by Annie West
‘There was a girl,’ he said, eager now to get this over. ‘A beautiful girl. I first noticed her at a function when I saw Felix watching her.’ He hefted a breath into tight lungs. ‘Two days later she was in my bed.’ Another of the stream of women he’d used to lose himself for a while.
Tamsin’s body stiffened. Grimly he ploughed on, knowing by the time he’d finished she’d never want to look at him again. He ignored the shaft of pain that caused.
‘I didn’t love her. I never pretended to. And she…I think my reputation appealed. She wanted the thrill of being with someone notorious.’ He grimaced. ‘It was mutually satisfying. Till Felix discovered us and I found out she was the woman he’d already fallen for. The one he’d wanted to marry after a proper courtship.’
Tamsin gasped. ‘You didn’t know?’
‘I knew he planned to marry but I assumed it would be an arranged marriage. He hadn’t mentioned a name and frankly I wasn’t interested.’ Alaric paused, forcing out the truth. ‘But I knew he was attracted to Diana. Most men were.’
Again he wondered if his pleasure in winning her had been fuelled in part by the need to best Felix. To prove that in this one thing, the ability to get any woman he wanted, Alaric was superior.
Could he have been so shallow? So jealous? What did that say about him?
He’d never before thought himself envious of Felix. But now he couldn’t banish telling doubts about his motives.
‘Felix was furious when he found out. I’d never seen him like it.’ Alaric remembered not only his anger, but his pain. The disillusionment of finding out the woman he’d put on a pedestal had sullied herself with his scapegrace brother. ‘He accused us of betraying him.’ That memory alone crucified Alaric. Felix was the only person with whom he’d been close. The only person who’d ever really cared.
‘And Diana?’
‘She was angry she’d made such an error. She hadn’t realised he intended marriage. She didn’t love him but she liked the notion of being a princess.’
‘So what happened?’
Typically, Tamsin was intelligent enough to sense there was more. He let his arm tighten round her soft body, knowing it would probably be for the last time.
‘Felix changed. He became short-tempered, not just with me, but everyone. He grew erratic, increasingly unreliable and he began drinking heavily.’ The memory of that time, and his inability to stop his brother’s slide into depression, chilled Alaric.
‘One day I found him climbing into my sports car, determined to drive himself to a function. He reeked of whisky.’
‘Oh, Alaric.’ Tamsin’s palm flattened on his chest and he covered it with his own.
‘I couldn’t stop him but I couldn’t let him go. I jumped in just as he accelerated out of the courtyard.’ He drew a deep breath, letting the familiar, corrosive pain claim him. ‘We argued.’ And each word of Felix’s accusations was branded in Alaric’s memory, reinforcing every doubt he’d ever harboured about himself.
‘Felix lost control on a hairpin bend and I grabbed the steering wheel. We didn’t make it around the next curve. We went into the embankment.’ His breath grew choppy and sweat prickled his skin. ‘I’d buckled my seat belt and the airbag saved me. Felix wasn’t wearing his belt. He died instantly.’
Alaric forced himself to relinquish his hold on Tamsin, knowing she’d move away now.
Tamsin held her breath, shocked at his story. Stunned by the blankness in Alaric’s voice. How much he’d suffered! He’d hidden it all behind that charming mask.
It was obvious he’d loved his brother. Given the little she knew, perhaps Felix was the only person who’d ever cared for Alaric.
‘I’m so sorry.’ The words were pathetically little.
‘So am I. Every day. But that doesn’t change the fact I’m to blame.’
‘Don’t say that!’
‘If I hadn’t seduced Diana, none of it would have happened. If I’d stopped him—’
‘If Diana had loved him back, nothing you did could have caused a rift between them.’
There was silence for a moment as if Alaric considered the idea for the first time. Then he shook his head.
‘I should have been more careful, less eager to get her into my bed.’
Tamsin couldn’t argue with that. ‘Your brother blamed you because he was disappointed. It wasn’t your fault he loved someone who didn’t return his feelings.’
