Idiot, he was. He’d done the one thing he’d sworn he’d never do. He’d let her creep past his defences. Again. And that petrified him—because he’d never be enough to make her happy. Just as he hadn’t been enough for his mother. To make her want to stay. He was too much like the man he’d sworn he’d never be. Twisted, selfish, possessive, dark inside.
Look at her, his inner voice whispered.
She was so beautiful she made his breath catch, his heart stall in his chest. But that solitary tear-track that shimmied a pearlescent dew down her cheek said it all. It said that one day she would hate him for imprisoning her here. Despise him. It said that one day she might fly to her death with a euphoric look of peace on her face as she finally found freedom. From him. From her life here.
And he couldn’t do that to his son. Take away the woman who loved him beyond Thane’s wildest imagination.
He wanted Nate to be happy. Have the kind of childhood Thane had never had. Peaceful and joyous. Learn how to be a good man with a pure soul and to be able to love another with his whole heart. Surely that was the greatest gift he could give him? More than horses and dogs and spaceships and candy canes. And to be that person Nate needed Luciana. Not Thane.
Unchaining the doors to the cage, he threw them wide open, his throat so swollen and raw every syllable hurt. ‘You are right, Luciana. Of course you are right. You need to go back.’
That glorious body slumped as she gave him a tight, grateful smile. ‘We’ll just be gone a couple of days. Back for this…this wedding on Christmas Eve—’
‘No.’ He cut her off with a shake of his head, commanding his tone not to falter, to stay strong. ‘There is no need. No hurry. Spend Christmas with your family if you like.’
That had been his mother’s worst time for missing her loved ones. Had once made blood trickle from her wrists as the depths of her depression found no bounds.
Unwanted, harrowing, his dark, tormented mind made one of those incongruous leaps, placing Luciana in that bloodbath…
Dios, maybe her leaving long-term was for the best after all. It would only be a matter of time before he destroyed her. He’d rather have her alive somewhere else in the world than dead by his side. And, while he truly believed Luciana had more strength than his mother had, Thane could easily kill her spirit—was already doing so—and that would be a great tragedy in itself.
He lavished himself with one last long look. At that incredible dark bronze tousled tumble of hair. The perfect feminine curves of her body. Those big, beautiful brandy-gold eyes now swimming in confusion.
‘Well…if you’re sure,’ she said, relief blending seamlessly with her bewilderment. ‘We could think about getting married in the New Year. But don’t you want to spend Christmas with Nate? He’ll miss you.’
‘No,’ he said, turning his back on her, unable to lie to her face as he strode to the door.
If he thought for one second that she might come back he would hold out hope. And it had almost killed him waiting night after night in Zurich, praying she’d walk through the door. A second serving of that persecution would ruin him.
Fingers curled around the door handle, he pushed his final retort past his lips. ‘I won’t force you into a marriage you don’t want, Luciana. In the long run that will only harm Nate. I’ll explain to everyone that things haven’t worked out between us.’
‘Wha…What do you mean? What about Nate? Your crown?’
‘I’ll find another way.’
There was no other way. But in that moment he realised he’d crawl through the dust of his heart to give her what she wanted, needed. He’d make up for the delay to his people somehow.
‘As for Nate—we will arrange visits.’ Though how he’d manage to say goodbye every time, he wasn’t sure.
‘Thane? Turn around—look at me, please.’
He couldn’t. He’d change his mind.
‘I’ll arrange a jet for early morning. But I can’t be here when you leave. I’ll be at the castle. Business.’
The barracks was his destination, and he knew it. He needed to be out cold when she left. He didn’t trust himself otherwise. And there was no better way to vanquish his emotions than via his father’s legacy.
‘Be careful, Luciana. Love my son for me.’
‘Thane, please wait. Talk to me.’
The soft pad of her footsteps sounded behind him and he momentarily stalled as her sensual jasmine and vanilla scent curled around him in an evocative embrace, luring him back.
No. No more talking. He didn’t want her to see what lay beneath. Something too dark to describe.
