Lilac’s steps faltered on the stairs when she caught sight of the gleaming black hair in the foyer below. It couldn’t be!

Sensual dual-colored eyes, lambent like a rare smoldering flame, came to focus on her.

It was.

Fustian! Did the man never give up? What did he think he was about? She had slapped him, for heaven’s sake! How much more subtle could she be?

“What do you think you’re doing here?” she hissed from the middle of the stairs.

“There you are, Lilac! I was about to send Emmy up to fetch you. Our nice Prince Azov has come to take you for a carriage ride in the park.”

Auntie hadn’t heard her, but it was obvious he had. He gave her that special little smile of his. The one that curled the hair on the back of her neck.

The one that said “we shall see.”

No, we won’t see. Behind Auntie’s back, she stuck her tongue out at him. It was a childish thing to do, but very satisfying.

The dynamic, commanding look he returned to her almost caused her to trip on the last step. Zounds, but he was a force when he did that! She needed to think up an excuse immediately. The one she came up with was a bit lame, but it would have to do.

“I am sorry, your Highness; I am not up to it.” She lifted a limp hand to her forehead. “I have a slight headache this afternoon.”

Amused at the thinly veiled ruse, Rejar raised one mocking eyebrow. “Bad dreams?” His deep voice murmured mischievously.

Lilac felt the color drain from her face.

The man was too close to the mark and she did not like his arrogant, knowing look one bit. “Bad memories would be more accurate. I thought I made myself quite clear on the dance floor last evening. If you have come to apologize to me, get on with it and then leave.”

“Lilac, your manners!” Auntie was clearly appalled; she immediately sought to placate the Prince for Lilac’s breach of etiquette. “Your Highness, please forgive her, I don’t know what has come over the chit. Normally she is the most even-tempered, docile, sweet—” Her aunt was definitely overcompensating to this irritating boor.

“Auntie Whumples, stop making me sound like some milk cow put out to pasture!”

The Prince’s lips twitched in barely suppressed amusement.

She squinted at the irritant through narrowed eyes. “You may leave.” In the event the nick ninny had forgotten his way out, she rudely pointed her finger in the direction of the door.

Lady Agatha, horrified that this prime candidate was about to escape her clutches, lost all decorum. As far as she was concerned, he was Lilac’s best hope. A prince, for Heaven’s sake!

“No, he will not!” Aggravated at her niece’s stubbornness, Agatha’s stern voice bellowed off the foyer walls, shaking the suspended chandelier in the process.

Lilac stared at her aunt, both amazed at her vehement response and infuriated at her meddling. It was obvious what she was up to—matchmaking. With the sapskull. Not in this lifetime! Auntie Whumples could just think that one over again!

In a rare display of rebelliousness, Lilac put her foot down. Or stomped it down, to be more accurate. “Yes, he will!”

Agatha clutched her heaving bosom, gasping in righteous affrontage. She was a dignified woman who did not put up with such nonsense; the Prince was instantly elevated to cause célèbre. “I’ve never! You naughty girl! He will not step one foot outside this house until I say so.”

Rejar avidly watched the scene unfold before him; it was in the tradition of great entertainment. As if he weren’t the perpetrator of the contest of wills, he calmly crossed his arms over his chest and patiently leaned back against a column in the foyer while the two women fought over him. This, in various forms, he was used to.

Lilac flashed her eyes, lowered her voice, put her hands on her hips, and stared her aunt down. “He goes.” She stood firm.

Not bad, Rejar thought, admiring her technique. Still, if he were in a gaming hell right now, he would place his wager on the aunt. She was far more determined, far more bombastic, far more…just far more. Not that he had any intention of leaving, no matter what the outcome.

“Lilac Prunella Devere!”

Lilac visibly winced at the sound of her hideous middle name—the usage of which rendered her temporarily immobile.

Ah! Rejar nodded approvingly. A very good ploy. The old woman had the skill of a brilliant tactician; first weaken your opponent with a dreaded allusion, then pounce. Prunella? He grinned outright at the awful appellation. It was so bad, it was on the border of being adorable.

“I am still your guardian, Lilac Devere! Your sudden display of disrespect—not to mention ill manners—brings great shame to this household.” Auntie paused before throwing her trump card. “What would your dear father say if he could hear you now?”

