“I thought I was your surprise.” He’d been surprised enough when she came through the door—but he’d kissed her, and one thing led to another, and they hadn’t even made it as far as the bed the first time. Now she sat up on the rumpled sheets, brushing one hand up and down his thigh and watching his face. “About your uncle’s plans. What do you think Olga makes of them?”

Roland looked pained. “She doesn’t get a say in it. She’s a naïve little dutiful contessa who’ll do as Angbard tells her parents to tell her.”

“If that’s what you and Angbard think, you may be in for a nasty surprise.” Miriam watched him carefully. “You don’t know her very well, do you?”

“I’ve met her a time or two,” he said, slightly puzzled.

“Well, I have just spent several days in her company and that little minx may be young and naïve, but she isn’t dumb. In fact, it’s lucky for me she’s smart and doesn’t want to marry you any more than you want her—otherwise I wouldn’t be here now.”

“What—”

“She nearly shot me.”

“Holy Crone Wife! What happened?”

“Let go! You’re hurting—”

“Sorry.” He sat up and gently put an arm around her shoulders. “I’m sorry. You caught me by surprise. Tell me all about it. Everything. Don’t leave anything out. My gods—I am so glad you’re here and safe now.” He hugged her. “Tell me everything. In your own time.”

“Time is the one thing I don’t think we’ve got.” She leaned against him. “Someone sent Olga an unwelcome gift—a rape-o-gram. Luckily for me, but unluckily for the thug concerned, Olga’s childlike enthusiasms include embroidery, violins, haute couture, and semiautomatic weapons. She found a commission in his back pocket, with my seal on it and a purse of coin sufficient to pay the kind of maidenprice Oliver might ask for someone he really didn’t like much. Roland, I didn’t even know I had a seal.”

“‘A seal.’” He looked away just as someone knocked on the door. Miriam jumped. “I’ll get it—”

“No! Wait!” Miriam scrabbled for her jacket, fumbled in its pockets. “Okay, now you can open the door. When I’m out of sight.”

Roland glanced at her as he tied his bathrobe. “It’s only room service, isn’t it?”

“I’m not taking any chances.” She crouched against the wall around the corner from the door, pistol cradled in both hands.

“Will you give that up? If it’s the DEA, we have very expensive lawyers who’ll have us both out on bail in about thirty microseconds.”

“It’s not the DEA I’m worried about,” she said through gritted teeth. “It’s my long-lost family.”