Protected by the Prince

by Annie West

  Strange how things had changed since the accident. His fear of failure had dimmed. He no longer got that sick feeling in his belly at the thought of ruling the nation. He could face the idea of leadership again with equanimity, though being monarch wasn’t his choice.

  In hospital he’d had plenty of time to think. To his surprise he’d realised how much he’d enjoyed the work he’d begun in Ruvingia. It had been satisfying solving problems and organising innovative community renewal. He’d like to follow through the improvements they’d begun in his own principality.

  But as king he couldn’t be so hands on. His life would be all protocol and diplomacy.

  At least he knew now he could face what was required of him.

  What had changed? Even the nightmares had receded a little. Because he’d broken the curse of good luck that had seen him emerge unscathed from tragedy? Because he’d shattered his body and almost lost his life, proving his mortality? No, it couldn’t be that simple.

  He’d been overwhelmed by the genuine distress of his people after the accident. The number of communities and groups who’d sent representatives had stunned him. They’d wished him well, and, as he recovered, sought his renewed input to their projects.

  Yet Alaric knew the real change had come from his brief glimpse of happiness. The peace and sense of connection he’d felt in his short time with Tamsin. Surely that’s what had hauled him back from the brink of self-destruction, giving him hope for the first time in years.

  Six months ago he’d have embraced death with equanimity. But lying in hospital as doctors fussed over him; Alaric had discovered he wanted to live so badly he could taste the need.

  He had to live, to see Tamsin and set things right.

  The night he’d shared his past with her had cracked something wide open inside him. Not just his guilt and fear. But a lifetime of barriers. Barriers that had kept him cut off from love, preventing him building a real relationship.

  ‘Alaric.’ His cousin’s voice yanked him from his reverie. He turned and met Raul’s sympathetic look. ‘I know this is hard on you.’

  ‘Hard on us both.’ Raul had been raised to be king. It was a measure of his integrity that he’d taken so well the stunning news that Alaric should be monarch. The final testing and double checking of Tamsin’s document and other contemporary sources had proven her right. Alaric was destined to be king, not Raul.

  Raul shrugged. ‘There’s no way out of the wedding. You think I haven’t double checked? It’s a binding agreement. The Crown Prince of Maritz is betrothed to marry the Princess of Ardissia. No negotiation.’

  ‘Even though we don’t know where she is?’ If Alaric had his way they’d never locate her.

  ‘We will soon. And when we do…’ Raul shrugged.

  ‘A royal wedding.’ A loveless marriage. Surely the only sort he wanted or deserved. Yet his blood froze.

  He remembered Tamsin’s smile, felt the radiant warmth it brought his blighted soul. He heard her soft cries of delight as he pleasured her, smelled her fresh summer scent.

  She hadn’t come near him since the accident. She hated him for what he’d done to her.

  His chances of persuading her to forgive him were slim.

  But to marry another woman…

  Alaric stiffened, realising there was only one way forward. It would be perhaps the most difficult thing he’d ever done, but he had no choice.

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ Tamsin couldn’t believe her ears.

  ‘None of the documents held in safekeeping can be released without His Highness’s permission.’ The secretary sounded uncomfortable. ‘But it’s my passport!’ Tamsin shot to her feet, the phone pressed to her ear, then drew a calming breath. ‘There must be a misunderstanding. The passport was held for safekeeping only.’

  ‘You’re planning to travel?’

  Tamsin frowned. She shouldn’t have to report her plans. But maybe it would stir this bureaucrat into action.

  ‘I fly to Rome this weekend.’ An overnight trip to discuss a possible job. She told herself she’d be enthusiastic about it once she got to the sunny south. ‘So when can I collect it?’

  Another pause. ‘I’ll have to get back to you on that. The prince gave specific instructions…’

  A chill fingered its way down Tamsin’s spine. Alaric’s instructions? Impossible! He couldn’t want her here.

  Yet he’d manipulated her before. Was it possible he was doing it again? Fury sparked. She would not be a pawn in his games again.

  The secretary was talking when she dropped the phone into its cradle.

