Читать книгу Passion, Purity and the Prince - Annie West - Страница 7

TAMSIN’S steps faltered.

This man had invaded her thoughts, even haunted her dreams last night. Yet she’d forgotten how overwhelming he was in person.

So big. So vibrant. So powerfully male.

The air seemed to swirl and tickle her sensitised flesh as he subjected her to a short, all-encompassing survey. Heat blazed in her stomach and her skin tightened.

His eyes glittered and his mouth curved in welcome and her heart danced faster than it had on the squash court.

Would he look so welcoming if he knew she’d exhausted herself trying desperately to banish him from her thoughts? That she felt excited by his presence?

No. He paid her salary while she worked on loan here. He was her employer, an aristocrat living a glamorous, privileged life. A man with no interest in her or her work except that it made him eligible for the crown.

He’d be horrified by her reaction to him.

Even now her befuddled brain told her his smile wasn’t a simple welcome. That it signified a deeper level of pleasure, a hint of danger. The sort of danger a sensible woman would ignore.

See? Her instincts were awry. She couldn’t trust them.

Quickly she looked away, scared he’d read her thoughts. Patrick had read her longings like a book. She couldn’t bear to reveal her weakness to this man, too.

The fact that she felt any weakness at all after the events of the last six months astounded her.

‘Dr Connors.’ His deep voice rippled like ruched velvet across her skin. She shivered, unable to suppress voluptuous pleasure at the sound.

Seeking distraction she reached for her cardigan and glasses, holding them close to her heaving chest.

‘I hope you don’t mind me using the court,’ she murmured. ‘Your steward said I could but I hadn’t realised you might…’

‘Of course I don’t mind. It’s good to see it in use. If I’d known you played I’d have invited you to a match.’

Startled, Tamsin looked up, straight into clear indigo depths that seemed warm and inviting.

He looked serious!

Her gaze strayed across muscled shoulders, down to the deep curve of a solid chest outlined against a black cotton T-shirt. She swallowed, her mouth drying at the latent power of him. His arms, tanned and strong, reminded her of the way he’d hoisted her over his shoulder as if she weighed nothing. Of how, despite her outrage, she’d revelled in his effortless he-man act.

He looked mouth-wateringly good in gym gear. As good as in uniform! It wasn’t fair.

She stepped back, her eyes flicking away nervously.

‘I don’t think I’d be in your league.’ Fervently she hoped he’d put her breathlessness down to her workout.

‘I watched you play. You’re quick and agile and know how to use your body.’ His smile changed, became almost intimate, sending tendrils of heat winding around her internal organs. ‘I’m sure we’d be very well matched.’

Tamsin’s mind filled with an image of them matched in another way altogether. Tanned skin against pale. Hard masculine muscle against female softness.

Heat exploded, scalding her throat and face at the lurid, unfamiliar picture. Horrified, she ducked her head to fumble with her glasses case.

He couldn’t know what she was thinking.

That didn’t stop her embarrassment.

‘It’s kind of you to say so,’ she mumbled. ‘But we both know it would be an uneven match.’

She cast a furtive glance at his muscled arms and wished he’d cover himself up. It was hard not to stare.

‘You underestimate yourself, Dr Connors.’ His words sliced through her thoughts. ‘Why is that? You struck me as a very confident woman when we discussed your work.’

Confident? She’d talked too much last night as they’d visited the archives. Nerves and guilt about the risks she’d taken with his books in the library had made her overcompensate. Anxiety had made her garrulous.

‘That’s different.’ Reluctantly she lifted her chin and met his gaze. Even braced for the impact, the connection sent shock waves of pleasure racing through her. ‘I’ve worked hard to develop my expertise. My work is what I’m good at. What I love.’

Tamsin had buried herself in work for years. At first because immersing herself in books had been an escape in her lonely childhood. Then from habit, especially as a student, when her age had set her apart from older colleagues. More recently it had been easier to be a workaholic than cultivate a personal life. She shivered. Her one foray into romance had been disastrous.

