To Claim His Heir by Christmas

by Victoria Parker

The only thing keeping her standing—Nate.

  Luckily enough she knew the drill. Had seen it all before. And so, with the asset of royal breeding, she kept her head high and smiled on demand. Her mother would be so proud.

  Why was he avoiding the subject of her going home? There was no way she could marry him without renouncing her throne. How would that look to her people? What was more, she at least wanted her sister at her wedding—but had he asked her who she would like there? No. She’d just been told when and where. Truth was, she couldn’t understand the hurry. Why not springtime?

  Ah, come off it, Luce, you’re petrified. Scared stiff of committing to a loveless marriage. Where you’ll be eternally powerless. Trapped by invisible shackles. His mistresses secreted behind closed doors…

  Slumping against the wall, she slid to her bottom, bending her knees to hug them to her chest.

  Stop. Just stop jumping to conclusions. Stop with the portentous predictions.

  Problem was, three days of silence had slowly turned her mind inside out—and with it came unadulterated panic exacerbated by Thane’s sporadic vanishing acts. Every day he spent with Natanael, every evening he disappeared until dawn, leaving her with enough bodyguards to secure Fort Knox. His cousin Seve being one of them.

  Could the man scream, I don’t trust you not to steal my son any louder?

  She felt like a captive, with no way to escape. And, since he couldn’t seem to tolerate the sight of her, was he getting comfort from elsewhere now? Was that where he was? Did she have the right to know who he was sleeping with?

  Her mother would say not.

  She’d always divined that her mother truly loved her father but it was disastrously one-sided. Luciana could have only been twelve or thirteen when she’d spied one of her father’s mistresses slipping down the hall, seen her mother’s tear-tracks when Luciana had sneaked in her bedroom to ask about her.

  ‘We don’t talk about such things. Go back to bed, Luciana.’

  Considering how cold Luciana had felt in the last few days, Marysse Verbault deserved a gold medal for that cool façade she’d perfected. Imprisoned by duty. Funny thing was, Luciana could have put up with all of that from Augustus. But the thought of Thane being in another woman’s bed…

  Squeezing her eyes shut, she dropped her head to her knees and forced air into her lungs, past the heavy, tumultuous maelstrom that swirled like a thick brume. Tried to cling on to the rapidly fraying threads of hope that he’d come round. That they could somehow find each other again.

  She shoved desperate thoughts into her brain to keep faith afloat. Telling herself he’d brought her here for a reason. That she was the only person he could feel. That the fact he wanted them to go out tomorrow as a family meant there was light at the end of the tunnel.

  If only she could believe it.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  WHETHER IT HAD BEEN her midnight sniffle-fest to Claudia—who’d told her to stop being such a darn pessimist, painting her future blue when it was only early days, which Luciana conceded was a fair point—or whether it was Nate’s hyper-chatty mood as they clambered out of the luxurious bulletproof Range Rover to behold an authentic winter wonderland, she wasn’t sure. But for the first time in days her spirits had lifted and she was determined to make the most of their first family affair. To think positive unpessimistic thoughts and refrain from pondering on why Thane looked exhausted. What exactly he’d been doing all night.

  No, she wasn’t torturing herself with any of that. Nor was she allowing his invisible power storm to buffet her like a ship in a restless sea. And that ominous slinky dread coiling in the pit of her stomach, warning her that trouble was coming…? Not listening. Not today. Today she was channelling her inner cheeriness—Nate deserved nothing less.

  The rich nutmeg and cinnamon scent of gingerbread wafted over her, courtesy of the warm breeze, and she inhaled deeply. ‘Wow, that smell is amazing. It’s the strangest thing—to be looking at Santa’s grotto, surrounded by reindeer and heaps of snow, in twenty degrees—but I’ve got to admit what they’ve achieved is fantastic. It’s Lapland!’

  Slamming car doors, Thane murmured, ‘It is…’ in that distracted manner he’d worn for days, as if his mind was in constant turmoil.

  Guilt and unease weaved in and around her ribcage, and for the thousandth time she wished he would speak to her. Let her past those impermeable steel barricades he’d erected so they could work through this.

