Princess in the Iron Mask (9 page)

He tossed Claudia a quizzical look and she volleyed with a silent plea, mouthed, ‘Do not stare.’

Anger screamed through his innards, blending with affront, and he ground his jaw fiercely to prevent it pouring from his mouth. He’d always prided himself on being unreadable—he’d been trained by the best, after all—but the chastised look on Claudia’s face told him he’d failed to hide his fury in this instance. And he was inordinately pleased.

In one sweeping glance he’d gained several key pieces that made up the Princess Claudine Verbault conundrum.
And when you’re older...your wrists will be just like mine...
she’d said. This girl had the same condition that Claudia had suffered from in her youth. Lucas was looking at the past.

At enflamed wrists and elbows, painfully sore skin. At puffy eyes and purplish branding that spoke of bone-deep lethargy. And the way she barely moved from the bed, wincing as she tried to straighten her legs, told him she suffered serious muscle fatigue. Tiny hands tugged at the white sheet to drape over her slight frame. Hiding.

Pain banked in his chest. Through it all, the girl was very pretty, and he could see glimpses of the beautiful woman she would become. A woman who would replace the white sheet with a dour wardrobe.

Madre de Dios.
His gut ached.

While he’d read brief notes on the illness, seeing it, looking at it for himself, was something else entirely. Much like visiting a bombsite—knowing the damage was already done, hoping for the best, but witnessing devastation that left soldiers numb for hours.

Clearing his thick, tight throat, he looked towards Claudia. ‘Would you like to make the introductions?’

Her deep amber eyes bored through his skull and he returned her glare, caught in that odd battle of wills that so often ensnared them. Not once had he lost the fight, and this time the stakes were gravely higher.

Soon enough she blinked, then stepped to the side. ‘Bailey, this is Lucas. Lucas, this is my friend Bailey.’

Lucas tore his gaze from Claudia, knowing full well that he shouldn’t be here. That with every passing second he was becoming more embroiled with the mysterious Arunthian Princess. It wasn’t his job to consider her past, present or her future. Getting her home was his remit. His obligation. His mission. His promise to the King.

Pausing for a second, he weighed the risk. Looked at the expectant child, the hopeful softening of Claudia’s beautiful face.

‘
Buenos días,
Bailey,’ he said, with a quick bow that pinked her cheeks. ‘I am honoured to meet you.’

* * *

Claudia tried to pick her jaw up off the floor and only just managed when Lucas raised one dark brow in her direction. Clearly he had no idea of the in-topics for girly conversation, because small talk slipped in a steady decline and he kept looking to Claudia for direction. And each time he did something warm and delicious unfurled inside her.

Oh, God, he was utterly wonderful. Which was great for Bailey, disastrous for her. She wanted to hate him. For barging into her life, stripping away her independence. For taking her away from Bailey and throwing her to the wolves.

He was the oddest mixture of man. Arrogant. Infuriating. Thoughtful.

‘We have to leave now, Bailey,’ she said, her heart breaking in two. ‘I won’t be able to visit for a few weeks, but I’ll be back.’

Claudia stared into her big blue eyes, willing her to believe. Because she knew exactly how she felt. One sentence—
I’ll be back
—had the power to plague you with excitement for hours and then crush your heart when no one came.

Bailey tried for a smile and Claudia’s throat stung under a seething fire.

‘I’ll be back. I promise,’ Claudia said, making a cross on her breast with the tip of her finger. ‘And I’ll bring you a present. The most beautiful gift you’ve ever seen. And I’ll write,’ she said, her voice laced with desperation, her hands trembling, her chest quaking. ‘We can e-mail, just like I showed you.’

Claudia grabbed her jacket from the back of the chair, silently chanting.
Three weeks. Then you’ll have the money to finish what you started. You’ll be back to hold her hand every day. Just three weeks.

Blinded by the need for air, Claudia stormed down the hall and stopped dead at the double doors leading to the stairwell, opposite the gaping steel mouth of the lift. Seven flights of stairs might be nothing to Action-Man, but she didn’t have a hope of making them.

‘Claudia?’

‘Don’t speak. Don’t be nice, please.’ She’d break. She’d crumble. And no way was she doing that in front of this man.

