‘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 entertainment!
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.’