Passion, Purity and the Prince

by Annie West

  All the weak, emotional things she’d wanted to do when Patrick had revealed he’d only spent time with a woman like her because she was useful to his ambitions. All the things she hadn’t let herself do because she’d been busy pretending it didn’t matter.

  ‘Look at me.’ She gestured comprehensively to her practical, unglamorous clothes. ‘I’m not…’ But she couldn’t go on. She knew she wasn’t attractive, that she didn’t inspire thoughts of romance or even plain old lust. But she refused to say it out loud. She had some pride.

  ‘I see a woman who’s intelligent and passionate and intriguing.’ His words snapped her head up in disbelief.

  When had he moved so close?

  He loomed over her, making the room shrink so it seemed there was only her and him in a tiny, charged space.

  Tamsin’s throat worked as anger roiled. ‘I refuse to be the butt of your joke.’ She swung away but he caught her elbow, turning her implacably to face him.

  ‘It’s no joke, Tamsin. I was never more serious.’

  She angled her chin higher. ‘I don’t think my clothes would pass muster for consorting with royalty, do you?’ Easier to focus on that than the shortcomings of the woman who wore them.

  ‘I don’t give a damn about your clothes,’ he growled, a frown settling on his brow. ‘If they bother you replace them. Or let me do it if you don’t have the cash.’

  ‘Oh, don’t be absurd!’ As if it was just the clothes. Tamsin knew how men viewed her. No one would believe she was a sexpot who’d snared the interest of a playboy prince!

  ‘Absurd?’ The single word slid, lethally quiet into the vibrating silence, raising the hairs on her nape.

  His eyes sparked fire. Suddenly the danger she’d once sensed in him was there, staring down at her.

  A frisson of panic crept through her.

  She backed a step. He followed.

  ‘You don’t believe me?’

  Silently she shook her head. Of course she didn’t believe him. She had no illusions. She—

  In one stride he closed the gap between them. His hands cupped her face, fingers sliding into her hair, dislodging pins. The sensation of him tunnelling through her hair, massaging her scalp was surprisingly sensual.

  Tamsin stared up into eyes darkening to midnight-blue, so close she could barely focus. She told herself to move away but found her will sapped by the look in his eyes. The floor seemed to drop away beneath her feet as she read his expression, his fierce intent.

  That look bewildered her. She’d never seen it before.

  ‘I—’

  Her words stopped as his lips crushed hers. She gasped, inhaling his scent and the spicy taste of his skin. Her thoughts unravelled.

  Taking advantage of her open mouth Alaric devoured her. He was determined, skilful, dominant. He overwhelmed every sense, blotted out the world. Stole her away to a place of dark ecstasy unlike any she’d known.

  He held her so firmly she couldn’t move. His body was hard, awakening unfamiliar sensations that rippled and spread, a trickle turning into a torrent of excitement.

  Dimly Tamsin realised she didn’t want to move. That in fact her hands had crept up around his neck, linked there to stop herself falling. Neither did she mind the sense of him surrounding her, legs planted wide to anchor them both. Her eyes closed as her thoughts scrambled.

  Bliss beckoned.

  This was nothing like Patrick’s lukewarm attentions. Or the hesitant clumsiness she’d felt in his embrace.

  For the first time Tamsin felt passion burst into scorching life. All she could do was acquiesce. And enjoy.

  His kiss was fervent, almost angry, yet Tamsin had never known such delight. He ravished her mouth so fiercely she trembled with the force of it, bowed backwards as he surged forward, seemingly unable to slake his need.

  And she welcomed him.

  Despite his sudden aggressive ardour she wasn’t afraid. Instead it made her feel…powerful.

  Vaguely she wondered at that, but her mind refused to compute the implications. She simply knew that with Alaric she was safe. Even if it was like stepping off a skyscraper into nothingness. His strong arms hauled her close and she gave herself to delight.

  She kissed him back, revelling in the warm sensuality of their mouths melding. He licked her tongue and she moaned, her knees quaking at the impact of this sensual onslaught.

  The kiss altered. He didn’t bend her back quite so ferociously, though he still strained against her. His hungry ardour eased into something more gentle but no less satisfying.

