Princess in the Iron Mask - By Victoria Parker Page 0,19
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