She waved a hand at the court. ‘I lead a sedentary life. This is just a way to keep fit.’ And a welcome outlet for troubled emotions.

He tilted his head, his gaze shrewd. ‘Yet your focus was impressive. And your speed. You’d be a formidable opponent.’

The lazy approval was gone from his face, replaced by a seriousness that made her still.

Like last night Tamsin again had the suspicion he saw her: not just her academic reputation, but whole, talents and doubts, confidence and uncertainties. Saw the real person.

The notion thrilled yet made her feel oddly vulnerable.

She shoved an arm into her cardigan, pulled it round and slid her other arm in. Its familiarity steadied her, a reminder of her everyday world, devoid of handsome princes with dark chocolate voices.

She opened the case in her hands to take out her glasses. She felt naked meeting his scrutiny without them. But the sudden intensity of his stare arrested her. She closed the case with a snap.

‘Hardly formidable, Your Highness. But thank you for the compliment.’

She made to turn away then stopped. This might be her only chance to talk to him. After today he’d probably be as elusive as before.

Steadfastly Tamsin ignored a sudden pang of disappointment. They had nothing in common. What did it matter if she never saw him again?

‘Tomorrow, could I work on the text again? I’m eager to make more progress.’

‘I’m sure you are.’ Yet there was no answering enthusiasm in his face. If he was excited about the possibility of becoming monarch he hid it. His expression was flinty.

Had she said something wrong?

Finally he nodded. ‘It will be brought to you tomorrow so you can pursue your…investigations.’

Tamsin sat absorbed, one bare foot tucked beneath her.

The more she delved into this manuscript, the more it fascinated. The choice of words, the phrasing, it was unique, even without the bombshell revelation that generations ago the wrong heir had become king. The intricate detail about life at court was incredible.

Take this word. She tilted her lamp to better view the idiosyncratic spelling. It should mean…

She paused, frowning as her thoughts strayed.

There was no sound, no movement on the periphery of her vision. Yet suddenly her focus was shot. The hairs on her arms prickled in atavistic awareness. Did she imagine a change in the atmosphere?

Tamsin focused again, trying to fathom the meaning of a convoluted sentence. Yet the more she tried to concentrate the more aware she became of…something else.

Finally in exasperation she looked up. And saw him.

The overhead lights were on against the fading afternoon. He stood under one, his black hair glossy in the spill of light. He was motionless, feet apart and hands in pockets in a masculine stance that reinforced the air of tough capability she’d noticed from the first.

Her heart throbbed an agitated tattoo. How long had he silently watched her? Why did he look so grim?

More than that, she wondered, as she sat back in her seat, what was he doing here?

‘You’ve been working since seven-thirty this morning and you barely paused for lunch.’ He dragged his hands from his pockets and approached. ‘It’s time you stopped.’

Tamsin frowned. ‘You’re keeping tabs on me?’ She didn’t feel indignant. She was too busy grappling with surprise.

He shrugged those superb shoulders and she stifled rising awareness. ‘My staff have upped security given the importance of your find. I asked them to keep me informed.’

Informed of her meal breaks? Surely he had more on his mind than that? She opened her mouth to question him.

‘You’re translating?’ He leaned over, one broad hand on the desk just inches from the manuscript.

Unaccountably heat washed her as she stared at his long fingers splayed close to hers. His masculine scent made her draw a deep, appreciative breath.

‘Yes.’ She sat straighter. ‘It’s a fascinating document, even apart from the succession issue.’ She looked at the closely written text but all her attention was on the man who’d casually invaded her space.

‘And now you’ve finished for the day.’

For a long moment Tamsin debated. It wasn’t a question. She could contradict him and stay, working on the translation. Normally she worked much later. Yet her concentration had shattered. She found herself stretching, cramped muscles easing as she moved.

‘Yes. I’ve finished.’ She shoved her chair back and stood, busying herself packing up. By rights she should feel less overawed by him now she was on her feet. Instead, she inhaled his fresh scent as he leaned close and became aware of the way his body hemmed her in. It made her edgy.

