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releasing her, he drew her forward, urging her to sit with him, talk with him, anything that would keep her by his side a little longer. His attraction was not physical, he told himself, it was intellectual. What type of creature, what type of woman could dance like that? She had to be extraordinary.
    "I'm sorry, my lord."
    Kiril blinked. That comment came from the innkeeper as the man rushed forward, stupidly trying to interpose his body between the governor and the dancer. Kiril ignored him, his entire being focused on the woman.
    "My lord!"
    Kiril blinked, frowning as he turned to the irritating man. "Talned?" His voice fairly dripped with rancor, completely at odds with his plan to befriend this influential businessman.
    "My pardon, Your Lordship, my greatest apologies. You must understand how awkward this is for me. She... we... I have a rule. No man may touch the dancers. Not when they are dressed as such. Else all the girls, their very lives are at risk. Please, my lord." The balding man reached out with thick hands and gently tried to ease apart Kiril's fingers where he gripped the dancer.
    Kiril stiffened, angry beyond measure that this man sought to interfere. "I am the governor," he said stiffly, then marveled at the idiocy of his words. Had he not spent years fighting those who believed their mere titles gave them power over others?
    "Yes, yes," said the innkeeper, bowing his sweating head twice before speaking more. "And as such, I must beg of you to set a good example. Otherwise, I fear for Natiya's safety." The man glanced sideways at the girl, his expression clearly nervous.
    At that moment, Kiril's mind registered two very distinct facts. First was that the woman's name was Natiya—a beautiful name that should be sung by birds. In fact, he remembered abruptly, he was here searching for a girl named Natiya.
    The second fact was much more compelling, coming to him in a flash of insight that made him smile. The innkeeper was afraid, not of him, but of Natiya. The look he gave her was positively pleading. But what hold did she have that would reduce her employer to such desperate straits? Did he fear she would quit, taking away what was undoubtedly a key source of income for him? Or was it something else?
    Kiril did not speculate for long. Much to the innkeeper's obvious dismay, the girl chose that moment to speak. "Governor or not," she said, her voice caustic, "you are all men bent on rutting, and I'll not be touched by a one of you." Then she twisted out of his grip and stalked away, her head held high, her body rigid with disdain.
    "Oh my lord, oh Your Lordship, great sir, my apologies. She has such a temper. Especially after she dances. Monik, more ale for the governor. My lord, please accept..." The man droned on and on, nearly apoplectic in his mortification. Now, as he bowed and scraped before him, Kiril understood the man's terror: that the girl would open her mouth and dispel the magical moment her dance had created, insulting the new governor in the process.
    Kiril turned his furious gaze on the man, his hands curling into fists. Talned had been right to fear.
    But then another sound penetrated Kiril's thoughts. Laughter. Loud, high-pitched squeals of humor that sliced through all thought and brought his head snapping around to his companion. Sabina was laughing. Not only was she laughing, but she was holding her ample sides to contain her mirth. Tears rolled down her cheeks. Her bosom jiggled as wave after wave of loud guffaws burst from her.
    "Bina," he snapped. "Control yourself!"
    Far from having the desired effect, his words elicited additional gales of laughter.
    Kiril bit his lip. There was nothing to do but fold his arms in a semblance of dignity while waiting out her perverse sense of humor. It felt like an eternity, but eventually she settled enough to form words.
    "Contain myself? Myself? Kiril, you were about to hit the man. Hit him! And why? Because a woman had the audacity to tell you to