Passion, Purity and the Prince. Annie West

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      Damn. A simple solution had been tempting. An accident to destroy the evidence and remove the problem. Yet it would only make precautions around the remaining documents tighter and subsequent accidents more suspicious.

      Self-knowledge warred with duty. The former told him the country would be better off in his cousin Raul’s hands. The latter urged Alaric to face his responsibility no matter how unpalatable.

      He speared a hand through his hair and paced, his belly churning. In thirty years he’d never shirked his duty, no matter how painful.

      He’d warn Raul. They’d develop a contingency plan and make a discreet enquiry of the royal genealogist, a historian known for his expertise and discretion. Alaric needed to know if this far-fetched story was even possible.

      Genuine or not, the papers were dynamite. If spare copies existed, and if Tamsin Connors was the innocent, earnest professional she appeared, he needed her onside.

       If she was what she appeared.

      Was it possible forged papers had been planted for her to find and disrupt Raul’s coronation? Unlikely. Yet how convenient she’d found them after just a couple of weeks.

      Too convenient?

      He narrowed his gaze, taking in her heavy-framed glasses and appalling clothes. The way her gaze continually slipped away from his.

      His gut tightened at the idea she was hiding something. A link to those stirring discontent? It was preposterous, but so was this situation.

      He’d get to the bottom of it soon.

      Meanwhile Tamsin Connors had his undivided attention.

      ‘Of course, I understand,’ Tamsin murmured into the phone.

      She should be disappointed by the news she’d received. She was disappointed, but she was distracted by the man prowling the confines of the workroom. His long stride gave an impression of controlled impatience, at odds with his meticulous interest in every detail.

      Intently she watched every move, miserably aware Prince Alaric didn’t need a splendid uniform to show off his physique. In dark trousers, plain T-shirt and a jacket, he was compelling in the afternoon light.

      Until last night she hadn’t known she had a weakness for tall broad-shouldered men who looked like they could take on the world. For men whose eyes laughed one minute and clouded with grim emotion the next as if he saw things no man should.

      She’d thought she preferred men driven by academic pursuits, preferably fresh faced and blond, like Patrick. Not sizzling with barely suppressed physical energy.

      How wrong she’d been.

      Her skin drew tight, every nerve end buzzing, as he paced.

      ‘Thank you for calling. I appreciate it.’ Carefully she put the phone down.

      ‘A problem?’ He approached, eyes watchful.

      Tamsin dragged in a breath and placed her hands on the desk. She’d prayed her reaction last night had been an aberration. But seeing him in the flesh again scotched every hope that she’d imagined her response to his potent masculinity. His vitality, that sense of power and capability, were as fascinating as his stunning looks.

      With his black hair, midnight-blue eyes, high-cut cheekbones and strong nose, he looked every inch the powerful aristocrat. Yet his mouth was that of a seducer: warm, provocative and sensual.

      Tamsin blinked. Where had that come from?

      ‘Dr Connors?’

      ‘Sorry. I was…thinking.’ Frantically she tried to focus. ‘I’ve just heard the date test will be delayed.’

      He frowned and she hurried on. ‘I’d hoped for an early result on the age of the parchment but it will take longer than I’d hoped.’

      The reasons she’d just been given were plausible. But the embarrassed way Patrick’s assistant repeated herself made Tamsin suspicious.

      Wasn’t it enough Patrick had stolen the job that was by rights Tamsin’s? He’d been the first man to show any interest in her, cruelly using her naïve crush to string her along. All those extra hours she’d put in helping him and he’d passed her work off as his own. He’d been promoted on the basis of it then dumped her unceremoniously. Pride had stopped her revealing his duplicity and her own lack of judgement. Instead she’d withdrawn even further into herself, nursing a bruised heart and vowing never to risk it again so readily.

      Was he low enough to stymie this project, too?

      Once it would never have occurred to her. Now she wondered if the whisper she’d heard was right and he saw her as a professional threat.

      Would he really let ego get in the way of scientific research? The idea sickened her. How had she not seen his true character?

      ‘They’re returning the papers?’ The prince’s eyes sparked indigo fire and she watched, fascinated.

      ‘Not yet. Hopefully it won’t be a long delay.’

      Tamsin watched his mouth compress. He was impatient. Despite what he’d said last night, he must be excited at the possibility of becoming king. Who wouldn’t be?

      ‘These are the rest of the newly found documents?’ He gestured to the storage down one side of the long room.

      ‘A lot of them. Some of the less fragile ones we’ve left until we can assess them properly.’

      ‘Yet there may be more sensitive papers among them?’

      ‘Possibly. But not many people would be able to read them. Even with my expertise, some of the texts are hard to decipher. It’s time consuming and difficult.’

      ‘That doesn’t matter. We need secure storage for them all.’ He strode restlessly down the room, assessing the set-up. Despite her intentions she followed every step, drinking in the sight of his powerful body. ‘I want you to calculate exactly what you need and tell me today. They’ll be locked with access only on my approval.’

      Tamsin shook her head. ‘It’s not just a matter of space, it’s about a properly regulated environment and—’

      ‘I understand. Just let me know and it will be done.’

      ‘It will be expensive.’

      The prince waved a dismissive hand. He was notoriously wealthy. Money was no object now his self-interest was engaged.

      Tamsin strove to stifle a pang of disappointment, recalling how her work had been virtually ignored earlier. She supposed his proprietorial attitude was justified. After all they were talking about proof of kingship. And if it meant proper care for the archives, all the better.

      She stood. ‘In the meantime, could I have the text to work on? I’ll translate some more this evening.’

      Late СКАЧАТЬ