Lilac’s shoulders instantly sagged, her head dropping in defeat. Every time her aunt wanted to win an argument, all she had to do was bring up the name of her dear departed father. She sneaked a peek at her aunt. As Lilac suspected, the old termagant was already gloating with victory.

Sensing that the battle was over, Rejar stepped away from the column, chuckling to himself. The Aviaran warriors might learn a thing or two from this old woman. His passing wink to Lady Whumples said “well done.”

Agatha surprised him by winking back. “Make sure she does not catch a chill, your Highness. The late afternoons can still be quite brisk.”

“You need not worry; she will be in the best of hands—ask anyone.” With those cryptic words, he held out his hand to Lilac.

Reluctantly, she took his arm.

“Do not feel too badly, Prunella,” he whispered softly into her ear as he opened the door for her, “in any case, I was not going to apologize.”

Lilac glared up at him.

How could she not gape at the driver of the open-topped landau?

Instead of being properly attired as any decent coachman would be—in white leather breeches, striped waistcoat, and dark tailored coat—the man was entirely bedecked in bright, garish green. An unlit pipe dangled from the side of his mouth. Odd wisps of hair flew out from beneath a moldy cap, also green. He looked like a walking fir tree.

“In y’go, colleen.”

While she continued to gape at him in a stupor, the man actually had the audacity to place his palm on her backside and shove her into the vehicle! When the Prince settled himself beside her, she turned an incredulous face to him.

“Is that man in your employ?” she asked.

“Yes.” She is impressed, Rejar thought.

Lilac’s eyes widened in disbelief. Shaking her head, she stared pointedly out of her side of the landau, ignoring his Highness.

“Where to, yer princeship?” The green thing from the front asked.

“I believe it is called Hyde Park; is it not, Lilac?”

“I suppose so,” she muttered.

“Hyde Park, ’tis! Gor, this oughta be a treat, seein’ them nobs strut about like they’s all fine and dandy!” He cracked the whip in the air and the horses bolted as if the hounds of hell nipped at their shins.

The sudden momentum caused by the forward movement almost toppled Lilac over the back of the carriage. Her derriere slid off the seat and her legs flew up in the air, sending her dress spiraling to her thighs. Several sections of her hair broke free of her ribbon to drape cozily over the Prince’s leather-clad thigh, sliding intimately down between his long, powerful legs.

Lilac clenched her fists and stared at the top of his black boot.

Said boot was now level with her face since she was sprawled across the bottom of the coach. Lilac tried very hard to recall Mrs. Chapone’s instructional letter on The Government of the Temper.

Gritting her teeth, she reached up to yank the traitorous strands of hair away from his person. Throughout all of this, the Prince remained suspiciously silent. The insufferable jackanapes was not even offering to assist her back up onto the seat!

“Are you going to help me up or not?” She spat at him through clamped jaws.

“Not, I think,” he drawled.

Furious with his blatantly rude behavior, she gazed up into his face with all the contempt she felt for him.

Rejar knew he would not forget this picture for a long time. Half of her hair had come undone and now was hanging over one side of her face. He glanced down her body…

This was indeed humorous.

Eyes brilliant with laughter, Rejar nodded his head in the direction of her lap.

Afraid of what she’d see, but knowing she must, Lilac slowly looked down. Her dress was hiked up somewhere around her hips, exposing most of her pantalettes and all of her white silk stockings.

Lilac did not move, did not blink, did not say anything for a full minute. Finally, she gathered what was left of her composure.

She spoke to the floor in a ridiculously righteous tone. “A gentleman would not look.”

Rejar placed one elbow up on the side of the coach, resting his head on his curved palm so that his index finger resided indolently against his temple.

Unquestionably, he continued to enjoy the tantalizing view.

“So you have said.” He threw the implication back at her.

“You are wicked!”

The corners of the Prince’s mouth curved upward, revealing a devastating little dimple in his left cheek. “I have been told it is my nature.”

“To be insensitive?” she sneered. He puzzled her by laughing.

“I can assure you, I am a very sensitive man.” Rejar leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. By design, the position brought their heads fairly close together.

“You need only test me to find out,” he whispered seductively.

Her face flamed and she quickly looked away from his inviting posture.

“I don’t like you, Prince Nickolai.”

Rejar smiled slowly.