  Fifteen minutes later Tamsin entered the royal antechamber. Ironically she’d made it through security easily. Chancing to meet the servant who’d come to fetch Alaric the night of the ball, she’d asked for directions, letting him believe Alaric had sent for her.

  As she entered the room a man, busy at a desk, looked up.

  ‘The prince is not receiving visitors.’

  Tamsin’s eyes narrowed as she recognised his voice. The secretary who’d stonewalled her on the phone.

  ‘This can’t wait.’ She kept walking.

  ‘Wait!’ His eyes flicked to the double doors on the other side of the room. ‘If you take a seat I’ll check the prince’s schedule.’

  Her pace quickened. She was sure now that Alaric was in the next room. Tamsin wasn’t about to be fobbed off. Whatever was going on she’d get to the bottom of it. Now.

  ‘Thank you. But I’ll make my own appointment.’

  From the corner of her eye she saw him scramble to his feet, but he was too late. She wrenched open the door and catapulted through it, her heart pounding as adrenaline surged. She’d hoped to avoid confronting Alaric again, yet part of her longed to see him one last time.

  Two steps into the room she stumbled to a halt, eyes widening at the tableau before her. Alaric was there but so were many others, all formally dressed and wearing sober expressions. There was a sprinkling of uniforms, clerical robes and a few judges in old-fashioned costumes.

  In the centre sat Alaric, one arm in a sling, writing at a vast desk. He put his pen down and looked up.

  Lightning blasted her senses as his piercing eyes met hers down the length of the chamber. Her body quivered with the impact of that look.

  Tamsin swayed and shut her eyes, aghast at her weakness. She had to get away from him once and for all. Going to Rome was the right thing.

  A hand grabbed her elbow. ‘My apologies for the intrusion, Highness.’ The hand tugged and Tamsin opened her eyes.

  The secretary’s words had made everyone present turn to look. Silence reigned for a moment and despite crawling embarrassment she stood straight, facing the curiosity of the gathered VIPs.

  What had she stumbled into?

  ‘It’s all right.’ Alaric’s voice drew her gaze to where he sat, so handsome in dress uniform. ‘Dr Connors is my welcome guest.’ Did she imagine his voice deepened seductively?

  No! There was nothing between them. There never had been. She had to remember that.

  ‘Of course, Your Highness.’ The man released her, bowed and melted away.

  Silently Alaric gestured her to a chair and she went to it gratefully. Yet she didn’t sit. By now she knew she’d interrupted something important. The judges stepped forward with deep bows and signed the document Alaric passed to them. Then several others, all with a slow formality that proclaimed this a significant occasion.

  Finally Alaric stood. Tamsin’s heart clenched as he limped from his chair. He was pale, his face pared down. She wanted to smooth her palm across his face, trace the high slant of his cheekbone and reassure herself he was all right. Her hands trembled with the force of what she felt.

  The day of the accident she’d stayed as close as she could, scared to let him out of her sight till finally the doctors pronounced him out of danger. Since then she hadn’t seen him, knowing it was better that way. Yet she’d scoured the news reports for updates on his recovery.

>   He must have come here straight from the hospital.

  Anyone else seeing his straight backed stance would think him fully recovered. But to Tamsin’s eyes there was a stiffness around his neck and shoulders and a tension in his jaw that betrayed pain.

  What was so important he’d left the hospital for it? Couldn’t anyone else see he needed rest?

  Impotent anger surged. It was no use telling herself he didn’t need her sympathy. She couldn’t squash her feelings.

  Alaric turned to the man beside him. A tall, handsome man with familiar features. Alaric said something she couldn’t hear and bent his head in a bow. But before he could complete the action the other man spoke sharply and put a hand on Alaric’s shoulder.

  Alaric raised his head and for a moment Tamsin saw something flash between the two. Wordless understanding. Then Alaric spoke, making his companion laugh and reach to shake his hand vigorously.

  There was a burst of applause and cheers in Ruvingian that Tamsin wished she understood. The two men turned to face their audience, accepting the accolade with an ease that spoke of long practice.

