„And it tends to make a man’s juices rise, doesn’t it?“ He

turned to leave. „I thought I was too tired to enjoy myself

anymore in that fashion, but I suddenly feel refreshed. I

believe I’ll go back to the party. Good day, gentlemen.“

The door swung shut behind him.

Bentsen hesitated and then moved to seat himself in the

chair Marinov had indicated, trying to keep from looking at

the writhing figures on the bed. „This is most… unusual.“ He

accepted the glass of wine Mikhail Kuzdief handed him. „I

have a report to make and – “ The woman gave a low, keening

cry and his gaze flew to the bed before he could stop himself.

Good Lord, he was actually becoming aroused. He had never

been present at any of the bordello presentations of the type

Marinov had mentioned, but they couldn’t have been more

erotic than the scene he was witnessing now.

Sheer white draperies were drawn around the canopy bed,

but the veiling concealed very little from view. Sunlight

poured into the room from the long window across the

stateroom, piercing the filmy curtains, touching Nicholas

Savron’s hair with a nimbus of gold and highlighting the

powerful muscles of his naked bronzed body as he moved over

the woman beneath him.

He could see very little of the woman, but the prince was

really quite beautiful, Bentsen thought. He was immediately as

embarrassed by the adjective that had occurred to him as he

was by watching this intimate display. Yet, if he suppressed his

discomfort, it was rather like observing a fine statue come to

life. Savron was boldly masculine, his muscles developed to

sleek perfection, his shoulders broad, his waist slim, his

buttocks tight as they rippled with movement.

The prince was moving faster and Bentsen felt his own

desire mounting. It was impossible not to imagine oneself in

Savron’s place held tight within the woman’s body. He forced

his gaze away and glanced around the room, trying desperately

to distract himself. A thick plush beige carpet embossed with

cream roses, fine mahogany furniture, peach-colored velvet

draperies at the windows, and the canopy bed. A tufted velvet

cushioned bench at the foot of the bed matched the olive green

chair across the room. Murals painted on the polished pine

walls…

Murals! Bentsen’s eyes widened as he stared transfixed by

the pictures painted on the walls.

„Quite decadent, aren’t they?“ Marinov chuckled.

„Bassinger evidently enjoys several rather interesting

perversions and decided to have them given a certain

immortality. Nicky was very amused when he saw this cabin.“

The murals were both lewd and explicit. „His highness

appears to be easily amused.“

„Sometimes,“ Marinov drawled. „He finds most things

hard to take seriously these days.“ He smiled faintly as his

gaze narrowed on Bentsen’s flushed face. „Are you

experiencing… difficulty? I’m sure Nicky would understand if

you joined the party.“

„Certainly not.“ Bentsen casually put his hat on his lap.

„I’ll wait.“

Marinov shrugged. „As you like.“ He downed the last of

the wine in his glass. „I was only being courteous. Nicky

wouldn’t want – “

The woman Marinov had referred to as Liza gave a guttural

scream and Bentsen’s hand tightened on the stem of his goblet.

He kept his gaze fixed desperately on Marinov’s face.

„I believe it’s over.“ Marinov said. „More wine?“

„No, I have sufficient.“ Bentsen looked down into the clear

depths of his glass. He heard a rustle, a low masculine laugh,

and then the squeak of the bed. Mikhail moved past him

toward the bed, his stride incredibly graceful for one so large.

Bentsen took another sip of wine. When he finally looked back

at the bed, a dark-haired woman was buttoning the bodice of a

loose yellow silk robe and Nicholas Savron was slipping his

arms into a long robe of emerald velvet held by Mikhail. The

prince was a tall man, over six feet in height, but he looked

slight compared to the bearlike Kuzdief.

Nicholas didn’t bother to button the robe before he turned

to the woman, a radiant smile illuminating his face and lending

it a beguiling charm. It was the first time Bentsen had beheld

his face and he received a small shock. The man had the

indescribable beauty of a fallen angel, features nearly perfect

except for those broad Slavic cheekbones and the sensual

curve to his lower lip. The small imperfection was

overshadowed by eyes that were midnight-dark, full of

mystery and complexity. The man came closer to the ideal of

human beauty than anyone Bentsen had ever seen. My God,

no wonder the woman was gazing up at him with her lips

parted, as if sunning herself in his radiance. The prince took

her hand and kissed it lingeringly. „You were enchanting. I

look forward to the next time, Liza.“

„Yes… when?“ the dark-haired woman asked bemusedly.

„Soon.“ He kissed her hand again before releasing it and

stepping back. „Mikhail will escort you to your stateroom. I’ll

see you later in the saloon. Au revoir, ma chere.“

She blinked as if suddenly coming awake. „Uh, right.“ She

drifted toward the door. „Au rev – whatever you said.“

Mikhail ushered her out and closed the door.

„Well?“ Marinov rose to his feet.

Nicholas Savron made a face. „You win.“ He reached into

the pocket of his velvet robe and tossed Marinov a coin. „It’s

much more exciting watching such an exhibition than

performing in one. Not only did it disturb my concentration,

but I became so bored I could barely finish.“

„You never become that bored. Little Liza evidently found

it quite exciting.“

„Unless she was just pretending.“ The prince’s lips twisted

cynically. „The fair sex is miles beyond us poor males in the

practice of deceit.“

„I wouldn’t say that,“ Marinov drawled. „You treated that

pretty whore as if she were a princess. Isn’t that deceit?“

The prince laughed, his black eyes sparkling with

amusement. „Touchi. But remember, I sometimes treat

princesses as if they were whores. It all evens out.“ He

shrugged. „And besides, she had given me gifts. She asked

nothing from me this time, and a woman who asks nothing is

rare indeed. No doubt she will make up for it the next time.“

His glance shifted to Bentsen inquiringly. „And you are…?“

Bentsen stood up hurriedly. „Simon Bentsen. We’ve had

correspondence in regard to your investigation of your

cousin’s death.“

Nicholas Savron nodded, his smile fading. „I trust you’ve

come with more information than your previous emissaries,“

he said softly. „I’m becoming very impatient with your

company’s incompetence in this matter. It’s been over a year

since I received that letter from Durbin.“

„Arizona Territory is still wild country, and the Delaneys

are a powerful family,“ Bentsen said defensively. „We had to

move slowly.“

„At a snail’s pace. If I had been able to obtain the Pinkerton

Agency’s services, I doubt if they would have been as

inefficient.“

The words were biting, and Bentsen felt a chill ripple down

his spine. He considered himself a fair judge of men and he

knew he had never met one more dangerous than this velvet-

clad individual before him.

„That’s why I left St. Petersburg and came to New Orleans.

I decided it was necessary to hurry you along.“

Bentsen moistened his lips with his tongue. „I believe I

have the information you need.“