‘Good. You’re free to come out.’

‘Out?’ Her brow knitted.

‘How long since you left the castle?’

‘I…’ There had been her walk down to the river a few days ago. Or had it been a week? She’d been too busy to count days. ‘I’ve been occupied lately.’

‘As I thought.’ He nodded. ‘Come on. Pack that up.’

‘I’m perfectly capable of getting fresh air myself.’

Eyes of dark sapphire held hers as he leaned across the desk. ‘I’m sure you are. You’re a most capable woman, Dr Connors.’

His mouth kicked up in a smile that lit his face and made her suck in her breath. The way he spoke her name, using her formal title as if it were an endearment, made her ridiculously flushed.

A warning bell clanged crazily in her head.

‘Why are you here?’ She braced her hands on the desk rather than lean towards that stunning smile. ‘What do you want?’

She was no bedazzled fool, no matter how her pulse pattered out of control and illicit excitement shimmied along her backbone. Men like Prince Alaric didn’t waste time on women like her. Women who weren’t glamorous or sexy. She’d learned the hard way where she stood with the opposite sex and she wasn’t making that mistake again.

‘You don’t pull your punches. I like your bluntness.’

Did he have any idea how gorgeous he looked, with laughter lines crinkling from his eyes and that conspiratorial grin turning rakishly handsome into devastatingly irresistible?

No wonder he had a reputation as a rogue. He’d only have to ask to get anything he wanted from a woman. The knowledge shored up her sagging defences.

She turned away to slip her notebook into a drawer.

‘I do want something. I have a proposition for you.’ She looked up, startled, and he raised a hand before she could interrupt. ‘But not here. It’s late. You need a break and I need to eat. I’ll show you some of our Ruvingian hospitality and we can discuss it after we’ve eaten.’

Instinct warned her something was amiss. There was no reason for a prince to take an employee to dine. Yet the sparkle in his eyes invited her to forget her misgivings and take a chance.

Curiosity gnawed. What sort of proposition? Something to do with the archives?

‘If you’d like someone to vouch for me…’ he began.

Her lips twitched. ‘Thank you, but no.’

Despite his easy charm there was a tension about his jaw that hinted at serious intent. Maybe what he had to say was important after all, not just a whim.

‘Some fresh air would be welcome. And some food.’ Suddenly she realised how hungry she was.

‘Excellent.’ He stepped back and the fragile sense of intimacy splintered. ‘Wear warm clothes and comfortable shoes. I’ll meet you by the garages in twenty minutes.’

‘I’ll see to this.’ But as she reached for the text he pulled cotton gloves from his pocket and picked it up.

‘I’ll take care of that. You go and get ready.’

He didn’t trust her to keep the chronicle safe. Last night he’d taken it away, saying he wanted it locked up. Disappointment was a plunging sensation inside her.

If he didn’t trust her with that, how could he trust her to do her job? And why would he have a proposition?

Tamsin felt completely out of place in the luxurious, low-slung car as it purred out of the cobbled courtyard and over the bridge that connected the castle with the steep mountain spur. A last glimpse of the castle, a floodlit fantasy with its beautiful, soaring towers, reinforced her sense of unreality. She slid her fingers over the soft leather upholstery, eyes wide as she took in the state of the art controls. She’d never been in a car like this.

Or spent time alone with a man like Prince Alaric.

In the confines of the vehicle he was impossible to ignore. So big and vital. Electricity charged the air so it buzzed and snapped. It was hard to breathe.

She told herself lack of food made her light-headed. She should have eaten lunch instead of skimping on an apple.

He nosed the car down a series of swooping bends and she risked a sideways look. A smile played around his mouth as if an icy road after dusk was just what he loved. His powerful hands moved easily on the wheel, with a fluid sureness that hinted he enjoyed tactile pleasures.

Tamsin shivered as an unfamiliar yearning hit her.

‘You’re cold?’ He didn’t take his eyes off the road. How had he sensed the trawling chill that raked her spine?

