Princess in the Iron Mask Read online

  ‘Push your spine into the seat and look straight ahead. I need to lose my suspicious overreaction and take some swift turns.’

  ‘Oh, good grief. Could this day get any worse?’ she said, her fingers curling around the leather lip of the seat alongside her slender thighs.

  Sí. He could have kissed her.

  And if that thought wasn’t bad enough, they lost the van within three minutes only to get snarled up in traffic—while Claudia caught yawn after yawn in her small fist.

  ‘You need sleep,’ he said, frowning at the dark smudges beneath her eyes. ‘You look ill.’

  ‘Why, thank you, Lucas,’ she said, voice dripping with sarcasm. ‘Just what I wanted to hear.’

  In his peripheral vision he watched her rub the outer flesh of her thighs for the third time and his foul mood ratcheted up a notch. Why did his brain insist on informing him of every damn move she made?

  ‘Next you’ll tell me we’re still being followed.’

  Why didn’t she believe him? Never had his word been questioned. The knock to his honour gave his tone extra bite. ‘No. You may rest.’

  Lucas determinedly switched off, focused on changing gear and lowering his pulse. Soon enough he pulled into the private rear entrance of the Astoria and watched daylight being eclipsed by the metal security doors until only a thin sliver remained. Extinguishing the engine, he glanced over at Claudia. Her head was cushioned by the soft leather padded wing, her eyes were closed, breathing steady and even. In peace, her beauty was breathtaking.

  Eyes trailing down her body, his guts twisted at the sight of damp cloth sticking to her skin, outlining her lush curves.

  ‘Claudia?’ he said—loud enough to wake the dead. Otherwise he’d have no choice but to touch her, and while his body was willing and able his mind rejected the idea immediately.

  The problem was, where Claudia was concerned his body seemed to rule. Why else would he be in this imbroglio in the first place? He should have her ensconced in the jet by now, halfway to Arunthia. Perfectly dry and unruffled.

  Unfortunately it seemed his reluctant royal was dead to the world.

  ‘Dios.’ Lucas thrust open his door and launched himself to his feet, adrenaline pumping through his body and making him hard all over.

  Barking orders to the security guard to clear his path, he scooped her into his arms and strode through the darkened corridors, ordering his body not to feel. Not to react.

  Damn impossible when she curled into his arms, snuggled against his damp chest, laid her head on his broad shoulder and grabbed fistfuls of his white shirt. Heat shot down his spine, pooled in his groin, and by the time he reached the penthouse his heart was thumping a twenty-man stampede that had nothing to do with exertion.

  The guard opened the door to the penthouse and Lucas marched to the enormous bed, laid her down and backed the hell away.

  ‘Sir? Do you need any further assistance?’

  Lucas scrubbed his jaw. ‘Clothes. She needs something dry to sleep in.’ Why hadn’t he thought of this? What did women sleep in apart from their skin? Gorgeous honey-gold skin... His throat turned thick as molasses along with his blood, and against a direct order his eyes toppled back to the bed.

  ‘We have a concession downstairs, sir. I could ask one of the assistants to help?’

  He nodded, heard the man exit the room with a decisive click and reached for his mobile phone. He was determined to find the man who’d followed them, and soon, but first... Dios, she was in serious danger of becoming ill.

  Claudia was curling her long body into a foetal position on the gold coverlet, and he was smacked with that hint of vulnerability once more. His mind latched onto another woman at another time. Defenceless. Frail. Unprotected. By him.

  Lucas clenched his stomach to stop the pain ripping his abdomen clean in half, reached for the plateau he visited in the dead of night and banished the memory.

  Gritting his teeth, he focused on Claudia, curled his hand round her soft upper arm and gently tugged her onto her back. The sight of her stretching sinuously against the satin was one adrenaline shot to his groin too many. Cursing, he began to pop her coat buttons from top to bottom, peeling away the layers, trying his utmost to stay disconnected, yet unable to deny the tremor of his fingers.

  Then, gracias a Dios, she murmured and began to stir, turning on her side.

  ‘Claudia? Wake up. I need you to take off your clothes.’

  ‘Okay,’ she murmured sleepily, as she rolled back on her side and buried her face in the palm of her hand.

