Princess in the Iron Mask - By Victoria Parker Page 0,69

father’s pristine desk. Didn’t royals marry for love these days? Then again, what did it matter when she couldn’t have the man she loved? And if she lived elsewhere she wouldn’t have to see him every day. She could forget. Impossible.

The effort to stand tall while her heart was bleeding made her legs throb. ‘Yes,’ she said, proud of the steel in her voice. ‘As long as you do something for me.’

That cool, flinty gaze narrowed imperceptibly. ‘I am intrigued to know what would make you give up so much, Claudine.’

‘Lucas gets to keep his job, his honour, and to do his duty for Arunthia. You need him, Father, I know you do. And he...he needs it too.’ She wondered then if the virtual stranger before her could hear the love in her voice. So she licked her dry lips and focused on the aspect that would carry more weight with this ruler of a nation. ‘The people love him. He’s their hero.’ And mine too.

Her father nodded slowly, his bushy brows low over his eyes. ‘I see.’

The stern lines of his face softened, to make him appear younger somehow. She blinked hard, wondering if the transformation was a mirage.

‘Does Lucas know how you feel about him?’

A breath she’d had no idea she was holding whooshed out of her and her head bowed—her mask slipping to shatter upon the floor. ‘God, I hope not.’

‘Too. Late.’

Slam went her hand to her heart as those two little words delivered in that deadly fierce voice echoed around the room.

Slowly she turned. Oh, no. ‘Lucas.’

Sprawling insolently, he encompassed one huge black wing chair, the tie of his tux loose around his neck, one devilish dark brow raised. And she’d swear she could hear his molars crack.

‘Big mistake, querida.’

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

HAVING JUST SPENT the last forty minutes in the depths of hell, Lucas wasn’t feeling so good.

‘Excuse us, Henri.’

‘Of course, my friend.’ He heard the smile in Henri’s voice, ignored it. God only knew what the man was thinking after Lucas had played every strategic manoeuvre to get Claudia back to bloody London!

Dios, he was going to make her pay.

Wide-eyed, still shaking like a blade of grass on a breeze, Claudia stood, her gaze flicking from Lucas to her father, back to Lucas.

Still she was unsure who held the power—over him, over her. He had no idea what had happened to make her doubt his dominant strength, but soon she would remember Lucas was his own man with his own damn rules. A fact Henri had always accepted.

‘We leave. Now,’ he said. Toxic nausea churned inside him, poisoning his voice.

Palm flat to the base of her spine, he gave her a deft push out through the door, down the hallway to the front of the private wing, farther still into the night.

‘You’re angry with me?’ she asked, her voice small, quivery, as she lifted the skirts of her dress and negotiated the stone steps.

‘Of course not. Whatever made you think such a thing?’ He jabbed at the open door, being held open by Armande, his voice petrifying the wildlife. ‘Get in the damn car.’

Armande bowed his head shortly before they both slid into the stifling interior.

‘It must have been Armande,’ she murmured, plastering herself against the opposite end of the cream leather bench and nipping her plump bottom lip.

Dios, more enclosed spaces! He rammed his fingers down the inside of his shirt and tore another button free as the car meandered down the tree-lined incline.

‘I thought it was you with the reporters outside.’

‘Clearly.’ Although he’d never been more grateful for not being somewhere in his entire life. To think she might have left!

He scrubbed his hands over his face, his hair. Checked the privacy screen. Unable to wait a second longer to vent all over her.

‘I asked you on the terrace,’ he said, hearing the dark blend of incredulity and anger in his own voice, ‘what you wanted. That was a very simple question, Claudia!’

She winced, reached up, rubbed her brow. ‘I know you did.’

‘And what did you say to me? That you wanted to be free!’ He balled his fists on his thighs as his volume soared. ‘Yet now you will marry that sleaze Carone?’

‘Well, I—’

‘Dios, Claudia, I had a goddamn coronary right there in the room!’ He laid a hand on his chest to check his heart was still there. Still beating. Like a pneumatic drill.

‘You did?’ she asked, turning to look at him, her brow pinched. ‘Well, I was just trying to think