Princess in the Iron Mask (19 page)

‘You’re right. You did warn me,’ she said, trying for light, airy, scrambling for the cool, calm composure that had shielded her for so many years. She took a deep breath, trying to wrap her foggy mind around forming words. ‘It’s probably for the best. After all, a continent divides us in our desire to work, to atone, to give back. In that way we are similar, you and I.’

She tried for a smile but it felt brittle, edgy. Because she was about to lie outright. To relieve some of the strain marring his beautiful face and, though it pained her to admit it, she was still just a woman underneath. Pride she knew was a rare, fragile thing.

‘Just as well I hadn’t fallen for you.’

‘Good—that is good,’ he said, voice gruff, eyes drifting away from her. ‘I have asked Armande to take you to the palace at noon. I have business in Barcelona, but I’ll return for the ball.’ Then he swung away to look out on the swirling mass of storm blowing in from the east. ‘Tonight we keep it professional. You will stand in front of the nation and do your duty.’

She would have laughed if knives had not been tearing her apart. He thought of nothing, focused on nothing, but his duty to Arunthia. And wasn’t that the story of her life?

Reaching for the anger, the hurt, she snatched at thin air. Because through it all she understood the rules he lived by. The horrific loss of his mother and his guilt dominated his every waking moment, and he found the honour he desperately needed by doing his job and fighting for the greater good. Just as Claudia had pledged her life to cure, to ease pain. She could never give that up, just as he couldn’t.

All his rules made him the beautiful, strong, heroic man he was.

‘Yes, Lucas. I’ll do my duty. For
you.
On one condition.’

* * *

Lucas braced his arms against the plate glass as he stared into the turbulent froth of the ocean. Despite her words he knew she wished to see him again, and something close to need, yearning, clawed down his chest, lacerating his resolve.

Temptation was an ebb and flow of words in his mind.
Yes, I will come and see you, querido, hold you in my arms. I will try and give you everything you desire.

Palms flat, he pushed off the window and turned to face her, guts twisting, his head in the midst of an almighty war...and his gaze crashed into the woman he’d failed. A woman sheltering a child from the storm, in pain, so much pain.

Claudia was wrong. He didn’t deserve to be released from the shackles of blame.

Dios,
how could he even think of allowing himself a relationship with Claudia? She made him feel every single emotion, and he knew the dangers of that. Loss of thought, of reason, control.

To this day he was plagued by his mother’s death. What if he had acted quicker, stopped the blood somehow, run faster for help? But he’d been afraid—yes, afraid—a destructive emotion that made you sloppy, careless, because love was so powerful it took away everything.

If he failed to protect her...
Dios,
just the thought made his blood run black. She was too precious.

Head high, the fawn cashmere blanket wrapped around her decadent curves, she walked towards him. Lucas stiffened, balling his fists to stop himself from reaching, from taking her one last time. To pacify the craving. Numb the pain. Because he refused to use her heavenly body in such a way.

Her step faltered and she sank her teeth into her lip. ‘Did you hear me, Lucas?’

Like a potent aphrodisiac, her scent,
their
scent, curled up his nose, blurring thought.

‘Ah, of course.’ He’d almost forgotten. About her duty. His mission. That in itself should have told him something. ‘Tell me your condition, Princesa.’

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

‘P
ROMISE
ME
YOU
will let go of the past.’

A cacophony of voices floated through the open window. Bristles stroked her scalp and diamond pins slid through lofty curls, yet through it all Claudia stared unseeingly into the gilt-edged dressing table mirror before her. Remembering the dark haunted look on Lucas’s face as nine simple words tossed him further into purgatory.

So strong was his need to do his duty and get her to the palace, he’d given her his oath to try, however much it pained him. For, truly, what was the point of hurting, of living with such pain, when the past couldn’t be changed.

‘Claudine.’ Her mother’s serene face popped into view beside her. ‘Where are you, I wonder?’

Thinking about my lover.
Claudia winced inwardly as her cheeks rouged in the mirror and feathers of unease dusted her nape. ‘Oh, nowhere in particular.’

