Princess in the Iron Mask

chapter NINE



THAT’S OKAY, THEN. Because I just want sex too.

Lucas scratched his name along the bottom of another LGAS contract, no doubt scoring the wood beneath, then flexed his neck, rolling the stiffness from his shoulders.

Dios, the woman was going to be the death of him. And, although she’d seemed to accept his ‘impossible’ decree in the car, he could not shake the sense that he was staring down the barrel of a gun.

‘I’m done. We can go, if you’re ready.’

Claudia’s soft voice, a tad apprehensive, drifted from somewhere over his left shoulder.

‘Sí. One moment.’ Feet flat to the floor, he pushed his chair back from the small table where he’d set up a temporary office in the corner of the boutique. Twisting at the waist, he bent double and wedged the papers back into his briefcase on the floor.

The click-click of heels on parquet snagged his attention and his gaze darted to a pair of... He swallowed. A pair of sexy-as-hell black peeptoe heels, adorned with a diamond and sapphire-encrusted brooch just above small toes.

A tsunami thundering through town couldn’t have stopped his eyes from doing a slow glissade over sculpted ankles, up over sleek honey-gold skin that sheathed the sexiest pair of calves he’d ever seen...until they disappeared at the knee beneath the flirty edges of a sapphire-blue pleated skirt. No, he amended, his heart thumping in his chest, it was a dress, skimming the lush flare of her hips, cinching the small span of her waist with a black silk sash. At the full curve of her lush breasts his eyes lingered, just a beat, before rising to the slash neck and floating down the length of her arms to stop at her wrists.

His pulse spiked so hard a shaft of pain shot across his chest.

A delicate throat-clearing made him blink. He was half out of his seat, staring like some doe-eyed recruit, for God’s sake.

Lucas bolted upright. The chair hit the floor with a thud and his eyes careened into Claudia’s.

‘Do I look okay?’ she asked, head canted, sucking provocatively on her lower lip, her brow creased in an endearingly nervous little frown.

‘Sí,’ he said, searching for the right words, cursing himself that he was ill equipped to do her justice. You look beautiful wasn’t quite right, because nothing on earth was as beautiful as her face. Sophisticated? Or just downright knee-knockingly gorgeous? In the end he settled for the absolute truth, knowing she needed to hear it. ‘Words fail me, Princesa.’

One corner of her delectable mouth lifted. ‘That’s good, right?’

Shrugging, he made his reply lazy, despite the magnitude of its importance. For it was extraordinary to believe a woman of such beauty disliked her own reflection. Believed she was imperfect in any way. When in reality the only thing she lacked was self-confidence. Well, not today. ‘Sí. Very, very good. It is also unheard of.’

Her smile blazed to killer proportions before she gnawed her lip and slowly, warily, closed the distance between them.

‘Claudia?’ he growled, not liking where this was going. Or possibly liking it too much.

Being assailed with her vanilla-drenched scent doubled the dose of want and he stiffened from top to toe as she curled her fingers round the lapel of his jacket, tugged...rose on her tiptoes and dropped a delicate kiss on his cheek, whispering, ‘Thank you...’ against the sensitive skin on the underside of his ear.

A shudder racked down his spine and he fisted his hands to stop himself from hauling her close. Instead he watched her long nimble fingers stroke down the lapel of his jacket—an innocent touch he swore he could feel against his bare skin—then turn on her kitten-heels towards the door, hips swaying with a natural hypnotic rhythm that distorted his vision.

‘Lucas, are you coming?’

No, unfortunately not. Although if she kept touching him...

What the hell was she thinking, kissing him like that? When he’d already told her no! Dios, maybe he was over-analysing what could have been a simple thank-you.

Discarding his unease, he snatched his briefcase from the floor and strode towards her. ‘Give your bags to Armande and we’ll walk through town.’

The assistants scurried over with an armful of bags, a pair of large sunglasses and a black hat trimmed with the same blue of her dress. Claudia eased the hat atop her head and slowly pushed the glasses up her nose.

‘Camouflage, Claudia?’ Although he had to admit she looked stunning. Like the front cover spread of some glossy American magazine.

‘Baby steps, Lucas.’

He didn’t bother telling her she was wasting her time.

As predicted, flying under the radar had become a distant memory, because every pair of eyes swung in Claudia’s direction and locked on target as they sauntered down the main avenue—his favourite part of the old town.

Blossom trees lined the road, branches heavy with a full show of colour, and the light breeze wafted tiny pink and cream petals in every direction to settle on the cobbles beneath their feet.

‘Now I know what it feels like to be a cell on a slide,’ she said, tugging on the sleeves of her dress in that habitual way that drove him loco, before inching closer as if needing to absorb his strength.

