by Annie West
Tamsin moved with the grace of a natural climber. Another metre and she reached the top. Roars of approval erupted, almost obliterating her exultant laughter.
Who’d have thought it? Prim and proper Dr Connors had the makings of a thrill seeker! He watched her climb down.
‘That was fantastic,’ she called over her shoulder. ‘I…’ Looking down she saw him. Her foot jerked beneath her.
‘I’ve got you.’ Alaric stepped close. ‘Let her down.’ They obeyed and a moment later she filled his arms.
She was soft and intriguingly curvaceous for such a slim woman. The warm puff of her breath hazed his neck and his grip tightened.
She fitted snugly in his hold, her breast soft temptation against his chest, the sunshine scent of her enticing. His pulse accelerated but he kept his eyes on her flushed face, rather than linger on the pronounced rise and fall of her breasts.
‘Thanks. You can put me down.’ She sounded delightfully breathless. Free of her glasses, there was nothing to hide the amber glow of awareness in her eyes. Alaric felt he was falling into sunshine.
He had an intense vision of her looking up at him like that, lips parted invitingly, eyes dazed. But in his mind she was sprawled beneath the royal blue canopy of his bed, naked on silk sheets, awaiting his pleasure.
Alaric’s breathing grew choppy as he fought the most primitive of physical reactions. His lower body locked solid at the force of abrupt arousal. The sound of applause and excited comment faded as fire ignited his blood.
Tamsin moved, dragging her gaze from his and fumbling at the strap of her helmet. It dropped away before she could stop it and her hair frothed over his arm in a dark cloud.
The scent of wildflowers hit him.
Forget the bedroom. He wanted this woman on sweet alpine grass. He wanted to watch her eyes light to gold as he plunged deep inside and took her to ecstasy.
‘Alaric.’ Her voice was deliciously throaty. He wanted to hear her calling his name as she climaxed. ‘Please…’
Reluctantly he lowered her to her feet. But holding her had cemented his resolve. Amazingly, for those few moments she’d banished the dark shadows. He’d been utterly consumed by sexual need. Just as when they’d kissed.
It was no longer enough to satisfy his pride by making Tamsin Connors beg for his kisses. Alaric craved the release he knew he could find in her sweet, supple body.
And he intended to have it.
‘A moment of your time before you go in.’
Tamsin halted at the door to the castle’s staff quarters. Slowly she turned, schooling her face to polite interest. They were alone, the security men melting away when they arrived back from the youth centre.
In the late afternoon gloom of the castle courtyard, Alaric’s face was unreadable but the way he towered above her, his shoulders blocking her vision, reminded her of the night he’d kissed her.
Of the way it had felt an hour ago when he’d held her in his embrace.
A shiver tingled to her toes as she recalled the heat in his eyes and the answering fire in her belly, and lower, at the message that had passed wordlessly between them.
No! Her imagination ran riot. Prince Alaric would never look at her with desire. Her hormones made her see what wasn’t there. He’d played at intimacy for their audience.
‘Yes?’ At least her voice was steady.
For a moment he simply gazed down. She sensed the intensity of his regard, despite the way his eyelids dropped to half-mast. That gave him a dangerously seductive look that made her pulse race into overdrive.
He leaned closer, his breath tickling her forehead.
‘Why wear those glasses? You don’t need them.’
Stunned, she stepped back, only to find she’d already backed up against the door. He followed, lifting a hand idly to rest on the wall near her head. Instantly Tamsin was torn between unease at the sense of being trapped and, worse, delight at being so near him.
Beneath her jacket her breasts felt fuller. She wanted his hand there, she realised with a stifled gasp, on her breast, moulding her flesh.
This was worse than anything she’d felt for Patrick. Far worse. Surely it wasn’t normal to feel this lick of heat between her legs or the heavy swirl low in her belly?
‘Tamsin?’
Flustered, she grappled for the thread of the conversation. ‘My glasses?’ She touched them, gaining a moment’s reassurance from their familiarity. ‘For magnification. I do a lot of close work.’
