Passion, Purity and the Prince Read online

  Most women he knew would complain of the rustic enter-tainment!

  It was tempting to believe her innocent of deception.

  But she’d prevaricated in the car and he’d sensed there was more to her reasons for coming here. Her tension when he pushed for answers, and the way she avoided his gaze made him suspicious.

  She was back in disguise, hiding behind thick-rimmed glasses and a scrunched up bun, with an anorak the wrong colour for her complexion and a pair of shapeless trousers.

  Was she trying to banish any memory of her in shorts?

  His mouth twisted grimly. That particular image was emblazoned on his brain.

  With rapt attention she watched a stallholder cook pancakes and fill them with dark cherries, walnuts and chocolate. It was pure pleasure watching her. Her face was blissful as she bit into the concoction, oblivious to the sauce glistening on her bottom lip or Alaric’s testosterone-induced reaction as it dripped to her chin.

  She swiped her lips with a pink tongue. To his horror his groin tightened and throbbed as if she’d stripped her ugly clothes away and offered him her soft body.

  Right here. Right now…

  What was going on? She was nothing like his usual women. He wasn’t even sure he could trust her.

  Yet her combination of quick mind, buttoned up formality, prickly challenge and hidden curves was absurdly, potently provocative.

  She was like a special treat waiting to be unwrapped. The perfect diversion for a man jaded by too many easy conquests. Too many women seeking to trap him with practised seduction and false protestations of love.

  Someone bustled past, bumping her close and branding her body against his. His mouth dried. He had to force himself to let go after he’d steadied her.

  ‘Come,’ he said abruptly. ‘Let’s find somewhere quiet.’

  Tamsin looked up at his brusque tone, pleasure waning as she read his stony expression. Clearly he’d had enough.

  She couldn’t blame him. He’d gone out of his way to show her sights that must, for him, be unremarkable. Plus all evening he’d been approached by citizens eager to talk. He’d had no respite.

  To her dismay her hackles had risen at the number of women who’d approached him, simpering and laughing when he turned his blue eyes in their direction. What did that say about her? Hastily she shoved away her petty annoyance at them.

  She’d watched fascinated as he handled requests with good humour and practicality. He made his royal obligations look simple. She noticed he didn’t have any obvious minders with him but mixed easily with the crowd. Perhaps his security staff blended in.

  ‘Of course,’ she murmured. ‘Somewhere quiet would be—’

  A crack of sound reverberated, then a shout. Her breath caught as a young boy raced in front of her, skidding on the cobbles and catapulting towards a vat of simmering spiced wine. She cried out, instinctively reaching for him.

  A large figure plunged forward as the cauldron teetered. It overturned just as Alaric hauled the youngster away. There was a crash, a sizzle of hot liquid and a cry of distress, then a cloud of steam as the boy was thrust into her hands.

  In the uproar that followed Tamsin lost sight of the prince as the crowd surged forward. Then, out of the confusion he appeared, pocketing his wallet and nodding to the smiling stallholder. He accepted thanks from the boy’s parents but didn’t linger. Moments later he propelled Tamsin across the square and into an old hotel.

  Only when they were ushered into a private dining room did Tamsin see his face clearly. It was white, the skin stretched taut across sculpted bones, his lips bloodless.

  ‘Are you all right?’

  It was clear he wasn’t. Rapidly she scanned him, looking for injury. That’s when she noticed the large splash staining his hand and her stomach turned over.

  Tamsin propelled him to the bench seat lining one wall. He subsided and she slid in beside him, moistening a linen napkin from a water carafe and pressing it to his hand.

  He sat silent and unmoving, staring ahead.

  Tamsin washed the wine away, revealing a burn to the back of his hand. She pressed the wet cloth to it again.

  ‘Is it just your hand? Where else does it hurt?’

  Slowly he turned his head, looking blankly at her. His eyes were almost black, pupils dilated.

  ‘Your Highness? Are you burned elsewhere?’ She cupped his hand, reassured by the warmth of his skin against hers, though the chill distance in his eyes worried her. Frantically she patted his trousers with her other hand, testing for more sticky wine.

