Princess in the Iron Mask

by Victoria Parker

  ‘Lucas, please.’

  Hand rough, unsteady, Lucas cupped the full swell of one breast, pushed his hipsters down his thighs with the other. She was there, poised, glorious above him. And when she sank down on his erection, sheathing him in hot tight ecstasy, a shot of nitrous injected his heart, stopped it dead.

  Claudia’s amber eyes locked on his as she flashed him one of her melt-your-knees smiles and flung her head back in wild abandon, arching sinuously. And suddenly that same heart was torn wide open.

  He was the mightiest warrior. And he’d just been slayed.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  A WARM SPLASH of crimson dawn flooded the room, washing his torso in a reddened hue, and Lucas flung back the covers of their makeshift bed, extricated himself from the heady scent of passion and launched to his feet.

  Skin damp, flushed, feverish, his body shook as if under the power of some deadly virus. Breathing hard, he thrust his legs into a pair of creased trousers and tied the cotton bands at his waist. Only then did he glance down at Claudia, where she lay curled around his empty space, dozing, cashmere blankets draped over her sinful curves.

  Something had gone wrong. Some time during the night. Hours of sex should have at least made him feel sated, at some kind of peace. He scrubbed his palm over the ridges of his abdomen, trying to ease the crush.

  Lungs tight, his eyes bounced around the room. Dios, he could still see her spread across the glossy black top of his baby grand, open, needy. Still taste the exotic hint of mango on his tongue from when he’d devoured her body. Still feel her nails tearing at his skin.

  ‘Lucas?’

  Her voice—small, hesitant—snagged his attention and his gaze jerked back to the mound of pillows. To her.

  Dios, the way she was looking at him...

  ‘Come lie with me?’ she asked, eyes brimming with hope and something soft and warm.

  He shook his head slowly. ‘I need to shower, dress.’ Walk away.

  ‘Okay, well...’ She bit down on her bruised bottom lip. ‘I’ve been thinking.’

  ‘Dios, Claudia, I wish you wouldn’t,’ he said, scouring his nape with his palm.

  She smiled. ‘Ha-ha. Seriously, though, when I go back to London maybe you...’

  Lucas closed his eyes as blood began to rush through his skull at a deafening speed.

  He’d made a mistake. A colossal error of judgement—something that seemed to be happening with astounding regularity since this woman—Dios, no, this reluctant royal—had crashed into his life.

  Last night she hadn’t come to him just for sex, and once again he’d surrendered to his selfish desires. Now she was sussing him out with all the delicacy of a sledgehammer. And never mind London—she needed to take her place at court!

  He hadn’t heard a word she’d said, but he didn’t need to. Her lips had stopped moving and she peered up through long sooty lashes. Coy, sanguine.

  Dios, was she falling for him?

  Lucas thrust his hands through his hair. Felt moisture coat his palms. ‘Claudia, you must see this for what it is. Heat. Passion. That is all there could ever be. We made a pact, you and I.’ He had nothing to offer but a dark soul. And he lived only to work—as he should. She deserved so much more—a chance to find the love she needed.

  ‘I know that,’ she said, brow creased, her gaze fastened on her nail as she scratched an invisible mark from the throw. ‘I just thought if you were ever in London we could have dinner or something. I mean...why not?’

  Good question. The answer, he knew, was the cure for the deadly tangle of emotions knotting his guts. Because if she left his life normality, a pleasing lack of feeling, would surely resume.

  The only way out was to tell her the truth. Crush any spark, any kindling of emotion that was flickering to life inside of her.

  Something made her move. Maybe it was the way his frame stiffened. Maybe his conviction scored his face or maybe she felt the sudden chill nip her skin. Because she bolted upright and tugged a fawn cashmere blanket up over her breasts, veiling herself. Protecting all her heaven while he took her on a trip to hell.

  His blood turned black and weaved a poisonous path towards what was to come—the disappointment in her eyes, the mortification—when she realised what kind of man she’d given her body to.

  ‘You asked me last night who she reminded me of,’ he said, jerking his chin towards the famous painting. ‘The real question is what she reminds me of. Tell me, what do you see?’

  Her wide eyes flicked to the painting, back to him. ‘Pain. She’s in pain and she’s shielding something. And when you look at her I can feel your pain.’

  Not for much longer.

  ‘They bear little resemblance, but I knew when I saw her she had to be mine. To remind me of the man I truly am. That I am responsible for her death.’

