Princess in the Iron Mask - By Victoria Parker Page 0,61
kind of man she’d given her body to.
‘You asked me last night who she reminded me of,’ he said, jerking his chin towards the famous painting. ‘The real question is what she reminds me of. Tell me, what do you see?’
Her wide eyes flicked to the painting, back to him. ‘Pain. She’s in pain and she’s shielding something. And when you look at her I can feel your pain.’
Not for much longer.
‘They bear little resemblance, but I knew when I saw her she had to be mine. To remind me of the man I truly am. That I am responsible for her death.’
Drawing her knees up to her chest, she yanked the blanket up to her throat. Her white knuckles stood out starkly against her honey-gold skin.
‘While you spend your every waking moment fighting to cure pain, I have caused it.’
He watched the flames of her amber fire snuff out. Felt the atmosphere crackle, scratch at his skin.
Fists clenched, he nodded slowly. ‘Sí, now you are wary. And so you should be.’
He hauled air into his lungs. Almost there. Any second now she would be gone from him. For ever. To take her rightful place.
* * *
Claudia trembled at the deluge of formidable power emanating from his frame as he paced the room, tormented by demons. Then he froze, closed his eyes as if reliving his darkest moments, and when they opened once more the pain she saw there was like a physical punch to her midriff, hurling her across the room.
‘She reminds me that for the rest of my days I will pay for killing my own mother.’
Her stomach flinched so hard her gasp rent the air. She blinked wide, shell-shocked eyes. ‘What? No,’ she said, shaking her head vigorously. ‘No. You couldn’t. I don’t believe you.’
‘I failed her,’ he said, his eyes clouded, almost black. ‘When I should have been protecting her. I am responsible for her brutal, agonising death.’
Some unseen hand gripped her heart and tore it from her chest. ‘Your mother was...?’ She couldn’t say what was too horrific even to contemplate.
Lucas thrust his hands through his hair, twisted his fingers, punishing. ‘Murdered,’ he said, voice dark, haunted. ‘I was working. We had no money, no food. So damn poor. He came for her when I should’ve been home, protecting her. Keeping her safe. Dios, I knew what he was capable of.’
He clenched his fists so hard she could see the dense muscle in his arms bunch and flex as if readying for a fight.
‘Always I returned by nightfall, but that night I was careless. Missed my lift. Had to walk. Was too late. She was already broken. Her body twisted. Limp. Yet still she drew breath. And I stood, frozen. Weak.’ His lips twisted with self-disgust. ‘Did nothing to stop him walking free.’
She filled in the rest. It was oh-so-heart-shatteringly easy. He’d felt fear. For his mother. For himself.
‘A coward,’ he said, deathly quiet.
Oh, God. A sob threatened to tear from her throat as hot liquid splashed behind her eyes. Just in time she managed to swallow it whole. ‘Don’t you dare say such a thing. You told me you were young when your mother died.’
‘Sí. I was fourteen. A man.’
‘No, Lucas,’ she said, her heart breaking in two. For him. ‘A boy on the cusp of becoming a man.’
Such an emotionally tumultuous age, she knew. To lose his mother in such a way...
‘No,’ he growled, slashing an unsteady hand through the air. ‘Do not look at me with pity. I don’t deserve it. Comprende?’
Claudia nodded, schooled her features, determined to be strong—to be the woman he needed. Because she knew all about unwanted empathy. It would make him angrier still. ‘Tell me what happened...to your mother. Please.’ God, how she wanted to hold him. Comfort him. But she didn’t have a hope of penetrating the dark forcefield shrouding him as he paced the floor. ‘You knew the man who killed her?’
He stopped dead, no more than five feet in front of her, and sank his dark fierce gaze into her eyes. ‘Of course I knew him, Claudia. He was my father.’
She tried—she really tried to keep still, to show nothing, but he must have seen the colour leach from her face. She could feel cold seeping through her body after all. I knew what he was capable of... ‘Did he...?’ She couldn’t even say it. Did he hurt you? And no matter how hard she tried to stem the images they seemed to whip