‘They don’t magnify much.’
How did he know that?
‘You don’t need them now. You took them off to play squash and to climb. Why not remove them when you’re not working?’
‘I’m used to them.’ Even in her own ears it sounded lame, but it was true. ‘I’ve worn them for years.’
‘Then perhaps it’s time you came out from behind them.’ Alaric leaned forward, his words a whispered caress that tantalised her bare skin.
He lifted a hand and for a moment she thought he was going to grab her glasses. Instead he stroked her hair from her face. After taking it down to fit under the climbing helmet, she’d only secured it quickly and now strands escaped. She felt them tickle her neck.
Or was that his warm breath? He’d lowered his head and they stood close.
‘What difference does it make to you?’ Her voice was uneven, as if she’d run up the zigzag road to the castle.
‘None.’ Again his fingers stroked as he tucked hair behind her ear. Did she imagine his touch lingered? ‘I just wondered why you hid behind them.’
Tamsin stiffened. ‘I’m not hiding!’ She’d acquired the glasses when she’d worked on a particularly difficult manuscript at university. The text had been so tiny she’d suffered eye strain until she’d got them.
She watched one dark eyebrow rise questioningly. She was about to reiterate her words when something stopped her.
The memory of how comfortable she’d felt behind her new glasses. How easy not to notice when older students pointed and dug each other in the ribs as they whispered about her. How hurtful it was when they’d gone to the pub after lectures leaving her, the young kid, behind and alone.
When had she decided to use her glasses all the time? Had it even been a conscious decision?
Or had she slipped into the habit the same way she’d filled her wardrobe with clothes that were functional rather than fashionable? Because there was no point pretending to be what she wasn’t. Because she was what she was: a brain rather than a face. Known for her intellect, never invited out or pursued for her looks or personality.
Was he right? Had she been hiding? Isolating herself as a defence mechanism?
‘Tamsin?’
‘Was there anything else…Alaric?’ She stood straighter, looking him in the eye, her brain whirling with the implications of his words. She’d think about it later. She couldn’t think when he was so close, so…distracting.
‘As a matter of fact there is.’ He smiled and her heart jerked as if pulled on a string.
Tamsin swallowed, telling herself it was a trick of the fading light that made his expression seem intimate, as if he wanted nothing more than to stand here with her.
‘Yes? You have another outing planned?’ It didn’t matter that she’d enjoyed her afternoon. That she’d revelled in the company of the teenagers, seemingly antisocial and yet so enthusiastic. Alaric had only invited her to be seen with him. Because she was a decoy.
He must have been ecstatic when she’d swooned in his arms, reinforcing their fictional relationship. Heat rocketed to her cheeks at the memory.
Would he be angry or amused if he realised how she felt about him? That the thought of him touching her made her long for things far beyond her experience?
‘Not an outing.’ He paused. ‘I’m hosting a winter ball. It’s an important event on the calendar.’
‘Another ball? But you just had one!’
His mouth lifted in a lazy smile that softened her sinews
and made her slump, grateful for the solid door behind her. In the gathering dusk Tamsin read the amused glitter in his eyes.
‘How puritanical you sound. Do you disapprove?’
‘It just seems a little…’
‘Excessive?’ He shrugged. ‘Last week’s was a small affair, only eighty or so guests to meet a new consul. The winter ball is something different. In four hundred years it’s been held as regular as clockwork every year but one.’
‘During war?’
Alaric’s expression sobered. ‘No.’ Tamsin waited what seemed a full minute before he continued. ‘There was no winter ball the year my brother died suddenly.’
Tamsin’s flesh chilled as his words, sharp as shattered crystal, scored her.
‘I’m sorry, Alaric. So sorry for your loss.’ When he’d spoken briefly of his family the other night she’d had the impression they weren’t close. Except his brother. The way Alaric spoke of him she sensed a special bond there.
She lifted her hand to reach for him, then dropped it. He wouldn’t welcome her touch. He’d never looked so remote.
