She is probably thinking of new ways to torment me, he acknowledged ruefully.

He jumped onto the bed beside her.

"Rejar! Have you come to comfort me? What a good cat you are!" Lilac petted his head, scratching behind his left ear.

Purring, Rejar stretched towards her, rubbing his face along her jawline in a sweet feline caress.

Won over, she kissed the top of his head. "I won't think about him anymore." She spoke to the cat as if he knew exactly what was on her mind.

Which he did.

"Come to bed now." Lilac scooted under the covers.

Rejar padded over to her, lying against her exactly the way she liked. Lilac snuggled her face into the soft fur and instantly fell asleep.

If sometime during the night she had a crazy dream that it wasn't fur she rested against but the naked skin of a male chest, she was able to dismiss the nonsense from her mind in the clear light of day.

However, the exotic cinnamon-bayberry scent, which seemed to be all over her person, truly puzzled her.

Chapter Seven.

The skin on the back of her neck p.r.i.c.kled.

No, it must be her imagination. They had just walked into Week's Mechanical Museum, an outing Lilac had been looking forward to for some time.

It was quite crowded that day. Several of the ton had apparently had the same idea as her aunt. There was one exhibit in particular which- There it was again ...

That odd feeling on the back of her neck.

Lilac looked over her right shoulder. Her green eyes momentarily widened, then took on the light of fury. "I don't believe it!" she exclaimed in an angry undertone.

"What is it, my dear?" Auntie said distractedly; she was already peering at the first exhibit through her lorgnette.

"It's that awful Prince-he's here! Of all the rotten luck!"

"Prince Azov is here?" Auntie dropped her lorgnette, whipping around to survey the room. "Why, yes, there he is." Lilac stood helplessly by, watching as her aunt waved her fan in the Prince's direction. "Prince Azov, over here!"

"Why did you do that?" Lilac hissed.

"Don't be foolish, my dear; he is a friend of ours."

"Since when?" Auntie wasn't listening to her, she was too busy attracting the Prince's attention. Blast it!

"Lady Agatha, Lilac." Rejar cordially greeted the two women; one looked supremely happy to see him, while the other looked supremely furious. Purposely, he let his eyes gleam with the flash of victory simply to annoy Lilac. A roguish smile spread across his face when she promptly turned her back on him. He so loved to play with her.

"Why, Prince Azov, what a nice coincidence." Agatha winked conspiratorially at him. "Do join us as we tour the museum."

Dismayed, Lilac spun back around. "Auntie!"

"Thank you. Lady Agatha." Rejar watched Lilac from under heavily lashed eyes; it appeared his blue-and-gold regard was unnerving her. "I believe I shall do just that."

"Excellent! We've just begun." Agatha pointed out the first exhibit. "Now this, I believe, is a reenactment of the Battle of Alexandria."

Rejar knew a museum was a house of artifacts. The concept did not greatly excite him. He meant to briefly glance at the scene, then turn his full attention onto Lilac, but what he saw made him look twice.

Tiny metal soldiers were moving about a small battlefield!

This was sorcery!

He quickly looked around, viewing the room for the possible culprit. No one appeared suspicious. He examined the walls-nothing there except some old metal swords and a few banners. Where was the source? Surely, this was the mark of a powerful wizard! Instinctively, he edged closer to the two women to protect them.

"Why do they move?" On guard, he spoke in a low voice behind Lady Agatha. "Are they spellbound?"

Agatha t.i.ttered. "How amusing, your Highness. One would almost think so, they look so lifelike."

Rejar was captivated by the scene before him; he curiously watched as the tiny warriors marched about the mock battlefield. The universe he came from was based on the Laws of Magic, but the mechanical men completely mystified him. "I do not understand this," he murmured abstractedly.

"Quelle surprise." Lilac dripped sarcasm.

At her condescending tone, Rejar shifted his sights from the strange exhibit to return her contemptuous look with one that plainly said, I am not amused.

I'm trembling, her answering look said. She batted her eyelashes at him, pasting a superior little smile on her face.

He quirked his eyebrow, this expression saying, I will be tolerant for now, but there will come a time...