  ‘No. No! Do not sleep. Not yet.’

  That did it. She opened her eyes. Blinked. Stretched again. Writhed her centrefold body like the she-devil she was. Then bolted upright. ‘Where am I?’

  ‘In my hotel suite. You may sleep, but first you need to undress,’ he said, his already tentative hold on control fraying at the image of her undressing in front of him. For him.

  Her face scrunching in a strangely pretty grimace, she twisted her legs, folding them underneath her. ‘Ugh, I feel horrid,’ she said, absorbing her surroundings, her eyes wide as they flew to his. ‘How did I get up here?’

  ‘I carried you. In slumber you bring new meaning to the adage sleeping like the dead.’

  Cheeks pinkening, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed, her eyes riveted to his chest. ‘Oh, I know. Comes from sleeping in the noisiest places.’ At his quizzical glance she elaborated. ‘In a hospital full of children with paper-thin walls. Still, I’m surprised you managed it.’

  ‘Are you?’ Was it his imagination or did she fixate on his chest a little too long?

  ‘No, not really. You’re huge.’

  Her voice was husky but he managed to put that down to thirst. The alternative was a treacherous road to travel down.

  ‘I’d bet good money you’re the only man on the planet who could manage it, though.’

  Plenty of his men could—not that he’d ever allow it. The thought unearthed a foreign sensation in his guts. ‘You are far from heavy, Claudia. I have carried twice your weight on my back for days on end.’

  ‘Why on earth would you do that?’

  Thuds began to pound at his temples. ‘Up,’ he ordered, amazed that he’d told her that. Frankly astounded that he’d divulged one iota of his past. Dios, he needed to get rid of her. ‘I’ve decided that we should return to Arunthia today.’

  But she wasn’t listening. Something had occurred in her fierce brain. ‘Oh, of course. How silly of me. I saw it straight away too. You’re military. Or ex-military at least.’

  She attempted to stand but fell straight back onto her rear. A curvaceous bottom now imprinted on his forearm—lush and firm.

  A groan rumbled up his chest but he managed to stall it halfway up his windpipe.

  ‘And, by the way, you can forget leaving today. You promised me twenty-four hours, Mr Garcia.’

  She stood then, unfolding to her full height: a phoenix rising from the flames.

  ‘I was under the impression I was dealing with a man of his word.’ Ouch.

  ‘I’m not leaving until tomorrow. I have business to attend to in London, tomorrow morning, and I’ll be there. Fire, flood or obnoxious control-freak notwithstanding.’

  Lucas fumed from the inside out. ‘There is every chance we will be followed again.’ He’d make sure they were not, but he had no intention of making her feel comfortable. She should be concerned for her safety, dammit. She was in for a rude awakening back at home.

  ‘If we were followed. I’ll chance it.’

  ‘Still you continue to doubt my word.’ What could possibly be so important for her to even risk it?

  She met his eyes, tore on her lip. And he knew. It must be a man. The thought struck a knife to his heart. Dragged him back into the darkness. Why did women do this to themselves? Jeopardise their life for a man?

  ‘You may be willing to chance it but I am not,’ he said, hard enough to ram the point into the next millennium. ‘Y
ou have ten seconds to tell me what or who is so important. Then I promise you, Claudia, the decision will be mine.’

  Her stunned mouth worked. ‘But...you gave me your word.’

  Lucas moved in, slowly biting out each syllable. ‘I will break it in a heartbeat if your safety is in question.’

  She slumped back onto the bed and stared up at him. ‘You mean it.’

  ‘I am deadly serious.’ He’d had enough. Of her blasé attitude. Of the constant spike of his pulse. Of the fact that he’d forgone his word of honour for her protection as a result of her sheer obstinacy. Of everything Claudia. ‘You have less than five seconds.’

  Her eyes widened.

  ‘Four.’

  ‘I have to see someone,’ she said, her words rushing out as she covered her heart with the palm of her hand.

  ‘Not enough. Three.’

  ‘I promised, okay? I can’t just disappear. You’ve smashed into my life with the delicacy of a ten-ton brick. I have to see her before I leave.’

  ‘Two. Her?’ he asked, slightly mollified by the sex of this person.

