‘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.
Tamsin 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.