Princess in the Iron Mask - By Victoria Parker Page 0,35

And to stop her from doing just that, Lucas was determined to focus on hers. When she finally decamped he’d make damn sure she held her head high, without the need for any of her façades.

‘Our agreement was one week. Seven days and seven nights you may stay. Your father was quite willing to allow you time to acclimatise.’ The relief in Henri’s voice had said it all. She was on Arunthian soil and that was what mattered. Lucas’s secluded estate rivalled Fort Knox, so they would be free from prying eyes.

No, the real problem was standing directly in front of him. One finger swirling around her pout, one hip tilted in that sexy pose that made his blood roar. Dios...

Hoping she would retire and leave him with some measure of peace, he said, ‘First thing tomorrow we visit your parents, and during the remaining time I will reintroduce you to your country.’

Eyes widening, her mouth worked. ‘Tomorrow?’

‘Sí. And then I will show you your real home.’ Once she became captivated by her heritage and discerned her true import the desire to do her duty would come, he was sure.

If what she said was true and she was uncomfortable around people he needed to fix it. Otherwise, come the end of the week, they would be back to square one and there was no way she could stay here for three weeks. He would go grey. And insane. The sooner she was confident in her abilities the sooner she would be gone from his life.

Gone. Ignoring the sharp blade driving through his gut, he forged on. He had to tear down her defences one by one, vanquish every fear. It was his job, he told himself, despite the claw at his conscience saying otherwise.

‘Firstly, do not concern yourself with the paparazzi or your personal safety. There was a time when Arunthia was plagued with villainy and the crime rate was high. Too high,’ he said, keeping his voice steady, betraying none of the emotion warring inside. ‘But not any more.’

Dark brows rose above stunned amber eyes. ‘Not since you took over, you mean?’

‘Exactamente. Welcome home, Just Claudia.’

* * *

The whoop, whoop of rotorblades echoed the thump of her anxious heart as they flew over the famed hunting grounds of her childhood residence. And when Arunthe Palace burst into view—standing atop a gigantic rock in dramatic cliff-edge splendour—it was as if the helicopter had been torn open beneath her feet and she was freefalling to earth.

Cream stone-walls, fanciful turrets with conical slate roofs, large spiralling towers firing into the sky like fireworks—a Disney-esque vision that was merely an illusion, a fairytale. For no happy endings could arise from this world of chilling austerity.

Despite all the years of fighting for her freedom she was finally here. Her parents had sent King Kong for Fay Wray and she’d never had a chance. And some sixth sense ran like a river of screams beneath her skin, warning her that now she’d returned she would never escape. Nonsense, Claudia. Breathe.

The military helicoptor touched down and she ordered her legs to stand tall, stay strong, even as she reached for her iron mask, admitting, if only to herself, that she would have done anything for Lucas to take her hand and hold it tightly in his. So she could absorb his awesome strength. No, Claudia. Self-reliant. Always self-reliant.

By the time they were ushered into her mother’s apartment, her stomach was alive with seething nausea, and the sickly scent of lavender hit her just as hard as the sight of Marysse Verbault.

Dressed in an elegant buttery skirt suit and a black chiffon blouse, with not one hair escaping her coiffed dark pleat, she oozed class and sophistication. Claudia pinched her fingers to stop herself from smoothing her own rumpled ‘dour’ appearance or tugging on the threadbare hem of her sleeve.

Then that voice—so cool, so calm—stroked her soul with fingers of ice. ‘Claudine. Finally. Let me look at you.’

A bolt of indignation shot down her spine and pinned her in place. At one time this woman hadn’t been able to bear to look at her. To touch her. Yet now her mother clasped her upper arms and Claudia foraged for the bravura to lock onto the amber eyes that were so like her own. Not only that, for one cataclysmic beat of her heart Claudia imagined her mother wanted to embrace her, and one tiny part of her—the little girl she had once been—wanted that so much. Craved