She faced him, nonplussed. “Did you not hear me?”

“I listen to you very well.” His eyes captured hers with the methodical gleam of a predator—sophisticated beyond her comprehension and oh-so-tantalizing. “You would be surprised at what I hear.”

Bewitched by those gorgeous eyes despite her resolve, Lilac almost fell under his spell. Blinking, she broke free of his strange hold.

“Come.” He held out his hand to her, waiting patiently for her to take it.

There he sat above her in the coach, like some fairytale Prince—handsome beyond measure. Her mouth parted as she looked up at him, affected for all her self chastisement by his sheer masculine beauty.

Knowing she needed his help to regain her seat in the rocking carriage, she tentatively placed her hand in his, noting how his powerful, well-formed hand completely engulfed her small one.

The way he would engulf all that she was, if she let him.

The sober thought brought common sense back to her; and as he easily helped, almost lifted her one-handedly, back onto the seat, she resolved that she must remain aloof from this man. He was far too dangerous.

The landau entered the park, picking up a well-used, popular path in its circuitous route, passing many other carriages and riders.

Lilac noted that every time they passed by a member of the ton, as soon as they were supposedly out of earshot, the whispers began. She looked for a reasonable place to hide, but other than under the Prince’s long hair, no such retreat was forthcoming. Oh, Auntie Whumples would pay for this!

“Coo, don’t this ’ere one look like she’s suckin’ on a lemon?”

Lilac threw a disgusted look at the driver’s back then cringed as she spotted that infernal gossip, Lady Vandershmeer. She was coming right toward them. Of all the terrible luck! Her impromptu outing with the Prince would be all over the ton by this evening.

“Lilac Devere! And his Highness.” Lady Vandershmeer tapped her chin with her fan. “What an interesting development this is.”

Lilac tried desperately to contain the damage with an invented story. “Prince Azov is new to our city, Lady Vandershmeer. He—that is, a friend of his—is a mutual acquaintance of the family, who asked us, my aunt and I, if we might show him about town.”

“A mutual acquaintance? And who might that be?” Lady Vandershmeer was plainly disbelieving.

“Prinny,” came the deep voice beside her, shocking both the women.

Lady Vandershmeer dropped her lorgnette. “The Prince Regent?”

“Why are you surprised? I am a Prince and he is a Prince; should we not know each other?” Rejar stared the irritating woman down.

“Well, I suppose so, your Highness.” Lady Vandershmeer was clearly flustered by Prince Azov’s commanding demeanor.

“Lilac and I must continue with our”—he glanced at her, then back to Lady Vandershmeer—“tour. Good day.” He waved his hand imperiously in the air. The driver immediately lurched the coach forward.

But not before Lilac saw Lady Vandershmeer’s mouth drop.

Outraged, Lilac turned to the Prince. “What possessed you to use that name?” she demanded. “Now you’ve ruined everything!”

“Prinny?” Rejar was confused. “I assure you, I have met this ruler you speak of at an engagement I attended with—”

“No, you twit! My name. You called me Lilac in front of her!”

Rejar leaned back lazily into the corner of the landau. “What was I supposed to call you—Prunella?”

Lilac winced. “Don’t you ever speak that name again. I detest it!”

“Really?” He made a great show of yawning, reminding Lilac of…someone. “What a revelation.”

“You are so aggravating! You know very well I am referring to your usage of my first name, which, by the way, I have never ever given you permission to use.”

“It is your name.” He shrugged as if he were not very interested in the topic. “Why should I need permission to use it?”

The man was an idiot! “Because, you were too familiar!”

Rejar chuckled low in his throat at her unknowing play on words: too Familiar. Not yet, but he intended to be.

His laughter was the last straw. The man was insufferable and strangely obtuse; it was time to end this charade of an outing. “I wish to go home. Immediately.”

“Why?”

Why! Let me count the reasons. She already knew enough about this man to realize she was going to have to convince him. Unlike any proper gentleman who would bring her home simply because she had stated it was her wish. The mutton head.

She reached for a good excuse. “It’s getting chilly.”

“It is not.”

Lilac pursed her lips. “I tell you, it is!” She rubbed her hands briskly up and down her arms. “Look, I’m shivering. Brrr…”

A mischievous dimple popped into his cheek. “Let me see.”