‘But he didn’t need me undermining him. He deserved my loyalty. I should have been there to help him. Protect him from himself when he turned to drink. I couldn’t even do that. I failed him when he needed me.’ His voice hollowed and Tamsin’s throat ached as she stifled tears at his pain.
From the first she’d noticed his tendency to set high standards for himself. Look at the way he’d talked about taking her virginity.
Did that overblown sense of responsibility come from being told constantly by his father that his best wasn’t good enough? She sensed the weight Alaric bore didn’t stem solely from tragic recent events, but from unhealed scars he’d carried a long time.
It didn’t surprise her that he wasn’t thinking clearly. He’d had one shock piled on another.
Alaric’s bitter laughter shredded the silence. ‘And here I am, about to take the crown. To do my duty and promise to serve and protect! How can I be sure I won’t fail again?’
Tamsin’s heart broke at his pain and self-doubt. He truly didn’t see how capable and competent he was.
No wonder he spent his time dallying with socialites and risking his neck in extreme sports. No wonder he never wanted to be still. He was running from this trauma.
Fury rose in her that those closest to him hadn’t seen this. That they hadn’t helped him.
Her mind boggled at the weight of guilt he bore. How did he function, much less put on that devil-may-care air? He believed he’d failed his duty to his comrades and his brother. That he was to blame.
That explained why he was appalled at becoming responsible for a nation. And why he didn’t want to get close to anyone. He felt himself unworthy. She’d bet, apart from his brother, his comrades were the closest he’d come to a family.
Tamsin breathed out a huff of relief that she hadn’t told him the chronicle’s date had been verified. Wild horses wouldn’t drag that from her now.
‘Oh, darling.’ She pressed closer, kissing his chin, neck and face. ‘You have to forgive yourself. Believe me, you’re a victim too.’
He shook his head. ‘Tell that to men who came home scarred. Or the mother of an innocent boy who died.’
Tamsin framed his face with her palms. His pain tore at her and she couldn’t bear it. ‘Your ego is out of control if you think you caused all that! Your brother would be horrified to know you blamed yourself. Do you really think he’d want that? You’re a good man, Alaric. I’d trust you with my life.’
‘Sweet Tamsin.’ He raised a hand and brushed a furious tear from her cheek. ‘Don’t waste your tears on me.’
‘I’ll cry if I want to.’ He was so stubborn! So eager to shoulder guilt.
Yet his loyalty and honour were part of what made him the man she cared for. The man she loved.
Knowledge sideswiped her with a force that left her speechless. Somehow, without her realising, he’d changed from fantasy prince to the man she loved.
Her heart gave a massive jerk and thundered out of control. Her hands shook against his lean cheeks.
She’d thought she risked her pride in coming here, only to discover she’d risked much more.
She’d given her heart to Alaric.
A man with no thought of long term relationships. Who distrusted love. Yet for now even that couldn’t dim the incandescent glow filling her.
‘We can talk about this later. Now you need sleep.’
‘I’ll move to another room.’
‘Don’t even think about it! I’ll just follow you.’ She slid down into the bed. ‘Shut your eyes and rest. I’ll stay
awake. You won’t hurt me.’
‘I could get used to you trying to dominate me,’ he murmured in a pale imitation of his usual teasing. ‘I’m too tired to resist.’
His breath was warm on her skin, his hand splayed possessively at her waist as he tucked her close. But there was nothing sexual about the way they lay. This was about comfort and peace and love.
Even if he didn’t believe in it, Tamsin hoped Alaric felt the love drenching her skin, filling her heart, wrapping itself around him.
Later, she knew, her predicament in falling for this man would devastate her. But for now it filled her with a peace she’d never known.
Chapter Thirteen
THE pink flush of dawn lit the sky as Tamsin crept downstairs. Though Alaric had slept for hours she didn’t want to wake him.
She shivered and pulled the silk wrap tighter as she reached
the ground floor. The lingering warmth from the central heating made the chill bearable.
