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explanation. “I’m not letting you out of my sight. Your Highness,” he added meaningfully—her humble servant.
    She stared straight ahead as a blush flooded her creamy cheeks. “You need not explain, Darius. I have complete trust in your honor.”
    She sounded so determined, he wondered whom she was trying to convince. Nevertheless, her words pleased him.
    “Who else knows of this panel?”
    “No one, my lady.”
    The architect was dead, the king had probably forgotten, and Darius had not seen fit to tell his successor to the post of captain of the Royal Guard about this particular door. It was nothing against Orsini personally. Darius simply trusted no one where the princess was concerned. He had never even considered violating her privacy—not seriously, anyway—but most men didn’t have his self-control.
    Maintaining his show of cool amusement while his shoulder throbbed, he gestured. “After you.”
    She lifted her chin, slipped around the chair that sat in the way, and swept regally into her chamber. He followed, stepping over the threshold onto what most of the men he knew would deem holy ground. He turned back to slide the panel shut, then drifted into her magic bower.
    Rain pelted the wide windowpanes. Thriving plants lined the sills and the floor all around the windows. Her bed was an enchantment, canopied clouds of gauzy white mosquito netting and pink satin sheets. A white Persian cat slept curled amid the plump pillows.
    Serafina glided across the room, where she opened a door. Light slanted into the dark bedroom, then she disappeared into the adjoining room. He lingered, taking in the scene.
    An ornate birdcage was near the bed, the tiny door standing open. He noticed the teal parakeet studying him from its post on a curtain rod above the window, then her little pet monkey leaped out of nowhere, giving him a start. It screeched at him, the intruder, and began cavorting around the rails of her bed.
    Ungrateful creature, he thought, sternly regarding the talapoin monkey hissing at him.
    Darius had given the animal to Serafina as a gift for her fifteenth birthday. He had told her it looked like her. He disregarded the monkey and narrowed his eyes, his gaze picking out the items on her bedside table several feet away, silly female frippery. A hairbrush. A novel.
    Just then, her lithe silhouette appeared in the doorway. She was toweling her long hair.
    “Darius.”
    He looked over and smiled, caught at his spying.
    He sauntered toward her, noting that she had discarded his big, shapeless jacket in favor of a dressing gown, the sash tied in a bow around her slim waist. She tossed a towel to him and went to collect the little monkey, speaking sweet, babyish nonsense to it. It scampered up onto her shoulder and promptly perched atop her head, the tiny black hands holding on to her forehead.
    Serafina turned to him, striking a pose like a fashion illustration. “Do you like my hat?”
    “Charming,” he said dryly.
    “Oh, thank you.” She walked over to the monkey’s cage and gently pried the animal off her head, wincing as it grasped at her curls. Then she gave it a kiss on the head and tumbled it into its cage. She smiled at him, brushing past him on her way into the other room.
    “Come,” she said.
    He slowly dried his face and ran the towel over his hair, eyeing the slim, elegant curves of her figure as he followed her. Sauntering coolly into the adjoining room, Darius almost stepped on a pile of torn wet silk in the middle of the floor.
    His eyes glazed over, staring down at the remnants of her dress. She must have simply peeled the thing off. His gaze swung to her as he realized that very likely nothing lay beneath her blue satin dressing gown but fair skin, still damp with rain.
    God, give me strength.
    As if her sole aim were to torment him, she now bent down gracefully before the hearth, where a low fire burned. His practiced eye appraised the smooth curves of her backside, and his mind