Princess in the Iron Mask - By Victoria Parker Page 0,27

battle of wills that so often ensnared them. Not once had he lost the fight, and this time the stakes were gravely higher.

Soon enough she blinked, then stepped to the side. ‘Bailey, this is Lucas. Lucas, this is my friend Bailey.’

Lucas tore his gaze from Claudia, knowing full well that he shouldn’t be here. That with every passing second he was becoming more embroiled with the mysterious Arunthian Princess. It wasn’t his job to consider her past, present or her future. Getting her home was his remit. His obligation. His mission. His promise to the King.

Pausing for a second, he weighed the risk. Looked at the expectant child, the hopeful softening of Claudia’s beautiful face.

‘Buenos días, Bailey,’ he said, with a quick bow that pinked her cheeks. ‘I am honoured to meet you.’

* * *

Claudia tried to pick her jaw up off the floor and only just managed when Lucas raised one dark brow in her direction. Clearly he had no idea of the in-topics for girly conversation, because small talk slipped in a steady decline and he kept looking to Claudia for direction. And each time he did something warm and delicious unfurled inside her.

Oh, God, he was utterly wonderful. Which was great for Bailey, disastrous for her. She wanted to hate him. For barging into her life, stripping away her independence. For taking her away from Bailey and throwing her to the wolves.

He was the oddest mixture of man. Arrogant. Infuriating. Thoughtful.

‘We have to leave now, Bailey,’ she said, her heart breaking in two. ‘I won’t be able to visit for a few weeks, but I’ll be back.’

Claudia stared into her big blue eyes, willing her to believe. Because she knew exactly how she felt. One sentence—I’ll be back—had the power to plague you with excitement for hours and then crush your heart when no one came.

Bailey tried for a smile and Claudia’s throat stung under a seething fire.

‘I’ll be back. I promise,’ Claudia said, making a cross on her breast with the tip of her finger. ‘And I’ll bring you a present. The most beautiful gift you’ve ever seen. And I’ll write,’ she said, her voice laced with desperation, her hands trembling, her chest quaking. ‘We can e-mail, just like I showed you.’

Claudia grabbed her jacket from the back of the chair, silently chanting. Three weeks. Then you’ll have the money to finish what you started. You’ll be back to hold her hand every day. Just three weeks.

Blinded by the need for air, Claudia stormed down the hall and stopped dead at the double doors leading to the stairwell, opposite the gaping steel mouth of the lift. Seven flights of stairs might be nothing to Action-Man, but she didn’t have a hope of making them.

‘Claudia?’

‘Don’t speak. Don’t be nice, please.’ She’d break. She’d crumble. And no way was she doing that in front of this man.

Lucas eyed the steel box with something close to contempt and Claudia laughed. The hollow sound echoed off the green-flecked walls. He couldn’t even bear to get in the lift with her. And, my God, it hurt. Why did she persecute herself like this? Wishing, dreaming of things she could never have.

Turning, palms flat, she pushed through the double doors and begged her legs to stay strong, keep her upright.

‘Claudia, slow down.’

Step, step, step went her feet. The heavy thud of Lucas came behind her. Bearing upon her. Closing in. ‘Where do you get off, telling me what to do?’ she muttered, her breath short and raspy, her feet now pounding down the stairs.

‘Claudia, I understand—’

His voice verged on the consoling, and the hint of pity unleashed the storm raging inside her. ‘You had no right. No right coming up there!’

‘We are on a strict time limit,’ he said harshly, while the thud, thud of his shoes became louder, echoing off the walls and drubbing her temples.

Don’t you dare fall, Claudia. Don’t you dare.

‘Oh, please,’ she said. ‘You’ve just wasted twenty minutes talking. If...if time was so important to you...you would’ve ordered me out of that room instantly.’

‘Dios, Claudia, slow down. You will fall. I realise you are anxious—’

‘Anxious?’ she said, stumbling when the first flight broke for a landing and a human blur jumped from the sky and landed dead in front of her. Too close. Too close. Taking a step back, she winced as pain shot up her calf and continued to vent, ‘Do you know how many people will visit her while I’m gone? Do you?’

He said nothing, just