Her dark blonde brows nigh on hit her hairline. ‘They’re a bit premature, aren’t they? How bizarre. I’m years away from that. And you know what’s stranger still? I know you’d gladly take your throne now, but I don’t feel anywhere near ready.’
The ice shifted beneath his feet, tilting his world on its axis. ‘Of course you are ready—you were born ready.’
‘You sound like my father,’ she grumbled. ‘I may have been raised to be Queen, but I would never have chosen it for myself.’
Dios, he hadn’t thought for one minute she would be averse. ‘But you were about to take power…’
‘Not through choice. I was being pushed early because my father is— Thane?’ Her palms splayed down his chest, settled over his pecs. ‘Why have you tensed up?’
Rolling his neck to slacken his body, he cursed inwardly at the idea that he was about to give her yet another reason to leave. Not to desire their marriage.
She narrowed her eyes in suspicion. ‘Why do I get the feeling I’ve just stumbled on a landmine that’s about to blow up in my face? What’s going on, Thane?’
‘We’ll talk later.’
‘Ah, no. You’re not fobbing me off this time. I’m missing something here, and you’re going to tell me right now.’
‘Luce, I…’ He cleared his throat. ‘I will take my crown after we marry next weekend.’
She jerked backwards, her footing skewed, and a sense of déjà vu rocked him—the jet back in Courchevel––as he instinctively reached out and snatched at thin air as she dodged him. The loss of her warmth froze the blood in his veins.
Skidding a little, she found her balance. ‘Wh…What did you say?’
Something told him he was about to have another battle on his hands. He had to remind himself that he hadn’t lost one yet.
‘By marrying you, a blue blood heir. I can take my crown four years early.’
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
THE SMILE SHE’D BEEN taught in the cradle carried her through fond farewells and the car-ride back to Thane’s beachside mansion to tuck a happy, sleepy Nate into bed, even while her heart was tearing itself apart and her mind was working her into a pained frenzy, connecting the dots.
By the time she walked into the suite that had been her palatial prison for days the riotous flow of turbulent emotions was a swirling, churning, flaming volcano at critical mass. And she fanned the flames of that anger—because the alternative was crumbling, breaking, shattering and she steadfastly refused to be that woman. The very woman she’d found curled up against the wall last night in the hallway. Loneliness burrowing into her stomach. Fighting defeat. Almost broken. Allowing him to control her. All for what? Because she was desperate for the love of the dark Prince?
Clearly it wasn’t him who was crazy. It was her. She should know better. Since when had love or romantic happiness ever entered the equation of her life? Never. From the day she’d been born she’d been a means to a crown.
Her hands shook as she gripped the bed-rail and lifted one foot like a flamingo to tug off one kitten heel, then switched legs to yank off the other. And when she spied Thane walking through her door, his dangerous stride a purposeful prowl, only to close it behind him and lean against it, crossing his arms over his shirt-clad chest, ready for battle, she blew.
She launched her shoe across the room to clatter off the wall—and, God, that felt great!—then spun on him like a furious firestorm.
‘You seduced me for your crown, didn’t you? You played me from the start—abducted me from Courchevel, brought me here against my wishes—to get you your throne. Didn’t you?’
‘You could say that,’ he hedged, his easy stance belying the tension emanating from his honed, dominant frame.
How she didn’t go over there and slap his hideously handsome face, she’d never know.
‘Makes perfect sense, really. Why else would you want me “very, very badly”?’ she bit out, throwing his perfect passionate prose back in his face. ‘Your scruples really are abhorrent—do you know that?’
Fool, she was. Total, utter fool. She’d known he had an agenda but, as always, self-preservation had taken a darn hike and cowered in the woods with this man.
There she’d been, protecting Nate from a power-play, and she’d walked headlong into the lion’s den. Blind to the warning signs flashing in glaring pink neon, brighter than a Vegas strip. Hanna and Pietro going on as if she was their saviour, for starters…
He’d played her like a puppet on a string. And she’d followed his every beat.
She didn’t miss the way he shifted slightly on his feet, thrust his despicable hands through his hateful hair.
‘Luciana…angel…’
‘Ah, no, Romeo. You can forget the charm. No longer required. You’ve got me right where you wanted me. Bravo, Thane. Really, you should be proud.’
Was that her voice? That fractured aria of sarcasm and bitterness—that portrayal of a heart betrayed?
He rubbed at his temple as if she was one of those Sudoku puzzles that twisted her brain into knots.
‘I cannot see the problem, Luciana. You didn’t wish to marry Augustus and so we would both benefit.’
Of course he couldn’t see the problem. While he’d been polishing his crown she’d secretly been building castles in the sky. But that was her problem. Not his. One she’d simply have to accept. Because she’d given him the one guarantee that would get her down the aisle: Natanael. Not that she’d ever feel regret over that. Seeing them together made remorse utterly impossible.
Now all she had to do was face those portentous predictions she’d been battling for days. A loveless prison of an autocratic marriage would be her future if she wasn’t careful.
