Protected by the Prince

The door closed and Alaric was alone. He exhaled slowly, reminding himself of his responsibilities.

Yet the imprint of Tamsin’s body branded him. He could almost feel her breasts crushed against him, her hands clutching his hair as he demanded and she reciprocated with a fervour that blasted his control to smithereens. Her scent was on his clothes, his hands. His body was taut with unsated need.

No wonder it felt like betrayal when he took the CD and inserted it into the player.

Long after the recording had ended he stood, staring out into the stark blackness of the night.

Tamsin and Patrick. He knew of the other man from the investigative dossier, though it had been unclear how intimate the pair had been. Now he knew.

They’d been lovers.

His gut roiled queasily at the thought of Tamsin in the arms of another man. In his bed. Alaric’s jaw ached as he ground his teeth, trying to harness the overpowering need to do something rash, something violent. It was as well the other man was out of Alaric’s way, safe in England.

The way he’d spoken to her in that call! He’d dumped her then expected her to welcome him back with open arms. Alaric registered a tiny flicker of satisfaction that she’d sent him packing. She’d adopted her most glacial schoolmistress voice to get rid of him.

And still Alaric couldn’t obliterate the image of her naked in a stranger’s arms.

So much for his fancy that her guileless yet fervent kisses were evidence of inexperience. He shook his head. He’d fallen for that buttoned up look, been swayed into believing her prickly reserve and her cover-up clothes meant she was an innocent.

Which showed how she’d impaired his thinking!

The woman was all combustible heat, a born seductress. She’d almost blown the back off his head, just with her cries of encouragement as he’d fondled her.

Alaric planted his palms on the window sill, anchoring himself to the solid rock of the old castle. Belatedly he forced himself to confront the other implication of what he’d heard. He’d deliberately shied from it.

The document she’d found appeared authentic. The date testing proved its age.

He would be the next king of Maritz.

Pain scored his fist as he pounded the sill. His gut hollowed. It was unthinkable! The nation deserved better than him.

Bile rose in his throat and he bowed his head, knowing if he let it, the pain would engulf him. Yet even then he wouldn’t be free. He was destined to be alive, whole, unscathed. The ultimate punishment for his failure.

The metallic scent of blood from his grazed fist caught his attention, forcing him to focus. His breathing thickened as he imagined breaking the news to Raul.

Damn! His cousin should be monarch, not him.

Already he was his brother’s usurper. How could he oust his cousin, too?

But they had no choice. They’d both been raised to shoulder their responsibilities and face even the most unpalatable duty.

Now, tonight, he had to make arrangements. Raul had to be updated and a second date test of the document organised. He’d have to call on more experts to help prove or disprove the chronicle. The royal genealogist had cautiously advised he couldn’t rule out the claim to the throne. But that wasn’t good enough. They had to be certain.

Yet Alaric had a hollow, sinking feeling each test would only prove his succession.

Fortunately the document was under lock and key. But there was still a danger news would get out before he’d found a way to manage the transition to monarch.

His mind conjured an image of Tamsin and that journo. They’d been so intent they hadn’t heard him approach.

Surely she hadn’t revealed anything to the newsman. Tamsin had too much integrity. Hadn’t she? Doubt sidled through his thoughts and he squashed it furiously.

But finding her with the journo was too coincidental in the circumstances. Even if she was innocent, one unguarded word could shatter the fragile situation. She was so enthusiastic about her work she might inadvertently let something slip. Alaric must ensure that didn’t happen.

He shook his head. He couldn’t go to her tonight and lose himself in the mindless ecstasy he craved. There were urgent plans to make.

Alaric watched fat snowflakes drift past the window and an idea began to form. The need for Tamsin still gnawed at him, a constant ache. He’d gone beyond the point of no return and abstinence was no longer possible.

He assured himself it was purely physical desire he felt. Anything more…complicated was impossible.

He had to isolate her until arrangements were in place to deal with this mess. That would take time. But wasn’t time with Tamsin what he craved?

There was benefit after all in coming from a long line of robber barons and ruthless opportunists.