“No!” She struggled wildly.

“Lie still, damn you.”

Alex leaped on the man’s back, his thin arms encircling his neck.

“Run, Alex,” Marianna cried. “Run!”

She felt the man above her tense. “My God!” he muttered, and then added in disgust, “Children!” He leaped to his feet, throwing off Alex’s hold. Marianna scrambled to her knees and reached for the candelabra she had dropped.

“Marianna!”

She looked up to see her brother struggling in the arms of the man. She lunged up at him, wielding the candelabra, but Alex was immediately lifted as a shield between them.

“Oh no, not again,” he said grimly, this time in Montavian. “I will not permit a second assault on my person. I have other plans for my manhood.”

As all men did. She wished she had a sword to cut his off. “Let him down,” she said fiercely.

“Presently.” He must be very strong; he was holding Alex as if he were weightless. “But only if you promise not to attack me.”

“Put him down.”

“Or?”

“I’ll find a way to hurt you again.”

“Ah, another threat. You’re a little young to deal in threats.”

She took a step closer.

He stiffened, his wary gaze on the iron weapon in her hands. “Keep your distance.” As she stopped, he relaxed a little. “One of the first things you should learn is that the man who possesses the prize dictates the terms. Now, I seem to have captured an object you value.” He backed away from her a few paces. “He’s very small, isn’t he? Small children are so easy to hurt.”

Fear ripped through her. “I’ll kill you if you-”

“I have no intention of harming him,” he interrupted. “Not if you don’t force me to defend myself.”

She studied him. His thick dark hair had come loose from its queue and framed a long face that was all planes and hollows. His straight black brows slashed over startling green eyes, and his nose reminded her of the beak of an eagle. It was a hard face, a face as inflexible as stone, the face of a man who could be cruel.