Protected by the Prince

‘Why don’t you want me to open it?’

Silence. He moved close but didn’t touch her. That tiny distance made her feel colder than the chilly dawn air.

‘Because it’s not for you. It’s about you.’

For what seemed an age Tamsin stood, unmoving, staring blankly at her printed name. About her?

Realisation, when it came, rocked her onto her heels.

‘You mean an investigation? Of me?’ For the first time she noticed the date under her name. The day they’d left the castle. Alaric must have brought it with him.

Her head jerked up and their eyes met. His were blank.

Tamsin’s heart tripped. She’d grown used to the other Alaric. Warm, generous and fun loving. Caring. She’d almost forgotten the cool control he could summon at will.

‘Yes,’ he said at last. ‘I had you investigated.’

Something squeezed around her lungs and it took a few moments to catch her breath. ‘What’s in it?’

‘I don’t know. I haven’t read it.’

‘Do you have dossiers on every employee?’

It must be a routine security check. But why was it done so recently rather than before she’d come to Ruvingia?

‘Not like that.’

Tamsin’s heart plummeted. She slipped her finger under the flap and drew out the papers.

Alaric didn’t move a muscle. His eerie stillness only increased her fear.

The first page puzzled her. It was about the journalist at the ball. It was only when she turned the page and read a note that there was no evidence of previous contact between him and Tamsin that she understood.

The paper fluttered to the floor.

Other pages were about her and Patrick. Heat rose in Tamsin’s cheeks as she recognised office gossip about them. How could Alaric have ordered someone to pry into her life?

‘Why didn’t you ask, if you wanted to know about the men in my life?’ Her mouth twisted bitterly.

Alaric was the only man in her life! Somehow, now, the idea didn’t thrill her so much.

‘Do you normally vet prospective lovers?’

Alaric shook his head. ‘It’s not like that.’

‘How did you know about Patrick anyway? I didn’t mention him to anyone here.’ She turned to the last page. What she found turned her heart to a solid lump of ice.

‘You had my phone tapped!’ She could barely believe it. ‘Surely that’s not legal, even if you are the prince!’

‘It is, if it’s a matter of state security.’

‘State security! I’m a curator, not a spy!’

‘You turned up out of the blue—’

‘You invited me here, remember?’

‘At a volatile time,’ he said as if she hadn’t interrupted. ‘There’s no king. Parliament is in recess till after the coronation, which by law can’t take place for several months. It’s a time ripe for factions building on past dissension to try toppling the democracy.’

He looked utterly implacable and something inside Tamsin shrivelled. Gone was her tender, vulnerable lover.

‘Suddenly you appear, claiming to have proof that I, not Crown Prince Raul, am the legitimate heir. Can you imagine how catastrophic it might be if that news reached the wrong people before we had time to prepare?’

Tamsin stepped behind the desk, needing space to clear her head. Her eyes widened as she saw Alaric’s severe expression. The tiny voice that cried this was all a mistake fell silent under the impact of his stare.

‘You thought I lied about what I found?’ The edges of the room spun as she grappled with the depths of his distrust.

‘I acted in the interests of my country.’ His tone was stiff, as if he was unused to being challenged.

‘You thought that and still you took me to bed?’

No, Tamsin. That’s why he took you to bed! To distract you, keep you from doing any more damage.

Neutralise the threat. Wasn’t that what they called it?

She braced herself against the desk as pain gutted her and she doubled up. Blood roared in her ears like a deafening tide. In a series of snapshots, Tamsin recalled so many tell tale moments.

Her carefully monitored access to the chronicle.

The presence, wherever she went, of staff, no doubt reporting her movements.

Alaric asking her to be his companion, just the day after she’d told him about the chronicle. It had been a ruse, not to keep women away, but to keep an eye on her!

Alaric’s fury at the ball when he’d found her with that journalist. He’d lied. He wasn’t jealous, just angry she might have revealed something. Or maybe, she thought of what she’d read, Alaric suspected them of being in cahoots.

Pain blurred her vision and cramped her breathing. Her breath sawed in aching lungs as she fought to stay upright.