‘No, I’m warm as toast.’

‘So it’s the road that bothers you.’ Before she could answer he eased his foot onto the brake.

It was on the tip of her tongue to protest. He hadn’t been speeding. She’d enjoyed the thrill of the descent, instinctively sensing she was safe with such a capable driver. Disappointment rose as they took the next bend at a decorous pace but she didn’t contradict him. She didn’t want to try explaining the curious feelings that bombarded her when she was with him.

‘What’s this proposition you have for me?’

He shook his head, not looking away from the road as it curved one final time then disappeared like a dark ribbon into the forest at the foot of the mountain. ‘Not yet. Not till we’ve eaten.’

Tamsin tamped down her impatience, realising her companion had no intention of being swayed. For all his light-hearted charm she sensed he could be as immoveable as the rock on which his castle perched.

‘Tell me why you took this position. Being cooped up here in the dead of winter hasn’t got much to recommend it.’

Was he kidding? Tamsin slanted another glance his way and saw nothing but curiosity in his expression.

‘The place is beautiful. Its heritage listed for outstanding scenic and cultural significance.’

‘But you’ve barely been out of the castle.’

Tamsin stiffened. Had his staff been reporting her movements? Why? The unsettling discovery didn’t sit well with the sense of freedom she’d enjoyed.

‘I’d planned to explore. But once I got engrossed in my work and found Tomas’s chronicle, I never found time.’

‘You came to Ruvingia for the views?’ Disbelief edged his tone.

‘Hardly.’ Though the picturesque setting was a bonus. ‘It was the work that fascinated me.’

‘You don’t mind spending an alpine winter so far from family and friends?’

Tamsin looked away, to the dark forest crowding close. She was grateful for the heating which dispelled any chill. ‘My parents were the first to urge me to apply. They know how important my work is to me.’

They didn’t care about her not being home for the festive season. As far as her father, a single-minded academic, was concerned the holidays were simply a nuisance that closed the university libraries. Her mother, wrapped up in her art, found it easier catering for two than three. Theirs was a distant kind of caring. They were dedicated to their work and Tamsin, an unexpected child after years of marriage, had fitted between the demands of their real interests. She’d grown self-sufficient early, a dreamer losing herself in a world of books.

‘What about your friends? Surely you’d rather be with them at this time of year?’ He probed the sore point, making her want to shrink inside herself.

Tamsin had friends, but none were particularly close.

Except Patrick. She’d expected to see a lot of him over the holidays. Had expected their relationship to blossom into something wonderful.

Before she’d discovered what a gullible idiot she’d been.

She turned to find Prince Alaric watching her closely. In the dim interior light she sensed an intensity to his stare that surprised her. Why did this interest him so?

‘You don’t understand how exciting this job is.’ With an effort she pinned on a bright smile. ‘A previously unknown hoard of documents. The opportunity to be of real value, preserving what might otherwise be lost. Not to mention the excitement of discovery. The chance to…’ She hesitated, unwilling to reveal how important this job was at a more personal level.

This had been an escape route she’d gratefully seized. She couldn’t bear Patrick gloating over his success and sneering at her naivety. Plus there’d been her colleagues’ pitying looks.

It was also an opportunity to shore up her battered self-esteem. To prove that despite her appalling lapse of judgement with Patrick, she was good at what she did. Even, she admitted now, to show those who’d doubted her abilities they’d made a mistake promoting Patrick instead of her. His work was inferior but he had the charm to make the most of every opportunity. They’d soon realise their mistake but Tamsin wouldn’t be human if she didn’t want to banish her growing self-doubts with a coup of her own.

‘The chance to…?’

Tamsin dragged herself back to the conversation. What had she been saying? ‘The chance to be part of this exciting discovery. It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity.’

‘But you can’t have known that when you applied for the job.’ His riposte was lightning fast. He speared her with a penetrating look before turning back to the road.

