Free You Belong to Me by Johanna Lindsey

fur-edged coat that was wrapped and belted around a lean waist showed a military physique that she found a bit disconcerting. Her father was taller and much stockier, but the whipcord strength of the man who stood before her was somehow more intimidating.
    But Alexandra was not one to show her fear to anyone if she could help it, and she wasn’t actually afraid of the man. He wasn’t her husband, after all, merely her betrothed—and soon he wouldn’t even be that.
    “I’m sorry I stood there like a half-wit, Count Petroff,” she told him matter-of-factly, “but I was a bit—surprised. After all, it’s not ever day that I see a man who’s prettier than I am.”
    She vaguely heard some chuckles from the men standing behind him and from the blue-eyed man she had first thought was her betrothed. She was quite disappointed that he wasn’t Count Petroff, for it would have been far easier to deal with him. She gave him a brief, wistful glance that he must have misinterpreted—he was finally looking her way long enough to see it—for it wiped the humorous expression from his face.
    Returning her attention to the golden Adonis, she noted his heightened color. It was amazing how she always managed to produce that effect in men once she opened her mouth—at least in men who didn’t know her. She hadn’t intended to shock him with her frankness, but she was unaccountably pleased that she’d managed it anyway. And having gotten rid of his grin at least, she felt more in control.
    Remembering his question, she was about to introduce herself when, between one thought and the next, she also recalled what he’d called her. “Sweetheart?” Without knowing who she was? She almost laughed then, as she realized that the man had been flirting with her, or rather, with an unknown female, and on the doorstep of his betrothed’s house. And that toldher more about his character than she was likely to learn from any conversation with him.
    She didn’t laugh, but she couldn’t quite keep the corners of her mouth from turning up. This really was a stroke of luck for her. She couldn’t wait to tell her father about this paragon of honor and virtue he’d hoped to saddle her with.
    She considered toying with him for a moment, just to see how far he could bury himself before she revealed who she was. It was actually very tempting, not that she really knew how to toy with a man. But she wasn’t going to resort to trickery when honesty would serve just as well.
    She was still grinning slightly, however, when she said, “Let me introduce myself, Count. I’m Alex Rubliov.”
    “Alex—as in Alexandra?”
    “Yes.”
    The moment he had her answer, his whole demeanor changed. His honey-gold eyes traveled down her long length, but this time they were filled with utter contempt, with a heavy dose of disgust thrown in. And Alexandra couldn’t have been more pleased.
    To prove it, she gave him a dazzling smile that, unbeknownst to her, made him catch his breath. “It’s rather obvious that neither of us is what the other expected, but don’t despair. As it happens, I don’t want to marry you.”
    Since she’d just taken the words right out of Vasili’s mouth, so to speak, he was rendered nearly speechless. “You don’t?”
    “Not even a little,” she reassured him. “But I am sorry you had to waste your time in coming here. You must insist that my father make it up to you when you break our betrothal. And if I don’t see you again before you leave, well, it’s been—interesting meeting you.”
    With that, she swung around and appeared to leap into the saddle of the white stallion, she mounted him so fluidly. Horse and rider then trotted off around the corner of the house, a brute of a Cossack following behind them.
    It wasn’t often that Vasili Petroff was dumbfounded, particularly by a woman. This one didn’t look back once in his direction. She’d said her little speech, then seemed to have summarily dismissed him from