Protected by the Prince

Yet Alaric knew the real change had come from his brief glimpse of happiness. The peace and sense of connection he’d felt in his short time with Tamsin. Surely that’s what had hauled him back from the brink of self-destruction, giving him hope for the first time in years.

Six months ago he’d have embraced death with equanimity. But lying in hospital as doctors fussed over him; Alaric had discovered he wanted to live so badly he could taste the need.

He had to live, to see Tamsin and set things right.

The night he’d shared his past with her had cracked something wide open inside him. Not just his guilt and fear. But a lifetime of barriers. Barriers that had kept him cut off from love, preventing him building a real relationship.

‘Alaric.’ His cousin’s voice yanked him from his reverie. He turned and met Raul’s sympathetic look. ‘I know this is hard on you.’

‘Hard on us both.’ Raul had been raised to be king. It was a measure of his integrity that he’d taken so well the stunning news that Alaric should be monarch. The final testing and double checking of Tamsin’s document and other contemporary sources had proven her right. Alaric was destined to be king, not Raul.

Raul shrugged. ‘There’s no way out of the wedding. You think I haven’t double checked? It’s a binding agreement. The Crown Prince of Maritz is betrothed to marry the Princess of Ardissia. No negotiation.’

‘Even though we don’t know where she is?’ If Alaric had his way they’d never locate her.

‘We will soon. And when we do…’ Raul shrugged.

‘A royal wedding.’ A loveless marriage. Surely the only sort he wanted or deserved. Yet his blood froze.

He remembered Tamsin’s smile, felt the radiant warmth it brought his blighted soul. He heard her soft cries of delight as he pleasured her, smelled her fresh summer scent.

She hadn’t come near him since the accident. She hated him for what he’d done to her.

His chances of persuading her to forgive him were slim.

But to marry another woman…

Alaric stiffened, realising there was only one way forward. It would be perhaps the most difficult thing he’d ever done, but he had no choice.

‘I beg your pardon?’ Tamsin couldn’t believe her ears.

‘None of the documents held in safekeeping can be released without His Highness’s permission.’ The secretary sounded uncomfortable. ‘But it’s my passport!’ Tamsin shot to her feet, the phone pressed to her ear, then drew a calming breath. ‘There must be a misunderstanding. The passport was held for safekeeping only.’

‘You’re planning to travel?’

Tamsin frowned. She shouldn’t have to report her plans. But maybe it would stir this bureaucrat into action.

‘I fly to Rome this weekend.’ An overnight trip to discuss a possible job. She told herself she’d be enthusiastic about it once she got to the sunny south. ‘So when can I collect it?’

Another pause. ‘I’ll have to get back to you on that. The prince gave specific instructions…’

A chill fingered its way down Tamsin’s spine. Alaric’s instructions? Impossible! He couldn’t want her here.

Yet he’d manipulated her before. Was it possible he was doing it again? Fury sparked. She would not be a pawn in his games again.

The secretary was talking when she dropped the phone into its cradle.

Fifteen minutes later Tamsin entered the royal antechamber. Ironically she’d made it through security easily. Chancing to meet the servant who’d come to fetch Alaric the night of the ball, she’d asked for directions, letting him believe Alaric had sent for her.

As she entered the room a man, busy at a desk, looked up.

‘The prince is not receiving visitors.’

Tamsin’s eyes narrowed as she recognised his voice. The secretary who’d stonewalled her on the phone.

‘This can’t wait.’ She kept walking.

‘Wait!’ His eyes flicked to the double doors on the other side of the room. ‘If you take a seat I’ll check the prince’s schedule.’

Her pace quickened. She was sure now that Alaric was in the next room. Tamsin wasn’t about to be fobbed off. Whatever was going on she’d get to the bottom of it. Now.

‘Thank you. But I’ll make my own appointment.’

From the corner of her eye she saw him scramble to his feet, but he was too late. She wrenched open the door and catapulted through it, her heart pounding as adrenaline surged. She’d hoped to avoid confronting Alaric again, yet part of her longed to see him one last time.

Two steps into the room she stumbled to a halt, eyes widening at the tableau before her. Alaric was there but so were many others, all formally dressed and wearing sober expressions. There was a sprinkling of uniforms, clerical robes and a few judges in old-fashioned costumes.