The spider, legs whirring ceaselessly, let out a hideous shriek of grinding gears.

A Hessian boot came stomping down with powerful force. A loud crunching sound was followed by bits and pieces of metal rolling across the floor.

The spider walked no more.

A huge cheer went up from the male members of the viewing audience, eager to get in on the fun. They eagerly surrounded the Prince with huzzahs all around, slapping him on the back.

Lilac watched the scene in total disbelief. The mutton head! Did no one, save her, see that he was not acting a charade? The birdbrain actually thought he was in a duel with a windup toy! She scanned the adoring crowd in disgust, her sights meeting her aunt's.

Lady Agatha knew.

The sharp look she returned to her niece was proof of it. Lilac raised her eyebrow in a mocking gesture meant to tell her aunt she had been right about the man all along.

Agatha shook her head slightly, her steel grey eyes piercing into her niece's. "You're wrong, you know. T'was a very gallant thing to do. This I tell you. Lilac-were it a small menace or a fifty-foot beast, he would have acted the same. He is a courageous man; one who would willingly give his life to protect those he cared for."

Lilac disagreed. "Nonsense! He is a buffoon."

"No." Agatha slowly lowered her viewing gla.s.s. "Every time we have met, I have watched his demeanor very closely. He is not like these shallow-pated bucks of the ton-disrespectful, empty, stiff collars hiding behind their dandy ways. His outward appearance cloaks a man of substance. Mark my words."

Lilac regarded the Prince consideringly. Her aunt was a very astute judge of character; it was the main reason she had never wed-she had refused to compromise on character. Had she been wrong about him?

Unfortunately, at that precise moment, Rejar threw back his head, laughing at something Lady Harcorte had whispered in his ear. Lilac's brows lowered. In this case, Auntie Whumples had judged wrongly. She stood by her initial impression: There was a lamp burning in the belfry but no one was home. The frosting was sweet but the cake beneath had no flavor.

A great wail of dismay interrupted her ruminations. Apparently Mr. Weeks had just discovered the fate of his beloved spider. In a rare display of pique, he tossed everyone out of his museum and slammed the doors shut, presumably to weep over the destruction of his star creation.

Lilac was just happy to be released so expeditiously from the Prince's company.

It was a happiness that was to be short-lived.

The following weeks it seemed that no matter where she went, there he was. It was almost as if the man possessed some uncanny ability to predict her movements. How did he do it?

At the Pantheon, he coincidentally had a seat next to them.

At Hatchard's Book Store, he just happened to run into them {although he didn't seem the least interested in purchasing any books}.

At soirees and fetes and routs she attended, he was always there. Demanding a dance. Sitting by her side at supper. Monopolizing her company. His single-minded pursuit became the talk of the ton.

What's more, small gifts started to appear outside her bedroom door each morning. Odd tokens, really; a length of pretty hair ribbon; a set of shiny carved b.u.t.tons; an intricate lace handkerchief; and once, a choice selection of sweet meats wrapped in a napkin.

When Lilac questioned the servants, no one would admit to doing the Prince's bidding; although she was sure he was behind it.

And if, by chance, she chose to remain at home on a certain day, he miraculously appeared on her doorstep to visit, to have tea, to bring her sweets, to insist she join him for a walk in the gardens, to beseech her to read aloud to him. Basically, to annoy her.

Thankfully, he had not repeated the embarra.s.singly forward behavior that he had displayed on their disastrous ride in Hyde Park.

Instead, he seemed merely to observe her as if she were some mysterious puzzle he needed to solve. She could only wonder when he would figure out whatever it was that so perplexed him.

Maybe then he'd leave her the b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l alone!

She did not make a very good enigma.

The sooner the man realized it, the sooner he'd be on his way.

Rejar gazed up at the underside of the canopy covering Lilac's bed.

Not that he was really paying attention to the small winged figures of chubby, naked children who, for some unknown reason, cavorted across the bizarre fabric with tiny bows and arrows.

He sat back against the headboard, one arm thrown negligently over a raised knee, hair trailing down his back. There was much on his mind.