  She watched Alaric avidly. This might be the last time she saw him and she wanted to imprint every detail. The way he smiled. The light in his eyes as he nodded at something his companion said. Familiar hunger swamped her. It was like watching a feast through a window and knowing though you were starving you couldn’t reach out and eat.

  Instead she tasted the ashes of hopeless dreams on her tongue.

  At a word from Alaric, the crowd began to leave. They were too well bred to stare, but she felt their surreptitious glances. Heat gathered in her cheeks but she stood her ground. She wasn’t into hiding any more.

  Last to leave was the tall man who’d stood with Alaric. He too was in his early thirties. He wore his hand-tailored suit with an easy elegance that might have made her stare if she hadn’t been so conscious of Alaric behind him.

  ‘Dr Connors.’ The stranger lifted her hand to his lips in a courtly gesture that would stop most feminine hearts. Over his shoulder she caught Alaric’s sharp stare and fire sparked in her veins.

  ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Alaric’s kinsman, Raul.’

  Tamsin blinked and focused on the man who she now saw bore a striking resemblance to Alaric. Jade green eyes instead of indigo and a leaner build, but the same angled cheekbones, strong jaw and lush dark hair. The same indefinable air of power and authority.

  ‘Your Highness.’

  He smiled, unfazed by the tension emanating from his cousin’s rigid form. Tamsin could feel it from where she was but Prince Raul merely released her hand slowly. ‘I’ll look forward to our next meeting.’

  Then he was gone. She was alone with Alaric.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  ‘HELLO, Tamsin. It’s good to see you.’

  Alaric’s voice was low and smooth, evoking memories of heady passion and soft endearments. In that moment her indignation bled away, replaced by longing and regret.

  ‘Hello, Alaric.’ Her voice was breathless, as if she’d run across the castle compound and up four flights of stairs instead of being escorted in a state of the art lift.

  Silence fell as their eyes locked. Tamsin wanted to look away but couldn’t, mesmerised by something in his gaze she’d never seen.

  Despite the sling and a slight limp as he walked towards her, Alaric was a formidable figure: handsome, virile and powerful. Tamsin’s nerves stretched taut as she fought not to respond to his nearness. Yet her stomach filled with butterflies and her knees trembled.

  If only she couldn’t remember so clearly the bliss she’d found in his arms.

  But seeing him at the centre of that gathering, easily dominating the proceedings, had reinforced everything she’d told herself the last six weeks or so. That they belonged to different worlds.

  ‘What was that, just now?’ Jerkily she gestured to the desk where so many people had come forward to sign that large parchment. ‘Some sort of ceremony?’

  ‘Royal business,’ he said, watching her so intently it seemed he noted every move, every expression. Was he wondering how he’d brought himself to make love to her?

  Heat rushed into her cheeks. When he didn’t explain further, Tamsin understood. His silence reinforced that she had no business enquiring into matters of state. The gulf between them was unbreachable.

  He seemed taller, looming over her, making her feel vulnerable. His eyes were darker. They looked almost black. Try as she might she couldn’t read his shuttered expression.

  He stepped near and instantly her nerve ends tingled in awareness. Automatically she inched back a step, then, realising what she was doing, planted her feet.

  ‘How are you, Alaric?’

  ‘As you see.’ His lips twisted ruefully. ‘I survived.’

  ‘Will you recover fully?’ She gestured to his stiff leg.

  ‘I’m told so.’

  Her heart thudded in relief and she clasped her hands, unable to tear her gaze from those unfathomable eyes.

  ‘It’s my fault you were injured—’

  ‘Don’t even think of apologising!’ The words shot out like bullets. He leaned towards her, his eyebrows lowering like storm clouds over flashing eyes.

  ‘I’m the one who’s sorry.’ His mouth flattened. ‘I tried earlier, at the lodge, but you wouldn’t accept my apologies.’

  Tamsin frowned. She couldn’t remember that. But the scene was a blur of misery and grief.

  He shifted as if it pained him to stand. ‘I had no business seducing you. You are a guest in my country, an employee.’

