A knock sounded on the door and Tamsin started. Yet Alaric turned smoothly as if he’d expected it. Had this been a set-up?
He sent her a long, assessing look and her cheeks burned. Hurriedly she lifted her hands to secure her hair as best she could, then shook out her long skirts. But for the life of her she couldn’t move away from the wall at her back. Her knees trembled too much.
‘Enter.’ Neither his voice nor his appearance gave any hint of what they’d been doing minutes before. She’d been the one half naked and wanting. Suddenly the fact that he’d remained fully clothed seemed suspiciously important.
Her throat closed on a knot of distress as she met his unblinking stare.
A steward entered and bowed deeply, his expression wooden. ‘Your Highness. Madam.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I’m sorry to disturb—’
‘It’s all right.’ Alaric’s tone was clipped. ‘Go on.’
Again the servant bowed. ‘The guests are assembled on the terrace, Highness. The fireworks will end in five minutes.’
Alaric nodded, the picture of regal composure. ‘Good. I’ll be just in time for the toasts.’ He turned to her and for a searing moment his gaze held hers, making her heart catapult against her ribs.
‘Please accompany Dr Connors to her suite. She was overcome by the exertions of the ball. She doesn’t know her way back from this part of the castle.’
The man nodded, his face betraying no emotion. Ridiculously that made Tamsin feel worse. Did Alaric make a habit of seducing women in antechambers? Given his reputation she supposed his servants were used to dealing with his cast off lovers.
A dreadful giggle rose in her throat. The joke was on them because she didn’t fit the bill. She hadn’t quite made it to the exalted ranks of ex-lover.
Now she probably never would.
‘Dr Connors.’ Alaric’s bow was formal. He straightened and paused, as if waiting for her to speak.
‘Your Highness.’ A curtsey was beyond her. It was all she could do to stay upright, knees locked.
With a curt nod of acknowledgement he strode out the door, his bearing as rigid as a soldier on parade.
The fantasy was over.
It was time for Cinderella to leave.
At the knock on the door to his suite Alaric paused in the act of shrugging off his jacket.
Could it be her? Had she come to finish what they’d begun? His pulse rocketed, his body tensing in anticipation.
He’d been torn between visiting her now, tonight, and listening to the voice of responsibility that warned she’d been out of her depth. He’d taken advantage. He’d been so intent on seducing her he’d dismissed the need for discretion to protect her or to allow her time to think.
Yet he’d only come here to change from his uniform. He couldn’t keep away after that taste of her sweet body.
Now she’d saved him the trouble!
‘Come.’
It was an unpleasant shock to see his security chief enter instead. Disappointment surfaced and a disturbing premonition of bad news. The hair rose at his nape as he took in that sombre expression.
‘I’m sorry to interrupt, sir, but you gave instructions about Dr Connors’ phone calls. You need to hear this.’
The jacket fell from Alaric’s hand to a nearby chair and he flexed his fingers. He didn’t want to hear this.
The report on Tamsin had drawn a blank. The woman was so squeaky clean it was unbelievable. Recently Alaric had set aside his suspicion she might be connected with those trying to disrupt the government. He couldn’t believe it.
After tonight he didn’t want to believe it. He could still taste her cherry sweetness, smell the rich scent of her arousal.
He wanted to turn his back on whatever unpalatable truth awaited. But there was too much at stake.
He couldn’t afford to trust his instincts when this was about far more than himself. What of the allegiance he owed Raul? If the document she’d found was genuine at the very least its public release had to be carefully managed. He couldn’t fail in this as well.
‘When was this call recorded?’ He scrubbed a hand over his face, wearier than he’d been in months.
‘Before the ball, sir. It was a while before I became aware of the contents. By then the festivities were under way and there was no time to inform you.’
‘Very well.’ Alaric gestured to a table, curiously unwilling to take the recording in his own hand. ‘Leave it.’
His advisor looked as if he’d protest.
Between them hung the knowledge that a stable monarchy was at the core of the nation’s wellbeing.
‘You can go,’ he ordered.
There was only a fractional hesitation. ‘Yes, sir.’