Princess in the Iron Mask

chapter FOUR



ANIMAL.

The word assaulted his brain, fighting to break through the heady maelstrom of anger and high-octane sexual desire. Blinking rapidly, every shuttering of his eyes brought another aspect of their surroundings into sharper relief.

London. Unsafe. Protect.

They were soaked to the skin. Claudia’s grey Mac moulded to the swell of her full, high breasts with every shivery breath she took. Minuscule drops of rain beaded on her long lashes like black diamonds, and as her eyes fluttered the rare gems lost their precarious hold and trickled down her beautiful face.

She slowly opened her eyes and focused on his mouth. She rose on her toes and her breasts grazed up his chest. His groin hardened to titanium as the moisture sizzled on his skin.

Dios, what was she doing? More to the point, what was he doing? She made him lose his mind, his self-control, and at this rate he would be sans all honour by Monday next.

Retreat, Garcia. Retreat. Now!

She stilled, flicked her big amber eyes up to his, and what he saw nearly shocked his heart into cardiac arrest. Fear. She was scared. Of him.

Animal.

‘No.’ Never.

This was his idea of protection? Crowding her against the side of a car in the sheeting rain?

‘Apologies, Your Royal Highness,’ he said, pushing off the car and taking three large paces back.

‘Don’t call me that,’ she whispered.

A deep V creased her brow as she searched his face, then took a keen interest in her feet. If it were anyone else he would think she was disappointed but, Dios, the fear.

He had to remember who she was, even if she didn’t quite grasp the fact. Why the hell was she living in this cesspool? For the sake of a twenty-minute taxi-ride to work? No, he doubted it. But now was not the time to cause further animosity. He needed her to listen and obey him. If she could just do as she was told for five minutes things would get a hell of a lot easier.

‘Claudia, get in the car. I need to get you dry. Away from this place.’

‘I don’t mind being wet. I love the rain. So pure and clean.’ Chin lifting, she tipped her face skyward. ‘I can’t remember the last time I did this.’

His eyes traced the graceful line of her throat and his heart thumped back to life. The abysmal weather had failed to diminish the colour of her lustrous gold-toned skin—her Arunthian heritage.

‘I am very glad,’ he murmured, his fingers howling to stroke her silken cheek. Claudia’s face plummeted back to his and he realised he must have spoken out loud. Damn. ‘I do not think delivering you home with a bout of pneumonia would go in my favour.’

Her lips curved ruefully. ‘Of course.’ She stood tall, swiped her forehead with the back of her hand to brush tendrils of hair from her temple, and glanced up to the building behind him. ‘I can go and change, but I haven’t got anything for you, I’m afraid.’

The tense muscle in his shoulders eased as she inadvertently gave away her lack of live-in-lover status. Of course that didn’t mean she was single. And collating all the facts was his job, was it not?

‘My clothing is of no consequence.’ Compared to being caked in three months’ worth of dirt sweat and blood, a little water was exiguous. ‘Please—lead the way.’

She swung her gaze back to him, eyes wide. ‘I can manage perfectly well myself. Just give me five minutes—’

‘No. I will accompany you. You’ll need more than five minutes to pack. Then we’ll spend the night in the Thames apartment.’

Her eyes grew impossibly larger. ‘We can’t do that.’

‘Why not?’

‘Well...because it’s empty.’

He groaned, long and low, clenching his fists to stop himself from giving her a damn good shake. ‘And your post? Letters? They are forwarded...yes?’

She nibbled on her plump bottom lip. ‘No. Come to think of it, I haven’t picked them up for months. I’ve been so busy.’

Dios, little wonder her father’s letters had gained no reply. But why warmth rushed through him at the realisation he had no idea.

‘No matter. I will extend my stay at the Astoria. We’ll stay there for the night.’

‘I don’t want to stay there.’ Tugging at her cuffs, she tossed her head in an aggravating lofty flounce. ‘I can just stay here.’

Head snapping upright, he gave her The Look. The look designed to command hundreds of soldiers and stop assassins in their tracks.

And what did she do? Rolled her amber eyes!

‘Fine,’ she said. ‘But for heaven’s sake don’t use that look on me again. It will never work.’ She caught a yawn in her small fist. ‘I’m just so tired I can barely think straight, let alone argue with you.’

She looked past tired, but he had no intention of taking the blame for her ferocious work ethic or any other night-time activities she indulged in.

‘This is progress indeed. Keys?’ he said, palm outstretched.