  Finally he looked down.

  Her hand stilled, splayed across the solid muscle of his thigh. Suddenly her eagerness to help seemed foolish.

  ‘I’m fine. No other burns.’ He threw the wet cloth onto the table, drawing a deep breath as colour seeped along his cheekbones. His free hand covered hers, sandwiching it against living muscle that shifted beneath her palm.

  Fire licked Tamsin’s skin. Something curled tight inside her at the intimacy of that touch.

  Ink blue eyes surveyed her steadily and long fingers threaded through hers, holding her hand prisoner. Tingles of awareness shimmied up her arm to spread through her body.

  ‘In the circumstances you can forget the title.’ His voice was as smooth and seductive as the cherry chocolate sauce she still tasted on her lips. ‘Call me Alaric.’

  His mouth lifted in a tiny smile that made Tamsin’s insides liquefy. A smile that hinted at dangerous intimacies, to match that voice of midnight pleasures.

  Abruptly she leaned back, realising she’d swayed unthinkingly towards him.

  ‘You’re sure you’re not hurt?’ Her voice was scratchy, as if it were she who’d lunged in to save the boy, not him. The blankness had gone from his face as if it had never been, yet she couldn’t help wondering what secrets lurked behind his apparently easy smile.

  ‘Positive. As for this…’ he flexed his burned hand ‘…it’s fine. Though thank you for your concern.’ He leaned forward, eyes dancing. Had she imagined those moments of rigid shock? It had seemed so profound. So real.

  ‘Now we’re alone, we can talk about my proposition.’ He was so close his breath feathered her hair and cheek. Tamsin had to fight not to shiver in response.

  ‘Yes, Your…yes, Alaric.’ She strove for composure, despite the wayward excitement that welled, being so close to him. ‘What did you have in mind?’

  His fingers flexed around hers. His strength surrounded her. It was strangely comforting despite the way her nerves jangled at the look in his eyes.

  His smile broadened and her breath snared.

  ‘I want you to be my companion.’

  Chapter Four

  ‘YOUR…companion?’ Tamsin snapped her mouth shut before she could say any more.

  He couldn’t mean what she thought.

  Companion could have all sorts of interpretations. It was shaming proof of the way he turned her brain to mush that she’d immediately thought he meant lover.

  Her heartbeat ratcheted up a notch and her breathing shallowed as, unbidden, another graphic picture filled her brain. The two of them, stretched naked on the carpet before the fire in his library. Limbs entwined. Lips locked. His hard, capable hands shaping her body.

  Was that answering heat in his eyes? He watched her so closely. Could he guess her thoughts?

  Tamsin forced her breathing to slow and sat straighter. She reminded herself she was known for her analytical mind. Not flights of fantasy.

  He kept her hand anchored against him. Foolishly she couldn’t bring herself to pull it away.

  ‘That’s right.’ He nodded.

  Companion to Prince Alaric of Ruvingia. Women would kill for time with Europe’s most notorious bachelor. For the chance to persuade him into marriage or just to experience his vaunted expertise as a lover.

  Desperately Tamsin told herself she wasn’t one of them.

  ‘You’ve mistaken me for someone else.’ She lifted her chin, b
racing for the moment he told her this was a joke.

  Instead he shook his head.

  ‘No mistake, Dr Connors.’ He paused, his lips pursing ruminatively. To her horror, Tamsin couldn’t take her eyes off his mouth. ‘Perhaps I’d better call you Tamsin.’

  A delicious little shudder tickled every nerve ending as he said her name like that.

  As if it pleased him.

  As if he looked forward to saying it again.

  Reality crashed down in a moment of blinding insight. He was playing with her. A man like him would never view a woman like her in that light.

  ‘Feel free.’ She forced her voice not to wobble. ‘What is it you’re proposing?’

  One straight brow lifted, giving him a faintly superior air. ‘Exactly what it sounds. I need a companion and you’d be perfect. There’d be benefits for you too.’

