Passion, Purity and the Prince

‘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.