Princess in the Iron Mask

chapter ELEVEN



CLAUDIA BASKED IN the taste of his wild desperation as Lucas carried her swiftly through the dusk-drenched house, never leaving her mouth.

When they finally reached his bedroom he slowly ended the kiss and oh-so-languidly let her slide down his body until her feet hit the luxuriously thick wool carpet. As he stepped backwards a cool sweep of air dashed over her body and she shivered, the thought of him changing his mind a deep, dark hollow in her soul.

Risking a look at him, she felt the chill evaporate in an instant when, with a sexy smile, he tugged the shirt from his waistband and tore it from his torso, making her insides dissolve into a potent liquid heat.

She’d seen him earlier, of course, but up close he epitomised a modern-day gladiator. Smooth cast-bronze skin stretched taut over military-honed dominating muscle, and his hard pecs flexed as he unsnapped the button of his trousers.

Her breath was now coming in short pants and she swallowed hard. Told herself to look away while he undressed. But she was desperate to watch him, see him. In all his spectacular glory.

The expensive cut of black cloth parted excruciatingly slowly, as if to tease, and she couldn’t help the smile toying about her lips. Lucas loaded with bad-boy charisma gave her a swift sharp thrill that made her want to come out and play.

Reaching behind her, she gripped the bikini catch and then stilled—heart thumping against her ribs—wondering if Lucas would like what he saw. Oh, she hadn’t thought of that, and she felt the heat leach from her face. But she was in a bikini, and really there wasn’t much left to uncover, right? And she’d felt his hardness, tasted his passion on her tongue. Now was not the time to torture herself with visions of his other women. He was Claudia’s. For now. She didn’t need to hide from him. And the hunger to satisfy him, prove she was worth the effort so he’d never regret making love to her, overwhelmed any lingering doubt.

Claudia unsnapped the clasp, rolled her shoulders and watched the coffee-coloured splash drift to the floor at his feet. After a bracing heartbeat she looked up to his face, saw the fierce need in his sapphire eyes and felt a delicious river of satisfaction pour down her spine.

He slowly peeled the material back from his ripped stomach, shucked his trousers to the floor in one deft move, taking his hipsters with them. So self-assured, so brazen, and—oh, my—he had every right to be. Not that she had anything to compare except what she’d seen in art—much, much smaller—but, hey, intellect told her they would fit together. They had to or she’d die.

Then he cupped her face in his hands, traced the full curve of her lips, the arcs of her cheeks with his thumbs. ‘We go slow. I need to know if I...’ His throat convulsed. ‘If I hurt you.’

Heart-shatteringly wonderful—that was what he was. She wondered if her inexperience was what bothered him the most. It made her even more determined to relax, to make it good for him. ‘You won’t.’

Lucas lowered his mouth and kissed her hungrily. She melted into his arms, loving the feel of his fevered skin, touching as much of him as she could and brushing up against his hardness. She squirmed, needing him to hurry, to do something to relieve the clenching knot of tension building in her stomach.

‘More,’ she said against his mouth.

‘Slow,’ he murmured back.

She groaned as his lips slid from hers, already missing the wild tangle of his tongue, and sucked at her lower lip, wanting, needing, to taste him again.

‘Dios, you are incredible,’ he said, tracing hot, wet, exciting kisses down her throat. And when he reached the spot, just there, where her neck met her shoulder, and grazed her with his teeth, nibbled, her stomach spasmed on a rush of heat.

‘Oh, Lucas. I...’

She sank her fingers into his hair, twisted, holding on, pulling him into her tighter.

One of his big warm hands cupped her breast, squeezed gently, thumbed her nipple and that was it—her legs crumpled beneath her.

In one swift move Lucas swept her up and laid her upon the bed. ‘Querida, you are so responsive,’ he said, his voice pained. ‘The smallest touch sets you ablaze.’

‘Your touch, Lucas,’ she whispered, needing him to understand. Only him. There would only ever be him. ‘Could you do something about that?’

He chuckled, crawled over her, and braced his arms above her head. ‘I know exactly what you need.’

‘I’m so glad,’ she said, smiling up at him, drinking him in.

Lowering himself to his elbows, his face inches from hers, he swept the hair away from her brow. ‘Your glorious hair against my sheets. Dios, you are so beautiful, Claudia.’

Her heart cracked wide open at the pure masculine appreciation slashing across his handsome face and she tugged him down for another of his scorching kisses, exulting in the feeling of being wanted, desired.