So, the tone was set for the rest of the tour.

Agatha was delighted; Rejar was baffled by the moving figures, patiently tolerant of Lilac's mood, and Lilac was suffering the Prince's presence, but not in silence. She made it a point to toss verbal insults his Highness's way whenever the opportunity presented itself. This occurred often, since, as far as she was concerned, the Prince made a wonderful fool.

In fact, Lilac was having such a good time making mincemeat out of the Prince, she almost didn't mind his company.

Almost.

The only thing that worried her the teensiest bit was that every time she lambasted him with one of her jibes, he gave her the smile.

The one that said, You may play all you like but I will win the game.

The one that said, We shall see.

She absolutely hated that smile.

"Prince Azov, I was just thinking of you! What a coincidence!" The three of them turned at the wispy sound of a woman's voice directly behind them. By her gasps for breath, it sounded as if she had run a race to catch up with them.

Rejar stared down into the covetous face of Lady Harcorte and felt annoyance begin to overshadow his pleasant mood. This was a complication he did not need. "Lady Harcorte," he cooly replied.

"Here to see our famous museum? And with our lovely Lilac Devere." Leona Harcorte gave Lilac a brilliant smile, completely winning the younger woman over. Agatha, being older and wiser in the ways of the world, stuck her Whumples nose in the air and sniffed haughtily.

"Agatha." Leona purposely used the grand dame's first name to irritate her. "You do look marvelous today-for your age."

Agatha, never one to be outdone, immediately retorted, "I was just thinking the same of you, Leona."

Only the slight blink of Lady Harcorte's right eye let Agatha know she had hit her mark. It was well known that the Cyprian was impossibly vain and consumed with the fear of loosing her looks. Although, Agatha grudgingly admitted to herself, the woman had no real concerns in that area-she was truly a beauty. A hungry beauty.

Agatha shrewdly edged herself between Rejar and Leona, placing a proprietary hand on the Prince's arm. "Come, your Highness, let us view this exhibit." She wisely left Lilac and Lady Harcorte to follow.

Leona resigned herself to enjoying the view. She eyed Rejar's backside appreciatively. "He is really the most stunning man." Lady Harcorte spoke to Lilac as if they were the best of friends sharing confidences.

Lilac had no idea what Lady Harcorte found so interesting. She raised an eyebrow, carefully examining what Leona appeared to be examining. Mmm. It was rather nicely shaped. She c.o.c.ked her head to one side-firm-looking yet round and tight. "You really think so?"

"Oh, yes. Let me give you a clue, my darling; the more he reveals, the better he gets."

The meaning behind Lady Harcorte's scandalous words registered abruptly. Lilac's face flamed. "You don't mean-"

"Of course I do. He's quite gorgeous in a bathtub, nearly took my breath away. We met at Byron's country estate; need I say more?"

So, he was a libertine and a rogue as well as a mutton head. Did she doubt it for a minute? It was obvious to her that Lady Harcorte knew the Prince intimately. Very intimately.

Not that she cared. She didn't care one whit. Not at all.

Rejar choose that ill-fated moment to speak to her. "Lilac, look at this," he gestured to the exhibit of tweeting mechanical birds, smiling boyishly.

Just look at that innocent face. At once, he represented to her everything duplicitous she found vile within the ton. Oh, how she detested him! "Go to the devil, you scapegrace!"

Rejar's mouth dropped. What had brought this on? He glanced over at Lady Harcorte who was smiling like ... well, like a cat. It was a smile he understood very well. He took Lilac's arm, drawing her aside.

"What did she say to you?"

"Let go of me!" Lilac tried to squirm out of his hold.

Rejar had no intention of letting her go. "Tell me." He speared her with a very serious look.

"She just told me the truth, so you needn't be surprised. I certainly wasn't! I know you for the scoundrel that you are! What I don't understand is why you persist in annoying me; I have already told you I am not interested in your pursuit." She stuck her stubborn chin in the air.

Rejar raked a hand through his hair. Somehow-he wasn't quite sure exactly how-he was snarling up with her again. "Whatever she told you, Lilac, it was not the truth."

