Protected by the Prince

So what if she was a novice? Alaric had enough experience for them both.

Whatever the next few hours held, she wouldn’t regret the decision to accompany him. Being with Alaric was like the thrill she’d felt scaling that climbing wall, recognising but defying the dangerous drop below. The glow of pleasure, knowing she’d dared the risk and triumphed, had been worth the initial doubt.

How different to the hemmed in half-life she’d led! How frightening to think that just weeks ago she’d have been too nervous, too wary to take this step.

Alaric turned back to the horses and Tamsin wriggled against the seat, luxuriating in an effervescent tingle of anticipation.

In the knowledge that at the end of the journey they would finish what had begun last night.

The whoosh and slide of the sleigh and the tinkle of harness bells echoing in the pine-scented forest reminded her they were completely alone. There were no staff, no members of the public seeking Alaric’s attention. No one to look askance at his choice of companion.

Companion. For a moment the word jangled a discordant note. But even the memory of his original proposition, that she accompany him as a ruse, couldn’t dim Tamsin’s delight.

This was now. Just the two of them. This was real.

The admiration in his eyes made her feel like a princess. She intended to enjoy it while it lasted.

Looking up, Tamsin noticed slate grey clouds encroaching. ‘That looks like bad weather coming.’

‘It’s nothing to worry about.’

It was on the tip of her tongue to protest. Surely those clouds presaged snow. But it was easier to sink back and ignore them. Alaric knew this place. Perhaps she was wrong and the clouds were moving away.

Finally they arrived in a clearing, hemmed in on two sides by the mountain. Below spread more forest and in the distance a vista of Alps and valleys.

‘This is your lodge?’ She’d expected something tiny. She’d almost allowed herself to forget Alaric was royalty. On the remembrance a tremor of doubt buzzed through her and she sat straighter.

‘It was built by my great-great-great-grandfather Rudi as a retreat. For when he wanted to escape the court.’

She eyed the substantial building: traditional Ruvingian architecture but overgrown and embellished with mullioned windows, a forest of chimneys and even a turret. ‘Let me guess. He didn’t want to rough it.’

Alaric laughed and delight strummed her nerves. Soon…

‘Rudi enjoyed his pleasures.’ Alaric’s glittering look made her press her thighs close against a needy hollow ache.

‘You’re cold. Let’s get you inside.’ Deftly he flicked the reins. Ten minutes later they were in a huge stable.

‘You go ahead while I see to the horses.’

‘Can’t I help?’ She’d rather watch Alaric’s easy movements as he unhitched the horses.

‘No.’ His eyes held hers and heat pulsed. ‘Go and get warm. Make yourself at home. I won’t be long, I promise.’

The lodge was unlocked and she stepped into a flagged hall. Warmth hit her as she stared up at the staircase leading down on two sides. Antlers lined the room and a vivid mural ran around the top of the walls.

Tugging off her cap and gloves she paused in the act of undoing her jacket as she followed the scenes of revellers enjoying the bounty of the forest. There were plenty of buxom maids in attendance.

Her lips turned up wryly. Maybe Alaric’s ancestor had been a connoisseur of women, too.

She hung up her jacket, letting her mind skim past the idea of Alaric with other women. She unzipped her boots and left them beside the antique tiled oven that warmed the hall. Someone had prepared the place for their arrival.

‘Hello?’ Tamsin wandered through sitting rooms, a library, a dining room that seated twenty, a kitchen and storage room, but found no one. Yet there was enough food to feed a small army.

Curious, she walked up the staircase. Its balustrade was carved with animals: hares, deer, hounds, even a boar. The whimsy appealed. Had old Rudi possessed a smile and a laugh as fascinating as his great-great-great-grandson’s?

Alaric would be here soon.

Her heart gave a great thump and began to gallop. She moved on till she reached a pair of double doors and hesitated. There was something intimate about investigating the bedrooms. But Alaric had said to make herself at home.

Turning the handle she entered. Her breath caught as she turned to take it in.

The turret room.

It was round, windows set into curved, cream walls. Velvet curtains of azure blue were pulled aside, allowing sunlight to pour across thickly cushioned window seats and a gorgeous old Turkish rug in a kaleidoscope of colours. A fireplace was set ready for the match and opposite it was the biggest four poster bed she’d seen in her life. Drapes of blue velvet were tied back to beautifully turned posts and the headboard was carved with the arms of the Ruvingian royal house.