‘No, but I…’

She couldn’t tell him how desperately she’d needed to escape. Escape Patrick lording his new position over her; Patrick with his old girlfriend on his arm again. Her forlorn heart had shredded whenever she’d seen them.

‘I wanted a change. This sounded too good to miss.’ She sounded stilted, falsely bright, but she wasn’t about to bare her soul.

‘Too good to be true, in fact.’ His voice deepened on a curiously rough note. In the streetlights of the town they’d entered he looked stern.

Had he grown bored? He was probably used to more scintillating conversation. Tamsin was more than happy to change the subject.

‘Where are we going?’ They were in the old town, where roads narrowed and cobblestones glistened. Lights were strung between lampposts, giving the streets a festive air as pedestrians strolled, looking at decorated shop windows.

Tamsin wished she could be one of them. Away from prying questions. Away from memories that taunted her.

‘The winter market is on,’ he said. ‘We’ll eat and you can see some of the sights.’

Tamsin felt a flicker of excitement. The town looked quaintly romantic with half-timbered houses, brightly painted shutters and steep, snow-capped roofs.

But with a prince by her side relaxation was impossible. Instead she fretted over his mysterious proposition and the growing sense of something wrong. Why this interest in her?

A couple strolled hand in hand across the street, catching her eye. They were barely aware of anyone else, completely absorbed in each other. She felt a small pang of envy. Once she’d hoped she and Patrick…

Tamsin had never been close to anyone like that. Never experienced all-encompassing love, even from her parents. Never even fitted in, finishing school before her age peers and being so much younger than her university colleagues.

She turned away, setting her mouth firmly. She refused to pine for what she’d never had. One perilous venture into romance had proved what she’d always suspected. Love wasn’t for her. She just didn’t inspire that sort of affection.

But she had her work. That was compensation enough.

Alaric viewed the woman beside him with frustration. Two hours in her company and she was still an enigma.

On one level she was easy to read. Her peal of laughter at the antics of children on the outdoor ice-skating rink. Her enthusiasm for markets filled with local handcrafts and produce. She was pleased by simple delights: watching a woodcarver create a nutcracker dragon, or a lace-maker at work, asking questions all the time.

Most women he knew would complain of the rustic enter-tainment!

It was tempting to believe her innocent of deception.

But she’d prevaricated in the car and he’d sensed there was more to her reasons for coming here. Her tension when he pushed for answers, and the way she avoided his gaze made him suspicious.

She was back in disguise, hiding behind thick-rimmed glasses and a scrunched up bun, with an anorak the wrong colour for her complexion and a pair of shapeless trousers.

Was she trying to banish any memory of her in shorts?

His mouth twisted grimly. That particular image was emblazoned on his brain.

With rapt attention she watched a stallholder cook pancakes and fill them with dark cherries, walnuts and chocolate. It was pure pleasure watching her. Her face was blissful as she bit into the concoction, oblivious to the sauce glistening on her bottom lip or Alaric’s testosterone-induced reaction as it dripped to her chin.

She swiped her lips with a pink tongue. To his horror his groin tightened and throbbed as if she’d stripped her ugly clothes away and offered him her soft body.

Right here. Right now…

What was going on? She was nothing like his usual women. He wasn’t even sure he could trust her.

Yet her combination of quick mind, buttoned up formality, prickly challenge and hidden curves was absurdly, potently provocative.

She was like a special treat waiting to be unwrapped. The perfect diversion for a man jaded by too many easy conquests. Too many women seeking to trap him with practised seduction and false protestations of love.

Someone bustled past, bumping her close and branding her body against his. His mouth dried. He had to force himself to let go after he’d steadied her.

‘Come,’ he said abruptly. ‘Let’s find somewhere quiet.’

Tamsin looked up at his brusque tone, pleasure waning as she read his stony expression. Clearly he’d had enough.

She couldn’t blame him. He’d gone out of his way to show her sights that must, for him, be unremarkable. Plus all evening he’d been approached by citizens eager to talk. He’d had no respite.