Her mother arched one perfectly plucked brow, wholly unconvinced, and Claudia almost smiled. She could read her mother now, especially when they were alone, making her realise that Queen Marysse wore a mask of her very own.

‘Pass me another pin, then, dear.’

Claudia reached for another pin, chose a pearl, and passed it over her shoulder. ‘Don’t you have staff to do this? Surely you don’t have time.’

‘Nonsense. I will make time. How many days and nights of my life have I spent wishing I could be there for you?’

Claudia closed her eyes, knowing it was time she listened to her own advice and let go of the past.

‘I didn’t know you felt that way, Mother.’

Perhaps Lucas was right. On that fateful day her mother had been unthinking, not uncaring. And maybe her parents had handled her illness the only way they knew how. By acting. Not by becoming overwrought with emotion—like her mother had during the accident. Her safety and health had been paramount to them. She’d never felt loved, but her parents must have cared. She only had to think of what Lucas had gone through and every memory seemed to fade. Diminish, somehow.

‘Let us start over—could we, Claudine?’ Her mother’s warm fingers curled over her shoulder, squeezed through her cotton wrap. ‘I am opening the new children’s wing next week and I was hoping you would come.’

Claudia looked up...saw warmth and hope in her mother’s gaze. She could do her duty while she was here, couldn’t she? There was really no need for the frisson of panic that they might expect more. ‘I’d like that.’

‘Good. I have asked Lucas to arrange the security.’

Oh, honestly, even the mention of his name gave her palpitations. ‘You saw Lucas this morning?’

‘Briefly. Your father was in talks with Philippe Carone, but Lucas seemed anxious to meet with him. Henri saw him, of course, before he flew to—’

‘Barcelona,’ Claudia murmured through the clattering in her head.

Why had Lucas gone to see her father so suddenly? And why did her stomach scream at the thought? And why was her mother watching her so closely? They’d done nothing wrong.
Everyone
had sex. Right?

‘Yes,’ her mother said slowly, as she slid alongside Claudia to choose another pin from the gold tray. ‘His headquarters are there.’

Some sixth sense told Claudia she should quit while she was ahead, but now she’d started talking her tongue didn’t want to stop. ‘Headquarters for what?’

Her mother’s brow creased, amber eyes snapping up to Claudia’s. ‘LGAS, of course.’

Suddenly grateful she was sitting down, Claudia’s mouth worked. ‘
The
LGAS? Lucas
owns LGAS?
How on earth did I miss that?’ She slumped back into the chair. ‘High-end security, renowned, the best in the world.’ Always protecting, she mused with a secret smile...which then slid off her face. ‘Wait a minute—doesn’t LGAS have an aerodynamic wing? I travelled in one of his jets!’ The word
wealth
didn’t even begin to describe his inordinate success. God, she was so proud of him her heart ached.

‘Of course you did, darling. Everyone important does.’ Her mother heaved a theatrical sigh. ‘Shoulders straight, Claudine. A hump is most unattractive.’

Claudia bolted upright. ‘I can’t believe I didn’t see it.’ For heaven’s sake—did she go around with her eyes shut? What else had she missed?

‘Lucas is a very private man,’ her mother continued, her tone taut, her eyes narrowed on Claudia’s face. ‘Something I’m acutely grateful for. You are entitled to a private life, Claudine, I stress
private.
’

Claudia’s stomach plunged. Was she so obvious? Or was the fact she’d been his guest enough to arouse suspicion? She’d never thought of that, had she? No, she’d just been desperate to stay with him. Only him. Because he made her feel safe. But how had it looked from the outside looking in? He worked for her father. He—

‘Nothing is going on, Mother.’ Well, apart from sex, and she wasn’t telling her
that.

‘I am glad to hear it. The stakes are high. Think of your reputation. His work.’

She couldn’t give two stuffs about her reputation. Despite every loaded inference to the contrary, she was going back to London! And Lucas was staying here.

