"Overly eager?" His voice was strained.

"A tart?" Her hand brushed against his erection and he jerked and grabbed her hand.

"What are you doing?"

"Why, Matthew." She pulled her hand free. "I am simply trying to prove your confidence in me well placed." She closed her fingers around him. He was at once steel and velvet, rock-solid and soft as silk. "Now, do cooperate and allow me to seduce you."

"Very well." He smiled slowly. "I am at your mercy, Princess."

"Indeed you are," she said softly. Her hand tightened around him. He groaned low in the back of his throat and closed his eyes. "So, are you going to answer my question?"

She stroked back and forth along the hard shaft. His jaw clenched and his breath was shallow.

"Question?" he murmured. "What question?"

"Do you think I am a tart?"

"Good God, I hope so."

She leaned forward and flicked her tongue across the hollow of his throat. "Do you?"

"I quite like tarts, pies, cakes, that sort of thing."

"Matthew." She ran her lips lightly across his chest and he grasped her shoulders. "That is not what I meant."

He grinned, but he did not open his eyes.

"I do not want you to think..." She drew a deep breath and straightened. "It has been a long time, and I did not..." His brow furrowed and he opened one eye. "You are not finished, are you? I am scarcely seduced yet.

Why, I am barely more than compromised."

"No, no, of course not. I just wanted to say... that is, I need to tell you..."

His other eye opened and suspicion sounded in his voice. "What? Is there something else you haven't told me?"

"Not really. It is only that I... I have been with no one else since I was last with you."

"You mean since last night?"

"No, you annoying man." She rolled her gaze toward the ceiling. "I meant since I was last with you in Paris."

"Oh." He nodded thoughtfully. "Excellent. Now, then, Your Highness"-he closed his eyes and lifted his chin-"I am once again all yours. Do with me as you will."

She stared at him for a moment. "You do not seem overly surprised. I was under the distinct impression you thought Dimitri and I were not merely friends."

He shrugged. "A jealous assumption on my part, nothing more. I soon realized I was mistaken." He pulled her hand back to his chest. "Now, then..."

"Matthew," she said slowly.

He sighed and opened his eyes. "You're not very good at this seduction business. What is it now?"

"Have you?"

"Have I what?"

"Been with other women?"

What might have been panic flickered in his eyes. "Well, I did serve on board ship, and sailors in port are notoriously-" "That is not what I meant, and you know it." She could almost see the gears and workings of his mind desperately searching for an acceptable answer, and at once she realized the truth.

He blew a long breath. "Yes."

Anger and disappointment washed through her, even as she knew her reaction was unreasonable.

"How could you?" She pushed him away, slid off the bed and stalked across the room.

"What do you mean, how could I? What did you expect me to do?" he said indignantly, a rather

impressive feat for a naked man. "I was unencumbered, if you recall. Abandoned by a wife who could not wait to rid herself of an unwanted marriage, with no prospect of ever seeing her again. I had no intention of either pining away or of remaining celibate for the rest of my days. Did you expect me to?"

She whirled toward him. "I expected a certain amount of mourning for me!"

"That's how I mourned!"

"How long did you wait until you took another woman to your bed, Matthew? A day? A week?"

He paused, and indecision flashed across his face.

She gasped. "You did not wait so much as a week?"

He crossed his arms over his chest. "In point of fact, Tatiana, I have no idea how long I waited. I spent

much of the months after you left in a steady state of inebriation and those days are rather fuzzy in my mind. I cannot honestly tell you how soon or how many women there were after you."

"That is most comforting," she snapped.

He strode toward her, the look in his eye distinctly unnerving. "I was the one in need of comforting, if you recall."

She stepped back. "I have apologized-" "Not well, and not nearly often enough, but I am willing to concede the point. You are sorry and I accept that, but I am not about to beg forgiveness for anything I might have done after you left me." He grabbed her and yanked her into his arms. "Do you understand?" Her eyes widened and she stared up at him. She could not recall anyone ever chastising her in as firm or threatening a manner. She swallowed hard. "I think so." But was that not one of the very reasons she loved him? To Matthew she was first and foremost a woman, not a princess. Desire, hot and urgent, surged through her. "Shall I continue my seduction, then?" He picked her up and strode toward the bed. "You don't seem to understand the basic principles of seduction." "No?"

"No," he said firmly. He stood her on her feet beside the bed and anticipation trickled through her. "The beginning of a good seduction does not lie in confession or recrimination, but in a kiss."

He suited his actions to his words, pulled her close with one arm and cupped her chin in his hand. He pressed his lips to hers, gently, as if this kiss were their first. She relaxed against him and her mouth opened to his. His tongue traced the rim of her lips, then delved deeper in a leisurely, lazy exploration.

His hand drifted lightly along her jaw and down the column of her throat, his fingers trailing over the sheer fabric of her night rail to the valley between her breasts. He traced circles around her nipple until it puckered and hardened. She strained against his hand, wanting, needing more, but he acknowledged her only with a deepening of his kiss.

His fingers caressed the underside of her breast, then slipped downward in an agonizingly slow manner along her side. She bit her lip, wanting to cry out with the sweet torture. The room around them vanished and she existed only in the reality of his touch.