With a shrug she tore off her coat and slung it to the bed. ‘See, Thane? Right there. You decided we would both benefit. You made that choice for me. Much like the wedding you arranged yesterday, behind my back. Has it never occurred to you that I would like to be asked?’
Hopeless, pathetic romantic, she was.
‘I told you the other day we were getting married.’
‘Precisely. You told me.’ But she hadn’t argued the toss, had she? No,’ she’d allowed him to control her. For the last time.
He hiked one devilish brow. ‘So what is the problem?’
She shot him a glare which he impudently ignored.
Lord, he just didn’t get it, did he? While she could feel the ropes of a noose tightening around her neck.
From the start it had been the same. No choices. No requests. Only kidnappings and kisses and demands. Either it was ingrained in him to dominate, literally stamped into his DNA, or he respected her so little he didn’t value her opinion or her own wishes. Whichever the case might be, what kind of marriage would they have? A hell of a lot worse than her parents’—she knew that much.
Her lungs drew up tight, crowding her chest until she could barely breathe. She’d been under the command of a control freak all her life and suddenly she couldn’t commit to a moment longer. Heaven help her, she would not live under another man’s rule for eternity.
‘The problem is,’ she said, pleading with her strength not to fail her now, ‘I would like some control over my life. To at least be involved in decisions. I would like a partnership, Thane. Not a dictatorship. You talk about giving your people a voice. Yet you silence mine. Don’t you think that’s hypocritical?’
‘That is absurd, Luciana,’ he said fiercely. ‘You speak when you wish to and I listen.’
She groaned aloud. The man was delusional.
‘Did you listen in Courchevel, when I told you I wasn’t getting onto that plane? No. Did you listen when I told you I had to go home before we could get married? No.’
A frigid draught swept over her, pebbling her skin with goosebumps.
‘Home?’ he incised. ‘Galancia is your home.’
It wasn’t his words that bothered her—it was his granite-like tone. The one that said Arunthia was to be forgotte
n and she should accept that.
He’d have to bury her six feet under first.
She wrenched open the antique armoire and hauled out her suitcase.
‘Luciana? What the hell are you doing?’
‘What does it look like I’m doing, Thane?’
She was leaving this place. This island. As soon as the dawn broke. And nothing would stop her.
‘I don’t think—’
‘Oh, Thane, right now I don’t care what you think. And if I were you I would start listening to me. Because your days of controlling my life are over.’
* * *
Frustration mounting, his pulse spiked, making him feel light-headed as Luciana whirled around the room like a tornado, shoving clothes into the sinister suitcase that sprawled over her bed like a black stain on pure white satin.
‘Would you like to tell me why you are packing?’
He had no idea why—she wasn’t going anywhere.
Seeing her beautiful clothes and those delicate bottles of cream that made her radiant skin smell sweet being haphazardly tossed into that vile contraption made his fists clench into thwarted balls of menace.
‘I would’ve thought that was obvious. I’m leaving. I need to go home for a few days. I need time. I need to sort out my responsibilities there. If you had stood still long enough this week we would’ve already had this discussion—but, no, you dictate and you command. And I’ve had it.’
Darkness fell over his eyes until he was blind to everything around him. She was not leaving him again. Nor was she stealing his son a second time.
‘No, I am sorry, Luciana, but you are not going anywhere. And that is final.’
His conscience was screaming at him to stop. To think about what he was doing. Saying. But if he let her go she wouldn’t come back. He knew it. Just as she hadn’t five years ago.
Her heavy sigh infected the air. ‘You need to trust me, Thane.’
‘Trust?’ The vicious swirling cyclone in his chest picked up pace and he whirled on her in a gust of fury. ‘Trust the woman who disappeared in the night and never told me I had a son? Are you serious, Luciana?’
Those thick decadent eyelashes descended and her voice turned heartbreakingly weary. ‘I know it’s early days, but are you never going to forgive me? Are we ever going to get past this?’
The memory of earlier tonight, when he’d peered through a different lens…her frantic whisper that she would show him what he’d missed…doused the furious fire in his blood.
He thrust his fingers through his hair and exhaled heavily. ‘I’m trying, here, Luce.’
Truth was, even before this evening he’d started to appreciate the turbulence she must have gone through. Which was why he didn’t want her or Nate anywhere near Henri Verbault—the man who’d almost cost him his son. Thane would never forgive him or trust him, and he was amazed Luciana could contemplate either. Obviously she was blind to the man’s influence over her, so Thane would protect her from that too. By keeping her here with him.
‘Just let your father deal with the Arunthian crown. He places it above your importance anyway. You don’t need to go back and see your family ever again. You have Nate and I.’
Her hand plunged from where she’d pinched the bridge of her nose and her jaw dropped agape as she spluttered, ‘Of course I need to see them. You can’t expect me to give up my family. That’s just insane… Whoa—hold on a minute. Did you expect me to get married next Saturday without my family there?’
‘Basically? Yes. I do not want your father anywhere near my wedding.’
‘And what about my sisters? My sisters, Thane! And, no matter what grudges you have against my King, he’s still my father and he’s sick. I don’t know how long he has left and—’
That stopped him in his tracks. ‘He is sick? I didn’t know this.’
