‘I could get used to you trying to dominate me,’ he murmured in a pale imitation of his usual teasing. ‘I’m too tired to resist.’
His breath was warm on her skin, his hand splayed possessively at her waist as he tucked her close. But there was nothing sexual about the way they lay. This was about comfort and peace and love.
Even if he didn’t believe in it, Tamsin hoped Alaric felt the love drenching her skin, filling her heart, wrapping itself around him.
Later, she knew, her predicament in falling for this man would devastate her. But for now it filled her with a peace she’d never known.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
THE pink flush of dawn lit the sky as Tamsin crept downstairs. Though Alaric had slept for hours she didn’t want to wake him.
She shivered and pulled the silk wrap tighter as she reached the ground floor. The lingering warmth from the central heating made the chill bearable.
Yet nothing dispelled the cold squeezing her heart. How could she even begin to help Alaric?
Or herself. Her situation was impossible.
She was in love.
With Prince Alaric of Ruvingia.
A man with no history of commitment. A troubled man who scorned the notion of falling in love. A man so far beyond her sphere any idea of a relationship was laughable.
Alaric was used to the best in everything. Could he ever settle for someone as ordinary as her? It was ridiculous to hope, but she couldn’t stop herself.
Would he ever tie himself to a woman? Especially a woman who wasn’t witty or glamorous or well born?
She’d come here knowing she was a short term diversion. At first the bright promise of his offer had been enough. Now she realised she’d been dragged out of her depth.
She loved him.
Tamsin hugged the bitter-sweet knowledge to herself, alternately thrilled and horrified.
Yet as she’d lain, overwhelmed by the realities she faced, part of her brain had pondered the one useful thing she could do: prove once and for all if Tomas’s chronicle was legitimate. Lately she’d harboured doubts. Were they well founded or, as she’d begun to suspect, an excuse not to break the news that would take Alaric even further from her?
She thrust open the library door, flicked on the light and headed for the desk. She worked best with pen and paper. Perhaps if she listed her concerns she’d get them straight in her head.
She’d happily give up the kudos of rewriting history with her find if it meant bringing Alaric peace of mind.
He was more important than any professional coup or the chance to rub Patrick’s nose in her success. Nothing mattered more than his peace and happiness.
How much had altered these past months!
Despite her selfish fear about the yawning void it would open between them, Tamsin couldn’t help regretting that he didn’t want the crown. The respect and admiration between Alaric and his people was tangible even if he didn’t see it. He’d make an excellent monarch with his dedication to duty and practicality. If only he could see beyond his pain.
She opened a drawer and found a notepad. She withdrew it then paused, an envelope catching her eye.
Tamsin Connors. It was addressed to her?
Her brow puckered as she reached for it. No stamp. No address. Just her name. What did it mean? A trickle of sensation slid down her spine.
‘Tamsin!’
Startled, she turned to find Alaric filling the doorway, his face pale and set. Her gaze traversed his perfect, muscular torso and a familiar weakness hit her knees. He wore only jeans, zipped but not buttoned.
No man had a right to look so magnificent! Her pulse gave a queer little leap and hurried on.
‘What are you doing?’ The hoarse edge to his voice reminded her of his revelations last night. She moved towards him then stopped, uncertain.
‘I came to find pen and paper. I had an idea about the chronicle. I wanted—’
‘Come back to bed.’ He held out a hand, his eyes boring into hers as if to force her to obey. Despite his outstretched hand it wasn’t an invitation. It was an order.
‘What’s wrong?’ The room hummed with tension.
‘Nothing. I just want you with me. This can wait.’ He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
‘I’ll be up soon,’ she assured him. ‘I only want to jot some points. Besides, I found this.’ She looked at the envelope, frowning as she read her name again.
Before she realised what he intended, Alaric had crossed the room. He stood before her, his palm open as if inviting her to pass the envelope over.
‘Leave that. It’s not important.’ His clipped tone surprised her and she stiffened.
Tamsin looked from those blazing indigo eyes and the stark lines accentuating the stern set of Alaric’s mouth to the envelope in her hand. A frisson of foreboding rippled through her. Suddenly the envelope didn’t seem quite so innocuous. She wanted to drop it on the desk but her fingers locked tight.