Protected by the Prince

‘I…’ She shook her head as if words failed her.

He smoothed his index finger down her brow. ‘Even that tiny frown you have when you’re concentrating gets me. And the way you pout your lips over a knotty problem.’ He breathed deep, trying to slow his escalating heartbeat.

‘Every time I visit the archives and find you poring over papers I want to slam the door shut. I want to take you there, against the storage units. Or on that massive desk. You wouldn’t believe how often I’ve imagined it.’

Colour flared in Tamsin’s pale face and her mouth softened. Alaric bent his head, letting his breath feather her temple, torturing himself with the scent of her.

‘You’ve imagined it too. I can see it in your face.’

For the first time Tamsin was bereft of speech. She just stood, staring up at him in mute appeal.

Unfamiliar sensations stirred. Something deep inside swelled, filling the tattered remnants of his soul.

‘It’s all right,’ he murmured, wondering if he was reassuring himself as well as her. ‘I’ll make it all right.’ He let his hand drop. ‘But only if you want.’

Silence thundered in the air, pulsing like a living thing as their eyes meshed. Something unfamiliar twisted in his chest as he waited for her response. Something more than desire. Something far stronger.

‘I want you too, Alaric.’

Relief speared him. She was his. For now.

That’s all he wanted. He ignored the half-formed idea that there was more than simple sex between them.

Making love…

No. Emotional connections were too dangerous.

But sex…sex he could handle. Sex they would both enjoy. A final fling before he faced the burdens of the crown. Desperation edged his movements as he wrenched the coverlet from her slack hold. Rosy nipples like proud dusky buds pouted just for him.

He reached out to the bedside table and yanked open the drawer, unerringly finding one of the packets he needed.

‘This time,’ he promised with a taut smile, ‘we’re going to take things slow.’

Hours later Tamsin lay, limbs deliciously weighted, so exhausted she felt like she floated on a cloud above the huge four poster bed. The shift and rustle of logs burning in the grate was the only sound. Never had she felt so languid, yet so alert to each sensation. The tickle of hair across her shoulders as she burrowed beneath the covers, the awareness of her body. Especially those parts where Alaric had devoted such lingering attention.

She squeezed her thighs together, conscious of the achy, empty feeling just there. Not sore. More aware.

Her lips curved dreamily. It wasn’t merely what they’d done together. Warmth like honeyed chocolate flowed through her as she remembered Alaric’s words.

She wouldn’t be human, wouldn’t be female if she wasn’t thrilled by the thought of him secretly desiring her, even though she couldn’t compete outwardly with the glamorous sophisticates who were his usual companions.

He enjoyed her body as much as she enjoyed his.

For long moments she distracted herself remembering his powerful limbs, the curve and dip of his back and taut buttocks, the heavy muscle of his chest. She’d explored his body till he’d pinioned her to the bed with a growl that had awoken every sated nerve. She blushed all over recalling what he’d done then. How she’d delighted in it. So much that she’d cried his name as she’d shuddered in ecstasy.

After Patrick she’d wondered if she’d ever trust a man enough for intimacy. She’d assumed her first time with a man might be clumsy, uncomfortable and nerve-racking.

Instead she felt…treasured. Appreciated. Set free.

The fire in Alaric’s eyes had incinerated the doubts and insecurities that had hemmed her in for so long. As if it was right to give in to the passions that simmered below the surface. To trust in herself and him.

He saw beyond her clothes and her job. He was attracted to her. He wasn’t put off by the fact that she spoke her mind. He even liked her enthusiasm for her work! The news that he’d been intrigued by her right from the start made them seem like equals, despite the disparity in their social positions and experience.

This was true sharing. Something she’d never had.

Bemused, she snuggled into the pillows. If it wasn’t for the proof of her exhausted body she’d think it a dream, too good to be true.

Forcefully she reminded herself this wouldn’t last.

He was royalty. A tiny chill pierced her glow. He might even be king.

Tamsin pulled the bedclothes close as a disturbing thought surfaced. Could that be at the root of her nebulous doubts about Tomas’s chronicle? It was the right date. Yet she had doubts.