  Drawing her knees up to her chest, she yanked the blanket up to her throat. Her white knuckles stood out starkly against her honey-gold skin.

  ‘While you spend your every waking moment fighting to cure pain, I have caused it.’

  He watched the flames of her amber fire snuff out. Felt the atmosphere crackle, scratch at his skin.

  Fists clenched, he nodded slowly. ‘Sí, now you are wary. And so you should be.’

  He hauled air into his lungs. Almost there. Any second now she would be gone from him. For ever. To take her rightful place.

  * * *

  Claudia trembled at the deluge of formidable power emanating from his frame as he paced the room, tormented by demons. Then he froze, closed his eyes as if reliving his darkest moments, and when they opened once more the pain she saw there was like a physical punch to her midriff, hurling her across the room.

  ‘She reminds me that for the rest of my days I will pay for killing my own mother.’

  Her stomach flinched so hard her gasp rent the air. She blinked wide, shell-shocked eyes. ‘What? No,’ she said, shaking her head vigorously. ‘No. You couldn’t. I don’t believe you.’

  ‘I failed her,’ he said, his eyes clouded, almost black. ‘When I should have been protecting her. I am responsible for her brutal, agonising death.’

  Some unseen hand gripped her heart and tore it from her chest. ‘Your mother was...?’ She couldn’t say what was too horrific even to contemplate.

  Lucas thrust his hands through his hair, twisted his fingers, punishing. ‘Murdered,’ he said, voice dark, haunted. ‘I was working. We had no money, no food. So damn poor. He came for her when I should’ve been home, protecting her. Keeping her safe. Dios, I knew what he was capable of.’

  He clenched his fists so hard she could see the dense muscle in his arms bunch and flex as if readying for a fight.

  ‘Always I returned by nightfall, but that night I was careless. Missed my lift. Had to walk. Was too late. She was already broken. Her body twisted. Limp. Yet still she drew breath. And I stood, frozen. Weak.’ His lips twisted with self-disgust. ‘Did nothing to stop him walking free.’

  She filled in the rest. It was oh-so-heart-shatteringly easy. He’d felt fear. For his mother. For himself.

  ‘A coward,’ he said, deathly quiet.

  Oh, God. A sob threatened to tear from her throat as hot liquid splashed behind her eyes. Just in time she managed to swallow it whole. ‘Don’t you dare say such a thing. You told me you were young when your mother died.’

  ‘Sí. I was fourteen. A man.’

  ‘No, Lucas,’ she said, her heart breaking in two. For him. ‘A boy on the cusp of becoming a man.’

  Such an emotionally tumultuous age, she knew. To lose his mother in such a way...

  ‘No,’ he growled, slashing an unsteady hand through the air. ‘Do not look at me with pity. I don’t deserve it. Comprende?’

  Claudia nodded, schooled her features, determined to be strong—to be the woman he needed. Because she knew all about unwanted empathy. It would make him angrier still. ‘Tell me what happened...to your mother. Please.’ God, how she wanted to hold him. Com
fort him. But she didn’t have a hope of penetrating the dark forcefield shrouding him as he paced the floor. ‘You knew the man who killed her?’

  He stopped dead, no more than five feet in front of her, and sank his dark fierce gaze into her eyes. ‘Of course I knew him, Claudia. He was my father.’

  She tried—she really tried to keep still, to show nothing, but he must have seen the colour leach from her face. She could feel cold seeping through her body after all. I knew what he was capable of... ‘Did he...?’ She couldn’t even say it. Did he hurt you? And no matter how hard she tried to stem the images they seemed to whip her mind, one after another.

  His mouth twisted into a cruel sneer. ‘Yes, Claudia, my father was the worst kind of man. He gambled every cent. Whored all over town. Drank himself into furious rages and beat her so badly she suffered severe internal haemorrhaging. Bled for hours before my very eyes.’

  She drew her lips into her mouth, bit down hard, hauling every ounce of strength she could find to stop from crumpling to the floor. He had to live with his memories every hour of every day, and she felt damn pathetic for thinking she’d had a grim childhood. In comparison her life had been a bed of orange blossom.

  She swallowed around the tight searing burn in her throat. ‘I’m so sorry, Lucas. Truly.’