She dug into her pocket, rummaging. Out came a tissue, a pencil, a small notepad. All of which she stuffed in her free hand. ‘I know I picked them up. I know I did.’

Raking his hair back from his face, he took a moment to rein in his anxiety. And in that instant an arrow of ice speared up his nape and his head snapped upright.

Traffic weaved around his parked car—a black hatchback, a red coupe—and beyond, on the opposite side of the street, there was a small Italian restaurant, a run-down clothes store, a church. And, parked directly in front, a large white pick-up.

‘Get in the car.’

‘What?’ she said, delving into her other pocket.

‘Now!’

‘Do you have to be so impatient? I’m telling you the rotten key is in here somewhere.’

Lucas gripped her arm, ignored the pocket paraphernalia clattering to the pavement, marched her round the car, opened the door and pushed her inside.

‘Lucas, really,’ she said, poking her head out. ‘What is wrong with you?’

Palm flat on top of her head, he pressed her back into the car, slammed the door, ate the tarmac in five quick paces and folded his frame into the seat beside her. ‘Buckle up.’

‘No. I need to go inside,’ she said, exasperated, pointing at the red brick façade of her grotty flat. ‘I don’t have any—’

‘Claudia, I do not care what you want. We are being watched, and I need to get you out of here.’

‘Watched?’ she repeated, in a high-pitched squeak as her hand crept up her chest and wrapped around the base of her throat. ‘But that’s impossible. No one knows me.’

Yesterday that might have been true, but when the Arunthian King disclosed his intent to gather the royal family for the event of the decade things changed. Lucas had known that. Which was why he’d flown into a military base. Why he hadn’t ordered chauffeur-driven cars. When the King’s three daughters were dotted around the globe, and in particular when one had been missing for well over a decade, interest was ripe. Claudia was spoken of in hushed tones, and in all his years working for the King he’d never been told her exact whereabouts. Until now. He didn’t envy her the scrutiny she’d be placed under when they returned. Only the best guards would be selected to watch over her, and Lucas would ensure he chose men with eyes in the back of their heads—for she was nothing but reckless obstinacy.

His mind flitting through the options, he took one last glance at the white pick-up truck.

‘Unless...’ she said.

Lucas pulled out into the lane of traffic, feeling her eyes burning into the side of his face. He knew what was coming—could feel the initial flare of her wrath. Perversely, it began to stoke the fires he’d managed to douse.

‘Oh, my God,’ she said, elbows bent, fingers pressing into her temples like one of those telepaths harnessing their brain power. ‘You know what, Lucas? I’ve known of your existence for three hours and already my life has gone to the dogs. There’s only one reason for someone to take a sudden interest in me. You’ve blown my cover!’

Lucas slapped the indicator and gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles ached. Dios, how had this happened? For the first time in his career he’d failed to do his job. First by almost kissing her and second by putting her in jeopardy. Within five seconds of their meeting he’d lost control of his carnal appetites and his instincts were sloth-like. How long had the pick-up truck been standing there? While he, the Head of Security, had had her hard up against a car, ready to devour her mouth and anything else he could reach.

‘I cannot see how,’ he said, vexed as he attempted to find an explanation for this strange phenomenon. ‘Do you think me so inept I would announce my arrival in the country to the press?’

‘How do I know if you’re any good at your job? So far I’ve been blackmailed, shouted at and suffered a good soaking.’

Good point.

From the corner of his eye he watched her yank her glasses from atop her head and rub the lenses on her coat. Her sodden coat.

‘Great. Now I don’t even have a tissue because you—’ She took a deep breath and tossed the thick frames into the footwell. ‘Anyway, how do you know...?’ He heard her audible gulp. ‘That they were press.’

‘I only suspect,’ he said, knowing his hunch was enough. It always had been. Apart from that one time. When he’d lost everything. When he’d been ruled by emotion—something that would never, ever happen again. Emotion made you sloppy. Careless.

Lucas ignored the crucifying scratch of his conscience, warning him of the similarities to his current predicament. This was different. This was a dire case of sexual chemistry messing with his head.

‘Well, forgive me if I don’t share in your suspicions. You could be overreacting. There are hundreds of vans in London. Thousands, in fact. No one has ever given me a second glance.’

‘Dios, Claudia, that’s because no one knows who you are. You are hidden well in London and you purposely dress in camouflage.’

‘I don’t purposely dress in anything. I dress for comfort and my personal taste.’

