Princess in the Iron Mask - By Victoria Parker Page 0,63

call me that, Claudia.’

‘Don’t call you what...my darling?’ Her voice turned hard, because she was so damn angry with him. ‘Why? Because you don’t deserve affection of the heart? You deserve it more than anyone, Lucas. Or is it because you intend to pay for the tragedy of your mother’s death for eternity? Well, I say you’ve spent your whole life atoning for the past, and now it’s your turn for some happiness.’

Eyes still haunted, he merely blinked up at her, as if horrified at the very thought. Either it had never occurred to him that she would forgive him or— Oh, God. Pain ripped through her. She’d been so sure something had changed during the night. She was scared, she realised, of his answer. But if this man had taught her anything it was courage.

‘Or is it me?’ she asked, wincing inwardly at the quiver in her voice. She cleared her throat, made it stronger. ‘Am I not enough for you to try? Was it truly just sex for you?’

His jaw clenched, together with every muscle in his body, fiercely hard, resolute, and her stomach plunged to the floor.

‘I warned you, did I not? I have sex. I walk away. I’m not a man to become attached to.’

Oh, it was far too late for that. Self-reliant Claudia had done the one thing she’d sworn she’d never do. She’d got close. And now just the thought of never seeing him again was like a huge gaping hole inside her—one that panged straight through her soul.

‘You’re right. You did warn me,’ she said, trying for light, airy, scrambling for the cool, calm composure that had shielded her for so many years. She took a deep breath, trying to wrap her foggy mind around forming words. ‘It’s probably for the best. After all, a continent divides us in our desire to work, to atone, to give back. In that way we are similar, you and I.’

She tried for a smile but it felt brittle, edgy. Because she was about to lie outright. To relieve some of the strain marring his beautiful face and, though it pained her to admit it, she was still just a woman underneath. Pride she knew was a rare, fragile thing.

‘Just as well I hadn’t fallen for you.’

‘Good—that is good,’ he said, voice gruff, eyes drifting away from her. ‘I have asked Armande to take you to the palace at noon. I have business in Barcelona, but I’ll return for the ball.’ Then he swung away to look out on the swirling mass of storm blowing in from the east. ‘Tonight we keep it professional. You will stand in front of the nation and do your duty.’

She would have laughed if knives had not been tearing her apart. He thought of nothing, focused on nothing, but his duty to Arunthia. And wasn’t that the story of her life?

Reaching for the anger, the hurt, she snatched at thin air. Because through it all she understood the rules he lived by. The horrific loss of his mother and his guilt dominated his every waking moment, and he found the honour he desperately needed by doing his job and fighting for the greater good. Just as Claudia had pledged her life to cure, to ease pain. She could never give that up, just as he couldn’t.

All his rules made him the beautiful, strong, heroic man he was.

‘Yes, Lucas. I’ll do my duty. For you. On one condition.’

* * *

Lucas braced his arms against the plate glass as he stared into the turbulent froth of the ocean. Despite her words he knew she wished to see him again, and something close to need, yearning, clawed down his chest, lacerating his resolve.

Temptation was an ebb and flow of words in his mind. Yes, I will come and see you, querido, hold you in my arms. I will try and give you everything you desire.

Palms flat, he pushed off the window and turned to face her, guts twisting, his head in the midst of an almighty war...and his gaze crashed into the woman he’d failed. A woman sheltering a child from the storm, in pain, so much pain.

Claudia was wrong. He didn’t deserve to be released from the shackles of blame.

Dios, how could he even think of allowing himself a relationship with Claudia? She made him feel every single emotion, and he knew the dangers of that. Loss of thought, of reason, control.

To this day he was plagued by his mother’s death. What if