Princess in the Iron Mask Page 8

  He was the oddest mixture of man. Arrogant. Infuriating. Thoughtful.

  ‘We have to leave now, Bailey,’ she said, her heart breaking in two. ‘I won’t be able to visit for a few weeks, but I’ll be back.’

  Claudia stared into her big blue eyes, willing her to believe. Because she knew exactly how she felt. One sentence—I’ll be back—had the power to plague you with excitement for hours and then crush your heart when no one came.

  Bailey tried for a smile and Claudia’s throat stung under a seething fire.

  ‘I’ll be back. I promise,’ Claudia said, making a cross on her breast with the tip of her finger. ‘And I’ll bring you a present. The most beautiful gift you’ve ever seen. And I’ll write,’ she said, her voice laced with desperation, her hands trembling, her chest quaking. ‘We can e-mail, just like I showed you.’

  Claudia grabbed her jacket from the back of the chair, silently chanting. Three weeks. Then you’ll have the money to finish what you started. You’ll be back to hold her hand every day. Just three weeks.

  Blinded by the need for air, Claudia stormed down the hall and stopped dead at the double doors leading to the stairwell, opposite the gaping steel mouth of the lift. Seven flights of stairs might be nothing to Action-Man, but she didn’t have a hope of making them.

  ‘Claudia?’

  ‘Don’t speak. Don’t be nice, please.’ She’d break. She’d crumble. And no way was she doing that in front of this man.

  Lucas eyed the steel box with something close to contempt and Claudia laughed. The hollow sound echoed off the green-flecked walls. He couldn’t even bear to get in the lift with her. And, my God, it hurt. Why did she persecute herself like this? Wishing, dreaming of things she could never have.

  Turning, palms flat, she pushed through the double doors and begged her legs to stay strong, keep her upright.

  ‘Claudia, slow down.’

  Step, step, step went her feet. The heavy thud of Lucas came behind her. Bearing upon her. Closing in. ‘Where do you get off, telling me what to do?’ she muttered, her breath short and raspy, her feet now pounding down the stairs.

  ‘Claudia, I understand—’

  His voice verged on the consoling, and the hint of pity unleashed the storm raging inside her. ‘You had no right. No right coming up there!’

  ‘We are on a strict time limit,’ he said harshly, while the thud, thud of his shoes became louder, echoing off the walls and drubbing her temples.

  Don’t you dare fall, Claudia. Don’t you dare.

  ‘Oh, please,’ she said. ‘You’ve just wasted twenty minutes talking. If...if time was so important to you...you would’ve ordered me out of that room instantly.’

  ‘Dios, Claudia, slow down. You will fall. I realise you are anxious—’

  ‘Anxious?’ she said, stumbling when the first flight broke for a landing and a human blur jumped from the sky and landed dead in front of her. Too close. Too close. Taking a step back, she winced as pain shot up her calf and continued to vent, ‘Do you know how many people will visit her while I’m gone? Do you?’

  He said nothing, just looked at her with a grim expression that made her feel even worse. For God’s sake, he wasn’t even breathing hard. While she rasped and heaved as if she’d endured a triathlon.

  ‘Her mother died when Bailey fell ill and her father works on an oil rig. If she’s lucky he’ll come by once during his leave.’ More family visits than Claudia had ever had, but that was between her and her parents. ‘But why am I telling you this, Lucas? I forgot. You don’t feel, right? How can you possibly know what I feel like right now?’

  Her back slapped against the wall but this time he kept his distance. Though from the lines scoring his handsome face it seemed to cost him.

  ‘I do not. But I can see leaving her torments you. So many things make sense to me now, but you will be back. You have other responsibilities, Claudia.’

  ‘Oh, Lucas, shove your royal responsibilities where the sun doesn’t shine, will you?’

  He massaged the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. He did that a lot, she realised.

  ‘So elegant. So refined.’

  ‘What are you? My elocutionist? I had one of those once. The woman lasted three days.’

  ‘I am not surprised. I imagine you scared her off.’

  ‘Probably. You try being a European princess dropped in a London hospital and surrounded by children who talk of apples and pears when all you want to know is where the stairs are.’