The hunt was progressing at the slowest of paces.

This was irksome to say the least.

Over his outstretched arm, he idly gazed at Lilac lying beside him. She was curved into his hip, sleeping comfortably away without a care in the world. He sighed disgustedly.

There was not going to be any relief from that quarter in the near future.

Why was it taking so long?

He had put his best effort forth to entice her into a liaison with him. Lilac was proving to be an extremely difficult quarry. He was frustrated with the hunt, among other things ...

It had been too long for him.

Familiars did not go this long without their pleasures; at least, he did not think they did. Not having been raised on the Familiar world of M'yan, he could not say he was positive of it, but it seemed to be an accurate a.s.sessment. In the times when he had visited his mother's people, he had not noticed anyone there depriving themselves of pleasure for very long.

This was especially true of his older blood relative Gian Ren, who appeared to be most proactive in seeking out his enjoyments. Indeed, one season when he was visiting with Gian, they had spent entire weeks doing nothing but carousing.

It was expected of younger male Familiars.

And when you found something especially enticing, it was good to play with it awhile. Every Familiar knew this.

His sights shifted to Lilac again. He had played here a long time, yet there seemed to be no prize forthcoming.

He exhaled noisily.

The idea that he might give up on his quest with Miss Devere did not even enter into his Familiar mind. What he did ponder was why he wasn't pursuing other women in the interim.

He drummed his fingers on the bed cover.

There had been plenty of likely candidates these past weeks; women who had made it quite plain to him that they would welcome his s.e.xual advances. Yet, he had done nothing. Or more to the point, his body had done nothing. The uncomfortable thought caused him to impatiently toss his hair back over his shoulder.

Perhaps the reason he did not was that he could not.

It was a horrifying theory. Was there something physically wrong with him? Trying to overcome his apprehension, he gazed down at himself.

It looked normal, but who could tell?

Many strange things had happened to him since he had come to this wretched world.

There was only one way to be sure.

He nodded to himself, convinced he was on the right course. Difficult though it may be, he would have to test his theory out. The dual-colored eyes strayed speculatively to Lilac.

He had promised himself he would not do this again, but this was a dire situation. By Aiyah, he was grateful she had broken off from his kiss before he had entered her mouth! If she had not, he would not be able to attempt this now. Then where would he be?

How could he pleasure women if he was useless? And what good was a Familiar who could not pleasure women! It would be a most terrible thing. So terrible that even Lilac might approve of his decision if she could understand the great service she was about to render...

In the span of five minutes, the Familiar had not only made a case for a little seduction but managed to altruistically rationalize it as well. If his brother Lorgin had been there to witness it, he would have laughed his head off.

Before he could talk himself out of it, or, more accurately, see reason, Rejar quickly woke Lilac up with a nudge to her backside with his naked hip. As soon as her eyes opened, he entranced her.

"Your Highness," she said sleepily, yawning, "what are you doing in my bed?" In her present state it seemed like a perfectly normal question.

Rejar brushed his mouth against her creamy cheek. "At least call me Nickolai, souk-souk."

"Mmm ..." Responding to his caress. Lilac nuzzled against his face, breathing in the accustomed cinnamon-bayberry scent. In her sleepy entranced state, he was as warm and snuggily as her favorite old quilt.

"You feel so nice, Nickolai..." She cuddled against him, slumberously wrapping her arms about his neck.

It was a well-known fact that Familiars were excellent sleep-mates-being affectionate, cozy companions.

But he did not want her cozy just yet.

He removed her arms from around his neck. "Not now, Lilac."

Gathering both her wrists in one hand, he rolled partly over her. "I must conduct a test. It is a very serious thing, so you must be willing to help me." His heated sights fastened on her full lips. "Will you?" he whispered.

Lilac stared up at him, captivated by his molten look. "Yes," she breathed, secure in the knowledge this was only a dream. "I believe I shall." Rejar released the breath he held. Lilac wondered at his tenseness. Then, as if he could not help himself, the Prince dropped his head and skimmed her mouth with his own. His loving action caused his hair to slide forward; the long strands teased at her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Lilac decided she liked the feel of it sliding against her; she enthusiastically waited to see what would follow.

