She would have a quick look and then return to the ballroom. Walking briskly, she’d stepped past the first set of hedges when a hand latched on to her elbow, yanking her into a narrow arbor.

“Excuse me,” she began and then stopped when she recognized her companion with a wave of nausea. “Lord Talbot, this is untoward.”

The earl smiled. “Is it? Engaged couples have secret trysts all the time.”

“We are not engaged.”

“I beg to differ,” he said, his body blocking the exit.

She gritted her teeth—she would barrel through him if she had to. “You can beg all you like,” she said. “Agreements change all the time. You do not own me.”

“Not yet,” he said, stepping closer. “But I will have my way, one way or another.”

Sarani did not move, squaring her shoulders and refusing to cower before this man’s aggression. “Tell me something, did you ever see the fighting exhibitions at my father’s court in Joor, Lord Talbot? The ones with the knives.”

He stopped moving. “Yes. What of them?”

“Would you be surprised if I told you one of the masked fighters was me?”

She lifted bladeless palms and whirled them in a complicated but recognizable pattern for anyone who might have viewed the matches. Talbot’s throat bobbed, eyes widening. Sarani grinned. In this public setting, she would use her faithful kukri blades only as a last resort. She was trying not to cause any further scandal, if she could help it.

She stepped forward until they were nearly nose to nose. “You are a gutless coward, accosting a woman in the dark.”

His hands flew out to capture hers, his grip punishing. “I am a peer of England.”

“Good for you,” she said. In response, his fingers tightened painfully. Sarani hefted her knee, but her stupid crinoline frame was in the way, blocking the blow from connecting where it would hurt him the most.

“Do you think anyone will care about you?”

Rhystan would. Ravenna would. The French marquis would. And maybe there were others. There were always exceptions to every rule and people who might not be so close-minded or judgmental. She lifted her chin. “Yes.”

“Vikram didn’t,” he drawled, squeezing the slender bones of her wrists. “He was all too willing to barter you like chattel for a crown. Why do you think he sent a man to find you? You were part of the agreement; no princess, no prince.” Sarani inhaled, but the earl went on. “Eventually, I would have relieved him from his position and annexed your little state. But I have one thing to claim first…my bride.”

“I will never be yours. Release me, Lord Talbot.”

“I’d do as the lady says,” a voice said from behind them.