways, curving his legs to fit at the bottom of the bed and throwing an arm over her legs. His head remained on her thigh, and if it wasn't the most comfortable position, he would suffer it just to thwart her.

"Stefan," she choked out.

"Shh," he grumbled. "Don't start nagging now, when you have been so pleasantly agreeable — and I am almost asleep."

Her sigh was loud and clear as she dropped back onto her pillow. It would be a grand stroke of poetic justice if she didn't get any more sleep tonight herself, about as unjust as his finally having her in this position, but being in no condition to enjoy it. At the moment, he didn't even care.

Tanya awoke to the feel of lips moving with tantalizing softness over hers. She didn't have to wonder who was kissing her. What she did wonder was if Stefan was awake and knew what he was doing, or if he was merely reacting in his sleep to the warm body he found next to him. And if he wasn't awake, or completely aware, did she want to risk changing that by abruptly stopping him?

Reasonable questions, surely, but they didn't take into account that she found being awakened like this very pleasant, so pleasant that she didn't want to be the one to end it. In fact, she began participating, carefully at first — to avoid waking him if he was still halfasleep — parting her lips, inviting the thrust of his tongue, which came instantly to duel in slow, sensual motion with hers.