She did not have to wait long.

With his free hand, Rejar began to undo the front ties of her nightrail, his dexterous fingers making fast work of the task. When he was done, Lilac was uncovered to her waist.

Rejar wholly examined the milky white skin, the beautiful full b.r.e.a.s.t.s with their small pink tips, the graceful curve of her waist.

A tremor raced through him. It was a good sign. Before he had the chance to think about what he was actually doing, he grabbed a fistful of the material gapping at her waist. With one powerful tug the material split down the center, revealing her fully to his gaze.

She was exquisite. Even more beautiful than he had imagined.

A second tremor raced through him. His lips found the tender plane of her stomach first. There, he lingered in reverent acknowledgement, rubbing his face against the smooth, silky skin.

The gentle touch of the Prince's mouth upon her flesh made Lilac flinch. It was a bit ticklish, she thought, bemused. However, when his Highness began a litany of tiny kisses and started to lick her with fluctuating sweeps of his wet tongue, she relaxed, sighing in delight. Nickolai was making her feel tingly right to her toes. For once she was not irritated with him. She had found something in her dreams that the Prince excelled at. In fact, he was outstanding.

Her enchanted response was exactly what Rejar had been hoping for. This was proving an excellent idea! Not only was he testing himself, he was also inflaming her. Moreover, as far as his own supposed problem was concerned, he need not have worried. That fear had been laid to rest almost immediately.

There was absolutely nothing wrong with him.

He grinned against her stomach, giving her a little love bite.

Nothing wrong at all.

Rejar continued with his enjoyable meanderings. He was confident now that she was so attuned to him subconsciously, her arousal would carry over into her waking state. And he definitely wanted her to consciously a.s.sociate him with arousal. So, he teased her navel with a swirl of his tongue. Then, using just the moist tip, he prodded the small indentation delicately.

Lilac was enchanted with the provocative caress. When she lifted her hips slightly to give him better access, she felt the vibration of his low laugh against her skin.

It was working. Rejar nibbled the underside of her plump breast. All she had needed was a little time to adjust to him, he marveled. Lilac made an approving sound in her throat and impatiently rubbed the plane of her torso against his face.

Perhaps it was working too well.

He could only continue to inflame her so long as he could control the situation. It was important she understand this. Rejar stopped his love play to look up at her with narrowed eyes.

"You will not touch my hair, souk-souk," he warned her sternly.

"If you say so, Nickolai." She all but panted her response.

Satisfied she understood his direct decree, he nodded curtly to her before resuming.

He pressed his lips against the curve of her upper thigh, following a path to the inside; here he hesitated briefly, noting the small, kitten-shaped birthmark. His lips curved upward at the delightful surprise.

He could not help but cover it with his lips, taste it with his mouth, love it with his tongue.

His free hand glided seductively up her leg, over her rounded hip, and aside, to softly stroke the small of her back. The sensitive spot responded well to his expert touch; she tried to bring herself closer to him.

Consumed with the taste, touch, feel, and scent of her, Rejar, poised at a very enticing crossroads, took a chance and very slightly opened his special sensual senses to her. It was something he had avoided with her in the past for obvious reasons.

Ah, but she, was so sweet!

She was like the rarest of treats, like spun crystal!

She was... untouched.

Rejar froze.

It could not be! Yet, it had to be-Familiar senses did not deceive. She had never been touched by the hand of another man! Never been kissed or stroked or petted or...

He shook his head to clear it. She was an adult woman-who had ever heard of such a thing? He remembered his facetious jest many weeks ago concerning women on this planet not engaging in s.e.xual play, and he wondered if he had somehow jinxed himself.

What was he to do now? He released her hands from his hold.

Beads of perspiration dotted his upper lip. There was more.

Much more.

When he had opened his sensual senses to her for the first time, he had also discovered something else. Something totally unexpected.

She was his.