  Claudia watched him slump into the deep sofa, bury his face in his hands. ‘By the time I managed to get help, get her to the hospital, it was too late. I just sat there and watched her die. Powerless.’ He spread his hands wide in front of him, looked down at his palms as if he was back there, in that very room. ‘Blood dripped from my fingers. Pooled upon the floor. The longest six hours of my life.’

  She scrambled onto her knees, then her feet. Wrapped the blanket around her body sarong-style and took a tentative step towards him, asking, begging. ‘Let me hold you. Can I hold you? Please.’

  ‘No!’ he said, snapping upright, warding her off with one flat palm, eyes wild as pain howled through him. ‘You stay away from me. I do not know what I’m capable of right now.’

  Claudia slid back. Not because she was scared—no, she would never fear him—but because he was terrified. Terrified of the emotions pummelling through him. She wondered then if emotion reminded him of pain. Of weakness.

  ‘I made a promise to her that day. That I would avenge her death.’ His voice grew harder, darker, menacing. ‘And I grew bigger, stronger—went after him. Ensured he was thrown into the worst hellhole on earth, where he died a befitting death. But that wasn’t enough. Nowhere near enough. I went after every other murdering son of a bitch he was associated with. Hauled them one after another in front of every court in the land.’

  ‘A vigilante.’ Of course. She’d seen that roguish side to him from the start. The ruthless determination he radiated. The fierce power that held her in thrall. ‘A hero.’

  One corner of his mouth lifted in a satirical smirk. ‘You think that, querida, if it keeps you warm at night.’

  A blast of outrage stung her cheeks. ‘I won’t think it. I know it,’ she said, her voice cracking as she thumped her heart with her fist. ‘In here. Arunthia wouldn’t be the country it is today without you. The people worship you. So don’t you dare question your self-worth to me.’

  He huffed a mirthless laugh. ‘And right there,’ he said, ‘is the irony.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ she said, hating the cynicism, the disbelief in his eyes.

  ‘Your father persuaded me to join the Arunthian Military. Taught me how to use power and strength for good, how to strive for honour by doing my duty to king and country. He saved my youthful dark soul. So when I came for you I had given him my word to protect you. And how do I repay him?’ His lips twisted in self-disgust. ‘I take your innocence. I ruin your reputation. I dishonour you and myself. Now I pay the price.’

  The price?

  ‘Oh, now, wait just a damn minute,’ she said, her voice tremulous, her hand beseeching. ‘I asked you to make love to me. I gave freely. I wanted you so much.’ Her voice shattered along with her heart. Suddenly she didn’t care what the admission would cost her, because he needed to hear it. ‘Only you. It was never just sex for me, Lucas. I only wanted you. What’s more, there was nothing, nothing dishonourable about what happened between us.’

  Face contorting, he shook his head as if he fought an inner battle—his conscience warring with her words.

  Then he flung his arms wide. ‘Dios, what is wrong with you, Claudia? Where is the hate?’

  ‘In you, cariño. Never in me!’ What was he thinking in that tormented mind? Realisation struck her down and she crumpled to the bed of pillows. Shook her head wildly. ‘You could never, ever turn me away from you. Ever, cariño.’

  His eyes flared with either anger or panic. She couldn’t be sure. ‘Dios, do not 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 ag
ainst 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 he had acted quicker, stopped the blood somehow, run faster for help? But he’d been afraid—yes, afraid—a destructive emotion that made you sloppy, careless, because love was so powerful it took away everything.

  If he failed to protect her... Dios, just the thought made his blood run black. She was too precious.

  Head high, the fawn cashmere blanket wrapped around her decadent curves, she walked towards him. Lucas stiffened, balling his fists to stop himself from reaching, from taking her one last time. To pacify the craving. Numb the pain. Because he refused to use her heavenly body in such a way.

  Her step faltered and she sank her teeth into her lip. ‘Did you hear me, Lucas?’

  Like a potent aphrodisiac, her scent, their scent, curled up his nose, blurring thought.

  ‘Ah, of course.’ He’d almost forgotten. About her duty. His mission. That in itself should have told him something. ‘Tell me your condition, Princesa.’

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  ‘PROMISE ME YOU will let go of the past.’

  A cacophony of voices floated through the open window. Bristles stroked her scalp and diamond pins slid through lofty curls, yet through it all Claudia stared unseeingly into the gilt-edged dressing table mirror before her. Remembering the dark haunted look on Lucas’s face as nine simple words tossed him further into purgatory.