Stefan rode slowly into Latzko's village, his men spread out behind him. He had come here once before, about seven years ago, when he had had a fight with his new mistress and she had run home to her father. Latzko was her father. Stefan had come to make up with the girl, having decided he'd been unfair in their argument, a dispute he couldn't even recall the subject of, it had been so minor. And Arina had been delighted that he'd come to fetch her back. An old suitor of hers hadn't been, however, and had insisted Stefan fight for her. It had been a bother. He hadn't wanted the girl back that much. But he had obliged the fellow and won. Ironically, the affair with Arina had only lasted another month.
Latzko came out of his house to greet him now and obviously remembered him, if his welcoming smile was any indication. And why not? The wily brigand hadn't been satisfied with getting his hot-tempered daughter off his hands again, seven years ago. He'd charged Stefan fifty rubles before he could leave with her, and that was after Stefan had already fought and won that privilege.
"What brings you here this time, Stefan?"
Two other men had come to join Latzko in front of his house. Stefan wasn't pleased to see that Pavel was one of them, and looking as belligerent as he had the last time. But the rest of the village also turned out, the men coming quietly forward to surround Stefan's, their weapons concealed, but Stefan knew how quickly that could change with these mountain people.
He stared at Latzko and said without preamble, "I believe you have something that is mine."
"Yours?" Latzko laughed heartily. "I'll be damned. They didn't bother to tell me that. "
Stefan gritted his teeth, doubting that, but at the moment he didn't care. "How much?"
"Five hundred?"
"Done. "
"And he has to fight me," Pavel inserted loud enough for all to hear.
"Done."
From Latzko's expression, it was clear he hadn't expected the challenge. He even tried to protest. "You are supposed to learn from experience, Pavel, not foolishly make the same mistakes. Didn't he nearly kill you last time with his bare hands?"
"My mistake was not calling for knives last time, " Pavel replied with appalling confidence. "This time we use them."
The older man made a sound of disgust before he turned back to Stefan. "He bears a grudge, this one. He blames you for Arina's indifference to him, even though she now lives with some Austrian duke. But I have the last say here, and I say you do not have to fight him."
Latzko was obviously worried that he wouldn't get his money if something happened to Stefan. But this time Stefan wanted the fight, had been fiercely glad to hear the challenge issued.
"I have already accepted, Latzko, and it will happen now, this minute."
"Stefan!" Lazar objected behind him, but Stefan merely sent him a silencing glare as he dismounted.
Vasili wasn't as easily shut up. "Let one of us fight in your stead, then. Your position is such that you cannot take these arbitrary risks anymore."
"I will decide what is a risk and what it's worth. This risk is needed to keep the skin on Tanya's back."
Vasili's brow shot up in understanding. Stefan needed something to expend his anger and fear on before he faced his betrothed. It was a wonder he'd contained those emotions these past twenty-four hours.
"Well, heaven forbid she should lose any skin," Vasili said dryly now, knowing full well the girl was in no such danger. "Go ahead and get it out of your system this time. But you are going to have to think seriously about curtailing these little pleasures in the future, Stefan, you really are."
Stefan only gave a curt nod while he removed his sword and coat. He wasn't wearing a knife. Latzko supplied him with his own, a long-bladed dagger with a good grip on it. And he no sooner had it in hand than Pavel brought his own knife in a downward swing to stab him, to end the fight right there. But Stefan hadn't been expecting a clean fight, not after his last experience with this man. Pavel's dirty tricks had made Stefan angry enough to beat him senseless. He wondered if he'd have to kill him this time, as he caught Pavel's wrist, threw it back, and slashed with his own knife, drawing first blood in a small nick on Pavel's upper arm.
They circled each other now, knives extended, looking for another opening. Neither man had slept in a day and a half, but they didn't feel it; felt nothing but the raw emotion goading them on.
