Page 3 of The Princess and the Rogue

“You don’t have any choice in the matter, Princess,” he hissed. “We will be wed. As soon as I can find a priest.”

“Release me at once.”

An ugly, belligerent glint lit his eyes. “You’ll wed me if I ruin you.”

Her blood ran cold. “Don’t touch me!”

“Who’s going to stop me?”

Anya fought a wave of revulsion as his mouth crashed down on hers. His lips were hard and punishing. She shook her head, struggling violently, but he was bigger, stronger. His tongue probed her lips, seeking entrance. She let out a shocked cry and managed to free one wrist, then slapped him on the side of the head. Hard. He stumbled back with a muffled curse.

She wiped the back of her hand across her mouth and sent him her most imperious glare. “I willnevermarry you, Vasili Petrov. You’re a traitor!”

Anya felt a stab of triumph before the magnitude of what she’d just admitted dawned on her. She could have bitten off her tongue.

Dmitri had told her in confidence that Vasili, or someone close to him, was suspected of passing information to the French. He’d hinted that he would be investigating the matter as soon as he returned from Vienna.

Vasili’s eyes narrowed into slits. “So. We can do away with the pretense, can we? That’s good. It makes everything so much easier.”

He smoothed back his ruffled hair. Anya returned his hostile glare with one of her own.

“Your brother spoke to you about me.” It was a statement, not a question. “Of course he did. The two of you were always close. He thought I was helping the French.”

“Were you?”

“As a matter of fact, yes. They pay extremely well.”

Anya gasped at the casual way he admitted to treason. Good God, the information he’d traded had led to the death of thousands of men. It had led to Dmitri’s death.

“Bastard!” she breathed, incensed. “You traitorouswhoreson!”

Vasili chuckled. “Tsk. Such language, Princess.”

Anya fought the urge to slap the smug look off his face.

“Dmitri intercepted a letter of mine,” Vasili continued. “He sent it to you.”

She didn’t have to feign her look of confusion. “No, he didn’t.”

“Don’t lie to me! Where is it?”

“I never received any letter. I swear.”

Vasili’s face settled into a cold, murderous mask. Before Anya knew what he was about, he lifted his hand and dealt her a backhanded blow across the face. Blinding pain was quickly followed by astonishment and outrage. No one had ever hit her before. She cradled her stinging cheek and glared up at him through watering eyes.

He gave a sickly smile. “It doesn’t matter. Whatever evidence you have, or don’t have, your brother is dead. And a wife can’t give evidence against her husband.”

Anya sucked in a breath at his horrifyingly simpleplan. He would marry her to ensure her silence. She would be trapped in marriage to this brutal, sneering thug.

Vasili backed toward the door. “You will stay here until I return. And don’t think to run. There’s nowhere I won’t find you. If I have to come after you, I will be most displeased.” He flicked a glance at her burning cheek and smirked. “Your brother always allowed you too much leeway. But you’ll learn to respect your husband.”

Anya glared up at him and smiled. “Never.”

Vasili sensed Elizaveta’s presence behind him a fraction too late. He swung around, but she brought the Chinese vase down on his head with all her strength; it shattered as it made contact with his skull. His eyes slid closed and his big body collapsed onto the rug with a satisfying thump.

“Excellent timing,” Anya gasped. “Thank you!”

Elizaveta glanced down at Vasili’s prone form with a grimace of distaste. A patch of blood was seeping through the blond hair on the back of his head. Anya battled a wave of nausea.

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