Thane hauled open the door before she could touch him and vaulted up the staircase to the foyer, where he snatched his keys from the side table and stormed into the night.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
TWELVE HOURS LATER thousands of miles separated them, and not only was Luciana still reeling from their final showdown but the man refused to leave her be.
Blind to the lush Arunthian vista as the car snaked up the steep incline towards the palace, she saw only those intense obsidian eyes searching her face before he’d sped from her suite, as if he were committing her to memory, as if she were the brightest star in his universe—it was a devastating impression she couldn’t erase.
Nor could she erase the questions trying to wade through her woollen, sleep-deprived brain—why was he suddenly willing to give up twenty-four-seven access to his son, delay taking his throne?
Because despite his inglorious method of coercing you into Galancia, his intentions were pure. His only thought was for his people, and he wouldn’t force you down the aisle for anything.
And she couldn’t have made her desires clearer, could she? No.
A fiery arrow of self-censure tore through her chest and she squeezed her eyes shut. ‘No, Thane, I don’t want to marry you.’ But in that moment—that gasping, suffocating moment—she truly hadn’t. Had only envisaged a life of dictatorship, one-sided love and the misery of duty. Where she became a dark blonde replica of her mother.
And that had petrified her. Thrown her into a panic that had whirled out of control. Muscles burning, aching to run and never, ever return. And the idea that she could consider, even for a millisecond, parting him from Nate again made shame crawl over every inch of her skin.
With a restless shake of her head she cuddled Nate to her side, forcing herself back to the present, and glanced up at the fairytale façade of Arunthe Palace—all cream stone walls and fanciful turrets with conical slate roofs—as the car rocked to a stop outside the grandiose scrolled iron gates.
And when the habitual dread didn’t pervade her body, didn’t line her soles with lead, suddenly, astoundingly, she watched a smile play at her mouth in the reflection of the window. Apparently battling with the dark Prince had given her the courage to face anything. Even her mother’s disapproving glare and her father’s steely, vexed countenance as he rehashed her latest escapades in reckless rebellion.
But, unlike five years ago, he would not make her feel guilty, dirty, shameful or unworthy—he no longer held that power over her. She refused to grant it to him. It was not wrong to want her son or to wish for the hedonistic passions of love. To reach beyond her expectations. Thane might fight dirty at times, but at least he fought. Hard. For what he believed in, what he desired above all else. Taking a leaf out of his book wouldn’t hurt.
Thinking about it, right at this moment she’d never felt so strong in her life.
Claudia—tall and dark, striking and radiant—appeared at the arched entryway, shielding her eyes from the sun, and leather creaked as Nate bounced at the sight of her.
‘Go inside with Auntie Claudia, darling. I’ll just be a few minutes.’
‘Okay, Mamá,’ he said, darting from the car and bolting up the stone steps.
Luciana raised splayed fingers—five minutes?—and on her sister’s nod, the door slammed shut.
The locks clicked into place and she depressed the
internal speaker for the driver.
‘Another limousine, another town. How are you, Seve?’ She’d swear she’d seen more of this man in the last few days than Thane.
Down came the privacy screen on a soft whirr, until she stared into deep-set titanium eyes sparkling with amusement in the rearview mirror.
‘You beat me to it. I’m impressed. What gave me away?’
‘Let’s just say I can feel his protection.’
All around her. Wrapping her in warmth when she was so cold inside, missing him already. Wondering what he was doing in that darkly disturbing castle, who he was with. Why her inner voice shrilled that he was with no one, had only his dark pain for company.
‘How does it feel, driving a car embellished with the Arunthian royal crest?’
Seve grimaced, and she couldn’t help but laugh a little.
‘So…are you my new shadow?’ she asked.
‘I sure am. Until he’s satisfied you’re safe and that your father won’t push you into anything you don’t want.’
Wry was the smile that curved her lips. Leopards and their infallible spots. He couldn’t quite let go. And the hell of it was she adored him for it. They might not share love, but he cared.
‘What is he doing in that castle, Seve? Who is he with?’
