Princess in the Iron Mask - By Victoria Parker Page 0,28

looked at her with a grim expression that made her feel even worse. For God’s sake, he wasn’t even breathing hard. While she rasped and heaved as if she’d endured a triathlon.

‘Her mother died when Bailey fell ill and her father works on an oil rig. If she’s lucky he’ll come by once during his leave.’ More family visits than Claudia had ever had, but that was between her and her parents. ‘But why am I telling you this, Lucas? I forgot. You don’t feel, right? How can you possibly know what I feel like right now?’

Her back slapped against the wall but this time he kept his distance. Though from the lines scoring his handsome face it seemed to cost him.

‘I do not. But I can see leaving her torments you. So many things make sense to me now, but you will be back. You have other responsibilities, Claudia.’

‘Oh, Lucas, shove your royal responsibilities where the sun doesn’t shine, will you?’

He massaged the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. He did that a lot, she realised.

‘So elegant. So refined.’

‘What are you? My elocutionist? I had one of those once. The woman lasted three days.’

‘I am not surprised. I imagine you scared her off.’

‘Probably. You try being a European princess dropped in a London hospital and surrounded by children who talk of apples and pears when all you want to know is where the stairs are.’

He frowned. ‘Apples?’

‘And pears. So, you see, her version of helping was a bit like yours. Unwanted.’

Frightened, alone, she’d been drowning in a river of intolerance, bitterness towards the elite, so she’d done the only thing she could to survive. Shunned her aristocratic birthright. Not that she’d cared. She would have done anything to forget who she truly was. And now they wanted her back. A woman who didn’t exist.

‘You are hurting. If it makes you feel any better hit me. Hard. But do not give up. Courage, Claudia.’

Closing the gap, he reached up and brushed the hair from her brow, the slight scrape making her shiver. She had no idea what possessed her. Maybe it was the sympathy in his eyes—God, she hated that. But she hit him. Just once. Her small fist connected to his shoulder with a soft thump. Not even hard. Her heart wasn’t in it, she realised. It was too busy breaking.

Throat stinging, eyes shuttering, her legs gave way. And he was there, scooping her into his arms, lifting her close, laying her against his broad, muscular chest and walking down the stairs as if she weighed nothing more than a test strip. And in that moment she’d never despised herself more.

Twisting, she pushed against his chest. ‘Put me down. I don’t need you to carry me.’ She didn’t need anyone. Least of all him.

‘Be still.’ His bark reverberated off the walls. ‘And in future I suggest you give more thought to your body than your pride and take the lift when your legs ache.’

‘What are you? A telepath?’ The fight slowly drained from her body. ‘God, I hate you right now,’ she whispered, even as she laid her head against his carved shoulder. He was so strong...so annoying...so everything.

‘Bueno. That is good,’ he said, his voice dropping to a low, somewhat soothing husky rumble.

As he embraced her so tightly Claudia tried to remember if anyone had ever held her close. No. Never. Not even when she was a little girl. And it felt...wonderful.

Her body grew lax, her breathing steadied and his luxurious sandalwood scent enveloped her in a cashmere blanket. His heart thumped beneath her cheek, lulling. Claudia wrapped her arms about his neck, snuggled against him, burrowing, suddenly desperate to absorb his strength. Had she ever felt so safe in her life? It would be oh-so-easy to need him. And oh-so-stupid even to contemplate it.

On instinct she brushed her nose up the column of his throat to his unyielding jaw, the rasp of morning growth tickling the tip. A shiver racked through her core, so addictive she did it again. Blood rushed through her head, drowning out sound, but she felt his chest rumble in a little quake before he swayed slightly on his feet.

‘Claudia,’ he said, his voice tight, throaty, as if he needed a drink.

She needed something, but water was the last thing on her mind. She felt extraordinary. An incredible blend of fizzy excitement and drugging anxiousness.

Summoning the courage to lift her head, she looked up, felt his breath trickle over her