Princess in the Iron Mask - By Victoria Parker Page 0,23

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.’

CHAPTER FIVE

‘ALONE?’ LUCAS SAID, satisfied with his controlled volume as he lowered the morning newspaper to the breakfast table and sent Claudia The Look.

Dark insolent brows arched in his direction before she sipped pure orange juice between her ripe lips. A direct order from God couldn’t have stopped him from watching her slender throat convulse, her pink tongue snake out to lick the pith sticking to her perfect bow. The newspaper crumpled in his fist as heat snaked through his veins, making his pulse spike.

‘Yes, Lucas. I want to go alone.’

He cleared his throat. ‘Impossible. I will accompany you or you will not go. End of discussion.’

Keeping his paper lowered, he waited for her reaction, but the ice maiden had risen with the morning sun.

Dressed in a sharp, fitted black suit, her hair tied back punishingly into a twisted knot, she looked a world away from the dowdy lab rat of yesterday. Still, every inch of her skin was covered, the only break in the black a fawn shirt, stroking her decolletage. Satin, he mused, eyeing the way the expensive fabric rippled around her neck. Today she had an untouchable, regal aura—one he was extremely grateful for.

‘Why are you staring at me? Do I look dour this morning?’

Lucas jerked his eyes back to her face. Had he just imagined her wounded tone? With his limited experience of the female sex outside the sheets he felt unsure how to proceed. Unsure? Dios, he felt something close to panic claw down his chest. Never had he been asked to comment on a woman’s appearance.

Lucas snapped the paper shut and laid it on the table beside his empty coffee cup. ‘Not at all. I was just thinking how smart you look.’

‘Smart?’ she repeated, deadpan, tapping her pencil off her front teeth, popping the end into her mouth and nibbling it.

He shifted in his seat. ‘Sí. Appropriate for your arrival in Arunthia.’

‘I’m not there yet,’ she said, no more happy with his comment than he was.

Damn. He