Unease permeated the air-con cooled air and he rolled his brick-like shoulders.
‘Please, Seve, he won’t talk to me.’
Exhaling heavily, he met her gaze in the rearview mirror. ‘If I know Thane he’s into his third bottle of Scotch after a bout in the barracks while my dear old dad cracks open the champers, celebrating his continued reign.’ Anger rode his tone hard. ‘I don’t know what infuriates me more.’
Luciana frowned deeply. ‘Barracks? What would he be doing there? And, hold on a sec—your dear old dad?’
He arched one dark brow. ‘Much like Thane, I lucked out in the father stakes. My dad is Franco Guerrero.’
‘Oh, Lord.’ It struck her then, with everything that had gone on last night, that she’d never given Thane’s uncle a thought. ‘By marrying me Thane would have overthrown him. I imagine he isn’t best pleased about that.’
‘Understatement of the millennia, Princess. He’s been causing Thane trouble for days—ever since you dropped the Nate bomb on him.’
She groaned aloud. ‘Dammit. That’s why he’s been going to the castle. Practically pushing me down the aisle. Why didn’t he tell me? The insufferable man doesn’t talk.’
But she knew the answer before Seve muttered it. He wouldn’t have wanted her worrying. Had to be the hero, didn’t he? While she was doing her usual—painting a prophesy of desolation in a gilded cage.
Why did she do that? Claudia was right—she was a darn pessimist. An optimist would believe fate had brought them together again, regardless of Thane’s agenda, say they had a son and that in time love could grow. An idealist would reason that duty didn’t necessarily bode a farewell to happiness. They were not her parents—they could strive to have both.
And the duty that put the fear of God up her didn’t have to be a noose around her neck—it could be an adventure with Thane. The greatest adventure of all. She just had to fight for it. Make it happen. Be her own hero. And maybe Thane’s too, for once. Give him the crown he so desperately wanted. Help him free his people from tyranny. Make his mother’s dreams come true. The woman he couldn’t even speak of without pain engulfing him with a tenebrous shroud.
‘His mother…’ she began warily. ‘Does he ever talk about her?’
‘Never. The world could end tomorrow and he’d die with those memories locked in his soul. She was a manic depressive, you know? She self-harmed and…’ Seve blew out an anxiety-laden breath. ‘That’s why I hate him being in that mausoleum. Makes him blacker than night.’
Panic gripped her stomach at the thought of him hurting somewhere she couldn’t reach. ‘Listen, I need a couple of days here. So right now you’re going to go back there, tell him I’m fine—perfectly safe—and get him out of that castle for me. Aren’t you, Seve? Tell me. Give me the words.’
He gave her an incredulous look that said hell, yeah, which did a somewhat splendid job of easing the crush in her lungs.
‘Good. Okay. And after that I need a favour. Or three…’
A few days later. Christmas Eve.
He had the hangover from hell. Why Seve had ordered him to haul his ‘sorry ass’ out of bed and get in the shower he’d never know. That Thane had actually obeyed the man was even more incongruous. All he’d wanted was to sleep through Christmas. After that he knew he’d be fine. Great. Wonderful.
His groan ricocheted off the onyx marble as he braced his hands, palms flat, against the shower wall and dipped his head beneath the deluge. The cold water was like shards of glass, biting into his scalp and skin. And this was post eight shots of espresso. Some big tough warrior he was. He was just glad Nate wasn’t here to see his hero slide down the drain, and Luciana—
Ah, great. He’d just blown his ‘I won’t think of them for ten minutes’ pact.
The floor did a funny tilt—his cue to jump ship—and he stepped onto the rug, wrapping a towel around his waist.
Spying a bottle of headache relief on the countertop, he reached for it, his hand freezing in mid-air as a shard of light sliced through the dim haze.
‘Turn the damn light off, Seve!’ he hollered. Was he trying to split his head open?
‘Not Seve,’ said a delectable honey-drenched tone. ‘And, no, I don’t think I will.’
His heart stopped. His jaw dropped. And he stared at the door that was cracked ajar. Was he hearing her voice now? His mental state was seriously disturbing these days.