Lucas eyed the steel box with something close to contempt and Claudia laughed. The hollow sound echoed off the green-flecked walls. He couldn’t even bear to get in the lift with her. And, my God, it hurt. Why did she persecute herself like this? Wishing, dreaming of things she could never have.

Turning, palms flat, she pushed through the double doors and begged her legs to stay strong, keep her upright.

‘Claudia, slow down.’

Step, step, step went her feet. The heavy thud of Lucas came behind her. Bearing upon her. Closing in. ‘Where do you get off, telling me what to do?’ she muttered, her breath short and raspy, her feet now pounding down the stairs.

‘Claudia, I understand—’

His voice verged on the consoling, and the hint of pity unleashed the storm raging inside her. ‘You had no right. No right coming up there!’

‘We are on a strict time limit,’ he said harshly, while the thud, thud of his shoes became louder, echoing off the walls and drubbing her temples.

Don’t you dare fall, Claudia. Don’t you dare.

‘Oh, please,’ she said. ‘You’ve just wasted twenty minutes talking. If...if time was so important to you...you would’ve ordered me out of that room instantly.’

‘
Dios,
Claudia, slow down. You will fall. I realise you are anxious—’

‘Anxious?’ she said, stumbling when the first flight broke for a landing and a human blur jumped from the sky and landed dead in front of her.
Too close. Too close.
Taking a step back, she winced as pain shot up her calf and continued to vent, ‘Do you know how many people will visit her while I’m gone?
Do
you?’

He said nothing, just looked at her with a grim expression that made her feel even worse. For God’s sake, he wasn’t even breathing hard. While she rasped and heaved as if she’d endured a triathlon.

‘Her mother died when Bailey fell ill and her father works on an oil rig. If she’s lucky he’ll come by once during his leave.’ More family visits than Claudia had ever had, but that was between her and her parents. ‘But why am I telling you this, Lucas? I forgot. You don’t feel, right? How can you possibly know what I feel like right now?’

Her back slapped against the wall but this time he kept his distance. Though from the lines scoring his handsome face it seemed to cost him.

‘I do not. But I can see leaving her torments you. So many things make sense to me now, but you will be back. You have other responsibilities, Claudia.’

‘Oh, Lucas, shove your royal responsibilities where the sun doesn’t shine, will you?’

He massaged the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. He did that a lot, she realised.

‘So elegant. So refined.’

‘What are you? My elocutionist? I had one of those once. The woman lasted three days.’

‘I am not surprised. I imagine you scared her off.’

‘Probably.
You
try being a European princess dropped in a London hospital and surrounded by children who talk of apples and pears when all you want to know is where the stairs are.’

He frowned. ‘Apples?’

‘And pears. So, you see, her version of helping was a bit like yours. Unwanted.’

Frightened, alone, she’d been drowning in a river of intolerance, bitterness towards the elite, so she’d done the only thing she could to survive. Shunned her aristocratic birthright. Not that she’d cared. She would have done anything to forget who she truly was. And now they wanted her back. A woman who didn’t exist.

‘You are hurting. If it makes you feel any better hit me. Hard. But
do not
give up. Courage, Claudia.’

Closing the gap, he reached up and brushed the hair from her brow, the slight scrape making her shiver. She had no idea what possessed her. Maybe it was the sympathy in his eyes—God, she hated that. But she hit him. Just once. Her small fist connected to his shoulder with a soft thump. Not even hard. Her heart wasn’t in it, she realised. It was too busy breaking.

Throat stinging, eyes shuttering, her legs gave way. And he was there, scooping her into his arms, lifting her close, laying her against his broad, muscular chest and walking down the stairs as if she weighed nothing more than a test strip. And in that moment she’d never despised herself more.

Twisting, she pushed against his chest. ‘Put me down. I don’t need you to carry me.’ She didn’t need anyone. Least of all him.

‘Be still.’ His bark reverberated off the walls. ‘And in future I suggest you give more thought to your body than your pride and take the lift when your legs ache.’

‘What are you? A telepath?’ The fight slowly drained from her body. ‘God, I hate you right now,’ she whispered, even as she laid her head against his carved shoulder. He was so strong...so annoying...so everything.

