Protected by the Prince

The reminder of Alaric’s status stopped her, a splinter of harsh reality in her pleasant daydream.

Prince and commoner. It was too far-fetched. Too unreal.

‘I hoped I’d find you here.’

Tamsin spun round as Alaric closed the door. Its click made her jump.

‘I couldn’t find anyone.’ Her voice emerged too high. She watched his long silent stride. Something inside her shivered and her pulse danced.

‘We’re the only ones here.’ His lips curved up but his eyes were darkly intent.

‘I see.’

She wanted this, so why had her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth? Why did she feel suddenly nervous?

‘So you want to talk now?’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘Talk? What about?’

‘When you came to the archives you said you wanted…’

Slowly he shook his head as he paced closer. ‘I didn’t mention conversation.’ He stopped so near she smelled warm flesh and horse and citrus soap. She breathed deep and put out a steadying hand to the post behind her.

She was quaking but not, she registered, in fear.

‘You knew that.’ His gaze snared hers and her stomach dipped. ‘Didn’t you, Tamsin?’

She nodded. No point prevaricating. She knew exactly what he’d wanted. Why he’d invited her here.

‘Would you like to talk?’ He gestured to a couple of chairs she hadn’t noticed to one side of the room.

‘No.’ The single syllable was all she could manage.

‘What do you want, Tamsin?’ He purred her name and the final thread of resistance unravelled inside her.

She lifted her face to look him in the eye. What she saw there gave her the courage to be honest.

‘I want to make love with you. Now.’

CHAPTER TEN

HER words blasted away Alaric’s barely formed suspicion that she was nervous.

It wasn’t nerves that made her eyes widen as he crossed the room. It was excitement. Despite her initial hesitation when he kissed her, and her occasional air of other-worldliness, Tamsin was no shrinking virgin. Last night’s phone call from her ex-lover had made that clear.

Alaric breathed deep as anticipation roared through him. This was exactly what he needed. A mutually satisfying interlude with a woman who knew how to give and take pleasure generously. Tamsin’s passion last night left him in no doubt this would be an erotically fulfilling encounter.

He shoved to the back of his mind the knowledge that he was taking advantage. That his motives bringing her here were complex and he was keeping things from her.

But he couldn’t feel guilt. Not when he looked at Tamsin and knew only one thing drove him now: the purely personal need to claim her. Make her his.

‘It will be my absolute pleasure to make love to you,’ he murmured, his gaze trawling her tense form and coming to rest on her parted lips.

He’d waited so long for this. Too long.

He palmed her soft cheek, noting with delight the way she tilted her head up, instinctively seeking his mouth.

But he’d learned his lesson. Kissing Tamsin would unleash a desire so combustible he’d lose control in moments. This time he’d hold back to savour every exquisite detail for as long as possible. He had no illusions that the first time would be over almost before it began.

Just as well they had leisure for a second time and a third. And more. Tamsin would be here, his, for as long as he needed her.

‘Let your hair down.’

She blinked at the rough growl edging his voice but lifted her hands. Rippling swathes of dark glossy hair cascaded around her shoulders. In the bright wintry light auburn tints gleamed. So rich. So unexpected. Just like Tamsin.

He took a slippery fistful. The scent of sweet summer meadows. Skeins soft as satin slid against his lips.

He was hungry for the taste of her. Hard with wanting.

‘Now your pullover.’ He wanted to strip her himself but he didn’t trust himself to retain control.

Next time.

No, she wouldn’t have a chance to get dressed before he had her again. His groin hardened as blood pumped faster.

For an instant Tamsin hesitated then she hauled the wool over her head. As she stretched her arms high a sliver of pale skin appeared at her waist. In an instant his hands were there, slipping beneath her grey shirt.

She stilled, half out of her pullover, as he slid fingers across warm flesh that trembled under his touch.

So deliciously sensitive. Her delicate little shudder of pleasure delighted him as his hands skimmed her waist and dipped below the waistband of her trousers to explore the curve of her hips.

By the time she’d discarded the pullover he’d tunnelled beneath her shirt, up, up, till all she had to do was lift her arms again and it was gone, too.