With a shake of his head that made him curse blue when his brains rattled, he turned back to the basin and picked up his razor.
‘Are you going to be in there all day? I’m gathering dust, aging by the second, out here.’
Clatter went the blade into the porcelain sink.
He watched his hand move at a snail’s pace towards the handle…fingers curling, gripping. Heart leaping, hoping, as he eased the door fully open.
Two steps forward and—Dios…
‘Luciana?’
Hallucinating or not?
Perched on the vanilla-hued velvet chaise longue, one leg crossed over the other, she rested her elbow on her bent knee and propped her chin on her fist. But it wasn’t the sight of that exquisite serene face that jolted his heart back to life, it was the seraphic vision she made dressed from head to foot in ivory-white.
The gown was pure Luciana. No fuss or bustles or froth. Simply elegance that sang a symphony of class. Straight, yet layered and sheer, with a sensual V neck and a pearl-encrusted band tucked beneath her breasts. Lace was an overlay that capped the graceful slope of her shoulders and scalloped around her upper arms in a short sleeve. And atop her head was a diamond halo from which a gossamer veil flowed and pooled all around her.
He rubbed his bare left pec with the ball of his hand where he ached—God, did she make him ache—and those hot needles pricked the backs of his eyes.
‘Luciana…’ Her name was an incoherent prayer, falling from his lips. ‘You look so beautiful. Like an angel.’
She gave him a rueful smile and spoke softly, ‘I’ve told you before, Thane, I’m no angel.’
Whether it was because he felt utterly broken inside, or because the sight of her had turned the gloomy morning into pure sunshine he couldn’t be sure, but his mouth opened and for the first time in his life he was powerless to stop what poured free.
‘But you were my angel. And you never stopped being mine—not for one minute. Even when I was furious with you, you were still my only light in the dark. And no matter where you are in the world that will never change.’
Down came long lashes to fan over her flawless cheeks as she bit down on her lips. Lips she now covered with trembling fingers.
Panic punched him in the gut. ‘Luce?’ He took a
tentative step closer, relieved when she breathed deeply, pulling herself up to sit tall and straight, with a gorgeous watery smile just for him.
‘My sister,’ she said, with an airy wave that belied that quivering hand, ‘who is somewhere around here, tells me it’s bad luck to see the groom before the wedding—but you know what I think?’
While Thane knew nothing about these things, the fact that she resembled a bride and spoke of weddings and grooms wasn’t lost on him—but hope was a fragile beast he tethered. Because despite the agony of losing her he would not take her down the aisle without happiness in her heart.
Brushing his wet hair back from his face, he eased down onto the edge of the bed, never taking his eyes off her in case she disappeared. ‘What do you think, Luce?’
‘I think we make our own luck. I think fate offers us opportunity but we are the masters of our own destiny. I think I’ve allowed people to control me for too long, and now I’m going to take my life and my happiness into my own hands. Are you ready, Thane?’
Happiness.
He was ready for anything as long as she didn’t leave.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
SHE WAS GOING to propose. Any minute now.
It wasn’t every little girl’s dream. But, when you’d been governed since the day you were born, being the commander of tomorrow was a unique dream all its own.
So here she was. Sitting opposite a handsome man—the most beautiful she’d ever seen. The dark, dangerous divinity that was Prince Thane of Galancia. And maybe she hadn’t set the stage so superbly—no dimly lit chandeliers or intimate tables for two, but it was their scene, their intimate paradise—the place where she’d been reunited with the other half of her soul—and to her it was perfection. Beyond price.
So all that was left were the words.
And Princess Luciana Valentia Thyssen Verbault had to press her palm to her stomach, desperately trying to calm the swoop and swirl of anxious butterflies, their dance wild with exhilaration and anticipation, before she stood tall. Because she had the horrible feeling she might pass out. She’d felt less nervous renouncing her throne yesterday, before hordes of press. The news would be broadcast at twelve noon and by then—hopefully—she’d be this man’s wife.
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