He snorted, and was about to tell her that against all evidence to the contrary he was not a stupid man when he glanced in his rearview mirror.

‘Push your spine into the seat and look straight ahead. I need to lose my suspicious overreaction and take some swift turns.’

‘Oh, good grief. Could this day get any worse?’ she said, her fingers curling around the leather lip of the seat alongside her slender thighs.

Sí. He could have kissed her.

And if that thought wasn’t bad enough, they lost the van within three minutes only to get snarled up in traffic—while Claudia caught yawn after yawn in her small fist.

‘You need sleep,’ he said, frowning at the dark smudges beneath her eyes. ‘You look ill.’

‘Why, thank you, Lucas,’ she said, voice dripping with sarcasm. ‘Just what I wanted to hear.’

In his peripheral vision he watched her rub the outer flesh of her thighs for the third time and his foul mood ratcheted up a notch. Why did his brain insist on informing him of every damn move she made?

‘Next you’ll tell me we’re still being followed.’

Why didn’t she believe him? Never had his word been questioned. The knock to his honour gave his tone extra bite. ‘No. You may rest.’

Lucas determinedly switched off, focused on changing gear and lowering his pulse. Soon enough he pulled into the private rear entrance of the Astoria and watched daylight being eclipsed by the metal security doors until only a thin sliver remained. Extinguishing the engine, he glanced over at Claudia. Her head was cushioned by the soft leather padded wing, her eyes were closed, breathing steady and even. In peace, her beauty was breathtaking.

Eyes trailing down her body, his guts twisted at the sight of damp cloth sticking to her skin, outlining her lush curves.

‘Claudia?’ he said—loud enough to wake the dead. Otherwise he’d have no choice but to touch her, and while his body was willing and able his mind rejected the idea immediately.

The problem was, where Claudia was concerned his body seemed to rule. Why else would he be in this imbroglio in the first place? He should have her ensconced in the jet by now, halfway to Arunthia. Perfectly dry and unruffled.

Unfortunately it seemed his reluctant royal was dead to the world.

‘Dios.’ Lucas thrust open his door and launched himself to his feet, adrenaline pumping through his body and making him hard all over.

Barking orders to the security guard to clear his path, he scooped her into his arms and strode through the darkened corridors, ordering his body not to feel. Not to react.

Damn impossible when she curled into his arms, snuggled against his damp chest, laid her head on his broad shoulder and grabbed fistfuls of his white shirt. Heat shot down his spine, pooled in his groin, and by the time he reached the penthouse his heart was thumping a twenty-man stampede that had nothing to do with exertion.

The guard opened the door to the penthouse and Lucas marched to the enormous bed, laid her down and backed the hell away.

‘Sir? Do you need any further assistance?’

Lucas scrubbed his jaw. ‘Clothes. She needs something dry to sleep in.’ Why hadn’t he thought of this? What did women sleep in apart from their skin? Gorgeous honey-gold skin... His throat turned thick as molasses along with his blood, and against a direct order his eyes toppled back to the bed.

‘We have a concession downstairs, sir. I could ask one of the assistants to help?’

He nodded, heard the man exit the room with a decisive click and reached for his mobile phone. He was determined to find the man who’d followed them, and soon, but first... Dios, she was in serious danger of becoming ill.

Claudia was curling her long body into a foetal position on the gold coverlet, and he was smacked with that hint of vulnerability once more. His mind latched onto another woman at another time. Defenceless. Frail. Unprotected. By him.

Lucas clenched his stomach to stop the pain ripping his abdomen clean in half, reached for the plateau he visited in the dead of night and banished the memory.

Gritting his teeth, he focused on Claudia, curled his hand round her soft upper arm and gently tugged her onto her back. The sight of her stretching sinuously against the satin was one adrenaline shot to his groin too many. Cursing, he began to pop her coat buttons from top to bottom, peeling away the layers, trying his utmost to stay disconnected, yet unable to deny the tremor of his fingers.

Then, gracias a Dios, she murmured and began to stir, turning on her side.

‘Claudia? Wake up. I need you to take off your clothes.’

‘Okay,’ she murmured sleepily, as she rolled back on her side and buried her face in the palm of her hand.

‘No. No! Do not sleep. Not yet.’

That did it. She opened her eyes. Blinked. Stretched again. Writhed her centrefold body like the she-devil she was. Then bolted upright. ‘Where am I?’