Before she realized his intent, he leaned forward to run the pads of his long, well-shaped fingers down her arms, leaving a trail of molten heat in the wake of his touch.

Lilac froze.

He was almost embracing her! In public! Caught within his powerful hands, she stared wordlessly up at him.

The aggressive hunter within him met her motionless, captive look with candid sensuality.

At once, a languid veil of warmth enshrouded her, followed by the spicy tang of cinnamon and bayberry and something very exotic. Something provocative.

She shivered in truth now, but not from the cold.

Rejar’s sights fastened on her full mouth, parted for him exactly the way he wanted.

“Do you not like to shiver a bit, souk-souk?” he murmured, very close to her luscious lips. His sexual scent surrounded her.

“Your Highness,” she squeaked. “Please, don’t—”

“Make me shiver,” he whispered before his mouth came down on hers.

His lips were silk and velvet.

They came over her mouth in a fiery possession. Lilac could feel his breath against her mouth, sweet and hot. And, somehow, acquainted. The Prince tasted of sultry, forbidden dreams.

There was something about the way his mouth took hers; the way his determined hands laced through her hair to hold her to him in a particular way that bespoke of a mastery and artistry that even her unschooled self could recognize. She whimpered beneath the gifted, virile mouth that wreaked such havoc on her, an act of passion that she suspected was in its simplest form for him.

The tip of his hot tongue delicately sampled her bottom lip as if savoring the moment before the feast. Then it began to slide suggestively between her parted—

Fear and desire tumbled up inside her, confusing her. She jerked away from him.

“You—you cad!” she spat out, wiping the sleeve of her arm across her mouth in a deliberate display of revulsion. “How dare you! Accosting me in public! You’re—you’re vile and indecent; take me home at once!”

Rejar was not at all surprised by her behavior; he suspected she would react in such a way, although he couldn’t figure out exactly why. After he had gotten her into an actual embrace, he had hoped she would feel differently.

Some male Familiars had the ability to bring a woman to peak by their kiss alone. He had done so himself countless times in the past to the immense pleasure of the women he had bedded. Only Lilac had pulled away from him before he had the time to introduce her to that particular expertise of his.

It had been hard for him to stop.

The taste of her still sizzled along his nerves and it was all he could do not to tell Jackie to find a secluded area in the trees and lose himself for a while. Solely by Lilac’s present reaction, he supposed it would wiser to wait.

He crossed his arms over his chest and gazed down at her speculatively. “It is a big reaction you show for such a small act. I wonder why that is?”

Lilac’s cheeks reddened. “What—what do you mean?” she sputtered defensively.

He looked at her coolly. “I think you know what I mean.”

Lilac swallowed. Scared and embarrassed, she yelled to the driver, “Coachman, I insist you turn this vehicle around and take me home!”

The Prince immediately countered her order. “Jackie, you will continue riding around this park until I say otherwise; is that clear?”

“Clear as me pockets, yer Princeship.”

Lilac clenched the jonquil material of her dress, hopelessly wrinkling it. “What do you hope to gain from this, your Highness?”

Rejar rested his head back against the seat. “Everything,” he said mysteriously, closing his eyes.

While Lilac sat staring stonily at the scenery they passed, Rejar did some serious thinking. It had been a mistake to kiss her, he acknowledged. The timing had been wrong.

He couldn’t recall one instance in his life when that had ever happened to him. Was he losing his skill?

Ridiculous! A Familiar’s skills were inherent; they could not be lost. So, why, in Familiar terms, was he snarling up everything with her?

Every time he tried to take one step forward, it seemed he had to take two steps back.

He yawned.

He was very tired; he hadn’t been able to sleep for two days. After Lorgin and Adeeann had left, he had tried to rest in the hotel room but was unable to. Finally he had given up, going in search of Jackie.

Now that Lilac was next to him, he felt more at ease.

He yawned again.

She had the most calming affect on his restlessness. It was really very strange.

Lilac felt a nose poke into her neck.

“What are you—” She stopped. It seemed the Prince was fast asleep. Good. She wasn’t the least insulted. Now she could tell the driver to bring her home and finally rid herself of this boor.

“You there—driver!”

“Me name’s Jackie, Jackie Mulligan, yer mistress.”