She writhed on the sumptuous covers as he trailed his lips down her neck, his hand following the curve of her waist, gripping so possessively she shivered.

That same hand curved around her ribs, scooped her breast and—oh, my—the sensation of him taking its weight, lapping at her pebbled nipple, before taking the peak into his hot wet mouth to suck gently made her cry out. The high-pitched sound flooded the room, mingling with his hoarse groan.

When he nipped at her wet nipple, teeth sharp yet gentle, she lost control. ‘Oh, yes...’ She jerked her hips, wanting, needing him to touch her. There. ‘More.’ But the brute didn’t seem to care. He merely redirected his attention to her other breast, laving it, taking her higher still.

She phased in and out, the need in her belly curling tighter, more urgent, until she was tangling her fingers in his hair, raking her nails down his wide muscular shoulders.

Lucas tore his mouth away. ‘I need to see you. All of you,’ he said, sounding a little more desperate, and she revelled in the sudden infusion of female power as he shuffled down the bed, hooked his fingers in her shorts and eased the material down over her hips.

She gripped the satin covers, fisting the cool material in her hands, raised her legs, one and then the other, to help him, squeezing her eyes shut. Oh, God, what was he thinking?

‘Open for me, angel,’ he said, voice thick.

Angel? Oh, why did that make her feel special? As if she was the only woman he wanted. Could ever want. She shouldn’t think like that, but this was a dream and she never wanted to wake up.

Lucas stroked up her thigh, stilled...

Hauling in some much needed bravery, she opened her eyes, saw the look of unadulterated desire slashing his cheekbones crimson. His hair tumbled over his brow as he looked down at the very heart of her and stroked the soft skin of her inner thigh.

Reflexive, audacious, her legs fell wide.

‘You are so perfect. Untouched. I need to taste you,’ he said, lowering his head.

Her pulse skittered through her veins. ‘Er, Lucas?’

‘Quiet, querida, let me show you.’

One touch of his tongue against her folds and she vaulted off the bed, quivered... Then he took one long, leisurely lick and a cry tore from her throat, filling the room with her passion. He kept on kissing, sucking gently, until the world was spinning and she grappled for safe ground.

Eyes shut, her body arched. She found his head and pushed him deeper, pulled, unsure whether she wanted him to stop or keep going, because she was careening towards something and— ‘Lucas, I...need...’

‘Let go for me,’ he said, before easing one finger inside her and ghosting his thumb over her *oris...once, twice.

Tension spiralled in her core, winding tighter and tighter as her insides clenched around his finger.

‘Ohhh, my G—’ She lost her grip, cried out, gasping for breath, her body quaking as the coil unravelled so fast ecstasy shot though her core and lights exploded behind her eyes.

Delirium, she realised, took a while to recover from, but when she eventually came round she prised her eyes open to find Lucas braced above her, palms flat to the bed, a purely masculine, ego-drenched smile across his gorgeous face.

‘Better?’

‘Amazing,’ she whispered, feeling heat scorch her cheeks.

‘I’ve never seen anything so damn sexy as when you come.’

His voice, coarse and needy, gave her the courage to touch him, just as she’d dreamed of.

She stroked his shoulders, down his arms, smoothing her palms over his chest. ‘I adore your big hard body, Lucas. Just looking at you makes my stomach flip.’

He smiled with that heart-stopping rogue charm she loved so much and dipped his head, kissed her. The taste of herself exploded on her tongue as she devoured the essence of their mingled passion, until everything began to blur around the edges and heat began to build up again. As if the last twenty minutes had never happened. She’d never felt so alive. So gloriously alive.

As his tongue flicked hers, her fingers became daring and she reached down to touch him. There.

A groan rumbled up his chest, ‘Careful, cariña, or this will not last. I feel like my head is going to explode. Both of them.’

She laughed—happy, carefree, a sound she didn’t recognise.

Emboldened, she curled her hand around his satin and steel shaft, dusted her thumb over the taut velvet tip, over and over, just as he had with her.

‘Enough,’ he growled, jerking from her grasp.

With her eyes locked on his she brought her thumb to her mouth and licked the moisture, tasting his unique blend of salty virility—just as he had with her.

‘Dios,’ he said, falling on top of her, plundering her mouth until everything spiralled out of control.

Patience evaporated in the searing heat of their entwined bodies. Skin on skin. Their mouths ravenous. Hands stroking everywhere they could reach.