  He frowned. ‘Apples?’

  ‘And pears. So, you see, her version of helping was a bit like yours. Unwanted.’

  Frightened, alone, she’d been drowning in a river of intolerance, bitterness towards the elite, so she’d done the only thing she could to survive. Shunned her aristocratic birthright. Not that she’d cared. She would have done anything to forget who she truly was. And now they wanted her back. A woman who didn’t exist.

  ‘You are hurting. If it makes you feel any better hit me. Hard. But do not give up. Courage, Claudia.’

  Closing the gap, he reached up and brushed the hair from her brow, the slight scrape making her shiver. She had no idea what possessed her. Maybe it was the sympathy in his eyes—God, she hated that. But she hit him. Just once. Her small fist connected to his shoulder with a soft thump. Not even hard. Her heart wasn’t in it, she realised. It was too busy breaking.

  Throat stinging, eyes shuttering, her legs gave way. And he was there, scooping her into his arms, lifting her close, laying her against his broad, muscular chest and walking down the stairs as if she weighed nothing more than a test strip. And in that moment she’d never despised herself more.

  Twisting, she pushed against his chest. ‘Put me down. I don’t need you to carry me.’ She didn’t need anyone. Least of all him.

  ‘Be still.’ His bark reverberated off the walls. ‘And in future I suggest you give more thought to your body than your pride and take the lift when your legs ache.’

  ‘What are you? A telepath?’ The fight slowly drained from her body. ‘God, I hate you right now,’ she whispered, even as she laid her head against his carved shoulder. He was so strong...so annoying...so everything.

  ‘Bueno. That is good,’ he said, his voice dropping to a low, somewhat soothing husky rumble.

  As he embraced her so tightly Claudia tried to remember if anyone had ever held her close. No. Never. Not even when she was a little girl. And it felt...wonderful.

  Her body grew lax, her breathing steadied and his luxurious sandalwood scent enveloped her in a cashmere blanket. His heart thumped beneath her cheek, lulling. Claudia wrapped her arms about his neck, snuggled against him, burrowing, suddenly desperate to absorb his strength. Had she ever felt so safe in her life? It would be oh-so-easy to need him. And oh-so-stupid even to contemplate it.

  On instinct she brushed her nose up the column of his throat to his unyielding jaw, the rasp of morning growth tickling the tip. A shiver racked through her core, so addictive she did it again. Blood rushed through her head, drowning out sound, but she felt his chest rumble in a little quake before he swayed slightly on his feet.

  ‘Claudia,’ he said, his voice tight, throaty, as if he needed a drink.

  She needed something, but water was the last thing on her mind. She felt extraordinary. An incredible blend of fizzy excitement and drugging anxiousness.

  Summoning the courage to lift her head, she looked up, felt his breath trickle over her face, so close. Her mouth was mere inches away from his lips. ‘Lucas?’

  He had a mystifying glint in his eyes, pupils dilated, heavy. Hot. ‘Do not do that, Claudia. I cannot—’

  ‘Why not?’ she whispered, moving a little closer...

  Then leap went her heart when, in one deft move, he sank his fingers beneath the loose twist at her nape and whisked his arm from under her thighs until she slid down his hard body onto her feet. With his free hand he brushed a stray curl from her eyes so she could see him pr
operly, or maybe so he could see all of her. And all the while his fingers tightened in her hair, sending tides of sensation flooding down her spine in one glorious wave after another.

  ‘So brave,’ he said, eyes glittering like two rare sapphires.

  Was it pity she could see lurking in the depths? Please, no—anything but that.

  His body grew as taut as his jaw and she fancied he fought some inner battle. One she lost when he slackened his hold, sending her stomach plunging to the floor. No. Claudia grabbed a handful of his shirt to stay upright, to bring him back...

  A groan tore up his throat and with one tug—oh, yes—his mouth was on hers. Soft, yet achingly hard, scorching her lips until she burst into flames.

  Alive. She’d never felt so alive. Her entire body shook with an excitement so intense it blanked all thought of self-preservation.