‘Let them see the Lost Princess has returned.’

‘Is that why they’re staring so much?’ she asked, her honeyed voice tainted with amazement. With a discreet jerk of her head she motioned up ahead. ‘Even him?’

Pausing mid-stride, Lucas looked up to see a young hotshot sitting on one of the stone benches lining the street, leering at Claudia with blatant lust.

Locking a growl in his chest, he curved his arm around her small waist, protectively, and steered her past, ignoring the slow burn up his arm. It was untenable to realise the ramifications of her illness.

‘Has it never occurred to you that after you recovered from your illness people would look at you for an entirely different reason? Men would stare because they were enthralled? Women would stare with envy?’

‘N...no,’ she said, stunned, and breathless as she sidled closer still. ‘Not once.’

Dios, little wonder there had been no men in her life. ‘Well, now you know,’ he said, dropping his arm as if she were a grenade. Before he nigh on detonated.

‘As for the rest—remember you are a mystery to them.’

On cue, a small girl tentatively approached Claudia, all long blonde curls and sweet smiles as she curtsied and bestowed upon her a small posy of lilacs from behind her back.

Claudia blinked as if the child were an apparition, then bent at the waist until they were at eye level. In the same rich-with-affection tone she used with Bailey—the one that made a strange yearning pour through his soul—she said, ‘How beautiful you are. I shall treasure them, for they are the first flowers I’ve ever been given. Thank you.’

A wild torrent of feeling flooded down his chest. How could that be? Had her parents never sent her flowers? Even on her birthday? Claudia turned to him, her forehead nipped, as if trying to suppress the power of her emotions. And a memory slammed into him, making the world tilt on its axis. His mind flickered...

There he was. His ninth birthday. His mother—so soft, so sad—trying to smile through the pain of a broken jaw. A small box wrapped in her favourite blue headscarf. A car—a toy Ferrari. The brightest shade of red he’d ever seen. His throat closed, his heart bleeding, when he realised the exorbitant price she had paid. Dios. Breathe, Garcia. Breathe.

‘Lucas?’ Claudia’s voice, rich with affection, tainted with concern, drifted on the sweet-scented air and he fisted his hands to stop himself reaching out, hauling her to him, burying his face in her neck, breathing her in.

‘Are you okay?’

‘Sí,’ he said, slamming the door on the past. ‘Do you like your gift?’

She tried for a smile. One that cut him to the core.

‘Arunthia holds its royal family close to its heart. And your career has made you very popular with the people.’

‘I didn’t think...’ Her husky voice cracked.

‘That you were so important?’ he asked incredulously.

With a little shake of her head, she tore at her lower lip. ‘That I would matter at all.’

Jaw slack, Lucas floundered at the severe lack of her self-worth. ‘Well, you are of high import, Claudia. So let them be awed by you. Enjoy it.’

A small huff burst from her lips. ‘Enjoy it?’ she repeated, her mood lifting, firing her back into motion to resume their walk. ‘That’s a bit of a stretch, Lucas. Two days ago I lived in a lab. And, before you say another word, you don’t care much for attention either. Every time someone bows in your direction I can hear your molars crack.’

His teeth ached just thinking about it. ‘Because it is not appropriate.’

‘Seems to me you’re a local hero, Lucas,’ she said, nudging his arm with her elbow, a small smile playing about her lips. ‘Enjoy it.’

A growl rumbled up his chest. ‘They are grateful, and I must allow them to show their respect. I have no desire to revel in success when I was merely doing my job and improving the kingdom.’ Even then he’d had his own agenda. No one would suffer in filth and violence as his mother had. Not as long as he lived.

A cluster of tables from a café spilled onto the pathway dead ahead and Claudia slid her arm through his, leaning close until he felt the full crush of her breast against his arm.

Lucas ground his jaw. His breathing grew short. ‘Let us go back to the car. Down this side street.’ Nice. Quiet. Space.

Except the tall stucco buildings seemed to curve inward and Claudia did not let go of his arm. Just curled in tighter. And, impossible as it seemed, the silence rang through his head like a ten-bell siren.

‘Lucas—earlier, when you—’ Coming to a dead stop, she tilted the brim of her hat as she lifted her gaze to a window display, licked her lips. When he finally tore his eyes from that gorgeous mouth he followed her viewpoint to—

Holy...

‘Let us move on,’ he said, trying to pull her away before his imagination provided him with a view of Claudia dressed in such a thing. But it was much like tugging on the reins of a stubborn horse.

Pressing the tip of one finger against her pout, she focused her gaze, moved a little nearer to the glass plate. ‘Do men like that kind of thing?’

