Protected by the Prince

A strong hand closed around hers and her heart hammered. Ridiculous! She’d danced with the prince earlier. But then he’d barely looked at her, his formality quenching her excitement.

Now his gaze pinioned her, so intent it smouldered.

What had she done to antagonise him?

‘You’ve made a new friend,’ he murmured as he curled long fingers around her waist. His touch evoked a tremor of primitive anxiety. As if she’d stepped too close to a slumbering predator.

Taking a deep breath Tamsin placed an arm on his shoulder, let him clasp her other hand and fixed her gaze on his collar. This was just a dance. For show.

‘Yes, several. Everyone’s been very pleasant.’ Despite the heat flooding her veins as Alaric guided her on the floor, something in his tone chilled her.

‘So I saw. You’ve flitted from man to man all evening.’ His voice was harsh and she raised surprised eyes to his. Blue fire flashed like lightning in an approaching storm.

‘Your instructions were just that I attend the ball.’ Her breasts rose in indignation, straining at the taut fabric of her bodice. ‘I hadn’t realised I wasn’t allowed to mingle.’ After ignoring her most of the night, how dare he complain she’d socialised with the other guests?

‘Is that what you call it?’ He spun her faster till the room whirled around them. Yet in his firm hold Tamsin felt only a heady rush of excitement. As if she were on the edge of something dangerous that nevertheless called to her.

‘Do you have a problem, Alaric?’ She told herself she was breathless because of the speed with which they circled the room. Her skirts belled out around her and her breath shallowed but she didn’t feel nervous. She felt…exhilarated.

‘Of course not. Why should I?’ He kept his gaze fixed over her shoulder. ‘Though I’d be sorry to see you hurt.’

‘Hurt?’ The music ended and they spun to a halt, yet Alaric didn’t let her go. They stood in the centre of the dance floor, his grip holding her still.

‘We Ruvingians are hospitable to guests. I wouldn’t want you to misunderstand and interpret friendliness for something more.’

Tamsin’s breath hissed between her teeth as pain lanced her. ‘What are you insinuating? That no one would normally want to spend time with a woman like me? That I’m too uninteresting? Or perhaps I’m too plain?’

All the pleasure she’d felt in the evening shattered in that moment, like fragile crystal smashed underfoot. She told herself she didn’t believe him, but suddenly the brilliant glare of the antique chandeliers seemed to flicker and dim. The heady excitement of the evening faded to something tawdry and shallow.

She stepped back to break his hold but his grip tightened.

‘Of course not. You’re misinterpreting my words.’

The music struck up again and around them couples took to the floor, a throng of glittering, designer clad, beautiful people.

She didn’t belong here.

‘You can let me go, Your Highness. You’ve done your duty dance.’ She primmed her lips rather than say any more.

He didn’t move, though she saw his chest rise as he took a huge breath.

‘I said—’

He muttered something savage under his breath in the local dialect. Something she had no hope of understanding. A second later he pulled her close and twirled her round into the dancing crowd.

This time there was nothing prim or proper about the way they moved. Gone was the staid distance between them. Instead Tamsin was plastered to Alaric’s torso. His arm at her waist didn’t steady her, it welded her to him. His breath feathered her forehead. His hard thighs cradled her then shifted provocatively between her legs as they danced, evoking a strange hollow ache in her womb.

This close she felt his every movement, partly because her hands were trapped against his chest. His heart pounded fast and strong beneath her palm and despite her anger and hurt, spiralling excitement rose.

‘I’ve had enough dancing,’ she gasped as he swung her round and back down the long ballroom. This was too much, too dangerous.

‘Nonsense. You love to dance. I’ve seen the smile on your face all night.’

All night? That implied he’d watched her which he hadn’t. He’d been too busy squiring so many socialites onto the floor or engaging them in close conversation.

‘You may find it hard to believe, Your Highness, but not all women long to dance with you.’ The room flashed by and her heart pounded faster and faster. ‘I want to stop.’

‘I told you to call me Alaric.’

His body moved against hers and she bit her lip at the surge of pleasure she felt. At the powerful throb building inside. She was pathetic. This was just a dance and with a man she assured herself she didn’t like. Though as his arm dropped low on her back, pulling her even tighter, it felt like something altogether different.