Thank god no one could hear this excuse for a servant call her by such an appalling name. “Yes, well, Jackie, your master has gone and fallen asleep. It appears thinking has overtaxed his brain. You can take me home now.”

“Sorry, yer mistress. I’d not be doin’ that now.”

“What do you mean you won’t? I just gave you a direct order! I insist—”

“Insist all y’like, girlie, but I takes me orders from ’is Princeship and ’is Princeship tells Jackie to ride ’round this ’ere park lessen ’e says otherwise and tha’s what I aim t’ do.” That said, he stuck his pipe in his mouth, indicating that as far as Jackie Mulligan was concerned, the discussion was over.

“Well, I have never, in all my life—”

“Tha’ was clear to king and shepherd when ’e kissed you, yer mistress.” Jackie Mulligan was one to call it like it was. No bloomin’ clankers on him.

Lilac’s entire face went crimson at his crude reference. She knew when she was up against a stone wall; she crossed her arms close to her chest and stared moodily out at the passing trees. In a silent huff, she simmered.

So, they circled the park.

Afternoon turned into early evening. Early evening gave way to nightfall. The moon came up. Stars dotted the sky. Round and round they went.

Still the Prince slept.

Cozy as a kitten, he wrapped his arms around her waist, contentedly holding her close while his sultry face snuggled into her throat.

She wouldn’t have been surprised if the beast purred.

Agatha Whumples sat in her favorite chair in the parlor, trying to read a book on one of her favorite subjects: the mysterious effluvia. It was a secret hobby of hers; Agatha Whumples had a passion for the unknown.

However, tonight she could not concentrate on the fascinating text of Dr. Lopidori. She looked one more time at the ormolu clock on the mantelpiece. It was past ten in the evening! She was more than worried. The Prince should have brought Lilac home hours ago. This was a potentially scandalous situation. Where were they?

Just as that last worried thought passed through her mind, she heard the front door bang open and slam shut, followed by the angry tap of ladies’ half boots marching in a huff towards the foyer stairs. A second bang of the door quickly followed with the decisive, swift step of a man’s Hessian boots.

“Lilac, wait!”

That was the Prince’s voice. And highly agitated, too. Agatha rose from her chair to see what was afoot.

“I do not want to speak to you; I do not want to hear you; and I do not want to see you ever again!”

Agatha’s cap-covered head peeked around the doorway. Lilac was balanced halfway up the stairs, glaring angrily down at the Prince. The Prince placed one booted foot on the steps.

Lilac glowered at him. “Don’t you dare.”

Agatha noted that the Prince stopped but at the same time left his foot exactly where it was. A good, strong character; she approved of that in a man.

Rejar studied Lilac reflectively. He was somewhat embarrassed; Familiars did not tend to fall into a dead sleep in the presence of females they wished to consort with. It was not considered a romantic plus. He knew he must make every attempt to appease her. “Lilac, I do apologize for this. I have never before—”

There was no sense in trying to explain that part.

He gazed up at her beseechingly. “I did not know Jackie would listen to me so…exactingly.”

His change of subject did not escape her. Just how many times would he find himself in similar intimate situations with women? Zillions, by the look of him. She was incensed! “Do you have any idea how many times we circled that wretched park?” She stamped her foot to emphasize his faux pas.

Rejar took a deep breath. “I can imagine.”

“It was awful! That—that man you call a servant, he—he ignored me!”

“I am sorr—”

“Just refused to listen to me!” Lilac was venting spleen now—six hours of it.

“I know how—”

“And you”—she pointed the finger of outrage at him—“you, cozy as a kitten, not caring one fig how I felt about it!”

Cozy as a kitten? Rejar smiled to himself. Well, he was at that. “Please.” he held out his hand to her, giving her his most winning expression. “Forgive me?”

To her dismay, Lilac discovered she was not immune to his beguiling entreaty. Which made her all the angrier. The scapegrace. Well, he could have his own medicine back! She smiled sweetly at him.

Rejar smiled back, his other foot coming onto the second step.

Before he could take another step, she dropped the fake smile. “I don’t think I shall.” She showed him her back and flounced up the stairs.

Rejar stood there, dazed at the sudden about-face. Stunned, he watched her strut up the stairs, dismissing him completely.

Women never did that to him.