‘Wait—protection,’ he breathed, pulling away.

‘I’m covered,’ she said, tugging him right back. She’d thought of that. She wasn’t that naïve.

He threw her a questioning look.

‘Women’s stuff,’ she said, reaching up to smooth the crease from his brow. ‘Don’t stop. Please. I want to feel you inside me.’

‘Ah, Claudia, such passion.’ He kissed her softly, cupped her breast, squeezed gently. And the heat surged back—greedy, heady, intense.

Lucas manoeuvred until he was settled snugly in the cradle of her thighs and she could feel him nuzzling against her folds.

‘Yes, yes,’ she said around his lips, wanting this part of him. Shifting her hips, encouraging. Needy.

He slipped inside her, just an inch, and she felt his big body shudder.

‘So hot. So tight. I cannot...’

Skin damp, hair drenched, muscles flexing, he was struggling for control, she realised. But he felt sensational and she wanted more.

She lifted her hips.

He sank a little deeper. ‘Claudia, ángel, give me a minute.’

He was loath to hurt her, and she adored him for it, but she’d wanted him for what felt like for ever.

Claudia pulled him up to kiss her, tangled her tongue around his, wrapped her legs around his waist, hooked her ankles and pulled him in. All the way.

The air locked in her lungs as she felt a tiny tear inside her. A red-hot arrow lancing up her core.

Lucas tore his mouth way. ‘Claudia?’ He held her face in his large hands, kissed her mouth. ‘Breathe for me, cariña.’ He skimmed his fingers lovingly down her cheek, picked up her hand, kissed the spot on her wrist where her pulse thrummed against the flesh.

Pain evanesced and she revelled in the fullness, the rightness.

‘You feel amazing,’ she whispered, staring into his eyes, nearly drowning in the liquid desire pooling in his sapphire depths. And right then, at that very moment, she knew the truth. She was falling. Falling so very hard.

She smiled, imagined it was close to something sad. So she made it brighter, cupped his jaw, massaged behind his ears, his nape, just the way he liked it. She smoothed her hands across his hips. His glutes were like stone. And thank heavens he melted before her eyes.

‘I want it all,’ she said. ‘Take me.’

Even if it were just this once, she needed it to last her a lifetime.

‘You feel like heaven,’ he said, pulling out of her just a little and then sinking back inside. So gentle, giving her time to adjust. ‘So perfect.’

In out, over and over, until all thought was banished and only pleasure remained. Until they found a glorious rhythm and he upped the pace, faster...faster...harder.

Kissing her possessively, he stroked every inch of her, his hand trailing down her thigh as he shifted slightly to deepen his thrust and grind against her where she needed him most.

The new angle spawned shockwaves of fresh sensations and then she was almost there, tightening, crying out, poised at the edge of paradise, reaching for the heights of bliss.

‘Claudia...’ His huge body stiffened above her and a keening moan seemed to rip from his throat. The exquisite sight of his face contorting with pleasure, tossed her over the edge until she was falling, falling, shattering, revelling in the sensations shooting through her like white-hot stars.

* * *

Face buried in the soft skin of her neck, Lucas bathed in her honeyed scent, luxuriating in the aftermath of pleasure such as he’d never known—sure he’d just tasted ecstasy.

Claudia clasped his head, holding him tight. ‘Don’t let go,’ she whispered.

But he would crush her, he knew. So he gathered her in his arms, rolled onto his back until she was sprawled over his chest, her dark tumble of curls a provocative feast.

His heart turned over, struggled to pump blood round his veins, and he closed his eyes while a torrent of conflicting emotions bombarded him. His head was waging an almighty war. More. Need more. Get up. Move away. He’d slept with a few women in his time but, Dios, nothing like this. This wild, insatiable, clamouring need—this craving to keep her close and never let go. It scared him half to death.

‘Lucas?’ she said, lifting her head and resting her chin on the back of her hand as she looked up at him. Her eyes were fired with enough anxiety to make his guts clench. ‘Was I...okay?’

He let go of the air locked in his chest and raked damp hair back from his brow. Never had he been asked that. But she was looking up at him, so damn trusting, her heart etched on her face, needing to know she’d been worth it. His stomach ached.

‘Listen to me, querida,’ he said, trailing the back of his finger over her temple, down her nose. ‘When you are stripped bare and no longer able to hide you are breathtaking.’