To her dismay her hackles had risen at the number of women who’d approached him, simpering and laughing when he turned his blue eyes in their direction. What did that say about her? Hastily she shoved away her petty annoyance at them.

She’d watched fascinated as he handled requests with good humour and practicality. He made his royal obligations look simple. She noticed he didn’t have any obvious minders with him but mixed easily with the crowd. Perhaps his security staff blended in.

‘Of course,’ she murmured. ‘Somewhere quiet would be—’

A crack of sound reverberated, then a shout. Her breath caught as a young boy raced in front of her, skidding on the cobbles and catapulting towards a vat of simmering spiced wine. She cried out, instinctively reaching for him.

A large figure plunged forward as the cauldron teetered. It overturned just as Alaric hauled the youngster away. There was a crash, a sizzle of hot liquid and a cry of distress, then a cloud of steam as the boy was thrust into her hands.

In the uproar that followed Tamsin lost sight of the prince as the crowd surged forward. Then, out of the confusion he appeared, pocketing his wallet and nodding to the smiling stallholder. He accepted thanks from the boy’s parents but didn’t linger. Moments later he propelled Tamsin across the square and into an old hotel.

Only when they were ushered into a private dining room did Tamsin see his face clearly. It was white, the skin stretched taut across sculpted bones, his lips bloodless.

‘Are you all right?’

It was clear he wasn’t. Rapidly she scanned him, looking for injury. That’s when she noticed the large splash staining his hand and her stomach turned over.

Tamsin propelled him to the bench seat lining one wall. He subsided and she slid in beside him, moistening a linen napkin from a water carafe and pressing it to his hand.

He sat silent and unmoving, staring ahead.

Tamsin washed the wine away, revealing a burn to the back of his hand. She pressed the wet cloth to it again.

‘Is it just your hand? Where else does it hurt?’

Slowly he turned his head, looking blankly at her. His eyes were almost black, pupils dilated.

‘Your Highness? Are you burned elsewhere?’ She cupped his hand, reassured by the warmth of his skin against hers, though the chill distance in his eyes worried her. Frantically she patted his trousers with her other hand, testing for more sticky wine.

Finally he looked down.

Her hand stilled, splayed across the solid muscle of his thigh. Suddenly her eagerness to help seemed foolish.

‘I’m fine. No other burns.’ He threw the wet cloth onto the table, drawing a deep breath as colour seeped along his cheekbones. His free hand covered hers, sandwiching it against living muscle that shifted beneath her palm.

Fire licked Tamsin’s skin. Something curled tight inside her at the intimacy of that touch.

Ink blue eyes surveyed her steadily and long fingers threaded through hers, holding her hand prisoner. Tingles of awareness shimmied up her arm to spread through her body.

‘In the circumstances you can forget the title.’ His voice was as smooth and seductive as the cherry chocolate sauce she still tasted on her lips. ‘Call me Alaric.’

His mouth lifted in a tiny smile that made Tamsin’s insides liquefy. A smile that hinted at dangerous intimacies, to match that voice of midnight pleasures.

Abruptly she leaned back, realising she’d swayed unthinkingly towards him.

‘You’re sure you’re not hurt?’ Her voice was scratchy, as if it were she who’d lunged in to save the boy, not him. The blankness had gone from his face as if it had never been, yet she couldn’t help wondering what secrets lurked behind his apparently easy smile.

‘Positive. As for this…’ he flexed his burned hand ‘…it’s fine. Though thank you for your concern.’ He leaned forward, eyes dancing. Had she imagined those moments of rigid shock? It had seemed so profound. So real.

‘Now we’re alone, we can talk about my proposition.’ He was so close his breath feathered her hair and cheek. Tamsin had to fight not to shiver in response.

‘Yes, Your…yes, Alaric.’ She strove for composure, despite the wayward excitement that welled, being so close to him. ‘What did you have in mind?’

His fingers flexed around hers. His strength surrounded her. It was strangely comforting despite the way her nerves jangled at the look in his eyes.

His smile broadened and her breath snared.

‘I want you to be my companion.’