Passion, Purity and the Prince

by Annie West

  A dreadful giggle rose in her throat. The joke was on them because she didn’t fit the bill. She hadn’t quite made it to the exalted ranks of ex-lover.

  Now she probably never would.

  ‘Dr Connors.’ Alaric’s bow was formal. He straightened and paused, as if waiting for her to speak.

  ‘Your Highness.’ A curtsey was beyond her. It was all she could do to stay upright, knees locked.

  With a curt nod of acknowledgement he strode out the door, his bearing as rigid as a soldier on parade.

  The fantasy was over.

  It was time for Cinderella to leave.

  At the knock on the door to his suite Alaric paused in the act of shrugging off his jacket.

  Could it be her? Had she come to finish what they’d begun? His pulse rocketed, his body tensing in anticipation.

  He’d been torn between visiting her now, tonight, and listening to the voice of responsibility that warned she’d been out of her depth. He’d taken advantage. He’d been so intent on seducing her he’d dismissed the need for discretion to protect her or to allow her time to think.

  Yet he’d only come here to change from his uniform. He couldn’t keep away after that taste of her sweet body.

  Now she’d saved him the trouble!

  ‘Come.’

  It was an unpleasant shock to see his security chief enter instead. Disappointment surfaced and a disturbing premonition of bad news. The hair rose at his nape as he took in that sombre expression.

  ‘I’m sorry to interrupt, sir, but you gave instructions about Dr Connors’ phone calls. You need to hear this.’

  The jacket fell from Alaric’s hand to a nearby chair and he flexed his fingers. He didn’t want to hear this.

  The report on Tamsin had drawn a blank. The woman was so squeaky clean it was unbelievable. Recently Alaric had set aside his suspicion she might be connected with those trying to disrupt the government. He couldn’t believe it.

  After tonight he didn’t want to believe it. He could still taste her cherry sweetness, smell the rich scent of her arousal.

  He wanted to turn his back on whatever unpalatable truth awaited. But there was too much at stake.

  He couldn’t afford to trust his instincts when this was about far more than himself. What of the allegiance he owed Raul? If the document she’d found was genuine at the very least its public release had to be carefully managed. He couldn’t fail in this as well.

  ‘When was this call recorded?’ He scrubbed a hand over his face, wearier than he’d been in months.

  ‘Before the ball, sir. It was a while before I became aware of the contents. By then the festivities were under way and there was no time to inform you.’

  ‘Very well.’ Alaric gestured to a table, curiously unwilling to take the recording in his own hand. ‘Leave it.’

  His advisor looked as if he’d protest.

  Between them hung the knowledge that a stable monarchy was at the core of the nation’s wellbeing.

  ‘You can go,’ he ordered.

  There was only a fractional hesitation. ‘Yes, sir.’

  The door closed and Alaric was alone. He exhaled slowly, reminding himself of his responsibilities.

  Yet the imprint of Tamsin’s body branded him. He could almost feel her breasts crushed against him, her hands clutching his hair as he demanded and she reciprocated with a fervour that blasted his control to smithereens. Her scent was on his clothes, his hands. His body was taut with unsated need.

  No wonder it felt like betrayal when he took the CD and inserted it into the player.

  Long after the recording had ended he stood, staring out into the stark blackness of the night.

  Tamsin and Patrick. He knew of the other man from the investigative dossier, though it had been unclear how intimate the pair had been. Now he knew.

  They’d been lovers.

  His gut roiled queasily at the thought of Tamsin in the arms of another man. In his bed. Alaric’s jaw ached as he ground his teeth, trying to harness the overpowering need to do something rash, something violent. It was as well the other man was out of Alaric’s way, safe in England.

  The way he’d spoken to her in that call! He’d dumped her then expected her to welcome him back with open arms. Alaric registered a tiny flicker of satisfaction that she’d sent him packing. She’d adopted her most glacial schoolmistress voice to get rid of him.

  And still Alaric couldn’t obliterate the image of her naked in a stranger’s arms.