As her bruised lips parted he traced them, following the sexy dip of her top lip. Her pink tongue snaked out and flicked the tip and a fresh spurt of heat shot down his spine, thick as lava, as he remembered the way she’d tasted him. Such a ferocious mind. Always learning, always desirous to be the best.

‘You’re the most passionate woman I have ever met.’

She blinked. Smiled the sexiest of satisfied smiles and dropped a lush, moist kiss on his chest.

‘That’s good,’ she said, as she tiptoed her fingers down his abdomen, cruising over the ridges and down, down to where he was hard and ready for her touch.

Bolder now, she wrapped her fingers around his length and explored every inch of him, first with her hand and then with her eyes. Until the heat was a fiery ball and he was plunging past the point of no return. He grasped her wrist, flipped her over and pinned her to the bed, his hands holding hers above her head.

Her eyes blazed, glittering with shards of exquisite excitement.

‘Ah... You like that?’

What she liked, he realised, was to be wanted. She loved his weight on top of her. His strength turned her on, heated her blood. She felt protected. He made her feel safe. Dios. His heart turned over again. He should not revel in that—he really shouldn’t.

Licking her lips, she nodded, her breath quickening, her hips writhing in their own little way to drive him crazy with the need to be inside her.

Keeping her hands above her head with one hand, he trailed the other down the slope of her full lush breast. ‘Dios. You have the body of a goddess. Heavenly to look at. Sinful to touch. Makes me feel damn weak.’

He kissed the soft underside while his fingers trailed down her soft stomach, wanting to see if she was ready. ‘You are not sore?’

‘No,’ she breathed. ‘Need you.’

Her head tossed back and forth. Her dark curls fanned over his white pillow. His pillow. His bed. His.

Skating over the damp curls at the apex of her thighs, he dipped into her heat, felt warm moisture coat his fingers. A moan—his, hers, entwined—filled the air.

His heart struck up a ferocious beat. Blood roared through his head. Lucas knew he was flirting with disaster, stumbling across unknown territory, yet nothing could stop him. She would be gone soon enough.

‘So wet, cariña. You want me inside you?’

‘Yes, yes...’

Sweat beaded his brow as he settled between her legs, hard and achingly heavy. And when she moved against him for a frantic beat he wondered if he would last.

He grasped her hair, cupped her head in one hand and brought her mouth to his so he could plunder, drink in her cries when she came for him. With his free hand he caught her nipple with his thumb and forefinger, rolling the tight tip until she undulated against him, working up to a frenzy. Then he stroked down her toned thigh and sank into her with one deep thrust.

A hoarse cry broke from his very soul and poured into her mouth. Tight, hot, she gripped him in her slick heat, drawing him deeper under her spell until he didn’t know where he ended and she began.

The need to watch her orgasm for him, so he could remember, became an almighty obsession. So he stroked down her waist, over her hip, round to the soft curve of her luscious rear and lifted her thigh-high over his waist to deepen his thrust and grind against her.

‘Oh, Lucas...’

Her fingernails bit into the skin on his shoulders and a fever unlike any other took hold of his blood as a torrent of fire built inside him, far stronger than the first time, and Lucas knew—just knew—he would never recover from this explosion of feeling. Never in a million years.

Lips locked, she cried into his mouth, the sound of her sensual elation throwing him over the edge, tossing him into the black depths of ecstasy.

Hurling him into the unknown.

* * *

Light flickered in his brain and Lucas prised his eyes open to the darkness of night. He’d slept?

Warmth smothered the right side of his body and half of his chest...Claudia. She mumbled something, almost a cry, the high pitch snapping him to full lucidity, and Lucas tightened his hold on her waist.

‘Claudia?’

She struggled against him and he instantly loosened his grip, cupped the back of her head, softly kissed her temple. ‘Wake for me, angel.’

She stilled before the tension drained from her spine and she fell back against his chest. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I’m okay. Truly.’

‘You were dreaming?’

‘It’s being back here. So strange.’

Her skin was damp, clammy. ‘Not a good dream,’ he said. Statement. Fact. Lucas knew too well the cold sweats, the shaking so hard it was impossible even to drink water.

‘Not really,’ she mumbled, snuggling into his side, hiding her face. ‘It’s nothing.’

His stomach tensed and he nudged her softly with his arm, needing to see her face. She turned her head and lay down, facing him. ‘Do not hide from me, Claudia. I cannot bear it.’