  ‘Would you like your bag?’ he asked, his voice making a sudden shift to that deep drawl she loved so much, as if he’d just found something amusing. ‘You have a tendency to leave them in vehicles and make me fetch them.’

  The return of his humour—however slight—was so shocking, so wonderful, she smiled up at him, squinting against the burnt orange and red haze of the lowering sun. ‘Yes, please. I would. And, just think…you don’t have to send someone to France this time.’

  ‘What a relief,’ he said sardonically, even as he frowned. As if he was just as surprised at his quip as she was.

  Her heart was buoyed up a little more and she wondered if their moods rubbed off on each other. Vowed to be extra chipper, just in case.

  ‘Oh, actually,’ she said, ‘I think I’ll leave my coat in there. I can’t believe how warm it is.’

  With a roll of her shoulders she shrugged off her long cream jacket and pushed it into Thane’s waiting hand. When that hand didn’t move a muscle she glanced up and caught his heated stare—which doused her in his particular brand of fire.

  Another return. The first time in days that he’d paid her the slightest attention. And as that searing gaze trailed down her body, from the V-neck of her coffee and cream polka dot dress to her cinched waist, all the way down to the flared kick of the skirt, where the fabric kissed her skin just a peep above her knees, her heart floated higher still and beat an excitable thrum in her throat.

  He lingered on her bare calves until she felt positively dizzy.

  ‘You look…stunning, Luciana. Truly beautiful.’

  That voice was husky. Intimate. All Thane. And wanton heat surged upwards into her cheeks as her stomach imploded with shameful want.

  She dug her cream kitten heels into the asphalt to curb her squirm. ‘Thank you. You don’t look too bad yourself.’

  Understatement. Right there.

  Suave and sinfully hot, that commanding body was sheathed in one of his de rigueur custom-made Italian suits. The biscuit hue was striking against his olive skin as was the torso-hugging crisp, white open-collared shirt he wore beneath. In short, he oozed gravitas from his every debauched pore, and the brooding expression on his face made him look as dangerous and piratical as ever.

  Those dark eyes fixed on her mouth as she slicked her glossy lips with a flick of her tongue. ‘Luciana…’ he murmured. ‘I…’

  And when they flicked back up to meet hers a meteor shower of dazzling sensation exploded inside her pelvis.

  Oh, Lord, he still wanted her. She knew it. Also knew he was fighting it. Fighting it with all his might. As if his anger lingered and he wanted to hate her but couldn’t persuade his body to obey.

  ‘You were going to say…?’ she prompted.

  His throat undulated on a hard swallow. ‘Only that I’d like us to try and be a family today.’

  She wanted to ask why. For whose benefit. But caught herself in the nick of time, annoyed at her suspicious mind. Who cared why? He wanted to try and that was okay with her. An enormous step in the right direction.

  ‘I would too,’ she said softly. ‘And maybe later we could talk?’

  The sooner they discussed her going home and their marriage the better for all of them. They couldn’t go on like this.

  Thane gave her an enigmatic smile that failed miserably to instil her with any kind of confidence. But before she could pin him down Nate burst between them, bouncing on his loafered feet like a coiled spring.

  ‘There’s Santa’s house! And look over there!
A big sleigh! Can we ride in it? Can we? Oh… Is that the Three Kings? They look scary.’ Of course he looked up to his big warrior. ‘I don’t want to see them, Daddy.’

  Luciana watched those wide shoulders relax, watched bad-boy, dominant Thane disintegrate like milk-sodden cereal in the face of all that cherubic idolisation.

  ‘I’ll take you to meet them and show you there is nothing to be afraid of—okay?’

  Nate didn’t look convinced, but climbed up Thane like a monkey all the same. ‘Okay. I’m ready.’

  ‘Are you ready, Luciana?’ Thane asked.

  To spend an evening being a family? Something she’d always dreamed of?

  ‘I’m definitely ready.’

  * * *

  Ten minutes. That was all it took to sense that Nate’s insuperable case of hero-worship for his father was nothing in comparison to that of Thane’s people.