  His kiss was blatant and intense as he bowed her in a delicate arch, caged by the unyielding steel frame of his awesome body. Firm, smooth lips moved over hers, back and forth so skilfully she quickly cottoned on to his rhythm and skill, earning a wickedly thrilling growl. The touch of his tongue sliding against her lower lip, flicking to the corner, was a call to surrender and she opened for him with a high-pitched moan, laying siege to his delicious assault.

  Eyes closed, fingers flaring on his shoulders, she plastered herself against him. The crush of her heavy breasts, the flick of his velvet tongue against hers, set off a chemical reaction: heat surged through her veins, the deafening rush of blood sped past her ears. A hot splash of liquid melted her core—awakening her body in a way she’d never dreamed of. Never known existed. And all she could think was more, more.

  Her fingers skimmed the broad contours of his shoulders, followed the column of his neck and slid under his ears...into his hair.

  Lucas groaned long and low, tightening his hold, one hand on her nape, the other still at her waist, until she felt precious, wanted.

  Desired.

  The seductive pull of his mouth became pure exhilaration as she felt his hands wander, as if he craved to learn her shape—curving over her hips, slinking into her waist. And when his thumbs brushed the underside of her breasts...oh, my.

  No fantasy had ever lived up to this. Even when she’d lain in bed the previous night, knowing Lucas was so close in the room next door, dreaming he’d kiss her awake, imagining the hard press of his weight on top of her.

  As if caught in between a dream and reality she ground her pelvis against him—instinctive, wanting—and revelled in the thick hard ridge digging into her stomach. The thought of that part of him inside her drove a soft pleading moan past her lips.

  Lucas stilled, his mouth fused with hers. His breath, warm and wet, slipped past her parted lips. ‘Claudia?’ Gruff, yet undoubtedly perturbed, his voice doused the flames of desire and she rocked back on her heels.

  ‘Dios,’ he muttered, scooping her back up against his chest. ‘I need to get you out of here.’

  She said nothing, just buried her hot face in his shoulder, trying not to touch, twisting her fingers together in the deep well between her stomach and his. Her brain was in a complete state of confusion. Why had he kissed her? What on earth had possessed her to kiss him? One minute she’d been ranting like some despicable idiot and the next... Heart breaking, she’d craved a distraction—that was all. Maybe comfort. There wasn’t anything pathetic about that, was there?

  Oh, God.

  Any lingering warmth froze solid in her veins as he opened the door and reality closed in.

  Daylight stroked her eyelids. London’s midday crush filtered through her ears and Lucas’s scent was replaced with smoggy car fumes and greasy bacon from the van permanently stationed in the hospital car park. The mingling aromas were enough to plunge her farther into reality, and her heart crumpled when she realised what she’d allowed Lucas to see. Her. Pathetic and needy. Vulnerable. The girl she’d buried long ago.

  ‘Are you able to stand?’ he asked.

  ‘Of course,’ she said, sliding down his body to her feet. The sensation reminded her, made her voice hitch. ‘Thank you.’

  He raked an irritable hand round the back of his neck. ‘Claudia, about what just happened...’

  He averted his gaze to some place over her left shoulder. But not before she caught the glimpse of uneasy regret.

  Claudia closed her eyes. It was worse than she’d thought.

  Sharing a student flat at university had taught her to close her ears to wanton chatter. But she wasn’t tone deaf or completely ignorant about sex. She’d heard of a pity lay, and she guessed she’d just experienced the pity-kiss equivalent. The thought made her feel physically sick. Yes, she’d felt him, hard and amazing against her stomach, but how many times had she seen classmates hop from one bed to another regardless of attraction? Sex was sex to men, as long as it resulted in a high-octane pay-off.

  ‘I should not have done it,’ he bit out, anger slashing across his cheeks.

  ‘You’re right. You shouldn’t. Not for the reasons you did.’

  His brow crunched, his mouth shaping for speech, and she couldn’t bear to hear any more excuses. This was humiliating enough.

  ‘Don’t worry about it, Lucas. It meant nothing, right?’ She shrugged in an attempt to lighten the mood.

  ‘Right.’

  ‘We’ll just go on like it never happened.’