  Tamsin resisted the impulse to shake her head to clear her hearing. She’d watched him speak. She knew what he’d said. The excited patter of her pulse was testament to that.

  No man had described her as perfect before.

  ‘My invitation this evening wasn’t totally altruistic,’ he continued.

  Did he realise he’d begun absent-mindedly stroking the back of her hand with his thumb as he clamped it to his leg? ‘I wanted to see if we’re compatible.’

  ‘Compatible?’

  His lips stretched in a brilliant smile that made something flip over inside. Only the hooded intelligence in his bright stare hinted this wasn’t as simple as it seemed.

  Sternly Tamsin told herself to be sensible. Logical. All the things she didn’t feel when he touched her, smiled at her like that.

  ‘I need a companion who won’t bore me in the first half-hour.’

  ‘I take it I passed muster?’ Anger ignited at the notion of being assessed. Had it occurred to him she might have better things to do with her time?

  She was sure she’d think of them in a minute.

  She tugged her hand but he didn’t release it.

  His expression sobered. ‘I needed to be sure you’d handle it, too. It’s not necessarily fun keeping me company while I play prince-in-residence for all comers.’

  Tamsin stared, curious at the bitterness in his voice as he spoke of his princely role. Was it real or feigned?

  ‘I wasn’t bothered.’ She’d felt privileged to be with him and to see the able way he’d dealt with requests from the light-hearted to the serious. He had an easy manner with people. She envied that. ‘But I still don’t understand.’ She took a deep breath and willed herself to concentrate. ‘Why do you need a companion? And why me?’

  ‘Ah, I knew you’d go to the crux of things.’

  Alaric watched her troubled face and realised he’d have to do better. He’d only aroused her suspicions.

  He supposed it was the shock of rescuing the boy that had done it. The initial explosion of sound: probably a firecracker but for an instant so like the report of a firearm. The need for urgent action combined with the feel of those small, bony shoulders beneath his hands, the distress on the kid’s face. The huge, fearful dark eyes that for a moment had looked so hauntingly familiar. Together they’d triggered memories Alaric usually submerged beneath the everyday demands on his time.

  It had only taken seconds, but that was enough to tip the balance and slide him into a nightmare world of guilt and pain. In an instant he’d been back in another time, another place. To another life he’d been unable to save.

  Only the touch of Tamsin’s hands, the concern in her voice and her insistence had dragged him out of a state he’d prefer not to think about. It was a condition he usually managed alone, never sharing with others.

  That was the way it would stay.

  ‘Commitments mean I’m staying in Ruvingia for a while.’

  She nodded, wariness in every line of her face.

  ‘And…’ He paused, wondering how best to phrase this. How to appeal to this woman he couldn’t read? ‘While I’m here I need a companion.’

  Amber eyes regarded him unblinkingly through the lenses of her glasses.

  ‘Why? You can’t be lonely.’

  Couldn’t he?

  No matter how frenetically he’d pursued pleasure through Europe’s glittering capitals, no matter how many lovers warmed his bed, Alaric remained profoundly alone. And when he was alone the memories came. Hence his constant need for action, for diversion.

  She didn’t need to know any of that.

  ‘Not lonely, precisely.’ He favoured her with a smile that had won him countless women.

  She appeared unmoved, staring back with a slight frown as if she couldn’t quite place him in a catalogue. Irritation surfaced. Why couldn’t she be like the rest and fall in with his wishes? Why did she have to question everything?

  Yet there was something about her seriousness, about the fact that she held herself aloof, that appealed.

  ‘It would make my life easier if I were seen out and about with the same woman. A woman who didn’t expect that to lead to a more permanent arrangement.’

  As he said it, Alaric realised how weary he’d become of socialites and trophy mistresses. It would be a relief to be with someone who didn’t fit the conventional mould of glossy beauty and vacuous conversation.

  She tilted her head to one side, her mouth flattening primly. ‘You want a decoy? Because you’re tired of being chased by women out to snare you?’