  She breathed deep as he planted kisses along her jaw. Sensation bloomed with each caress. Her skin tingled and her breasts grew heavy. She thrust herself against him, needing his hardness just there. Her breath came in desperate gasps as she struggled to fill air-starved lungs. She clung tight, wanting more.

  He moved to kiss her on the mouth again and bumped her glasses askew.

  Instantly he froze. As if that simple action reminded him who he was kissing. Not a svelte sophisticate but plain Tamsin Connors.

  He stilled, lips at the sensitive corner of her mouth. Tamsin held her breath, desperate for him to kiss her again. Craving more of his magic.

  His steely embrace loosened and firm hands clasped her shoulders, steadying her as if he knew her legs felt like stretched elastic. He pulled back and she swayed, bereft of his heat and strength.

  A protest hovered on her swollen lips but she swallowed it. She would not beg for more. Not now she saw the dawning horror on his face. The unmistakeable regret in the way his gaze slid to her mouth then away.

  ‘Are you OK?’ His voice was gruff, his expression stern. He was embarrassed, she realised.

  Pity had provoked the kiss, but the reminder of who it was he embraced had stopped him in his tracks.

  The lovely, lush taste of him turned to ashes on her tongue. The thrill that had hummed through her with every caress died.

  There was no magic. It had been a kindness gone wrong. An act of charity from a man who felt sorry for her.

  Anger and regret chased each other in a sickening tumble of emotions. At least, she told herself, he hadn’t deliberately set out to dupe her, like Patrick.

  She’d duped herself into believing that kiss was real.

  Now she had to pick up the pieces. Pretend it didn’t matter that he’d unthinkingly awoken heart-pounding desire in a woman who’d never known its like before.

  Tamsin wanted to howl her despair.

  But she had the torn remnants of her dignity. She might only be suitable as a decoy, not wanted for herself, but he needn’t know he’d shredded her self-respect.

  Deliberately she lifted a hand to set her glasses straight on her face. It was a gesture of habit, but never had it held such significance.

  ‘I’m fine, thank you, Alaric. How are you?’

  Alaric stared at the cool-eyed woman before him and struggled with his vocal cords. They’d shut down, just like his brain when he’d hauled her into his arms and slammed his mouth against hers.

  Even now he was barely in control of himself! One moment of madness had turned into something more. Something that threatened the boundaries he used to keep from feeling, from engaging fully in the world around him.

  He’d kissed countless women but not one had made him feel. Not like this.

  Who the hell was she? What had she done to him? Passion was a pleasure, a release, an escape. Never had it overwhelmed him like that.

  ‘You’re sure?’ He sounded strangled, like an untried teen, hot and bothered by his first taste of desire.

  ‘Of course.’ Her brows rose in splendid indifference. As if being accosted by lust-ridden strangers was an inconsequential distraction.

  Alaric scrubbed a hand over his face, annoyed to note the slight tremor in his fingers.

  Tamsin Connors might dress like someone’s ancient maiden aunt but she kissed with all the generous ardour any man could want. The feel of her lush body melting against his, her mo
uth hot and welcoming, had driven away the last shred of his sanity. Their passion had been volcanic.

  Hard now to believe her apparent hurt and self-doubt had appalled and angered him. It had provoked him into doing what he’d wanted for so long now: kiss the woman silent. When he’d dislodged her glasses he’d come to his senses and been horrified at the idea he’d taken advantage of her. Possibly scared her.

  Had her earlier pain been real? Or had she played on his sympathies?

  It infuriated him that he was no closer to understanding her. She was a bundle of contradictions. Fiery yet reserved. Confident in professional matters yet still vulnerable. Thrilled by a rustic fair but unimpressed by his title. A siren who shattered his control like no other.

  He wanted to rip away the façade she presented the world and uncover the real Tamsin Connors.

  He wanted to run from what she made him feel.

  But mostly he wanted her back in his arms.

  He drew a deep breath. One thing he knew for certain. She was the most dangerous woman he knew.

  ‘I apologise,’ he said stiffly. ‘I shouldn’t have done that.’