Pavel was eaten up with hate and jealousy. Stefan had relived the horror of his brother's death when he couldn't find Tanya in the woods. But how quickly that had turned to a killing fury when they found the tracks of those three ponies. If he had caught up with the ones who had taken her before now, he would have shown no mercy. Pavel could count himself fortunate that Stefan didn't know yet that he was one of them.
Pavel finally leaped, a false move, since he then dived for Stefan's feet to knock them out from under him. Stefan did go down, face first, but rolled, just missing the knife that ended up buried in the ground where his back had been. He responded with a kick to Pavel's head, which gave Stefan time to get back on his feet, but didn't daze Pavel nearly enough.
Pavel came up charging in an attempt to knock Stefan over again, but Stefan held his ground and they connected, hands locked to each other's wrists. It was now a matter of strength, of who could hold back the other's blade while making use of his own. They were almost evenly matched in this, both tall and muscular. Stefan still had the advantage — he was angrier.
It ended with Stefan's blade sinking into Pavel's shoulder. The other man stumbled back. Stefan retained his dagger, but he didn't need it anymore. Pain allowed Pavel's exhaustion to catch up with him and he sank slowly to his knees.
"You win a second time," Latzko told Stefan, officially ending the fight. "If he ever thinks to challenge you again, I'll kill him myself."
Stefan couldn't care less. "Where is she?" was all he wanted to know.
Latzko flipped his thumb toward his house. "In there. Sleeping. And she wasn't touched, other than to tie her up. But a word of caution, my friend. My men didn't just stumble upon her. I sent them to Warsaw on business. There they were approached and bribed to kill the lady. Fortunately for her, my men don't usually act on such things without my approval. Even more fortunate, the payment turned out to be worthless, rubies made of glass."
"So you decided to sell her back to me instead?"
The older man shrugged. "What else could I do with her? I'm too old to keep her."
"You're too greedy to keep her."
"True." Latzko grinned. "But come, you're welcome to stay the night, rest—"
"We'll leave now, Latzko, but thank you just the same."
In the house, Stefan found that Tanya actually was sleeping, totally unaware that he had come for her and, in a small way, avenged the ordeal she had been put through. But she didn't look the worse for wear, she looked exquisitely beautiful, peaceful in sleep, without a care in the world. He wondered if she even knew how much danger she had been in, that if the one who was trying to kill her could have afforded better than jewels made of glass, she might be dead now. He wondered if she knew how much agony he had gone through, first thinking wolves had got to her, then fearing it had been the assassin.
He didn't wake her. He picked her up carefully and carried her out of there, handing her to Serge only long enough for him to mount and take her up on his lap. She did stir then, briefly opening her eyes to see him.
"Oh, hello, Stefan." She closed her eyes again and smiled, snuggling closer against him. "Did you meet Latzko? Nice fellow, but I hope you didn't have to pay him too much money."
"A paltry sum," he grunted. "Had he known it, he could have asked for the moon, and I would have gotten it for him."
"The moon?" She yawned, but once that was done, her smile was even wider.
He was chagrined. He hadn't meant to admit something like that. He said what he'd meant to tell her. "You can thank your friend Pavel that I didn't go looking for a switch the moment I got here. Now I'm too tired to beat you."
That took care of her smug little smile. "Why would you want to beat me?"
"We'll discuss it later."
Her eyes opened wide. "No, I want—"
"Later! "
"Your putting me off was what led to this, you stupid man," she grumbled.
"A demonstration of your willfulness? I think you'll continue to wear those bindings until I get you home. "
But she didn't. He cut her loose himself when they met up with the coaches that evening at the estate of some baron, a man who bubbled over with welcome, ecstatic that King Stefan should honor him with a visit. The man's entire house was put at Stefan's disposal, including his own luxurious bedroom, which Stefan merely accepted as his due.
Tanya found herself sharing the same room. She'd been bristling the rest of the afternoon, getting no more sleep. She was prepared, thinking they'd be having their fight, which was going to be a royal one, then and there, but she was wrong. Stefan, after locking the door and pocketing the key, promptly lay down on the huge and rather ancient bed the room contained and went to sleep.