"You didn't meet with her at Lord Byron's country estate? In your bath?" Caught, Rejar opened his mouth to explain but she cut him off. "I thought so! You look as guilty as sin. In fact," she said, eyeing him insultingly up and down, "you look like sin."

"This is foolish! I tell you, there was nothing!" As if he had to explain to her what he did! Or didn't do. The thought of it alone was enough to trigger his annoyance. Not to mention his restlessness. "And why do you show such an interest?" he shot back. "If you are not, as you say, interested in my pursuit?"

His smug expression really aggravated her. "Oooh, I detest you!"

Standing tall above her, his heated gaze focused on her delectable mouth. "That is unfortunate, souk-souk, since I intend to have you."

Under his burning regard, her lips parted; she was suddenly quite breathless. "Wh-what do you mean by that?"

His flashing dual-colored eyes silently spoke volumes to her: Exactly what you think.

Lilac blanched. Placing a hand on her heart-which had suddenly begun beating erratically-she said in a reedy voice, "Never."

That slow, feral smile inched its way across his utterly sensual features. "Soon," he promised.

Their gazes locked and held.

Lilac swallowed; the rogue meant it! She could see it in the determined thrust of his jaw, the set expression on his face. What had she ever done to get this man so-so excited over her?

She couldn't think of a single thing. It had to be an aberration on his part. Lilac was about to try to get through to him one more time when feminine screams from the next exhibit interrupted her line of thought. What foolish thing was causing this ruckus? Lilac poked her head around Lady Harcorte's elaborate hairdo to get a better view. It was the large mechanical spider!

She smiled broadly. This was the exhibit she had so wanted to see; she had heard it was very lifelike and that the craftsmanship was extraordin-What was that sapskull doing now?

Rejar, alerted by the feminine cries of fear, chivalrously placed himself in front of the ladies and tried to send a mental flicker-warning to the multi-legged creature coming towards them.

The creature did not respond to his signal to back off in any way, just continued to advance. It was strange, but he could not sense any life within it. How could that be? Was it a sorcerer's animus? If so, it could prove to be deadly.

He quickly scanned the room looking for something to defend themselves with should the creature continue its aggression.

His sights lit on the old swords tacked to the wall by the battle exhibit. They were crude, but they would have to do. His power to call to all beasts was failing him here; he needed a more conventional protector.

He strode directly over to the wall. With a powerful twist of his arm, he yanked one of the swords free of its mooring. Testing its heft and balance within his grip, he pivoted about. Without thought, he placed himself as shield and protector before Lilac and her aunt. In battle stance, he confronted the multi-legged beast.

For that moment, he became an Aviaran warrior. His father's son.

Expertly, he scalloped the sword about his hand, carefully monitoring the track of the creature. With the lithe grace of movement characteristic of his kind, and the warrior skill honed into him by Krue, Rejar challenged the aggressor with circular, taunting movements of his blade.

His aim was to distract the beast away from the women. If it should prove to be an animus, an instrument of a maligned spell, it could change form at any moment, becoming a towering, deadly menace.

Lilac could not believe her eyes. "What is that longhaired idiot doing?" she hissed to her aunt.

"Hush, dear." Auntie trained her lorgnette on the Prince so as not to miss this thrilling Theatre of the Absurd.

The Prince engaged the spider.

The spider backed off, spun around on its clicking legs three times and advanced once again.

The Prince made a quick lunge with the sword.

The spider jumped back a couple of feet, faltered slightly, but stoutly advanced.

Several of the women spectators were still issuing little shrieks of alarm as befitted ladies faced with such a horror as a mechanical spider; although most of them had paused to watch the dashing Prince wield his blade with such a fluid line. The supple masculine movements distracted even the faintest of hearts from the dire threat of the automated arachnid.

On the other hand, the men, who at first wondered what Prince Azov was up to, were now kicking themselves because they had not thought up the amusing prank themselves. This innovative, dashing act would be talked about and toasted for days throughout the gaming h.e.l.ls and private clubs of the beau monde. Prince Azov was a buck of the first head! They avidly watched his movements.

The Prince made a bold lunge; catching the spider on the tip of his skilled blade, he adroitly flipped it onto its back.