  Painfully aware he was starting to read her like a kindergarten book, she didn’t appreciate the way he scanned her face. The notion made her reach for a curveball and throw it out there. ‘I just thought—what the hell? I’ll try it.’

  A stunned light flashed in his intense stare. ‘Qué?’

  ‘Kissing,’ she said, her heart lifting as she warmed to the idea. The last thing she needed was Lucas thinking she had designs on him. ‘It was better than I thought.’

  He blinked.

  She smiled.

  ‘That,’ he said, pointing back to the hospital, still blinking wide eyes, ‘was the first time you’ve been...kissed?’

  ‘Yes.’

  It took a few seconds for him to absorb that tasty little snippit, his jaw falling off its hinges in the process. As embarrassing as never-been-kissed was to admit, it was a far better alternative to the undoubted ego-boost that she fancied the pants off him.

  And then her scurrilous mind darted in yet another direction, spawning her need to be the very best. At everything.

  ‘So tell me, just so I know for the future, did I do it right?’

  A sound spluttered from his lips—something between a cough and a growl. ‘Sí,’ he said vaguely. Too vaguely for her liking.

  He was just being a gentleman. She didn’t like being under par. As a person she fed off success. On an intellectual level, that was. Until now.

  She rubbed her fingertips across the plump flesh of her lips. Had she been too soft? Too hard? Too wet? Maybe she hadn’t opened her mouth enough. It had been perfectly delicious to her, but...

  Oh, heavens. He was staring at her mouth.

  She stilled.

  His eyes shot up to hers: liquid ozone, dark and intense. ‘And was it as you’d hoped?’

  Stifling a smile, she went for light, airy. ‘Oh, it was fine. Nothing like custard.’

  CHAPTER SIX

  NEVER BEEN KISSED.

  Lucas sat in the plush lounge area of the jet, coffee sliding over his tongue, scorching the erotic blend of Claudia from his mouth. Lowering the cup to the table, he glanced covertly across the cabin to where she’d finally settled—curled into a deep swivel bucket seat, her long legs dangling over the side.

  She was buried in work. Fierce concentration marred the silky skin of her brow as she pushed her glasses up her nose and scribbled another note in her book.

  Did I do it right?

  Lucas scrubbed his hands over his face. Trust Claudia to pour every ounce of delectable effort into her first kiss and succeed in blowing his mind.

  What the hell had he been think
ing, kissing her in the first place? He hadn’t been thinking. Not with the correct head anyway. With one forbidden touch he’d lost control. Dios, he should never have laid a finger on her. But she’d been aching, hurting. The pain in her eyes had thrown him.

  Practically across the corridor.

  Holding her—her scent a warm shroud, her flesh heating his blood, her touch a sensual deluge—resistance had become futile.

  And if he thought Claudia had been lost in the moment she’d soon murdered the notion, squashing his ego like a bug underfoot. No, no, no—she’d just wanted to try it! Madre de Dios, what was he? One of her experiments? And his kiss apparently was fine. She’d used the most insipid word in the universe. To describe him. While he’d sunk deeper into the abyss with every tentative stroke of her tongue.

  If one kiss could devour his body and mind, what kind of destruction could she cause with her clothes off? He was a man who preferred a predictable low-level and controllable response to a woman. Yet he was hard just thinking about sinking into her sensational body—as ludicrous and impossible as it was.

  Jacket discarded, she still wore the fawn silk shirt and figure-hugging trousers of earlier, and he swallowed around a bullet-clogged barrel. His hands were imprinted with her flesh, firm and lush, and his eyes dipped to her breasts, remembering the heavy weight of their perfection.

  Catching a groan halfway up his throat, Lucas tore his eyes away, tension building in his chest as he became more resentful of her powerful allure. Not only was she his current mission, he lived his life free of encumbrance and always would. To be in thrall to his desires, to any kind of emotion, was like begging for an assassin’s bullet: it made you weak. So he worked, he fought for everything he believed in—justice, honour, duty—the only way he knew how. Hollow to the core.

  Claudia—any woman, for that matter—deserved far more than an empty shell of a man.

  Lost in thought, he mechanically ate lunch. Claudia declined anything bar a glass of sparkling water, and the silence stretched to breaking point.