  ‘You could say that.’ He shrugged and watched her gaze flicker away. ‘There’s something about a royal title that attracts women eager to marry.’

  ‘I’d have thought you could cope with that.’ Her words were tart. ‘You’ve got a reputation for enjoying yourself in short term relationships. Surely you don’t need to hide behind any woman.’

  He read the stiffness in her body and realised he’d have to offer more. There was no sympathy there. If anything she looked disapproving.

  ‘These are delicate times, Tamsin.’ He lingered on her name, liking the sound of it. ‘Power blocs are jockeying for position and they include some aristocratic families who’d love to cement their status by linking to royalty.’

  ‘Marriage to you, you mean?’

  He nodded. ‘I’ve had aristocratic ladies paraded before me for months and it’s getting harder to avoid them.’

  ‘You’re an adult. You just have to say you’re not interested!’ She tried to withdraw her hand but he refused to relinquish it. This wasn’t going as he’d anticipated.

  ‘It’s not so simple. Even a rumour that one contender is favoured over another could change the perceived balance of power. My cousin Raul is under the same pressure.’

  Alaric leaned forward, using his most cajoling tone. ‘All I’m asking is some help to keep them at a distance. Is that unreasonable?’

  Her lips thinned and she surveyed him coolly.

  Impatience spiked. He was tempted to cut through her questions and demand acquiescence the easy way.

  He’d drag her glasses away, cup her head in his hand and kiss her till her mouth grew soft and accommodating and she surrendered to his wishes. Till she blushed a delicate pink all over as she had on the squash court, this time with pleasure and anticipation.

  Till she capitulated and said she’d do whatever he wanted.

  Anything he wanted.

  Heat poured through him as he remembered her parted lips, ripe with cherries. The swipe of her tongue licking up sauce in a move so innocently sexy it had tugged him towards arousal. The feel of her breasts against him as he carried her down the library ladder.

  Alaric’s pulse quickened, his hold on her hand tightening.

  ‘I can see it might be useful to have someone to keep other women away.’ Her tone told him her sympathy was limited. ‘But what’s that got to do with me?’

  ‘You’re already here living at the castle. You’re not impressed by my position.’ Despite the importance of persuading her, Alaric’s lips twitched as he saw her flush. Few women could ha
ve made it clearer his title and money meant nothing. She had no notion how refreshing that was. To be viewed as just a man. ‘You won’t get ideas about companionship turning to something more.’

  He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it, inhaling the summery fragrance of her satin skin, enjoying the little shiver of awareness she couldn’t hide. Tamsin was different from other women. He couldn’t remember any of them intriguing him so. Protecting his country had never coincided so well with personal inclination.

  They said you should keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Alaric wasn’t sure yet if she was an enemy or an innocent, but he’d enjoy keeping Tamsin Connors close. Very close.

  Tamsin’s heart faltered and seemed to stop as his lips caressed her hand in a courtly gesture. The trouble was, to her overwrought senses it felt provocative, not courtly, evoking reactions out of proportion with the circumstances.

  There was no mistaking the amusement in his eyes. He was laughing at her. Did he take her for a fool?

  She yanked her hand away, anger and hurt bubbling in a bitter brew that stung the back of her throat.

  ‘No one would believe it.’

  ‘Why not? People will believe their eyes.’

  She shook her head, wishing he’d stop this game.

  ‘Tamsin?’ He frowned and she realised she was blinking eyes that felt hot and scratchy. Hurriedly she looked away at the old mural of convivial wine makers on the far wall.

  ‘I’m not the sort of woman to be companion to a prince.’ Even if it was make-believe.

  ‘I know my record with women is abysmal but surely you could make an exception in the circumstances.’

  ‘Oh!’ She shot to her feet. ‘Just stop it!’ Tamsin paced the room then whirled to face him. ‘No one would ever believe you’d really taken up with someone like…’ The words choked as her throat constricted. ‘Like me.’

  He rose, eyes fixed on hers. ‘Nonsense.’

  Tamsin felt like stamping her foot. Or shouting.

  Or curling up in a ball and crying her eyes out.