Nibbling on her bottom lip, she gave him a searching look. ‘I just have this nightmare sometimes. It’s a memory, that’s all.’

‘Ah, that’s all?’ he said, trying to tamp down on the flare of anxiety because he knew the power of memories. How they could haunt you. Drain your very soul.

She had demons of her own; he’d known that, hadn’t he? ‘You tried to tell me on the plane, I remember.’

‘Did I?’

That she couldn’t recollect spoke volumes. But then he remembered her panic, the fear that had sliced through the very heart of him.

‘Tell me your dream,’ he said, sweeping a lock of damp hair from her cheek with his fingertip.

He could see the hesitation in her eyes, couldn’t understand it. ‘Claudia?’

Searching his eyes for a long moment, she seemed to look for sincerity or wonder if she could trust him—not with her body or her safety but with her secrets. Her past.

‘Trust me, cariña.’

Wriggling from his hold, she rolled onto her back and pulled the sheet up to her neck. Lucas ignored the cold chill sweeping over his body; she needed space. He understood. So he moved onto his side to face her, bent his elbow and rested his head on the ball of his hand.

Staring up at the ceiling, she began to talk, her voice detached. ‘I must’ve been twelve. It’s my last memory of being here.’ Her brow creased as she delved into the past. ‘It was one of those hot clammy days that made me feel so sick I could hardly breathe...hardly walk. My mother took me to the hospital. I think they’d had some specialist flown in.’ She shuddered, gripped the sheet at the delicate dip in her throat. ‘I could hear every word through the open door, but my legs... I couldn’t move to close it. I covered my ears but she was ranting at him. Railing. Going on and on. I’d never heard her in such an awful state.’

She huffed a laugh, the sound so damn hollow his guts twisted.

‘You’ve met her, Lucas. So chillingly calm. So strong. But this day she was almost wild. “Look at her!” she screamed to the doctor, jabbing her finger in my direction. “Just look at her. My beautiful daughter is no more. You have to do something.” On and on she went, for what felt like hours.’

Lucas watched her knuckles scream in protest as she twisted the sheet in her fingers, her eyes closed, her teeth sinking into her lower lip as she stifled her sorrow. And he’d swear his chest had cracked open.

‘Someone carried me out to the car. She was so deathly silent and I was so numb. She couldn’t bear to look at me. When we reached the Arunthe tunnel there was traffic everywhere.’

Her chest rose and fell with short, sharp breaths and the need to touch her, hold her, was so strong his arms ached.

‘I think we’d been followed,’ she continued, brushing hair from her damp brow with trembling fingers. ‘There was always stuff in the papers, wondering what was wrong with me. Why I was kept under lock and key while my sisters enjoyed their independence. I think being so secretive must’ve made it worse.’

The room was dim, but Lucas saw one silvery droplet trickle down the side of her face. The pain in his chest tore up his throat. ‘Querida—’

‘Suddenly,’ she said, ‘men were crawling over the car like locusts, banging on the windows so hard I thought the glass would shatter. They yanked at the door handles, over and over, trying to get in. And my mother... She pushed me down—said I had to hide, to stay out of view in case they saw me. “No pictures of her,” she was screaming. “No photos. No photos.” Yelling. Crying. “They can’t see her like this.” I just wanted to die. That’s exactly what I wished for.’

Her voice trailed to a pained whisper and Lucas strained to hear her.

‘She screamed at the driver to move forward and he tried to switch lanes. He tried. He tried.’

Lucas ground his jaw so hard a shard of pain shot up to his temples. ‘The car crashed?’

‘Yes,’ she said, her chest rising as she struggled to wrestle her emotions into submission. ‘Next thing I knew I was in London. Hidden. Locked up.’

Her voice ebbed once more and Lucas leaned closer.

‘The Princess in the Iron Mask.’

‘What?’ he said, frowning deeply, sure he mustn’t have heard her correctly.

‘That’s what the other children called me. Although it was probably my own fault. I had at least two copies—you know, the novel by Alexandre Dumas? The mask they needed to hide the face of the King’s twin?’

He jerked upright, shaking his head. Adamant. Goddamn furious. ‘No, Claudia. No.’

‘Yes.’

‘That was just children being mean and spiteful because you are royalty. Most children dream of such a thing, querida.’