Heart crashing against her ribs, she flinched at a brisk rap upon the door and the strutting in of her mother’s PA, carrying a crushed velvet gift box.

Her mother passed the box to Claudia with a warning look. ‘I will leave you now. Your father will be here on the hour.’

Waiting for the door to close, she felt a heady concoction of panic and excitement surge through her veins. At the click of the door she fumbled with the lid, tossed it to the floor and tore through layer upon layer of black tissue paper. Then time stood still as her eyes devoured the contents, her heart leaping up her throat.

‘Oh, Lucas.’

Hand trembling, she picked up the thick cream-coloured card, ran her thumb over the strong, black masculine scroll. Laying the card upon the mirrored plate, just so, she returned to the box and lifted a pair of long pale gold gloves—exactly the same satin as the dress he’d known she was desperate to wear. The sheath, thank heavens, hung on the rack in front of her: a temptation she’d been unable to shake.

Twisting her hand this way and that, she saw small diamond studs wink at her from where they trailed up the full length of the cuff in a perfect row.

Tears glistened behind her eyes.

This
from the man who professed he didn’t feel. Oh, but she knew he
could
feel—every emotion, ten-fold. The power of which scared him to death.

Lucas cared for her. He must. Was he lending her his strength? God, how she ached for his touch. A touch she couldn’t allow herself to hope for, because she was beginning to realise she’d put his position at risk. The honourable duty he lived for.

Dressing, she imagined him sprawled across the sofa, watching her, dark hunger glittering in his sapphire eyes as she smoothed sheer ivory silk stockings up her legs. Legs he’d kissed every inch of. Tying the ribbons on her corset, it was as if his fingers curled around the supple silk, pulling her, cinching her tight.

This
from the man whose written words echoed in her head as she stood at the top of the opulent sweeping staircase holding onto her father’s arm, her heart a thump, thump, thumping beat.

Hold your head high, Princesa.

Claudia lifted her chin. Opened her eyes on a monstrously titanic room where every sinister eye looked upon her.

Be proud of the woman you have become.

She took one step, then another, begging her feet not to fail her now. Down, down, down she went, gliding into the palatial, softly lit ballroom. The crowd hushed, her mind locked on Lucas...the satin caressed her wrists like a lover’s healing kiss.

This
from the man whose eyes sought hers as soon as her feet hit the polished floor with a look of such intense pride she had to grip her father’s arm not to fall.

Her heart filled, gushed, overflowed.

This
from the man she’d fallen deeply and irrevocably in love with.

This
from the man she now had to protect.

* * *

Lucas stood in the midst of inane chatter, searching for the satisfaction of a mission accomplished. It was like digging for mines in the dark.

Statuesque, sanguine, Princess Claudine Verbault had finally taken her rightful place. The sight of which Lucas knew was his cue to leave. Yet his designer-clad feet were as if suctioned to the silver-toned marble as he hauled air into his tight lungs, clenched every hard muscle in his body until his bones ached.

That he’d lasted one hour and thirty-three minutes without manhandling her out of the room was a miracle in itself. And what the
hell
was Henri doing, throwing Philippe Carone at her every chance he got? The business magnate just happened to be one of the most eligible bachelors in Europe. And if the sleaze-bag danced with Claudia one more time—if he looked at Claudia one more time, stripping the tight sheath from her body with his marauding eyes—Lucas would launch the man across the room.

Thrusting his fingers to his throat, he yanked at the stiff collar.

Madre de Dios,
surely Henri was not contemplating such a match? After everything she’d been through? Hadn’t she paid enough of a price to Arunthia? To lose her parents, her home, while so tender and vulnerable.

Lucas closed his eyes, took a deep breath, infusing his brain with some sense. No, he was wrong, Henri wouldn’t ask such a thing of her.