‘In my hotel suite. You may sleep, but first you need to undress,’ he said, his already tentative hold on control fraying at the image of her undressing in front of him. For him.

Her face scrunching in a strangely pretty grimace, she twisted her legs, folding them underneath her. ‘Ugh, I feel horrid,’ she said, absorbing her surroundings, her eyes wide as they flew to his. ‘How did I get up here?’

‘I carried you. In slumber you bring new meaning to the adage sleeping like the dead.’

Cheeks pinkening, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed, her eyes riveted to his chest. ‘Oh, I know. Comes from sleeping in the noisiest places.’ At his quizzical glance she elaborated. ‘In a hospital full of children with paper-thin walls. Still, I’m surprised you managed it.’

‘Are you?’ Was it his imagination or did she fixate on his chest a little too long?

‘No, not really. You’re huge.’

Her voice was husky but he managed to put that down to thirst. The alternative was a treacherous road to travel down.

‘I’d bet good money you’re the only man on the planet who could manage it, though.’

Plenty of his men could—not that he’d ever allow it. The thought unearthed a foreign sensation in his guts. ‘You are far from heavy, Claudia. I have carried twice your weight on my back for days on end.’

‘Why on earth would you do that?’

Thuds began to pound at his temples. ‘Up,’ he ordered, amazed that he’d told her that. Frankly astounded that he’d divulged one iota of his past. Dios, he needed to get rid of her. ‘I’ve decided that we should return to Arunthia today.’

But she wasn’t listening. Something had occurred in her fierce brain. ‘Oh, of course. How silly of me. I saw it straight away too. You’re military. Or ex-military at least.’

She attempted to stand but fell straight back onto her rear. A curvaceous bottom now imprinted on his forearm—lush and firm.

A groan rumbled up his chest but he managed to stall it halfway up his windpipe.

‘And, by the way, you can forget leaving today. You promised me twenty-four hours, Mr Garcia.’

She stood then, unfolding to her full height: a phoenix rising from the flames.

‘I was under the impression I was dealing with a man of his word.’ Ouch.

‘I’m not leaving until tomorrow. I have business to attend to in London, tomorrow morning, and I’ll be there. Fire, flood or obnoxious control-freak notwithstanding.’

Lucas fumed from the inside out. ‘There is every chance we will be followed again.’ He’d make sure they were not, but he had no intention of making her feel comfortable. She should be concerned for her safety, dammit. She was in for a rude awakening back at home.

‘If we were followed. I’ll chance it.’

‘Still you continue to doubt my word.’ What could possibly be so important for her to even risk it?

She met his eyes, tore on her lip. And he knew. It must be a man. The thought struck a knife to his heart. Dragged him back into the darkness. Why did women do this to themselves? Jeopardise their life for a man?

‘You may be willing to chance it but I am not,’ he said, hard enough to ram the point into the next millennium. ‘You have ten seconds to tell me what or who is so important. Then I promise you, Claudia, the decision will be mine.’

Her stunned mouth worked. ‘But...you gave me your word.’

Lucas moved in, slowly biting out each syllable. ‘I will break it in a heartbeat if your safety is in question.’

She slumped back onto the bed and stared up at him. ‘You mean it.’

‘I am deadly serious.’ He’d had enough. Of her blasé attitude. Of the constant spike of his pulse. Of the fact that he’d forgone his word of honour for her protection as a result of her sheer obstinacy. Of everything Claudia. ‘You have less than five seconds.’

Her eyes widened.

‘Four.’

‘I have to see someone,’ she said, her words rushing out as she covered her heart with the palm of her hand.

‘Not enough. Three.’

‘I promised, okay? I can’t just disappear. You’ve smashed into my life with the delicacy of a ten-ton brick. I have to see her before I leave.’

‘Two. Her?’ he asked, slightly mollified by the sex of this person.

‘Bailey...she would be devastated. This is a huge deal to me, Lucas. Please.’

Clenching his fists, he eased back. Maybe if she hadn’t been looking up to him, with those heart-achingly beautiful eyes pleading. Maybe if he hadn’t seen the effort it had taken her.

Tamping down on the emotion flickering inside him, he motioned towards the bathroom door with a jerk of his head. ‘If you can manage a hot shower, there is a robe on the back of the door. Then we will eat and you may sleep.’

Her entire body wilted. ‘I may?’ she said, a smile quivering about her lips.

