He scooped her up, carried her to the couch, and deposited her on it. Squeezing in next to her, he pulled her close. Raisa pulled his linen shirt free of his breeches, sliding her hands underneath. They lay together in a muddle of velvet and silk. Raisa’s fingers brushed Han’s muscled shoulders and back, down to the curve at the base of his spine, mapping the evidence of old hurts.

Han’s lips grazed her skin, giving her the flaming shivers, his caresses wilting what remained of her resistance.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, kissing a sensitive place behind her ear. “I didn’t mean to do this. It’s just…really hard to resist when you—”

A knock came at the door, and they jerked apart. It was the door to the corridor this time. Han rolled to his feet in a heartbeat, straightening his clothing and combing his fingers through his tousled hair.

Raisa sat up reluctantly. She couldn’t help thinking Han was used to quick getaways from interrupted trysts.

The tapping was repeated. “Your Highness?” a woman called. “May I bring your supper in?”

It took Raisa a moment to get her voice going. “Just leave it outside,” she said, her speech thick and strange.

After a moment’s hesitation, the woman said, “I can’t leave your supper in the corridor, Your Highness. You know it isn’t safe.”

“I’m not hungry,” Raisa murmured to Han, raising both hands to stay him when he turned toward the door to his quarters.

Han shook his head. “I’ll go,” he whispered, leaning so close that his warm breath tickled her skin. “I was right to start with. This isn’t a good idea, and it won’t happen again.” He moved silently to the connecting door. “Good night, Your Highness,” he mouthed. He stepped through and closed it behind him with a soft click.

Bones, Raisa thought, frustration like a stone in her middle. Nobody was acting like they were supposed to.

She stood, rearranged her gown, and waited for the blood to stop lurching through her veins. Outside the glow of the firelight, shadows shifted in the gloom, light reflecting off golden eyes and white teeth.

Of course, she said to herself miserably. A danger to the line. Everything I do or want is a danger to the line.

She stepped to the door, unlatched it, and took several paces back. “All right,” she called to the servants outside, her voice nearly normal. “You can bring it in.”

The door swung open, revealing a tall, broad woman in an ill-fitting blue uniform, carrying a tray covered in a napkin. Someone she didn’t know, Raisa realized. The soldier’s eyes swept the room quickly, then she stepped forward and to the side, revealing two men behind her, armed with swords.