Princess in the Iron Mask - By Victoria Parker Page 0,70

of a way to fix things.’

‘Do me a favour, querida? Do not over-think. It scares the hell out of me.’ He could barely breathe just thinking about it. The way she had stood there—so calm, a stranger to him—telling Henri she would marry that tiny fool before she’d bothered to stipulate why. Drawing out his pain as if he was lying on some medieval rack in the dungeon.

And then there she was, his little warrior, no longer fighting for herself but fighting for him. And, Dios, still he could barely breathe.

Pursing her lips, she crossed her arms tight over her chest. Her lush breasts eased out of the ruched bands of her bodice and he had to tear his eyes away before he hauled her into his lap. Three minutes and they would be home. Surely he could wait that long?

Yet he could feel her skin start to bristle. She was thinking again. Damn.

‘You both sat there, no doubt having sealed my fate, and let me say all that stuff!’

What was she? Embarrassed? ‘Let me assure you there was no pleasure to be gained.’ From the first part at least. And he would have made his presence known if her words had not struck him dumb.

‘And how is it going to look now?’ she said, her fiery temper bubbling to the surface. ‘There were still some reporters milling around back there.’

Lucas snapped. ‘To hell with the paparazzi! I do not care for other men’s opinions. And you’d better get used to the attention, querida. I imagine once news of our engagement hits your face will cover every rag in the western hemisphere!’

Her small hand curled around the base of her throat. ‘Engagement? Oh, God, I should’ve known. What did he say? What have you done?’

He had done nothing bar fight for her freedom! But he wasn’t done with punishing her yet.

‘Did I not tell you that I make the rules, Claudia? And I assure you, your fate was sealed well before tonight, cariña.’ Although, to be fair, for an intelligent man it had taken him a while.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

Lucas rocked forward as the car pulled to a stop and within twenty seconds he had her ensconced in the house. His house. Their house. Their living room.

Claudia stood in the middle of the floor, feet shifting, watching him warily. ‘All my things are at the palace.’

‘I will send for them tomorrow,’ he said, tearing his jacket from his torso. ‘You will stay here. With me. Always.’

‘Lucas will you stop this? I haven’t agreed to anything and I refuse to trap you!’

Grabbing fistfuls of his shirt, he ripped it from his body. Buttons pinged off every surface as he tore it off, tossed it to the floor. Then he swung back to face her, pointed at the gold sheath. ‘Take it off.’

Her lips parted on an indrawn breath and she flushed crimson from head to foot. ‘The dress? Why?’

‘Because his fingerprints are all over it,’ he ground out. ‘And because I have just been through the worst forty minutes of my adult life and I need to hold you!’

‘Oh.’ Pursing her lips, she reached for the zip at her side and slowly pulled the metal pin down, inch by excruciating inch. His pulse spiked as the contaminated gold satin slinked from her luscious curves to pool on the floor at her feet, leaving her standing in...

‘Madre de Dios.’

‘You recognise it?’ she asked, voice husky, sexy as hell.

Tight ivory cinched her small waist, widened at her full spilling breasts. Lace-top silk stockings and crystal-studded gold heels completed the evocative feast.

Lucas scrubbed his palm over his heart. Just to check again. ‘The lingerie boutique. In town.’

‘Ah. So I did have your full attention?’

‘Always, querida,’ he said, shucking off his trousers and shoes until he stood in snug black hipsters, never taking his eyes from those glorious centrefold curves. Curves he now gripped at the waist and hauled to straddle him as he plunged to the sofa.

Wrapping his arms around her, he buried his face in the soft skin at her neck and inhaled, over and over, rubbing his lips against her delicate collarbone, trying to pull her tighter into him.

She made that erotic purring noise that drove him loco.

‘Agony,’ she whispered. ‘At least we’re good at this, I suppose.’

‘Stop it. You are thinking again.’

‘Can’t help it.’

‘I know,’ he said, pulling back to kiss the curve of her neck, the sexy dip behind her ear. ‘That brain of yours was one of the