But
Dios—Carone
? The man wasn’t much taller than she was. How could he possibly protect her? Lucas could do a better job with his eyes shut! What the hell had
ever
made him think otherwise? No longer was he fourteen years old. No longer did he doubt his own strength. Claudia had trusted him with her life—curled her naked body into his. Even after he’d told her the truth of his past she’d cared not. Still she’d trusted implicitly. Still she had wanted to be held. And he’d walked away. Focused on duty. Rammed her responsibilities down her pretty throat. And if Henri were serious about Carone she would be strangled by duty until the day she died. Lucas had never considered happiness important. Until her. Until now.

On the far side of the room he saw Carone set his sights and begin walking towards her.

Excusing himself from the cluster of foreign dignitaries, Lucas swerved through the crowd, eyes locked on Claudia, his arms begging to pick her up, take her away. If he didn’t feel so damn sick he would laugh at the irony.

She turned, as if sensing him, eyes filling with an instant of warmth before veiling, cooling—a look he did not care for.

‘Good evening, Your Royal Highness,’ he said, with a formal nod. ‘You look exquisite.’

‘Thank you, Lucas, you don’t look too bad yourself.’ She forced a smile and his stomach hollowed...then shot to the floor when Carone sidled up beside her and Claudia offered the other man a sincere warm slide of her lips.

‘This dance is
mine,
Carone,’ he growled. ‘Excuse us.’

Lucas slid a protective hand over the base of Claudia’s spine, curled his fingers up around her waist and felt her muscles stiffen beneath his touch. He thrust away the sliver of panic; he’d wanted professional and now he was getting it.

‘I have a better idea,’ he said, tightening his fingers as they walked towards the dance floor—and took a swift unheeded side-step through the double doors leading on to the terrace beyond and the privacy of a star-studded sky. The chilly nip of the air did a miserable job of lowering his temperature.

‘Are you sure this is such a good idea?’ she asked, quickly sliding from his hold.

The loss of contact did abominable things to his mind-set. Lucas closed the doors, drowning out the noise with a satisfying click, and swivelled back to face her, taking a good swift kick to the guts as he drank her in.

All glamorous sophistication, she stood by the wrought-iron railings, pearly teeth gnawing at her rouged lip, top-to-toe in gold satin which hugged and caressed every voluptuous curve. His palms itched to indulge. Stroke. Cosset.
Dios,
would the craving ever cease?

He balled his hands. ‘Claudia...’ he managed, before wondering what the hell to say.

The lines of strain eased from her brow as her mouth tilted knowingly. ‘Thank you for the gift.’

‘You’re very welcome,’ he said, still loath to admit, even to himself, why he’d sent it. So she would feel his possessive touch around her beautiful wrists. A touch she’d discarded within minutes. ‘You didn’t seem to need them for too long.’ Which was a good thing, he assured himself, ignoring the twinge in his chest.

‘Ah, well,’ she said, her cheeks pinkening to rose-gold, ‘I’d quite forgotten how slippery satin was.’

Lucas swallowed hard.
Dios,
he was dying here.

Dying?
No, it was worse than that. He felt as if he was about to lose the most important thing in his world. Again.

‘So slippery,’ she continued, probably in an effort to keep things light, oblivious to the dark storm raging inside of him, ‘that after thirty minutes the caterers were three champagne flutes down and in all conscience I thought I better take them off.’

The tension in his midsection evaporated on a laugh. One side of her lush mouth curved and his arms ached to pick her up, carry her away.

Chin dipping, she peeked up at him through dense sooty lashes. ‘I found out something else tonight. Or should I say
realised
something else.
You
gave me the money. The funding. My parents would never have offered. How it must have pained you to coerce me.’

He shrugged. Made it lazy. He would have given her one hundred million. ‘I do not regret it.’ How could he when he never would have tasted heaven otherwise? ‘So do not forgive me,’ he bit out.

‘Oh, I will—and I do,’ she said softly, her eyes now full—the first signs of a thaw?—brimming with a warmth that made his skin prickle, his heart thud. ‘I’m in awe of you, Lucas. To come so far against all the odds.’ She reached up, trailed one finger down his jaw. ‘I’m so proud of the man you have become.’