She dashed her hands across her cheeks. ‘And my mother saying those things? Was she just being mean? Telling everyone I wasn’t beautiful any more? That she couldn’t bear to look at me? Touch me?’ Her voice hitched on the last word and she flung back the covers and vaulted off the bed. ‘I need to go now.’

‘No!’ he said, lunging, grabbing her hand, keeping her at the side of the bed until he stood before her. Cupping her face, he looked deep into her eyes. ‘Listen to me, Claudia. I’d say your mother was past herself with worry because no doctor could diagnose or even help. She had to watch you suffer. Can you imagine that?’ Lucas tilted her face, needing her to see the conviction in his. ‘Think of how you feel when you sit with Bailey. It hurts you, sí?’

She nodded, just once, eyes flooding, spilling. His heart tore.

‘I’d say your mother didn’t think or realise the words she spoke would affect you so. Whilst she is not the most affectionate of people, I believe in this case she was unthinking. Not uncaring.’

‘You think she honestly cared about me? She cast me out. I was dispensable to them.’

‘Impossible,’ he said fiercely. ‘You are far from dispensable, cariña. And you were not cast out. The accident, I think, was the last bullet for her. If I had been in the same position and you had almost died I also would’ve taken you away. Far, far away. Somewhere safe. Where you could get help. St Andrew’s is the best—world renowned.’

‘And would you have left me there, Lucas? Alone? They hardly came. I waited. And waited.’

His stomach wrenched. Little wonder leaving Bailey had killed her.

Would he have left her? The answer hovered on his tongue. For what peace would it bring her? He could never say the words pounding at his temples, fighting to break free.

‘Your parents had a country to run, Claudia—a country in trouble at the time. I remember those years. Your parents had other children. Duty. Responsibilities.’ Even as he said the words they sounded hollow, knowing the price she’d paid. Her parents had sacrificed her happiness for the good of thousands. Something he’d done over and over in his career.

‘Trust you to see it that way,’ she said, bitterness lacing her voice, twisting her head until his hands fell away—hands that now felt bereft. ‘Of course you’d have left me. Duty. Obligation. That’s all you ever talk about. You’re just the same as them.’

He closed his mind to the disgust in her eyes. ‘I see both ways. For a young sick girl to be left in a foreign country. Isolated in such a way.’ His chest felt crushed by the impact. ‘It must’ve been very hard for you.’

He knew all too well the emptiness, the fear she would have felt—could feel it now, brewing in his system like poison. Fear that made you weak. Angry. Resentful. Determined at any cost to close the door to your heart and never reopen it.

‘Dios.’ The truth slammed into him, almost knocking him off his feet. ‘So blind,’ he said, scouring her face, drinking in her amazing beauty and tender vulnerability while the last remaining fragments fell into place. The final piece of intelligence he needed to create Claudia Verbault.

‘What happened when they came to see you, cariña?’

Her gaze fell, drifted to the window as the first strokes of dawn broke through the slit in the drapes. ‘I wouldn’t speak to them. Not one word. When I grew older, got better, had to speak, they started making demands for me to return. I pushed for my independence. I wanted my freedom.’

‘No, Claudia,’ he said, shaking his head slowly. ‘You pushed them away because you were hurting. Your freedom was a ticket to a pain-free zone.’

Her teeth sank into her bottom lip and she finally looked up at him, her amber eyes huge, swimming with unwanted tears. ‘Yes,’ she whispered, broken, still hurting.

‘You believed they would leave you alone. To live your own life.’

She sniffed. ‘Hoped would be more like it.’

‘Ah, Claudia, all the hope in the world cannot change who you are.’ He knew that better than anyone.

No matter the man he’d become, underneath he was still Lucas Allesandro Gallardo—the boy who’d failed to protect and had lost everything. The man who’d fought for king and country and pledged an oath to honour and obey. The same man who’d just surrendered to his selfish desires and taken an innocent. One he’d sworn to protect. A woman he was beginning to doubt knew what she wanted from life, let alone how to find the love she so desperately needed.

She was blossoming before his very eyes—a butterfly emerging from the chrysalis. She deserved happiness and there was a man out there, perfect and strong and made just for her. And now Lucas had ruined her reputation. Lucas who had nothing to offer.

His chest seized, the pain dominant, punishing. She was so damn vulnerable she hadn’t realised the consequences of her actions. That had been his job. And he’d failed. He’d allowed his emotions to reign. Again. He’d failed to protect. Again.

Lucas closed his eyes. What the hell had he done?