  ‘Bailey...she would be devastated. This is a huge deal to me, Lucas. Please.’

  Clenching his fists, he eased back. Maybe if she hadn’t been looking up to him, with those heart-achingly beautiful eyes pleading. Maybe if he hadn’t seen the effort it had taken her.

  Tamping down on the emotion flickering inside him, he motioned towards the bathroom door with a jerk of his head. ‘If you can manage a hot shower, there is a robe on the back of the door. Then we will eat and you may sleep.’

  Her entire body wilted. ‘I may?’ she said, a smile quivering about her lips.

  Lucas imagined it was half pleasure that he’d granted her leeway and half indignation that he was calling the shots. She had spunk. He’d give her that.

  ‘Sí. You may.’

  * * *

  Claudia closed the bathroom door, turned and slumped against the solid oak.

  ‘That man is killing me softly,’ she whispered. He was so stern his icy orders could freeze a running tap mid-flow, yet he’d agreed to let her visit Bailey and carried her from the car. Although she imagined in that instance he’d acted on automatic, and the experience had been as pleasurable for him as being tear-gassed.

  Groaning, Claudia pushed away from the door and began to unpeel her sticky clothes from her skin. After kicking off her shoes, she wriggled out of her tights and panties, glancing around the huge plush bathroom.

  A black clawfoot tub sat on cream tiles luxuriously warm under her now bare feet. Walking over to the shower, she unbuttoned her lab coat with one hand and turned the shower dial with the other, until steam began to pour over the glass wall—shaped in a slinky S—and filled the room, blissfully warming every inch of skin she unveiled.

  Shallow twin basins took up one wall and, unsnapping her bra, she walked over to peek inside the huge complimentary basket, wrinkling her nose at the visual feast. God only knew what products were in there. Before she got a decent look she was snagged on her condensation-hazy reflection in the wide mirror above the ceramic bowls.

  ‘Oh, lovely!’ Colour high, clumps of dark-brown hair hanging about her face, huge puffy bags under her eyes: she looked like a human panda bear. Was it any wonder Lucas looked at her as if she were half-mad? She certainly acted half-mad around him.

  Grimacing, she closed her eyes, and her mind drifted to a close-up of Lucas, towering above her, as she was plastered to his car. Who was the woman who’d reached up for his kiss? So sure she’d been. So wrong she’d been. He’d been furious, attempting to show her who was boss. A man like Lucas wouldn’t be interested in her. His women would be lithe, glamorous, über-confident. Everything Claudia wasn’t.

  Sadness crept into her chest until each breath ached and she gently rubbed her wrist, her eyes wavering on the basket. He might not fancy her, but she didn’t have to look a fright in front of him, did she? Snagging a bottle of shampoo, she dipped into the shower. The hot splash of water firmed her resolve. She had twenty-four hours to get her head on straight, visit Bailey and fly home to face her parents for the first time in years.

  Suddenly it didn’t matter what Lucas thought of her. What mattered was that her mask didn’t slip in front of him. In front of any of them. Staying strong, she had more chance of getting back to London, with her body, mind and soul untouched.

  So when she strode out of the bathroom twenty minutes later, a towel wrapped turban-like around her head and cloaked in a huge white robe, she was armed and ready. Sort of. As long as she ignored the scent of Lucas seeping through the thick cotton, infusing her extreme nakedness with what she imagined a lover’s caress would feel like.

  Bedroom empty, she took a deep breath and strode through the open doorway into a lavish Victorian-style living area—and stopped dead.

  Lucas stood with his back to her, looking out of the wide expanse of windows offering a spectacular view of the fading Thames skyline. A dark blue shirt clung to his broad shoulders, stretching tight as he bent at the waist and reached down. Claudia couldn’t care less what was on the floor. Her eyes were riveted to the small of his back leading to a very tight butt. Wow. Her vision began to swim; maybe she had brain fever.

  She heard him firing orders like soft bullets. Strangely subdued, she couldn’t make out the words, but the low growl of his voice made her insides quake. The base of her stomach fluttered and a honeyed whimper floated past her ears.

  Brow furrowing, she wrenched her gaze towards the door, only to be faced with...a woman? A woman failing miserably at hiding her own response: cheeks overly pink, finger stroking her small cleavage as she checked out Lucas for herself.