Yet nothing dispelled the cold squeezing her heart. How could she even begin to help Alaric?
Or herself. Her situation was impossible.
She was in love.
With Prince Alaric of Ruvingia.
A man with no history of commitment. A troubled man who scorned the notion of falling in love. A man so far beyond her sphere any idea of a relationship was laughable.
Alaric was used to the best in everything. Could he ever settle for someone as ordinary as her? It was ridiculous to hope, but she couldn’t stop herself.
Would he ever tie himself to a woman? Especially a woman who wasn’t witty or glamorous or well born?
She’d come here knowing she was a short term diversion. At first the bright promise of his offer had been enough. Now she realised she’d been dragged out of her depth.
She loved him.
Tamsin hugged the bitter-sweet knowledge to herself, alternately thrilled and horrified.
Yet as she’d lain, overwhelmed by the realities she faced, part of her brain had pondered the one useful thing she could do: prove once and for all if Tomas’s chronicle was legitimate. Lately she’d harboured doubts. Were they well founded or, as she’d begun to suspect, an excuse not to break the news that would take Alaric even further from her?
She thrust open the library door, flicked on the light and headed for the desk. She worked best with pen and paper. Perhaps if she listed her concerns she’d get them straight in her head.
She’d happily give up the kudos of rewriting history with her find if it meant bringing Alaric peace of mind.
He was more important than any professional coup or the chance to rub Patrick’s nose in her success. Nothing mattered more than his peace and happiness.
How much had altered these past months!
Despite her selfish fear about the yawning void it would open between them, Tamsin couldn’t help regretting that he didn’t want the crown. The respect and admiration between Alaric and his people was tangible even if he didn’t see it. He’d make an excellent monarch with his dedication to duty and practicality. If only he could see beyond his pain.
She opened a drawer and found a notepad. She withdrew it then paused, an envelope catching her eye.
Tamsin Connors. It was addressed to her?
Her brow puckered as she reached for it. No stamp. No address. Just her name. What did it mean? A trickle of sensation slid down her spine.
‘Tamsin!’
Startled, she turned to find Alaric filling the doorway, his face pale and set. Her gaze traversed his perfect, muscular torso and a familiar weakness hit her knees. He wore only jeans, zipped but not buttoned.
No man had a right to look so magnificent! Her pulse gave a queer little leap and hurried on.
‘What are you doing?’ The hoarse edge to his voice reminded her of his revelations last night. She moved towards him then stopped, uncertain.
‘I came to find pen and paper. I had an idea about the chronicle. I wanted—’
‘Come back to bed.’ He held out a hand, his eyes boring into hers as if to force her to obey. Despite his outstretched hand it wasn’t an invitation. It was an order.
‘What’s wrong?’ The room hummed with tension.
‘Nothing. I just want you with me. This can wait.’ He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
‘I’ll be up soon,’ she assured him. ‘I only want to jot some points. Besides, I found this.’ She looked at the envelope, frowning as she read her name again.
Before she realised what he intended, Alaric had crossed the room. He stood before her, his palm open as if inviting her to pass the envelope over.
‘Leave that. It’s not important.’ His clipped tone surprised her and she stiffened.
Tamsin looked from those blazing indigo eyes and the stark lines accentuating the stern set of Alaric’s mouth to the envelope in her hand. A frisson of foreboding rippled through her. Suddenly the envelope didn’t seem quite so innocuous. She wanted to drop it on the desk but her fingers locked tight.
‘Why don’t you want me to open it?’
Silence. He moved close but didn’t touch her. That tiny distance made her feel colder than the chilly dawn air.
‘Because it’s not for you. It’s about you.’
For what seemed an age Tamsin stood, unmoving, staring blankly at her printed name. About her?
Realisation, when it came, rocked her onto her heels.
‘You mean an investigation? Of me?’ For the first time she noticed the date under her name. The day they’d left the castle. Alaric must have brought it with him.