  Tamsin didn’t know why her heart shrivelled at his reminder of their relative stations. It was true yet for a bright brief period it hadn’t seemed to matter. That had been an illusion. Part of his seduction technique.

  ‘I should never have—’

  ‘Please!’ She couldn’t bear him to go on, enumerating everything that had happened between them. She’d relived every moment these past weeks and it brought no solace, just aching regret like a cold lump of lead in her chest.

  ‘Don’t go on. I accept your apology.’ She turned to face the glowing fire in the ornate fireplace rather than meet his intense gaze. ‘You believed you were protecting your country.’

  It had taken her a long time but finally she’d seen a little of his perspective. A perspective reinforced by the scene she’d just witnessed. He had responsibilities for a nation that weighed heavily.

  Tamsin understood his motives but that didn’t excuse his tactics. She cringed at the thought of others listening to her conversation with Patrick. And as for Alaric letting her think he really cared, really desired her…

  ‘You’re very forgiving.’

  She avoided his eyes. ‘I’ve had time to consider.’

  ‘But there’s no excuse for—’

  ‘No, but I don’t want to discuss it.’ Pain clawed at her. She didn’t want to revisit the details. Like how he’d bedded her as part of his scheme. Or how she’d given her heart to him.

  At least he didn’t know that. How much more sorry for her he’d be if he knew she’d fallen in love.

  Listening to his mellow baritone was delicious torture. Being here with him was what she’d dreamed of and yet it was dangerous.

  She wanted what she could never have. She’d fallen for an illusion, believing in a relationship that could never be. Pain seeped from her cracked heart.

  ‘You saved me the trouble of coming for you.’

  At his words her head jerked round. Alaric had intended to come for her? For a foolish instant hope quivered in her heart, only to be dashed by harsh reality. No doubt he’d planned to deliver his apology and suggest she leave, rather than stay and embarrass them both.

  ‘I’ve come for my passport.’ The words came out full of strident challenge.

  Did she imagine a stiffening of his tall frame?

  ‘You want to leave?’ He frowned.

  ‘Yes!’ How could he even ask it
? ‘But I need my passport and I’m told I need your permission to get it.’

  ‘What if I asked you to stay?’ His eyes probed, laser bright.

  ‘No!’ Her response was instantaneous. He couldn’t be so cruel as to expect her to remain. Seeing him, always from a distance, would be unbearably painful.

  A sound broke across her thoughts and she looked up. Alaric’s mouth had twisted up at one side.

  Surely he wasn’t laughing at her?

  Indignation and fury warred with hurt. A voice inside protested Alaric would never be so deliberately cruel. He wasn’t callous like Patrick.

  But she knew to her cost men were cruel.

  She spun on her foot and marched to the door. She’d get a lawyer to retrieve her passport.

  Tamsin was reaching for the door handle when something shot over her shoulder. A hand slammed onto the door, holding it shut. Alaric’s arm stretched in front of her and her skin prickled at how close he stood. His heat was like a blaze at her back.

  ‘No!’ The single syllable cracked like a gunshot. ‘You’re not leaving. Not like this.’

  Alaric’s chest ached as he forced himself to drag in oxygen. His pulse thundered, pumping adrenaline through his body. The sight of Tamsin storming out of his life had been impossible to bear.

  ‘I refuse to stay and be the butt of your humour.’

  He stared at her glossy hair, her slim shoulders and lithe body and felt heat punch his belly. She thought he’d laughed at her?

  ‘Tamsin, no. It’s not like that.’ It had been more a grimace of pain than anything else. Pain that slashed bone deep. ‘If I was laughing it was at myself.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’ She didn’t move a muscle, but neither did she try to wrestle the door open.

  ‘I told Raul I was going to ask you to stay. I was just remembering his response.’

  ‘You talked to your cousin about me?’

  She turned, looking up with wide amber-gilt eyes that melted his bones. He shuddered with the effort of controlling the emotions threatening to unravel inside.

  ‘He thought I’d have no trouble persuading you. Then, as soon as I suggested it, you instantly objected.’ Objected! She’d turned ashen. As if she couldn’t think of anything worse than being with him.