  So much for his fancy that her guileless yet fervent kisses were evidence of inexperience. He shook his head. He’d fallen for that buttoned up look, been swayed into believing her prickly reserve and her cover-up clothes meant she was an innocent.

  Which showed how she’d impaired his thinking!

  The woman was all combustible heat, a born seductress. She’d almost blown the back off his head, just with her cries of encouragement as he’d fondled her.

  Alaric planted his palms on the window sill, anchoring himself to the solid rock of the old castle. Belatedly he forced himself to confront the other implication of what he’d heard. He’d deliberately shied from it.

  The document she’d found appeared authentic. The date testing proved its age.

  He would be the next king of Maritz.

  Pain scored his fist as he pounded the sill. His gut hollowed. It was unthinkable! The nation deserved better than him.

  Bile rose in his throat and he bowed his head, knowing if he let it, the pain would engulf him. Yet even then he wouldn’t be free. He was destined to be alive, whole, unscathed. The ultimate punishment for his failure.

  The metallic scent of blood from his grazed fist caught his attention, forcing him to focus. His breathing thickened as he imagined breaking the news to Raul.

  Damn! His cousin should be monarch, not him.

  Already he was his brother’s usurper. How could he oust his cousin, too?

  But they had no choice. They’d both been raised to shoulder their responsibilities and face even the most unpalatable duty.

  Now, tonight, he had to make arrangements. Raul had to be updated and a second date test of the document organised. He’d have to call on more experts to help prove or disprove the chronicle. The royal genealogist had cautiously advised he couldn’t rule out the claim to the throne. But that wasn’t good enough. They had to be certain.

  Yet Alaric had a hollow, sinking feeling each test would only prove his succession.

  Fortunately the document was under lock and key. But there was still a danger news would get out before he’d found a way to manage the transition to monarch.

  His mind conjured an image of Tamsin and that journo. They’d been so intent they hadn’t heard him approach.

  Surely she hadn’t revealed anything to the newsman. Tamsin had too much integrity. Hadn’t she? Doubt sidled through his thoughts and he squashed it furiously.

  But finding her with the journo was too coincidental in the circumstances. Even if she was innocent, one unguarded word could shatter the fragile situation. She was so enthusiastic about her work she might inadvertently let something slip. Alaric must ensure that didn’t happen.

  He shook his head. He couldn’t go to her tonight and lose himself in the mindless ecstasy he craved. There were urgent plans to make.

  Alaric watched fat snowflakes drift past the window and an idea began to form. The need for Tamsin still gnawed at him, a constant ache. He’d gone beyond the point of no return and abstinence was no longer possible.

  He assured himself it was purely physical desire he felt. Anything more…complicated was impossible.

  He had to isolate her until arrangements were in place to deal with this mess. That would take time. But wasn’t time with Tamsin what he craved?

  There was benefit after all in coming from a long line of robber barons and ruthless opportunists.

  Kidnapping was virtually an inherited skill.

  Chapter Nine

  ‘GOOD mor
ning, Tamsin.’

  Her shoulders stiffened and heat crawled up her cheeks as that low voice wound its lazy way into her soul.

  Her assistant’s eyes widened as he looked over her shoulder then darted her a speculative glance. Castle gossip had obviously worked overtime since last night.

  Tamsin steadied herself against the archive room’s custom built storage units. Finally she turned. She’d been expecting a summons. Even so, facing the man who’d stripped her emotionally bare took all her willpower.

  She’d spent the night awake, trying to make sense of the evening’s events. For the first few hours she’d half expected Alaric to come to her once his duties were over. Despite her doubts and her pride she’d have welcomed him.

  It had only been as dawn arrived she’d realised he had no intention of visiting her. She preferred not to remember her desolation then.

  ‘Hello…’ She halted, her mouth drying as that familiar indigo gaze met hers. What should she call him? It had been Alaric until his steward had found them together. Then they’d been Dr Connors and Your Highness. The formality had been a slap in the face, even if it had been an attempt to hide what they’d been doing.