‘Thank you.’ He nodded curtly. ‘But the point is this event, above all, is one where I’d be grateful for your presence.’
‘Of course.’
It didn’t matter that attending a ball was the last thing she wanted, that she’d be way out of her comfort zone. She’d seen the pain behind Alaric’s cool expression. For a moment she’d seen anguish shadow his eyes and the sight hit her a body blow.
If he wanted her, she’d be there.
She didn’t pause to question her decision.
‘Good. Thank you.’ His lips tilted in a ghost of his usual smile and something seemed to unravel, deep inside her. ‘A dresser will attend you tomorrow and you can make your selection to wear to the ball.’
‘But I—’
‘Let me guess.’ This time his smile was real and her heart tumbled. Oh, she had it bad. ‘You’re going to insist on buying your gown?’
‘Well, yes.’
‘You’d only buy a ball gown as a favour to me.’ He stroked a finger down Tamsin’s cheek, effectively stifling the objection rising in her throat. That simple caress held her still, breathless with pleasure.
‘Consider it a work-related expense. I need you there and you need a dress. Unless you have one with you?’
Tamsin shook her head. She’d never owned a ball gown.
He leaned in. For a heart-stopping moment she wondered if he’d kiss her. She should object but her willpower seeped away. Her damp palms spread on the door behind her for support and her pulse juddered madly against her ribcage.
‘Leave it to me.’ His lips were so close Tamsin almost felt them against her skin. She sucked in a difficult breath as he spoke again in that deep, seductive whisper.
‘All you have to do is relax and enjoy.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
TAMSIN lifted a hand to her hair then changed her mind and let it fall. She didn’t want to disturb the softly elegant knot with its glittering pins or the artfully loose tendrils caressing her neck.
The dresser who’d returned this evening had done far more than zip up the dress. She’d transformed Tamsin into a woman she barely recognised. A woman who looked attractive in a way Tamsin never had before.
At first she’d thought it was simply the ball gown that made the difference. Of red silk shot with amber and gold, it was unlike anything she’d owned. From the moment she’d put it on she’d felt…special. The last of her scruples about accepting it disintegrated as she twirled before the mirror.
The bodice, cut high and straight above her breasts to leave her shoulders bare, made her look feminine and elegant. Even the fact that she’d had to go braless, relying on the dress’s hidden support in lieu of a strapless bra she didn’t own, didn’t dampen her excitement.
It was shallow of her to feel wonderful because she looked good. But Tamsin didn’t care. It was such a novel experience! Excitement bubbled in her veins. She felt she could take on the world!
For weeks Tamsin had featured in newspaper and magazine articles beside Alaric. Worst of all, the ones that made her cringe, were the ‘then and now’ pieces. Showing Alaric with previous girlfriends, all gorgeous and sophisticated. Those photos were set against pictures of Tamsin, looking anything but chic, her expression startled or, worse, besotted as she stared up at the powerful man beside her.
She wasn’t besotted. She wouldn’t let herself be.
The theme of each article had been the same. What did Alaric see in her? Those pictures had confirmed every doubt she’d harboured about herself, especially since Patrick.
More than once she’d been tempted to call a halt to this charade. She didn’t, not simply because she’d given her word, but because being with Alaric, the focus of his glowing looks, made her feel good.
Even it if was a sham, she enjoyed being with him. It was balm to her wounded soul. Was it so wrong to enjoy the pretence that he genuinely liked her?
Yet the temptation was dangerous.
Now for the first time Tamsin knew she looked like a prince’s companion. Delight filled her that this time there’d be no snide conjecture, no damning photos. This time she looked…attractive.
Tonight she’d learned so much. Things she’d always told herself she was too busy to bother with. Things her mother, so profoundly uninterested in fashion, hadn’t thought to teach her. Like what shade of eye shadow accentuated the colour of Tamsin’s eyes without being too obvious. Like how to tame her hair into a sophisticated style.