His fingers whispered over her hips and around to her thighs and over the curls between her legs. She wanted to rip away the delicate fabric of the nightgown, wanted to feel him against her without barrier. His hand slipped between her legs, the sheer material at once abrasive and exciting against her. He fingered the point of her yearning for long moments through the dampened material, and she whimpered with need.

Without warning, he stepped away. She gasped, but before she could say a word, he pulled her night rail over her head and tossed it to one side.

"That was an excellent beginning," she said in a strangled voice.

"Indeed it was." His voice was barely steadier than hers.

"Now what?"

He scooped her into his arms, laid her on the bed, then stood beside her and surveyed her as a general might a battlefield. "Now"-he climbed onto the bed and knelt between her legs-"close your eyes."

"Is that a principle of seduction as well?"

He leaned over her, his blue eyes dark as a wild storm, a wicked smile on his lips, and kissed her eyelids closed.

"For tonight, yes." His voice was a growl in the back of his throat.

His lips whispered kisses over her face, her throat and continued downward. He took one nipple in his mouth and teased and tasted with teeth and tongue until she moaned and grasped his shoulders. He caught her wrists in one hand and held them over her head, thrusting her breasts upward, like an offering to a conquering army.

There was nothing she could do, and she reveled in her helplessness and his power over her. He moved from one breast to the other, and she thought surely she would die with the pleasure of his touch.

His hand danced over her stomach and lower, to the juncture of her legs. He caressed the top of her thighs, but did not approach that part of her that throbbed and ached for his touch. She arched upward, desperate for his touch, and dimly, through a haze of arousal, heard him chuckle softly. The blasted man knew exactly what he was doing to her. It was torture.

It was exquisite.

He pulled her wrists down to hold them against her stomach and shifted his position on the bed. His hand slid between her legs, parted her and held her open for him. She felt the warmth of his breath and gasped.

His tongue flicked over her, caressed her, encircled her. The sensation remembered in her dreams. Sailing the heavens. She moaned and struggled against his grip, but he held her wrists tight. Tension tightened within her until she was lost in the throb of her body and the skill of his touch. She cried out his name and abruptly he drew back and released her wrists.

Her eyes snapped open. "Matthew!"

"Tatiana." His voice was heavy with passion and his lips claimed hers. He supported himself with one hand and guided himself into her with the other. And restraint vanished between them.

She wrapped her arms around him and arched upward to meet his thrusts with the wanton eagerness of the tart she was only with him, always with him. He invaded her, filled her, consumed her. And she consumed him in return. Two bodies, one soul. As they always should have been. As they were meant to be.

They moved together higher and faster, to the edge of madness. Sweet and awful and forever. And she strained against him and he plunged deeper and harder until he groaned and his body shook and her own climaxed in blinding, magnificent release that stole her breath and her senses and her self.

Sailing the heavens.

A glory and a wonder and a joy, to be found with him, and him alone.

For a long time, neither moved. Then he shifted to her side, raised his head and stared at her, a bemused expression on his face.

"Excellent job, my lord," she said softly. "You do indeed know the basics of seduction. Practice, no doubt."

His expression sobered. "If I had known or suspected or even hoped that you would ever return, I-"

"No." She reached to quiet his lips with hers. "I cannot blame you for what may well be my fault. However..." Gently, she bit his lower lip. "You shall restrict your activities to only one tart in the future."

"A royal tart?"

In answer, she slipped her hand between them and caressed him. He gasped and grabbed her hand. "I can certainly see the benefits to that."

He anchored her legs with his and kissed her thoroughly. "Surviving death puts rather a remarkable edge on everything in life, don't you agree?"

"I do indeed. However, edge or not, it is rather more comfortable in a bed."

"We should try a bed more often."

"Very often."

"As often as possible."

"More often," she said and met his lips once again.

She had had doubts, before her return, as to whether coming back to him might not be a horrid mistake.

She had had doubts as well over her plan to renounce her title. It was a drastic step, requiring a great

deal of thought and consideration. But every minute spent with him, in his arms, in his bed, simply in his company dispelled those misgivings. She knew, with a certainty she'd never known before, that this was where she was meant to be.

It was not mere happenstance that had brought her to Paris some fifteen-odd months ago. No simple impulse that caused her to escape the bonds of her position that day. No odd chance that led her to a park and an English charmer with a balloon.

No, Matthew Weston was her fate. Now she just had to convince him.

"If this is a small, intimate affair, I should hate to see Her Grace's idea of a grand occasion." Matt leaned close to Tatiana's ear. "Granted, it has been a significant length of time since I was present at any ball whatsoever, yet this seems rather a crush to me."

"Nonsense, Matthew." Tatiana's gaze skimmed over the crowd. "I cannot imagine there are more than a hundred people here. Why, it is scarcely large enough to be called a ball."

Matt studied her curiously. His princess was in her natural surrounding. Wealth. Nobility. Power.

Her eyes sparkled, and excitement sounded in her voice. When they'd changed from the carriage to the larger coach, Tatiana had taken the opportunity to increase her luggage as well. And well worth it. The gown she wore tonight was deep and blue and made of fabric so insubstantial it clung like gossamer to every curve. It was scandalously low and he tried not to frown forbiddingly when he glanced at her overly exposed cleavage. She was tantalizing and inviting and delicious, and he would wager he was not the only man here who thought so.