  ‘No, you shouldn’t.’ She glared at him and it was all he could do not to reach for her again. With her eyes snapping gold fire, her hair in tumbled waves around her shoulders and her lips reddened and full she was too alluring. Even the glasses couldn’t hide that now.

  How had he ever thought her ordinary?

  ‘As I said, Tamsin,’ he lingered appreciatively over her name, ‘clothes are immaterial.’ He watched colour flush her cheeks and felt savage pleasure that she wasn’t as unmoved as she pretended. ‘I look for more than fashion in a woman.’

  ‘I’m not anyone’s woman.’ Her chin angled up.

  ‘Just as well,’ he murmured, as something primitively possessive surfaced. ‘We wouldn’t want the complication of a jealous boyfriend, would we?’

  ‘No fear of that.’

  She looked away. Her expression didn’t change but suddenly he regretted baiting her to salve his pride. Whatever had happened, whoever she really was, Tamsin had been caught like him in the conflagration erupting between them. At least he hoped so. The alternative was unthinkable.

  ‘You’re surely not still serious about this?’

  ‘Never more so.’ He watched her turn. She drew a slow breath as if gathering herself.

  ‘You said if I spent time with you there’d be a benefit in it for me.’ Her voice was crisp, her demeanour completely businesslike. ‘What did you mean?’

  Disappointment reared at her about-face; her obvious self-interest. Alaric told himself it was easier to deal with her now than when she was warm and willing in his arms. A pity he didn’t believe it.

  ‘I’ve been thinking about the job we’ve contracted you to do. It would be easier if you had more staff.’

  The light in her eyes told him he’d finally snared her interest. He squashed a spark of annoyance that he came second in her priorities to a pile of mouldering books.

  ‘Not easier, but there’s a chance of further damage in the time it takes us to assess what we’ve got.’ She chewed her lower lip. Heat scorched Alaric’s lower body as he focused on its softened contours. In repose Tamsin’s mouth was a perfect Cupid’s bow of invitation.

  ‘The offer only applies if I become your companion?’ The twist of her lips and her chilly look told him how little she liked the prospect. ‘That sounds like blackmail.’

  Alaric shrugged. His gaze drifted to her mouth and he remembered her moan of delight as they’d kissed. She only feigned disinterest.

  ‘If you agree it will mean some time away from your work. Putting extra resources into the archives will compensate. Two qualified full time staff.’ He watched excitement light her face.

  ‘And you may want to come with me when I open a new wing of the national museum. There’s a collection behind the scenes that may interest you. Illuminated gospels that I believe are noteworthy.’ Those treasures had never been outside the country. Neither had foreign experts viewed them.

  Her eyes widened eagerly. In other women it was the sort of look reserved for a gift of emeralds or rubies.

  Tamsin Connors was unique. In far too many ways.

  ‘This…arrangement would only interrupt my work occasionally?’

  Alaric gritted his teeth. Women vied for his attention. He’d never needed to bribe one to be with him!

  ‘That’s right.’

  Still she hesitated. She clasped her hands before her in a gesture he’d come to realise signalled vulnerability.

  ‘We’re not talking about anything more than spending time together? Being seen in public?’

  He nodded curtly.

  ‘Then…’ She paused and licked her lip as if her mouth had dried. Alaric’s groin tightened as he remembered her lush sweetness. ‘Then I accept. On one condition.’

  ‘Yes?’ He hauled his gaze from her mouth.

  The glacial expression he found in her eyes would have frozen a lesser man.

  ‘No more kisses. Nothing…intimate.’

  Alaric bowed stiffly, all dignity and insulted pride.

  ‘You have my word that I won’t take advantage. Nothing intimate except at your express request.’

  She pretended to abhor his touch?

  She’d soon be on her knees begging for his kisses.

  Chapter Five

  ‘I’M SORRY, ma’am. You can’t go this way.’

  Tamsin looked at the burly man blocking the path and drew her jacket close. His wide stance and implacable stare made the crisp morning feel chillier. Or was it that he automatically spoke in heavily accented English? As if he knew who she was and had been waiting for her?