Yet the dresser said it was the glow in Tamsin’s skin, the sparkle in her eyes that made her look so good tonight.
Surely that had been a pep talk to give her confidence. Apart from the clothes and light make-up, she was the same. As she turned before the mirror, feeling the silk swirl around her legs, Tamsin experienced a prickle of unease. The colour in her cheeks was because of the dress, that’s all.
For there was only one other possible explanation. That her inner sparkle was anticipation at the idea of spending the evening with Alaric, maybe even dancing in his arms.
She stopped abruptly, letting her long skirts settle around her. No! She wouldn’t let it be so. To Alaric she was a convenient companion. She wouldn’t spin fantasies about him. These past weeks as his companion had been surprisingly delightful. She enjoyed his company. But that’s all.
The phone rang and she snatched it up, grateful for the interruption to her disturbing thoughts.
‘Tamsin? How are you, darling?’
Instantly her spine stiffened. She’d hoped not to hear that voice again for a long, long time. She’d crossed Europe to avoid this man. To pull herself together after he’d hurt her so badly. Now he had the temerity to call her darling!
‘Who is this?’
‘Ah, sweetheart, it’s Patrick of course. Are you still upset about the way we parted?’ He paused as if waiting for her to speak. ‘Didn’t I apologise?’
He’d apologised all right, while smirking at his success and her gullibility in believing he could ever interest himself in a plain Jane like her! As apologies went it had been a masterpiece of form over sentiment. He hadn’t been sorry and in that moment Tamsin had finally realised how blind she’d been to his true personality.
In love with the idea of love, she’d fallen for him like a ripe peach. Or from his perspective, like a dried up prune! Too late she’d discovered his taste really ran to curvy blondes who dressed to reveal rather than conceal.
‘It’s late for a business call.’ She was proud of her nonchalant tone.
‘You’re assuming it’s business?’
‘What do you want, Patrick?’ He thought he was God’s gift to women but he surely couldn’t believe her weak enough to care for him after what he’d done.
His sigh might have moved her once but now she merely felt a burst of impatience.
It was only when he mentioned the date testing on the sample she’d sent to her home i
nstitution that Tamsin grew interested. By the time he’d finished speaking her scalp prickled with excitement. She’d known this was special! Now the dating proved it.
Yet doubt lingered. On the face of it she now had proof that Alaric should be Maritz’s next king. But caution warned her to make absolutely sure. Just because the document’s age was right didn’t prove the content.
Besides, Alaric wasn’t as eager as she’d expected. Did he really not want to be king? Look at the strict security he’d instituted around the chronicle. It was locked away the minute she’d finished work each day.
‘Tamsin? Are you still there?’
‘Of course. I’ll look forward to reading the report when you email it. Thanks for calling.’
‘I said it seems you’ve got an interesting cache of documents. I hear on the grapevine the prince himself gave you extra staff for the project. Plus old Schillinger says you’ve sent him copies of some fascinating pages.’
‘That’s right.’ She frowned. There was no way Patrick or anyone else could guess the explosive revelations in the manuscript. Those pages were kept here under lock and key. Dr Schillinger’s interest in the rest was purely linguistic.
‘Perhaps if it’s such a find you’d feel better with another expert there. Someone you know you can work with.’ He paused as if waiting for her to speak. ‘I have a lot on at the moment but for you’d I’d tear myself away and…’
‘No! That’s not necessary.’
Did he think she was still so besotted that she’d invite him here after the way he’d treated her? Had she really been such a pushover?
‘Tamsin.’ His voice deepened to a cajoling note. ‘I hurt you and I’ve regretted it ever since. I made a mistake and I’m not too proud to admit it. If I came over there we could pick up where we left off. I’m worried for you. Sometimes on the rebound people behave impulsively.’
Was he referring to the press reports linking her and Alaric? He had a hide!
How had she fallen for his oily charm? The only person Patrick cared about was Patrick. It made her sick to realise she’d been so needy she’d let him walk all over her without seeing his selfish opportunism.