‘I’d planned to explore. But once I got engrossed in my work and found Tomas’s chronicle, I never found time.’
‘You came to Ruvingia for the views?’ Disbelief edged his tone.
‘Hardly.’ Though the picturesque setting was a bonus. ‘It was the work that fascinated me.’
‘You don’t mind spending an alpine winter so far from family and friends?’
Tamsin looked away, to the dark forest crowding close. She was grateful for the heating which dispelled any chill. ‘My parents were the first to urge me to apply. They know how important my work is to me.’
They didn’t care about her not being home for the festive season. As far as her father, a single-minded academic, was concerned the holidays were simply a nuisance that closed the university libraries. Her mother, wrapped up in her art, found it easier catering for two than three. Theirs was a distant kind of caring. They were dedicated to their work and Tamsin, an unexpected child after years of marriage, had fitted between the demands of their real interests. She’d grown self-sufficient early, a dreamer losing herself in a world of books.
‘What about your friends? Surely you’d rather be with them at this time of year?’ He probed the sore point, making her want to shrink inside herself.
Tamsin had friends, but none were particularly close.
Except Patrick. She’d expected to see a lot of him over the holidays. Had expected their relationship to blossom into something wonderful.
Before she’d discovered what a gullible idiot she’d been.
She turned to find Prince Alaric watching her closely. In the dim interior light she sensed an intensity to his stare that surprised her. Why did this interest him so?
‘You don’t understand how exciting this job is.’ With an effort she pinned on a bright smile. ‘A previously unknown hoard of documents. The opportunity to be of real value, preserving what might otherwise be lost. Not to mention the excitement of discovery. The chance to…’ She hesitated, unwilling to reveal how important this job was at a more personal level.
This had been an escape route she’d gratefully seized. She couldn’t bear Patrick gloating over his success and sneering at her naivety. Plus there’d been her colleagues’ pitying looks.
It was also an opportunity to shore up her battered self-esteem. To prove that despite her appalling lapse of judgement with Patrick, she was good at what she did. Even, she admitted now, to show those who’d doubted her abilities they’d made a mistake promoting Patrick instead of her. His work was inferior but he had the charm to make the most of every opportunity. They’d soon realise their mistake but Tamsin wouldn’t be human if she didn’t want to banish her growing self-doubts with a coup of her own.
‘The chance to…?’
Tamsin dragged herself back to the conversation. What had she been saying? ‘The chance to be part of this exciting discovery. It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity.’
‘But you can’t have known that when you applied for the job.’ His riposte was lightning fast. He speared her with a penetrating look before turning back to the road.
‘No, but I…’
She couldn’t tell him how desperately she’d needed to escape. Escape Patrick lording his new position over her; Patrick with his old girlfriend on his arm again. Her forlorn heart had shredded whenever she’d seen them.
‘I wanted a change. This sounded too good to miss.’ She sounded stilted, falsely bright, but she wasn’t about to bare her soul.
‘Too good to be true, in fact.’ His voice deepened on a curiously rough note. In the streetlights of the town they’d entered he looked stern.
Had he grown bored? He was probably used to more scintillating conversation. Tamsin was more than happy to change the subject.
‘Where are we going?’ They were in the old town, where roads narrowed and cobblestones glistened. Lights were strung between lampposts, giving the streets a festive air as pedestrians strolled, looking at decorated shop windows.
Tamsin wished she could be one of them. Away from prying questions. Away from memories that taunted her.
‘The winter market is on,’ he said. ‘We’ll eat and you can see some of the sights.’
Tamsin felt a flicker of excitement. The town looked quaintly romantic with half-timbered houses, brightly painted shutters and steep, snow-capped roofs.
But with a prince by her side relaxation was impossible. Instead she fretted over his mysterious proposition and the growing sense of something wrong. Why this interest in her?
A couple strolled hand in hand across the street, catching her eye. They were barely aware of anyone else, completely absorbed in each other. She felt a small pang of envy. Once she’d hoped she and Patrick…
Tamsin had never been close to anyone like that. Never experienced all-encompassing love, even from her parents. Never even fitted in, finishing school before her age peers and being so much younger than her university colleagues.
She turned away, setting her mouth firmly. She refused to pine for what she’d never had. One perilous venture into romance had proved what she’d always suspected. Love wasn’t for her. She just didn’t inspire that sort of affection.
But she had her work. That was compensation enough.
Alaric viewed the woman beside him with frustration. Two hours in her company and she was still an enigma.
On one level she was easy to read. Her peal of laughter at the antics of children on the outdoor ice-skating rink. Her enthusiasm for markets filled with local handcrafts and produce. She was pleased by simple delights: watching a woodcarver create a nutcracker dragon, or a lace-maker at work, asking questions all the time.
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,’