OK, now this is the end. I hope you enjoyed reading. PLEASE REVIEW this chapter and perhaps you'll have a new story soon-ish/eventually. Much love, Cat.

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Dimitri squinted slightly, his internal clock awakening him and his body instinctively preparing for the bright rays of sunlight it expected regardless of the fact they were in the lower deck of a ship. He tried pushing himself up on one arm, frowning slightly as he felt the soft weight resting against him, pushing him back down. Sighing, his voice still rough from sleep, he gently lifted her arm from where it crossed over his chest to encircle the back of his neck. Figuring out how to slide out of her grasp when he head was pillowed on his chest and her leg was thrown possessively over his was a bit more difficult, but he was managing it when her eyes suddenly opened, widened, and he clamped a hand over her mouth to hold back the shriek that he felt sure was about to emit from it. "Ow!" he whispered harshly, rearing back and sucking on the patch of flesh where she had bitten him.

"What were you doing?" she asked, accusation ripe in her voice.

"Nothing," he answered defensively. He should have known she would blame him, however unjustly, for her nocturnal maneuvers. "I wasn't the one who attached myself to you like a honeysuckle wrapping around a tree trunk while we were sleeping."

She pursed her lips. "Are you the tree in that analogy because I think you're flattering yourself if you think that…"

He was perched on the side of the bed and getting another good look at all of that impressive masculinity was playing havoc with her reason. "Yes?" he prompted.

"I…"

Dimitri leaned over and gently tucked a lock of hair behind her ear that had fallen over her cheek as she argued with him. Somehow he found his hand brushing against her cheek. He marveled at how someone who had lived life as she had could have such soft, delicate skin. It was as though it was something that could not be taken from her, a remnant of who she once was. At first he had been skeptical of her story about not knowing anything about her past…everyone remembered something, whether they wanted to or not, but in time he had come to believe her…come to think that perhaps it might not be so crazy to imagine her as a grand duchess after all. He was getting too involved, getting conned by his own con. He smiled wryly at his own foolishness.

"What?" she asked, unnerved by his strange behavior. She found she preferred it when they were arguing. The way he was with her now, how he had been with her when they danced, it was different, not altogether unpleasant, but…unsettling. It made her want things she couldn't have, things that were impossible.

His eyes were drawn to her lips as she spoke and he found he couldn't look away. Unable to help himself he lowered his head and kissed her gently, his hand rising to thread through her hair, exploring her mouth as though he had all the time in the world to coax a response from her. All the time in the world was far from necessary as she responded almost immediately, untutored but eager. He smiled against her lips, tilting her head back and slowing down the kiss, easing her fervor.

"Dimitri, I…"

Her sweet voice shook him from his reverie, making him realize just what he was doing, what he was jeopardizing by his actions. "That didn't happen. It would complicate things too much. Forget that happened. You just worry about memorizing, ah, relearning the details of Anastasia's life. Your life. You got that?" He left the cabin, the taste of her still searing his lips, the feel of her imprinted on his body.

Anya pressed a hand to her lips as she watched him go, tasting his kiss. It wouldn't be something she would forget easily. She wasn't quite sure she wanted to forget it. "Hmph." She had never let him dictate anything to her before and she certainly wasn't starting now. Licking her lips, she smiled to herself. Oh no, she wouldn't forget.