And the bath was cooling.

Practicality forced her to examine her options. She had no dry clothes, and no doubt there would be men looking for her, men well equipped to remove her, should the process prove necessary. If she were a Falcon, her first instinct would be to surround her prey’s house and wait. People always returned home, seeking what they perceived was safety.

But they wouldn’t be looking here, would they? Nobody would ever suspect her erstwhile rescuer to be Leo Barrons, not with the feud between their families. She would be invisible here, and the threat he cast toward her could be…managed, if nothing else.

Wriggling out of her undergarments, she let them fall to the cold tiles and stepped into her bath. Home was no longer safe for the moment, and there was nothing she could do to fix the situation tonight. She needed to think, to find some way to outwit the prince consort, and her first instinct—to run or hide—was hardly suitable.

Scalding water slid over her body as Mina sank into the bath, teeth gritted. Sensible thoughts fragmented, bubbles clinging to the smooth slope of her breasts while her skin turned a pleasant pink. “Oh, goodness,” she whispered, sinking farther into the water and leaning her head back against the rim of the claw-footed bath. This was surely divine.

It hurt for a long time, until the heat began to soak into her bones, warming her from within. Mina washed the stink of the canal from her hair, then added more hot water, her foot resting on the rim of the bath and her fingers idly twirling the pearls at her throat.

It was no surprise when the door opened and Barrons returned. She swung cattish eyes on him and stayed silent, not bothering to sink any farther beneath the bubbles that covered her. Let him play his little games; she had her own in place and wouldn’t need long to divine his intentions.

Men were so predictable. The thought steeled her will. Barrons was just another man, after all, and she’d been using her feminine wiles to wage war for years.

He’d changed into dry clothes—a black shirt that seemed to absorb all of the darkness in the room and black suspenders riding hard over broad shoulders. At some point he’d rolled the shirtsleeves up, leaving his forearms bare. She’d never seen him in anything other than court clothes. These more informal clothes made him look a little more ruffled, more sensual.

His hair had grown longer in the month since he’d left for Saint Petersburg, and he’d tied it up now with a thin piece of velvet. It highlighted the stark line of his cheekbones and a lower lip that was slightly fuller than it ought to be. She wanted to drag that ribbon from his hair and run her hands through the gilt-colored strands.

Mina sank a little farther into the bath. She wasn’t innocent. There’d been two short-lived affairs in her past, but she’d been in complete control of both of them, even when her blood-lust had risen. This sensation left her a little unsettled. The sight of him—perhaps the situation—stirred feelings inside her that she’d never owned.

Lust could be controlled. Always.

“I suppose you’ve come to claim your prize.” She toyed with the pearls.

One tawny eyebrow arched. “I’ve come to bring you your blud-wein, Your Grace.”

There was a tray in his hands. He set it on the vanity, then poured a glass and offered it to her.

Mina accepted, swirling the bloodied wine in her glass. Troubled again. “You make an excellent lady’s maid, Barrons.”

“Are you hiring?”

She breathed out a laugh. “Hardly.”

His fingers trailed over her shoulder as he circled the head of the bath. “We worked well together tonight.”

So that was his aim. “You think we could carry this alliance onto the Council?” He served as the Duke of Caine’s proxy, after all.

“It would be the last thing they’d expect. But, no, Mina, I was merely commenting, not offering an alliance.”

“Good.” She drained her glass and handed it to him. There was no way in hell she’d consider an alliance with the son of the man who’d killed her father. “For the truce is definitely over.”

Barrons stared at her wineglass for taut seconds. “A shame.” He placed it on the vanity carefully, then turned back to her.

Mina tensed.

Fingertips brushed her cheek. “I have no plans to hurt you,” he reminded her, circling around behind her. “You shall never have that to fear, Duchess.”

A hand fisted in her wet hair and dragged her head back. His face appeared in her vision, upside down. “Unless I plan on stealing your heart,” he whispered. “Then you should be on your guard.”

“I’m always on my guard,” she breathed.

Barrons’s gaze softened, his face lowering. “If I recall, you owe me a kiss.”

“You owe me a note,” she shot back, her hands clutching the edge of the bath and her heart hammering.

“A kiss,” he repeated, “if I managed to get you out of there safely.” His face lowered toward hers, candlelight turning his skin a delicious golden hue. “The note was for another payment indeed.”

Her whole body burned. The fist in her hair tightened, as if warning her that he had her at his mercy. “I’m already naked,” she replied flatly.

“But clothed in bubbles, my dear.” That smooth voice turned molten. “Bubbles and candlelight.”

The tension between them changed. She could feel it thickening the air around her. The bastard was daring her, a little smile playing around his lips. Knowing that she did not want to pay her dues.

Mina’s heart pounded. “So be it.” She forced her whole body to relax, her fingers releasing their claw hold on the lip of the bath. “You’ve earned your kiss. I do hope it’s all you imagined.”

Reaching up, she slid a hand through his hair, tearing it loose from its velvet thong. Palm flat against his scalp, she dragged his head down, tilting her lips to his.

They were softer than she’d expected, melting over her own and sucking her breath into his lungs. The intimacy of that thought burned between her thighs, a hollow, empty ache that seemed almost alive…waiting for something more. She brushed her mouth against his once. Twice. Licked at his tongue, then sucked it into her mouth as she slid both hands up to cup his cheeks.

Each sensation ignited something dangerous within her: the scrape of his stubble against her chin, the firm pressure on her hair as he held her locked in place and submitting to the mastery of his kiss. It shouldn’t have mattered. She shouldn’t have felt anything, but something inside her kindled to life at the way he pinned her down. A fever burned beneath her skin. It made her aware of just how large he was, how strong, how easily he held her down…