Lucas imagined it was half pleasure that he’d granted her leeway and half indignation that he was calling the shots. She had spunk. He’d give her that.

‘Sí. You may.’

* * *

Claudia closed the bathroom door, turned and slumped against the solid oak.

‘That man is killing me softly,’ she whispered. He was so stern his icy orders could freeze a running tap mid-flow, yet he’d agreed to let her visit Bailey and carried her from the car. Although she imagined in that instance he’d acted on automatic, and the experience had been as pleasurable for him as being tear-gassed.

Groaning, Claudia pushed away from the door and began to unpeel her sticky clothes from her skin. After kicking off her shoes, she wriggled out of her tights and panties, glancing around the huge plush bathroom.

A black clawfoot tub sat on cream tiles luxuriously warm under her now bare feet. Walking over to the shower, she unbuttoned her lab coat with one hand and turned the shower dial with the other, until steam began to pour over the glass wall—shaped in a slinky S—and filled the room, blissfully warming every inch of skin she unveiled.

Shallow twin basins took up one wall and, unsnapping her bra, she walked over to peek inside the huge complimentary basket, wrinkling her nose at the visual feast. God only knew what products were in there. Before she got a decent look she was snagged on her condensation-hazy reflection in the wide mirror above the ceramic bowls.

‘Oh, lovely!’ Colour high, clumps of dark-brown hair hanging about her face, huge puffy bags under her eyes: she looked like a human panda bear. Was it any wonder Lucas looked at her as if she were half-mad? She certainly acted half-mad around him.

Grimacing, she closed her eyes, and her mind drifted to a close-up of Lucas, towering above her, as she was plastered to his car. Who was the woman who’d reached up for his kiss? So sure she’d been. So wrong she’d been. He’d been furious, attempting to show her who was boss. A man like Lucas wouldn’t be interested in her. His women would be lithe, glamorous, über-confident. Everything Claudia wasn’t.

Sadness crept into her chest until each breath ached and she gently rubbed her wrist, her eyes wavering on the basket. He might not fancy her, but she didn’t have to look a fright in front of him, did she? Snagging a bottle of shampoo, she dipped into the shower. The hot splash of water firmed her resolve. She had twenty-four hours to get her head on straight, visit Bailey and fly home to face her parents for the first time in years.

Suddenly it didn’t matter what Lucas thought of her. What mattered was that her mask didn’t slip in front of him. In front of any of them. Staying strong, she had more chance of getting back to London, with her body, mind and soul untouched.

So when she strode out of the bathroom twenty minutes later, a towel wrapped turban-like around her head and cloaked in a huge white robe, she was armed and ready. Sort of. As long as she ignored the scent of Lucas seeping through the thick cotton, infusing her extreme nakedness with what she imagined a lover’s caress would feel like.

Bedroom empty, she took a deep breath and strode through the open doorway into a lavish Victorian-style living area—and stopped dead.

Lucas stood with his back to her, looking out of the wide expanse of windows offering a spectacular view of the fading Thames skyline. A dark blue shirt clung to his broad shoulders, stretching tight as he bent at the waist and reached down. Claudia couldn’t care less what was on the floor. Her eyes were riveted to the small of his back leading to a very tight butt. Wow. Her vision began to swim; maybe she had brain fever.

She heard him firing orders like soft bullets. Strangely subdued, she couldn’t make out the words, but the low growl of his voice made her insides quake. The base of her stomach fluttered and a honeyed whimper floated past her ears.

Brow furrowing, she wrenched her gaze towards the door, only to be faced with...a woman? A woman failing miserably at hiding her own response: cheeks overly pink, finger stroking her small cleavage as she checked out Lucas for herself.

Claudia stifled the impulse to tell the impeccably dressed blonde to get out. ‘Can I help you?’

Three things happened. Lucas whipped around. The blonde dropped a coat hanger to the floor. And Claudia fisted the lapels of her gown together at the base of her throat, suddenly wishing she’d kept her mouth shut and left the way she’d come. Given her current panda bear appearance, being faced with a sultry cat was more than she could take.

‘Ah, Claudia. Finally,’ Lucas said. ‘This is Jessica from the concession downstairs. She has clothes for you.’

Not a chance. ‘Can’t we just send my clothes to be cleaned?’

A muscle ticked along his jaw and he set stride towards her. She stiffened, bracing herself.

‘Give us five minutes,’ he said to the blonde, who nodded and then disappeared into another room.