Throat thick, he scratched out, ‘No...’

‘It’s pretty, don’t you think?’

‘No.’ Sexy, yes. Seductive, certainly. Erotic, absolutely. Pretty? ‘Definitely not.’

‘Maybe the white one, then?’ she said, pointing to a poster of a woman in a tight ivory basque and stockings.

‘I know little of these things, but I imagine that ensemble is more suited to a wedding night,’ he ground out, attempting another tug, desperation fuelling his force.

Claudia simply let go. And the loss of heat did strange things to his mind-set.

‘Oh. I’ll never need one of those, then. I couldn’t think of anything worse.’

Lucas blinked, scrolled back through the conversation. ‘Worse than a wedding night?’

‘Getting married.’

She shuddered. Actually shuddered. Why were they suddenly talking about marriage?

Thuds began to pound at his temples. An army of ants began to crawl across his nape.

‘I’m married to my job and I always will be. I don’t want commitment. I’ve fought for my freedom and I’m keeping it.’

Lucas’s eyes narrowed. ‘Every woman wants to get married, Claudia. Surely every little princess dreams of Prince Charming?’

She laughed—mocking, dry. ‘I promise you, I’ve slept through many a dream and Prince Charming has never taken a leading role yet.’ With the tip of one unsteady finger she hooked the bridge of her sunglasses and slid them halfway down her nose. ‘Do you want to know who has?’ she asked, shooting him a look.

On the brink of being coy, that look morphed into something so catastrophically loaded he felt the bullet ricochet to his groin.

Madre de Dios!

‘No, I do not,’ he said. ‘Dreams are private things.’ If she ever found out what he did to her in his dreams she would faint dead away.

First kisses equalled purity, and so long as he had breath left in his body she was remaining as pure as new-fallen snow. Whether she liked it or not. Whether she wanted sex or not. And sex, he realised, was exactly what she had on her mind.

Dios, how could he possibly have sex with Claudia? The suggestion was absurd. There were two types of women in the world: those you could slake your carnal appetites on and come away feeling empty and those you made love to. He’d never made love in his life. He wouldn’t know how. And Claudia was one of those women. Claudia who wanted sex!

‘I’ve had enough of going slow and talking nonsense. Come,’ he said, placing his hand at the base of her spine and giving her a good push.

What she needed was a damn chastity belt. Lucas had a sneaking suspicion he had initiated her into the realms of passion, and the thought of someone else touching her made his fists clench, ready and armed to physically hurt. And just the notion that he might be capable of unwarranted violence...

‘You know, Lucas, it occurred to me earlier I know nothing about your personal life,’ she said, breaking through his thoughts with the delicacy of a sledgehammer.

‘I do not have one,’ he said, stiffening against the black twist in his guts.

‘Do your parents live nearby?’

‘Sí. In the graveyard.’ Ordering his body not to react—even as sweat trickled down his spine—he kept to the basics. Information anyone would know should she dig for dirt.

Feet faltering, she stroked her palm over her heart while her eyes brimmed with empathy. ‘I’m so sorry, Lucas.’

Ignoring the dart of annoyance, he shrugged. ‘It is the way it is.’

She smiled ruefully. Knowingly. ‘Do you miss them?’

‘Ah, Claudia, such a tender soul. I was too young. I do not remember if there was anything to miss.’ Years he’d managed to erase must remain in the past. For he knew if the floodgates opened he would surely drown.

Even now, standing here in the town his mother had loved, the town he’d rebuilt, those gates rattled on their hinges and water seeped through the cracks, whispering of hunger so deep his stomach would twist. Walls so thin he could hear every scream, every tear. Blood so thick it clotted his hair.

‘Oh, Lucas.’

Something snapped inside him. ‘Your sympathy is wasted on me, Princesa,’ he said, with satiric bite. ‘Save it for children who deserve it.’

He wanted the fiery spark of her temper—craved it. But the little fool just looked up at him, so damn exquisite, as if she understood. She understood nothing.

For a woman who’d been through so much heartache she was astoundingly naïve. Living in her own little bubble. Which made him beyond resolute to protect her from herself. From him.

She had no idea who he really was, what he was capable of. For he too had walked on the dark side. Yet she wanted him with an incredulous passion that now seemed to ooze from her pores, fashioning her with a warm sensual glow.

Bewitching. Precious.

A warning flare—fierce, deadly accurate—discharged in his mind. Lucas had to keep his distance. No more enclosed spaces. No more touching. No more talking in hushed tones or primed glances that made his body seize with a need so fierce he shook with it.

Ignoring the knife-blade to his chest, he faced facts.

He had to kill her feelings dead.