  Here he was in her domain, alone, without any secretaries or security staff. What did he want?

  Her blush burned fiery and she saw something flicker in his eyes. Awareness? Desire? Or distaste?

  Tamsin had no idea what he felt. Last night his urgency, his arousal and his words had convinced her he felt the same compulsion she did. But later doubts had crept in.

  ‘How are you today?’ His voice held only polite enquiry but she could have sworn she saw something more profound in his expression.

  Or was that wishful thinking?

  ‘Well, thank you.’ Again she hesitated. Despite his slightly drawn look, she wasn’t going to ask him how he was. ‘Have you come to see our progress?’

  Grimacing at her falsely bright tone, ignoring her staccato pulse, she gestured for him to accompany her to her small office space. She’d feel better knowing every word wasn’t overheard.

  ‘Partly.’ They reached her desk and Alaric spun round, his gaze intense. ‘Why? Do you want to tell me something?’

  Tamsin opened her mouth then shut it, frowning.

  Last night there’d been no opportunity to tell him about the dating of the manuscript. Alone with him in the antechamber all thought of the document had been blasted from her mind by Alaric and the things he made her feel.

  Her gaze skittered away as she recalled what they’d done. Even now desire throbbed deep in her belly and at the apex of her thighs. That persistent current of awareness eroded her efforts to appear unaffected.

  She should tell him about the test results, yet she hesitated. Tamsin believed him now when he said he didn’t want the crown. For whatever reason, the idea was anathema to him. It was a shame. She’d seen him in action these past couple of weeks and he’d make a terrific king. The easy way he related to people, truly listened to them. His sharp mind and ability to get things done. His need to help.

  She read his taut stillness as he awaited her response.

  Should she confirm his fears when in her own mind she wasn’t fully convinced? Despite Patrick’s news some things in the document still needed checking.

  Tamsin shrugged stiffly and tidied her desk.

  ‘The new staff have been worth their weight in gold. We’re making good headway.’

  ‘Excellent.’ He paused as if waiting. ‘And the chronicle? Anything interesting in your translations?’

  ‘No.’ It wasn’t lying. She hadn’t uncovered any more revelations.

  Alaric’s silence eventually made her look up. His expression was unreadable but there was a keenness, an intensity in his scrutiny that unnerved her.

  ‘I should have more information for you soon.’

  If she didn’t uncover anything to justify her niggle of uncertainty by the end of the week, two days away, she’d break the news about the UK tests.

  Strange, this sense that in being cautious she protected Alaric. She’d never met anyone so obviously capable, so patently self-sufficient.

  Yet she couldn’t shake the feeling that beneath it all, in this one thing Alaric was vulnerable.

  ‘Good.’ He reached out and fingered the spine of a catalogue.

  Tamsin watched the leisurely caress, recalling how he’d stroked her last night. The touch of those large hands had been so exquisite she’d thought she’d shatter if he stopped.

  She shivered and suddenly she was caught in the darkening brilliance of his eyes. Heat eddied low and spread in lush, drugging waves as she read his expression. The hungry yearning he couldn’t hide.

  Realisation slammed into her. Her heart soared.

  It was real! Not her imagination. He felt it, too.

  Tamsin struggled to inhale oxygen as the air thickened. Excitement revved her pulse, making her heart pound and her head swim. She swiped damp palms down her skirt. The heat inside ignited to a flash fire as his gaze followed the movement then rose, slow and deliberate, to her breasts, her mouth. Her nipples beaded and her lips parted eagerly as if he’d touched her.

  ‘I need to see you, in private.’

  ‘But last night…’

  ‘Last night I should never have started something I couldn’t finish.’ His mouth twisted in a tight smile that echoed the rigid expression he’d worn as he’d left her in the antechamber. ‘Do you really think a few stolen minutes hard and fast against a wall would have been enough?’

  Alaric’s words made her head swim. Or maybe it was the graphic image that exploded inside her brain. Tamsin’s mouth dried as she saw his eyes mirror her excitement and frustration.