‘
Bueno.
That is good,’ he said, his voice dropping to a low, somewhat soothing husky rumble.

As he embraced her so tightly Claudia tried to remember if anyone had ever held her close. No. Never. Not even when she was a little girl. And it felt...wonderful.

Her body grew lax, her breathing steadied and his luxurious sandalwood scent enveloped her in a cashmere blanket. His heart thumped beneath her cheek, lulling. Claudia wrapped her arms about his neck, snuggled against him, burrowing, suddenly desperate to absorb his strength. Had she ever felt so safe in her life? It would be oh-so-easy to need him. And oh-so-stupid even to contemplate it.

On instinct she brushed her nose up the column of his throat to his unyielding jaw, the rasp of morning growth tickling the tip. A shiver racked through her core, so addictive she did it again. Blood rushed through her head, drowning out sound, but she felt his chest rumble in a little quake before he swayed slightly on his feet.

‘Claudia,’ he said, his voice tight, throaty, as if he needed a drink.

She needed something, but water was the last thing on her mind. She felt extraordinary. An incredible blend of fizzy excitement and drugging anxiousness.

Summoning the courage to lift her head, she looked up, felt his breath trickle over her face, so close. Her mouth was mere inches away from his lips. ‘Lucas?’

He had a mystifying glint in his eyes, pupils dilated, heavy. Hot. ‘Do not do that, Claudia. I cannot—’

‘Why not?’ she whispered, moving a little closer...

Then
leap
went her heart when, in one deft move, he sank his fingers beneath the loose twist at her nape and whisked his arm from under her thighs until she slid down his hard body onto her feet. With his free hand he brushed a stray curl from her eyes so she could see him properly, or maybe so
he
could see all of her. And all the while his fingers tightened in her hair, sending tides of sensation flooding down her spine in one glorious wave after another.

‘So brave,’ he said, eyes glittering like two rare sapphires.

Was it pity she could see lurking in the depths?
Please, no—
anything but that.

His body grew as taut as his jaw and she fancied he fought some inner battle. One she lost when he slackened his hold, sending her stomach plunging to the floor.
No.
Claudia grabbed a handful of his shirt to stay upright, to bring him back...

A groan tore up his throat and with one tug—
oh,
yes—
his mouth was on hers. Soft, yet achingly hard, scorching her lips until she burst into flames.

Alive. She’d never felt so alive. Her entire body shook with an excitement so intense it blanked all thought of self-preservation.

His kiss was blatant and intense as he bowed her in a delicate arch, caged by the unyielding steel frame of his awesome body. Firm, smooth lips moved over hers, back and forth so skilfully she quickly cottoned on to his rhythm and skill, earning a wickedly thrilling growl. The touch of his tongue sliding against her lower lip, flicking to the corner, was a call to surrender and she opened for him with a high-pitched moan, laying siege to his delicious assault.

Eyes closed, fingers flaring on his shoulders, she plastered herself against him. The crush of her heavy breasts, the flick of his velvet tongue against hers, set off a chemical reaction: heat surged through her veins, the deafening rush of blood sped past her ears. A hot splash of liquid melted her core—awakening her body in a way she’d never dreamed of. Never known existed. And all she could think was more,
more.

Her fingers skimmed the broad contours of his shoulders, followed the column of his neck and slid under his ears...into his hair.

Lucas groaned long and low, tightening his hold, one hand on her nape, the other still at her waist, until she felt precious, wanted.

Desired.

The seductive pull of his mouth became pure exhilaration as she felt his hands wander, as if he craved to learn her shape—curving over her hips, slinking into her waist. And when his thumbs brushed the underside of her breasts...
oh, my.

No fantasy had ever lived up to this. Even when she’d lain in bed the previous night, knowing Lucas was so close in the room next door, dreaming he’d kiss her awake, imagining the hard press of his weight on top of her.

As if caught in between a dream and reality she ground her pelvis against him—instinctive, wanting—and revelled in the thick hard ridge digging into her stomach. The thought of that part of him inside her drove a soft pleading moan past her lips.

Lucas stilled, his mouth fused with hers. His breath, warm and wet, slipped past her parted lips. ‘Claudia?’ Gruff, yet undoubtedly perturbed, his voice doused the flames of desire and she rocked back on her heels.