‘Doesn’t she know where the door is?’

‘This is not the time for your awkwardness,’ he growled for her ears only, so close she shuddered.

Determined not to look at him, she kept her eyes fixed on the clothes rail. ‘How is it awkward not to want new clothes?’ God, how ungrateful she sounded. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone had thought of her needs—was too used to fighting for them herself. ‘I do appreciate the gesture, Lucas, but...’ The rail sagged beneath the weight of tens of hangers adorned with a colourful array of every garment imaginable. She swallowed. Hard.

‘You wish to wear a lab coat on your journey home?’ he asked, exasperation hardening his voice.

‘Maybe I could pop back to my flat later? I just want my own things.’

‘Dios, Claudia, give it up,’ he snapped. ‘I doubt there is anything suitable in that place. There is no need to hide here. I know who you are.’

Her head jerked so quickly a spasm catapulted up her neck. Standing no more than a foot away he looked furious. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘I understand the need for dour camouflage while you are in London. But from this moment on everyone you meet will know exactly who you are. I will make sure of it.’

She blinked. Took a step back. Then another. Why did her heart shrivel in her chest because he thought her appearance dour?

His brow etched into a deep V, the skin around his eyes crinkling, he scoured her face. Claudia looked back to the rail and crushed the hurt before he could witness it.

‘Fine,’ she said, proud of her unwavering voice. ‘One outfit.’ Truth be told she had little choice in the matter. It was clear she wouldn’t be permitted to return home, and surely there was something among this glut that wasn’t...skimpy.

Lucas cleared his throat. ‘Do you wish to sleep in that robe?’ he asked, a little softer, silkier, while his eyes slid down her body in a bold visual caress, as if he craved to see her extreme nakedness beneath. As if.

‘Sleep in it?’ Hardly. Not with his woodsy scent lingering on every fibre. ‘I think not. And do me a favour and stop staring at me. I realise I’m not your standard issue—’

A knock at the door severed her tongue. Both their heads turned in the same direction.

‘Why do I suddenly feel like I’m standing in the middle of King’s Cross Station?’ Butt naked!

She adhered her feet to the floor in case she edged closer to Lucas. She’d never needed anyone and she didn’t need him now.

A pause. Two raps. And a beat. A pattern, she realised. ‘Forget King’s Cross. I’m in the Arunthian Intelligence Agency.’

‘Enter,’ Lucas barked, his lips twitching, and Claudia stepped back a pace when another incredible hunk strode through the gap.

‘Good grief. Your brother?’

Lucas coughed into his fist. ‘One of my men. Armande. And I do not believe we are alike.’

The man—Armande—bowed in front of her. ‘Your Royal Highness.’ He straightened to resemble a ramrod and nodded at Lucas. ‘Sir.’

‘No, you’re right. He seems too nice,’ she whispered, so only Lucas could hear.

Lucas had ordered clothes. Been thoughtful. Agreed to let her see Bailey. Carried her from the car. Cared for her. He needn’t have done that, she realised. He could have woken her up. Ordered her to walk.

She shivered from the top of her turbanned head to the tips of her toes just thinking about his big strong arms embracing her, holding her tight, snug against his chest. Wasn’t it just typical that she’d slept the entire time? She wanted a replay.

Unmindful, her eyes sought his. He was staring at her mouth again, at where she gnawed at the flesh of her lip with her front teeth. Then he looked to Armande...back to her...and his jaw set rigid.

‘Armande is in charge for now,’ he said, strangely ill-tempered. ‘I have something to take care of.’

‘What?’ Turning her back on Armande, she instinctively latched onto Lucas’s forearm. ‘You’re leaving me? With...with him?’

He frowned, flicked his attention to her white-knuckled grip. ‘You’ll be perfectly safe.’

‘Are you coming back?’ She did not sound needy—definitely not. She sounded inquisitive.

‘Sí. Of course.’

How many times had she heard that? Too many. Yet for some reason she believed him. Who in their right mind would coerce her into going to Arunthia only to abandon her before the flight?

She slackened her hold, feeling like a total idiot. ‘Fine. I’m going to bed anyway.’

‘One hour,’ he declared, before dipping his head discreetly towards her ear.

Stomach fizzing, she clenched her lower abdomen and sucked her tender bottom lip. His breath tickled down the sensitive skin of her neck, his husky murmur igniting each tiny fizzy bubble until it exploded inside her.

‘Try to behave yourself, Just Claudia.’