Who did she think she was dealing with? He was a son of Krue! How dare she treat him in such a cavalier fashion! If she thought—

“Your Highness, might I have a word with you?”

Irritated, Rejar spun around to gaze down at Lady Whumples. The elderly matron stood firmly planted in the hallway below, reminding him of several grumpy Guild members he had faced in the past. A stern expression crossed her weathered features and although she had phrased it as a question, its tenor was command. What now?

When the old woman saw she had gained his full attention, she pivoted about, marching directly into the parlor.

He had no choice but to follow her; as his elder she was deserving of his respect. She stopped in front of the fireplace and faced him.

“Close those doors behind you, young man.”

Rejar did as she bid, sliding the doors shut with a snap of his wrist.

“Now you will tell me what you have been doing with my niece till this ungodly hour!”

Rejar watched her before he spoke, not entirely sure what she meant by her inquiry. “Doing? I told you my intentions earlier, Lady Whumples; I took Lilac for a ride in your Hyde Park.”

“Come, come, my boy, no one rides in the park at this hour. What were you about?” The old woman suddenly picked up a folded fan from the side table, wielding it like a small weapon.

Speechless, Rejar could only stand there and watch as she rapped him smartly on the shoulder.

“Tell me, I say!”

Rejar gaped at her.

He had no idea what she was seeking. Had he done something to offend their customs? “It was as I say—I took her to the park.”

“Then why are you returned so late? Was there a problem with the coach? Why was my niece so upset?”

A dull flush of bronze highlighted his cheekbones. “I fell asleep,” he admitted, reluctantly. If his brother ever found out about this, there would be no end to the teasing.

It was Lady Agatha’s turn to gape. “You—you fell asleep?”

A muscle ticked along his strong jaw. “Yes,” he gritted out.

Agatha hid her grin behind the fan.

“It was…an unfortunate occurrence which I am at a loss to explain.”

“Perhaps my niece bores you, your Highness?” she shrewdly prodded.

Rejar emphatically shook his head. “On the contrary, she captivates me.”

Excellent, Agatha thought. All she had to do now was find a way to keep it going. “You realize Lilac is very put out with you.”

“I believe so.” Rejar exhaled, purposely putting a forlorn expression on his face. He did not know why, but he sensed the old woman might be willing to aid him in the hunt.

“Show some spirit, boy!” She whacked him with the fan again. “Are you prepared to give up?”

Rejar looked down at her, his white teeth glinting in a steady smile.

“I didn’t think so. You have your work cut out for you; presently, she won’t be very accommodating toward you.”

“I can overcome such feelings.” His bold statement held all of the cockiness years of successful dealings with women had brought to him.

In the past, Lilac had proven most resistant to any unfortunate young blood who came to call. The Prince’s positive attitude gave Agatha cause to examine him more closely through her pince-nez. Demme, but the buck was an out and outer.

“I do believe you can, your Highness.” She met his eyes. “My niece has often expressed a desire to view Week’s Mechanical Museum in Haymarket. I think tomorrow would be a good day for such an outing for the two of us. If you should happen to be there the same time—say, two o’clock—well, t’would be fate, wouldn’t it?”

Rejar grinned; she was going to help him. “It would indeed, madam.”

Lady Agatha grinned back.

Neither suspected that when it came to Lilac Devere they each had very different things in mind.

He returned to her room within the hour.

Lilac was already in her night garment, sitting on the edge of her bed staring out into space.

She is probably thinking of new ways to torment me, he acknowledged ruefully.

He jumped onto the bed beside her.

“Rejar! Have you come to comfort me? What a good cat you are!” Lilac petted his head, scratching behind his left ear.

Purring, Rejar stretched towards her, rubbing his face along her jawline in a sweet feline caress.

Won over, she kissed the top of his head. “I won’t think about him anymore.” She spoke to the cat as if he knew exactly what was on her mind.

Which he did.

“Come to bed now.” Lilac scooted under the covers.

Rejar padded over to her, lying against her exactly the way she liked. Lilac snuggled her face into the soft fur and instantly fell asleep.

If sometime during the night she had a crazy dream that it wasn’t fur she rested against but the naked skin of a male chest, she was able to dismiss the nonsense from her mind in the clear light of day.

However, the exotic cinnamon-bayberry scent, which seemed to be all over her person, truly puzzled her.