  The intense magnetism he exuded grew in strength the further they walked, until he was an imposing impression of vibrant and unrelenting power. But those waves of energy flowed with a palpable warmth that was positively endearing. And for the first time she didn’t see a ruthless soldier, born to fight, she saw a prince of the realm born to be King.

  It was such a thrilling sight she couldn’t calm the flurry of burning butterflies inside her, their tiny gossamer wings stroking her heart with pride and her stomach with want.

  The town was utterly delightful. Stone façades with deep wooden lintels and picturesque fairytale windows lined the intricate alleyways, and there was a lovely blend of quaint bespoke shops and chocolate box family homes. A few were a little shabby, and there was a subtle cloud of poverty in the air, but it wasn’t so obvious as it had been in the outskirts they’d driven through to get here.

  As Thane had told her, his uncle’s tyrannical rein choked his people. The fact that they were still so pleasant and joyful was humbling. In truth, she still found it amazing they were so accepting of her. The enemy in their midst.

  By the time they reached the main square night had fallen, and the colossal fir tree taking centre-stage near the clock tower burst into a dazzling display of a million twinkling stars of light.

  Nate gasped in delight, cheering along with the flock of festive gatherers, and Thane laced his warm fingers through hers with a gorgeous half-smile that sent a shower of unadulterated happiness raining over her. It was one of those moments in time she wished she could freeze-frame, because it held the promise of unaccountable tomorrows. Of what might be.

  He was trying so hard tonight. And she was determined not to suspect that his efforts were merely for the cameras. The cameras that now flashed around them in a dazzling firework display.

  Squeezing his hand, she relished the spark of their fiery magical connection and tugged him towards a carpet of colour: rows of stalls that were a complete festive indulgence. Jingle-bell-shaped cookies. Apples dunked in glossy red candy and Swiss white chocolate. Unique crafts and objets d’art. Handmade jewellery and amazing tree decorations—intricate blown glass figurines, hand-carved wooden rocking horses and baubles etched with snowflakes.

  Thane bought half of that stall, since Luciana and Nate oohed and ahhed over it all.

  The yummy, nutty smell of roast chestnuts and frangipane Stollen floated in the air and lured them to the food tent, where Thane and Nate indulged in pancakes drizzled with chocolate sauce. Luciana chose the Galancian version of mulled wine, its scent heady and seductive, and by the time she cradled her third cup she felt half sloshed.

  ‘Thane, is this stuff strong?’

  ‘A little.’ He narrowed those black sapphire eyes on her. ‘Do you drink often?’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘Okay, no more for you.’

  His hand a claw on the rim of her cup, he tried to wrangle it from her death grip. Then he pursed his lips to stem the laughter that glittered in his gaze.

  ‘Let go, Luce.’

  Luciana peeked up at him through the veil of her lashes, feeling naughty and reckless and so happy that he was smiling again. ‘Make me.’

  He growled—the sound dangerously feral. ‘Are you drunk?’

  ‘Don’t be daft. Of course not.’

  The tent made her a liar by taking her for a spin.

  ‘Good, because we are going ice skating.’

  Oh, heck.

  ‘Fancy a coffee?’

  * * *

  For four minutes Nate was like Bambi on ice—all legs and flailing arms. Not that he was discouraged by smacking off the hard surface every five seconds. Guerreros were made of stronger stuff than that. He just picked himself up, wobbled a little, and off he went again.

  As for Luciana, she was all style and grace—but the Galancian mulled wine had put her in a fun-loving, giggly mood that was so infectious it obliterated the darkness that had been festering inside him.

  ‘Daddy, watch me.’

  Nate perfected a double twirl and Luciana clapped, sending a battalion of bystanders cheering along with her.

  Daddy. Why he’d chosen that over Papá was a mystery, but Thane liked it. Every time he heard it his heart did a funny little clench.

  Nate suddenly faltered and Thane skated over, scooped him up by the waist and lifted him high into the air like an aeroplane. His huge grin as he squealed in delight etched itself into Thane’s memory, his heart.

  Time slowed.

  Snow drifted lazily from the canopy ceiling as they spun round and round.

  Nate screeched his name and whooped with joy. And realisation hit him with the ferocity of a thunderbolt.