Her head jerked up and their eyes met. His were blank.
Tamsin’s heart tripped. She’d grown used to the other Alaric. Warm, generous and fun loving. Caring. She’d almost forgotten the cool control he could summon at will.
‘Yes,’ he said at last. ‘I had you investigated.’
Something squeezed around her lungs and it took a few moments to catch her breath. ‘What’s in it?’
‘I don’t know. I haven’t read it.’
‘Do you have dossiers on every employee?’
It must be a routine security check. But why was it done so recently rather than before she’d come to Ruvingia?
‘Not like that.’
Tamsin’s heart plummeted. She slipped her finger under the flap and drew out the papers.
Alaric didn’t move a muscle. His eerie stillness only increased her fear.
The first page puzzled her. It was about the journalist at the ball. It was only when she turned the page and read a note that there was no evidence of previous contact between him and Tamsin that she understood.
The paper fluttered to the floor.
Other pages were about her and Patrick. Heat rose in Tamsin’s cheeks as she recognised office gossip about them. How could Alaric have ordered someone to pry into her life?
‘Why didn’t you ask, if you wanted to know about the men in my life?’ Her mouth twisted bitterly.
Alaric was the only man in her life! Somehow, now, the idea didn’t thrill her so much.
‘Do you normally vet prospective lovers?’
Alaric shook his head. ‘It’s not like that.’
‘How did you know about Patrick anyway? I didn’t mention him to anyone here.’ She turned to the last page. What she found turned her heart to a solid lump of ice.
‘You had my phone tapped!’ She could barely believe it. ‘Surely that’s not legal, even if you are the prince!’
‘It is, if it’s a matter of state security.’
‘State security! I’m a curator, not a spy!’
‘You turned up out of the blue—’
‘You invited me here, remember?’
‘At a volatile time,’ he said as if she hadn’t interrupted. ‘There’s no king. Parliament is in recess till after the coronation, which by law can’t take place for several months. It’s a time ripe for factions building on past dissension to try toppling the democracy.’
He
looked utterly implacable and something inside Tamsin shrivelled. Gone was her tender, vulnerable lover.
‘Suddenly you appear, claiming to have proof that I, not Crown Prince Raul, am the legitimate heir. Can you imagine how catastrophic it might be if that news reached the wrong people before we had time to prepare?’
Tamsin stepped behind the desk, needing space to clear her head. Her eyes widened as she saw Alaric’s severe expression. The tiny voice that cried this was all a mistake fell silent under the impact of his stare.
‘You thought I lied about what I found?’ The edges of the room spun as she grappled with the depths of his distrust.
‘I acted in the interests of my country.’ His tone was stiff, as if he was unused to being challenged.
‘You thought that and still you took me to bed?’
No, Tamsin. That’s why he took you to bed! To distract you, keep you from doing any more damage.
Neutralise the threat. Wasn’t that what they called it?
She braced herself against the desk as pain gutted her and she doubled up. Blood roared in her ears like a deafening tide. In a series of snapshots, Tamsin recalled so many tell tale moments.
Her carefully monitored access to the chronicle.
The presence, wherever she went, of staff, no doubt reporting her movements.
Alaric asking her to be his companion, just the day after she’d told him about the chronicle. It had been a ruse, not to keep women away, but to keep an eye on her!
Alaric’s fury at the ball when he’d found her with that journalist. He’d lied. He wasn’t jealous, just angry she might have revealed something. Or maybe, she thought of what she’d read, Alaric suspected them of being in cahoots.
Pain blurred her vision and cramped her breathing. Her breath sawed in aching lungs as she fought to stay upright.
A hand reached for her and she jerked away.
‘Don’t touch me! Don’t…’ She drew an uneven breath. ‘I can’t bear it.’
To think she’d felt guilty, not telling him immediately about the test results, agonising over whether she could find something to prove or disprove the document once and for all. And all the time he’d known!
Her own small omission was nothing compared to his elaborate machinations!