  ‘Why not?’ This was the path to the village and she needed a walk to clear her head. After days working long hours she was no closer to finding the peace she’d always taken for granted in her job.

  That peace had been missing since he’d taken her out four days ago. Since he’d kissed her till her head swam and her senses reeled and she’d forgotten she was plain Tamsin Connors. Since he’d proposed a fake relationship then promptly disappeared, leaving her wondering if she’d conjured the idea as a wish-fulfilling fantasy.

  Each day she’d waited, nerves on edge, for him to summon her. Only to learn today he was away in the capital.

  It rankled that he’d left without telling her. As if he had to report his movements! Yet after what he’d said she’d expected to see more of him.

  Not that she was disappointed.

  It was just that she wanted to work on the chronicle. She couldn’t access it in his absence. That’s what frustrated her.

  ‘A landslip has taken part of the path.’

  The stranger didn’t move his eyes off her, neither did he smile. Tamsin’s gaze strayed to his walkie-talkie. He didn’t look like a groundsman, more like heavy duty security.

  ‘How far along? Maybe I could take a detour.’

  ‘Sorry, ma’am, but the surface is unstable. I couldn’t allow it.’ Steel threaded his voice for all his deference.

  ‘I see.’ She scanned the wooded hillside. There must be other tracks.

  ‘If I might suggest, ma’am?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘There’s an easy circuit walk above the castle.’

  Tamsin repressed a sigh. She needed more than a tame stroll. This restlessness demanded a better outlet. She’d avoided the squash court in case she met the prince again. Perhaps she should try to work off her excess energy there.

  ‘Thanks. I’ll think about it.’ She smiled, acknowledging his nod, and turned uphill.

  The track curved and she looked back. He was still there, watching, as he spoke into his walkie-talkie.

  She shivered. It was nonsense to think he was reporting her movements. Yet the claustrophobic feeling that dogged her intensified. In the archives the new staff meant she was never alone and whenever she left her rooms she seemed to run into staff.

  Tamsi
n paused as the castle came into full view. A thrill sped through her as she took in the circular towers, crenellated battlements and banners fluttering black, blue and gold against the bright sky.

  Just the place for tales of romance and derring do. For princes on white chargers rescuing damsels in distress.

  Cradled by snow-capped peaks, its grey stone rose sheer from the mountain, high above the dark forest. It had an eagle’s eye view down the valley to lands its owners had ruled for generations.

  A nineteenth-century fad for gothic architecture had turned the once-grim stronghold into a fairy tale showpiece.

  Yet below were grim dungeons where enemies had languished. The prince’s word had always been law here and the ruthlessness of Ruvingian princes was legendary. They always got what they wanted.

  Shadows moved beneath the portcullis. Tamsin’s pulse danced and her breathing shallowed as she recognised the man in the lead: tall, powerfully proportioned and aristocratic with his confident stride and strong features. He matched his home perfectly.

  Then it was too late to stand gawking. He’d seen her. He turned and dismissed his staff.

  And all she could think of was how it had felt cradled tight in his arms. The intensity of his kiss. The passion that had ravaged her senses and left her craving more.

  Every night she’d tossed in her bed, remembering. Imagining things that left her feverish and unsettled. Furiously she tried to repress the blush staining her cheeks, hoping he’d put it down to the chill wind.

  ‘Tamsin.’ He stopped a few paces away.

  Despite her embarrassment her lips curved in response when he smiled, a dimple grooving his cheek.

  She could almost believe he was pleased to see her, though she told herself he didn’t really care. She tried to dredge up anger. He’d kissed her out of pity.

  ‘Alaric.’ She liked saying his name. Too much. ‘How are you? I thought you were away?’ Too late she realised she sounded far too interested in his activities.

  ‘Business kept me away until today.’ Was that a cloud moving over the sun or had his bright gaze shadowed?

  ‘We need to talk about my work.’ She drew herself up straight, reminding herself that was all that mattered. Not her shocking weakness for indigo eyes. ‘I haven’t been able to access the chronicle to continue my translation. Your staff claim not to know where it is.’ Indignation rose that he didn’t trust her with her own find!