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little dove," was the disdainful rejoinder. "Marrying deflowered virgins is unusual and extraordinary punishment for a rather ordinary occurrence, and not wishing to deny the excessive faults we philandering Kuzans possess in abundance, stupidity is not one of them."
    The prince entertained the usual male practical assessment of such trifles as virginity. "Surely, my lord prince, you'll wish to marry someday," she persisted.
    "What for?" he rudely queried.
    "You'd give a wife some beautiful children," Zena softly murmured, as she swept a swift glance over the darkly handsome man lying beside her. "Don't you want children?"
     
    "I have children," he replied. "I mean children of your own." "They are my own."
     
    The quiet logic seemed unassailable; Zena did not pursue the topic.
    Alex raised himself on one elbow and reproachfully scrutinized the naked beauty at his side. A multitude of conflicting speculations coursed through his inebriated mind. Did she intend to complain, perhaps to his father? It had been known to happen, and his sire could be damnably moral on occasion. (Alex still remembered with acute discomfort a reprimand he had received two months ago when some peasant girl had come to the palace with a baby she claimed Alex had fathered. It wasn't that he deliberately intended to ignore the wench; he simply hadn't known. One would think she'd have come to him first. Perhaps she was more shrewd than she appeared, since his pere had been considerably more generous than Alex would have been.) Would this young woman's aunt try to force him into marriage? At least in that regard, Alex sighed gratefully, father and son were of one accord; his father saw no need for Alex to consider marriage when he was only twenty-four years old.
    Damn it! Alex swore under his breath. He supposed it was his own fault for not asking any questions. But what respectable girl would have begged a strange man for a ride to Podolsk in the middle of the night, or agreed to go to sleep in an unknown man's bedroom, or been outfitted in a dress two seasons old and without corsets? Furthermore, could one expect any young girl with such a lush, opulent body to be some simpering debutante virgin? Never- —and he'd seen scores— never had he seen a respectable society miss with such ripe, magnificent breasts or such sweetly swelling hips or—damn!—such an intoxicating, easily aroused passion.
    As Alex's tawny eyes swept over the flawless womanly form, a warm tremor deep in his stomach signaled a nascent carnal urge. Disregarding any further troublesome speculations and forebodings about an uncertain future, symptomatic of the callous indifference with which he normally viewed all obstacles, he reached out to stroke the round firmness of one prime, delectable breast. There was a faint smile on his remarkable features as he effortlessly reverted to type: a libertine with a passion to do as he pleased.
    Zena's uncomfortable, irresolute thoughts sank into the cocoon of sated sensuality that still embraced her. The room was warm, the down mattress and covers as substantial as gossamer, her newly awakened body still throbbing. She was aware of each flutter and subtle nuance of sensation. It felt as though her body positively glowed. All the romances secretly read could never hope to express these vivid, tremulous impressions. Then the nagging thoughts returned. She had been reared to believe that proper young women never enjoyed the mating act, only endured it. She must arise from this decadent luxury, put her clothes back on, and sit up in the drawing room for the rest of the journey. She must try to explain somehow to the prince that an irresistible impulse, a delicious madness, had come over her; it wouldn't happen again. This was all a terrible mistake. She had wanted only an opportunity to escape from her aunt and the disgusting old general. Surely the prince must think her nothing more than a disreputable tart. Oh dear, she must get up.
    But then