  He wouldn’t even be a daddy at all if it weren’t for Luciana, would he? She’d gambled with her reputation, risked bringing disgrace upon her house, her country, overturned the colossal expectations of a royal firstborn heir and fought to have his son out of wedlock. Without her courage Thane wouldn’t have this moment. This perfectly wonderful moment in time.

  No matter where he’d been for the last four years, no matter what he’d missed, without Luciana he wouldn’t be gazing into eyes so like his own. Wouldn’t have this precious fragile body to hold, to cuddle or to spin in the air. Wouldn’t be able to incite the adorable innocent smile that never failed to lift his soul. Without Luciana he wouldn’t have this moment or one hundred more just like it. The opportunity to have a million more after it.

  And then came a crack of lightning, incinerating the remnants of his anger, leaving him awash with need. The need to wrap Luciana in his arms and thank her from the bottom of his black heart. Come to think of it, the fact she’d wanted Thane’s son so badly at all astounded him.

  When Nate was safely perched on his blades and had tootled off, Thane instinctively swivelled to find her—and somehow, like a whirl of fate, she crashed into his arms, her gorgeous curvy body plastered flush against his.

  ‘Oops,’ she said breathlessly. ‘I nearly went over. Are you okay?’

  Why? he wanted to ask. Why did you want my son so badly? The son of her enemy. That had to mean something. Right?

  ‘Thane?’ Affectionate concern etched her brow as she stroked his jaw, rubbed her thumb over his cheek. ‘What’s wrong? Why are you looking at me like that?’

  He speared his fingers into the fall of her hair and dived into her eyes. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘For what?’ she whispered.

  ‘For fighting for him. Making sure he took his first breath. For telling me now, for trusting me now, so I can have him in my life.’

  Tears brimmed in her eyes. ‘Oh, Thane, I’m so sorry you’ve missed so much. If I could turn back the clock I would do it in a heartbeat.’

  He believed her. He did.

  ‘I can tell you everything,’ she promised in a frantic whisper.

  ‘I’d like that.’

  ‘Every last detail. Show you a million photographs so you can see it all…’

  ‘Shh.’ He pressed his index finger to her mouth, then dragged it downwards, curling her plump lower lip, coaxing her to open for him as
that ever-present magnetic pull—the one he’d been battling for days, the one he was powerless against—drew them together. And when their lips touched that blistering crackle of electricity jolted through his body, sizzled over his skin, fired heat through his veins. Stronger than ever before.

  Luciana made a sound that came perilously close to a whimper and Thane let loose a soft growl as they shared one pent-up breath. Then he slanted his head to find the perfect slick fit, desperate to taste, luxuriating in heady relief, because she still wanted him after he’d put her through hell.

  Her hands clutched at his broad shoulders, followed the column of his neck, and slid under his ears into his hair as her tongue skated against his. Thane’s danced right back, and the slip and slide of their lips took them higher and higher. The seductive pull of her mouth was a pure exhilaration he never wanted to end.

  Dios, he’d missed her. Missed this.

  The rapid flash of cameras lit the air around the vast indoor rink, but it was the joyful chorus of spectators chanting their names that brought him back to earth with a thud.

  Ending their kiss, he pulled back a touch and pressed his lips to the corner of her lush mouth, the high curve of her cheekbone, inhaling the rich jasmine and vanilla scent from the decadent tumble of her hair.

  ‘Oh, Lord. We’re making out in public,’ she said, a smile in her husky voice as she buried her hot face in his neck.

  ‘Want to make out at home instead?’ he rasped, curving his hands around her sculpted waist to steady her and pull her tightly against him. Bad idea, when the crush of her heavy breasts took his arousal up another notch.

  Her wanton sigh of ‘Yes…’ was a stream of warm air over the skin beneath his ear, coercing a shudder to rip up his spine, and when she lifted her face he grinned at her bright pink cheeks.

  If the crowds hadn’t adored her before they were soon smitten when she spun to face them and dipped into a beautiful little curtsey, stealing the heart of every Galancian in the room. She was going to be a fabulous queen—he knew it.

  As if the crowd had picked up his thoughts they began repeating a mantra: ‘Queen Luciana of Galancia!’