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see, you’ve made a mistake.” She tugged at her ankle.
    â€œI am the crown prince of Baminia, and I do not make mistakes.” His fingers pressed deeper, compressing the bones. Sitting up, he continued speaking relentlessly, confident as only a man who had never made a mistake could be. “As prince, I frequently mingle with my people, and I would never mistake a commoner for nobility. So luckily for you, I am well aware of not only my own duty, but of yours, and I possess the means to enforce your obedience.”
    His eyes burned like the flame in the hottest part of the fire, and she could almost see the air between them waver in the heat. Compelled by the kind of appalled curiosity that made onlookers crane to view a carriage wreck, she asked, “What means are those?”
    â€œI have the strength. I have the determination.” Taking her hand, he pressed it between his legs. “And I have this.”
    Ignorant as she was of anything but instruction from a book, it took her a moment to realize what the shape beneath his trousers indicated.
    When she did, she made a noise not unlike that of a chicken producing its first egg. She could have incapacitated him; she knew how in some rational part of her mind. But reason fled before the proof that, yes, Evangeline Scoffield could make a man lustful.
    And also, that Evangeline Scoffield did not have the slightest idea what to do with that man once she had done so.
    Placing his hand on her shoulder, he tipped her back toward the pillows and stated his goal. “Once I have compromised you, Your Highness, you will have no choice but to do your duty, and that is to return with me to the city of Plaisance in time for the Revealing—and our wedding—and unite our countries as the prophecy foretold. There, in the Palace of the Two Kingdoms, you will bear the royal child which I have placed in your womb, and we will live with the contentment of knowing we have done our duty.”
    A pang of pity for the true princess rippled through her. Then as he bent over her, a pang of panic for her own plight made her shudder. “You’d do this in cold blood?”
    Something shifted in his blue eyes. “Cold?” he said. “I promise you’ll not complain of a chill.”
    A sudden, sharp conviction that he was laughing at her made her tug away. He caught at her and they rolled, wrestling briefly. Finding herself pinned against the headboard, her wrists pressed against the carving, she glared balefully as his head lowered to hers.
    â€œRelax,” he murmured as his lips touched hers. “This is the best part of our duty. You’ll see.”
    Silken whispers of enticement, his lips drifted over her face. They stroked the eyes he claimed to recognize, paid reverence to the high cheekbones that had so set her apart, and, as gently as a butterfly descending on a flower, they settled on her mouth.
    Seduction, she reminded herself. Cold-blooded seduction for a very practical purpose.
    But Danior had spoken the truth. There was nothing cold about this. She could almost smell the singe of their connecting flesh.
    Then the sound of shattering glass jerked his head up. Evangeline caught a glimpse of a round, black, shiny missile flying through the air. It bounced off the bed. With a metallic thud, it landed on the floor.
    â€œWhat? . . .” she tried to say, but Danior hurtled off the bed and dragged her behind him in one motion.
    She stumbled off the dais and fell to one knee.
    He tugged her to her feet. “Run,” he said. “A bomb. It’s a bomb!”

Five
    â€œA bomb?” Evangeline said stupidly. Then, “A bomb!”
    Dropping to her knees, she twisted her arm.
    Danior lost his grip on her.
    But as she scrambled back toward the bed, he roared, “Where do you think you’re going?”
    â€œMy money.” She lunged under the mattress. “I have to get my money!”
    Her fingertips had