  Claudia stifled the impulse to tell the impeccably dressed blonde to get out. ‘Can I help you?’

  Three things happened. Lucas whipped around. The blonde dropped a coat hanger to the floor. And Claudia fisted the lapels of her gown together at the base of her throat, suddenly wishing she’d kept her mouth shut and left the way she’d come. Given her current panda bear appearance, being faced with a sultry cat was more than she could take.

  ‘Ah, Claudia. Finally,’ Lucas said. ‘This is Jessica from the concession downstairs. She has clothes for you.’

  Not a chance. ‘Can’t we just send my clothes to be cleaned?’

  A muscle ticked along his jaw and he set stride towards her. She stiffened, bracing herself.

  ‘Give us five minutes,’ he said to the blonde, who nodded and then disappeared into another room.

  ‘Doesn’t she know where the door is?’

  ‘This is not the time for your awkwardness,’ he growled for her ears only, so close she shuddered.

  Determined not to look at him, she kept her eyes fixed on the clothes rail. ‘How is it awkward not to want new clothes?’ God, how ungrateful she sounded. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone had thought of her needs—was too used to fighting for them herself. ‘I do appreciate the gesture, Lucas, but...’ The rail sagged beneath the weight of tens of hangers adorned with a colourful array of every garment imaginable. She swallowed. Hard.

  ‘You wish to wear a lab coat on your journey home?’ he asked, exasperation hardening his voice.

  ‘Maybe I could pop back to my flat later? I just want my own things.’

  ‘Dios, Claudia, give it up,’ he snapped. ‘I doubt there is anything suitable in that place. There is no need to hide here. I know who you are.’

  Her head jerked so quickly a spasm catapulted up her neck. Standing no more than a foot away he looked furious. ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘I understand the need for dour camouflage while you are in London. But from this moment on everyone you meet will know exactly who you are. I will make sure of it.’

  She blinked. Took a step back. Then another. Why did her heart shrivel in her chest because he thought her appearance dour?

  His brow etched into a deep V, the skin around his eyes crinkling, he scoured her face. Clau
dia looked back to the rail and crushed the hurt before he could witness it.

  ‘Fine,’ she said, proud of her unwavering voice. ‘One outfit.’ Truth be told she had little choice in the matter. It was clear she wouldn’t be permitted to return home, and surely there was something among this glut that wasn’t...skimpy.

  Lucas cleared his throat. ‘Do you wish to sleep in that robe?’ he asked, a little softer, silkier, while his eyes slid down her body in a bold visual caress, as if he craved to see her extreme nakedness beneath. As if.

  ‘Sleep in it?’ Hardly. Not with his woodsy scent lingering on every fibre. ‘I think not. And do me a favour and stop staring at me. I realise I’m not your standard issue—’

  A knock at the door severed her tongue. Both their heads turned in the same direction.

  ‘Why do I suddenly feel like I’m standing in the middle of King’s Cross Station?’ Butt naked!

  She adhered her feet to the floor in case she edged closer to Lucas. She’d never needed anyone and she didn’t need him now.

  A pause. Two raps. And a beat. A pattern, she realised. ‘Forget King’s Cross. I’m in the Arunthian Intelligence Agency.’

  ‘Enter,’ Lucas barked, his lips twitching, and Claudia stepped back a pace when another incredible hunk strode through the gap.

  ‘Good grief. Your brother?’

  Lucas coughed into his fist. ‘One of my men. Armande. And I do not believe we are alike.’

  The man—Armande—bowed in front of her. ‘Your Royal Highness.’ He straightened to resemble a ramrod and nodded at Lucas. ‘Sir.’

  ‘No, you’re right. He seems too nice,’ she whispered, so only Lucas could hear.

  Lucas had ordered clothes. Been thoughtful. Agreed to let her see Bailey. Carried her from the car. Cared for her. He needn’t have done that, she realised. He could have woken her up. Ordered her to walk.

  She shivered from the top of her turbanned head to the tips of her toes just thinking about his big strong arms embracing her, holding her tight, snug against his chest. Wasn’t it just typical that she’d slept the entire time? She wanted a replay.