  ‘And afterwards…’ he paused ‘…I couldn’t come to you.’ Before she could ask why he spoke again, his voice darkly persuasive, his eyes glittering. ‘But I’m here now.’

  Murmured voices approached from the main archive room.

  ‘I want you, Tamsin. Now. Away from interruption.’ His voice dropped to a deep resonance that brooked no refusal.

  Her breathing shallowed as she teetered on the brink. Part of her was shocked by his unvarnished words. But mostly she was thrilled. Abruptly she nodded, the movement jerky.

  She wanted this. The intensity of what was between them scared her, but she would not to hide from it.

  She’d done with suppressing her emotions and needs. She’d always love her work but it was no longer enough. She’d be a coward to turn her back on the marvellous feelings Alaric evoked. On the chance to live and experience the passion so blatant in his heavy-lidded look.

  Tamsin had no illusions. Whatever he wanted from her, whatever he offered, would be fleeting. But it was genuine. If she had no expectations, except for honesty between them, how could she be hurt?

  It was the lies that hurt. The soiled feeling of being used for ulterior purposes, as Patrick had used her.

  The unabashed heat in Alaric’s eyes, his single-minded focus were honest and headily seductive. Tamsin swallowed hard as excitement fizzed. After a life time of celibacy, she was ready to walk on the wild side.

  Alaric had made it clear he didn’t believe in love. At the time she’d felt sad for him but now she realised it was a bond between them. She didn’t trust herself to try what passed for love again and Alaric was immune to it.

  What they shared would be simple, straightforward and satisfying.

  ‘Fifteen minutes.’ His mouth barely moved as he murmured the instructions so her approaching colleagues couldn’t hear. ‘In the courtyard. Your warmest clothes.’

  With a searing look he spun on his heel and was gone, leaving Tamsin’s heart pounding like she’d run a marathon.

  Fifteen minutes. It seemed a lifetime.

  Alaric stamped his feet against the cold and refrained from glancing at his watch. She’d be here. He’d read her anticipation. This was one time Tamsin wouldn’t object to an ultimatum.

  His prim and proper Dr Conno
rs was eager for this too.

  He paused in the act of drawing on his gloves. Since when had he thought of Tamsin as ‘his’? A sixth sense warning feathered his backbone.

  Alaric ignored it.

  Tamsin wanted him. He wanted Tamsin. Simple.

  And the fact that his intentions weren’t completely straight-forward?

  Alaric would go quietly crazy waiting on the interminable processes to confirm the succession. There was nothing he could do. A move to transfer power would be premature and potentially dangerous. Yet he itched for action, to work off the tension coiling within.

  With Tamsin he could at least satisfy the lust eating him. This could be his last chance to enjoy freedom before the crown settled on his head. He’d make the most of every moment.

  If he became king there’d be no more spur of the moment adventures, no dangerous sports. No escape. He shied away from that line of thought.

  Tamsin wouldn’t be hurt. He’d ensure she was well satisfied.

  Despite her complex, fascinating personality, she seemed easy to read. He wanted to believe in her. Instinct said she was honest. Yet she’d kept from him the news of the chronicle’s age, confirmed last night by her ex-lover. His thoughts snagged on the other man and tension rose.

  He hadn’t missed her prevarication today, the way her gaze had slid away guiltily as he’d given the perfect opportunity to broach the news.

  He was determined to solve the riddle that was Tamsin Connors.

  Anticipation coiled in his belly. He acted for the country, but this plan promised personal satisfaction.

  Alaric drew on his gloves and glanced at the leaden tint just visible on the horizon. The sooner they left the better, or the forecast snowstorm would catch them too soon. He refused to endanger Tamsin.

  If he were alone he’d revel in pitting his strength against the elements. Seeking out danger was one of his few pleasures. Action for the thrill of it. For the breathless affirmation of life in a world of bleak uncertainty.

  Or perhaps, he realised in a sombre flash of awareness, in the expectation that eventually his luck would run out?