She flung her arms wide in an exasperated flourish. ‘Why would you? Since you’ve never asked or cared to know about that part of my life. If you had you’d know why I was being pushed into taking my crown early.’ Her smooth brow pleated and she shook her head. ‘It’s almost as if you haven’t accepted who I really am. Do you still wish I was the nobody you met in Zurich, Thane? Have you even acknowledged that I’m a Verbault?’
He flinched. Actually flinched. And he wasn’t sure who was more surprised.
‘Oh, my God.’ A humourless laugh burst from her mouth. ‘Did you honestly believe giving me your name would erase my heritage? Stop me from being my father’s daughter? Even if I become Queen of Galancia I will still be a Verbault in here.’
With her fist she thumped her chest, and when her voice fractured he felt the fissure in his own heart.
‘I’ll still be the enemy. You are kidding yourself to think otherwise.’
Pivoting, she spun back to the dark wood armoire, yanked open another drawer and scooped up a mound of pretty, frilly, lacy garments to dump in her case.
Thane slumped against the wall, rubbing over his jaw, his mind going a mile a minute.
In a way she was right. He’d never truly acknowledged who she was: a sister, a daughter, a friend, even the heir to the Arunthian throne. Simply hadn’t wanted to admit it to himself. Not because she was his enemy, but because he would have been slammed up against the naked truth—she had responsibilities of her own. To her family, her people. Responsibilities that could take her away from him.
So not once had he considered or asked if she wished to take her rightful place. Because he feared her answer. Was scared she’d choose her crown over his. Her family over him.
Self-loathing crawled through his veins. He was so selfish with her. Was it any wonder desperate panic loitered in her brandy-gold eyes—a silent scream that confessed she wanted to be away from here? From him. It cut his black twisted heart in two.
And the way she eluded his own gaze struck him. The night his mother had died Juana Guerrero hadn’t been able to look at him either. Her every move premeditated, she’d known what she’d devised. Just as Luciana did. She’d move heaven and earth to leave him. Permanently.
Luciana was kidding herself if she believed otherwise. Why else pack her every solitary possession into that case? A case he hadn’t failed to notice had been already half full of Nate’s clothes when she’d opened it.
The walls began to loom from all sides and suddenly everything appeared malefic and pernicious. Even the black rails of the ironwork bedframe seemed to uncoil and distort and writhe in front of him. Every drawer she flung open clattered and squealed and rattled, as if it bore the menacing teeth of a monster.
‘You are wasting your time, Luciana. There is no way for you to leave here.’
‘I’ll ring Lucas to come for me.’
His heartbeat raced, threatened to explode. ‘I will deny him access to Galancian airspace.’
She froze in her frenetic rush, head jerking upright, eyes slamming into his. Even from the other side of the bed he could see her glorious, voluptuous frame vibrate with pique and pain.
‘Are you serious?’
‘Deadly.’
Up came her trembling hand, her fingers curling around the base of her throat. ‘You can’t do this, Thane. I am not your property. I am my own person. And you can’t keep me here against my wishes. It isn’t right. I’ve felt like a prisoner in this house for days.’
Her pitch escalated as her breathing turned choppy, raspy, and she clutched her chest as if struggling for air.
Every ounce of his blood drained to his toes and a cold sweat chased it. Bolting forward, he thrust out a pleading hand. ‘Luciana, calm down.’
‘No, you need to hear me this time. What I said before—it’s right and you don’t see it. You don’t listen to me.’ Her eyes pooled with moisture, making them overly bright. ‘By controlling me you take away my choice. You silence my voice. My whole life I’ve had this gag around my mouth, and I can’t breathe when I think I’ll have a lifetime of that with you.’
Thane raked his hand around the bac
k of his neck, tearing at the clammy skin. He did not silence her; he only wanted what was best for her. She hadn’t wanted to marry Augustus. He only wanted them here so he could keep them safe. Protect what was his. And yet his conscience argued vehemently. Because he had told her she was marrying him. And he knew precisely why—even if he wasn’t eager to admit it.
She collapsed against the hardwood drawers as if she no longer had the energy to stand upright. ‘For once, just once, I would love someone to ask me what I truly want. Everyone who is free in the world is asked that very question every day, I imagine, and I often wonder if they realise how precious it is. If they take it for granted. I want to yell and scream at them that they shouldn’t. They should cherish it. I envy them, Thane. I envy their freedom of choice.’
It was like being tossed into the past, hearing his mother’s wistful voice—the hopes of a woman trapped like a bird in a gilded cage. And suddenly he felt like the damnable hypocrite Luciana had claimed him to be. He refused to ignore the truth one second longer. The reason he had never given her a choice.
‘What are you saying, Luce? You don’t want to marry me?’
‘No, Thane,’ she said, shaking her head, her brow pinched. ‘I don’t.’
And when one single diamond teardrop slipped down her exquisite face he felt as if noxious venom infected his veins, surged through his body, making him destructive, malevolent, black. As if he contaminated her with his darkness.
What more proof did he need than the evil voice whispering in his mind to make her marry him? Force her by threats to take away her son. And that disgusted him. It made him sick to his stomach even to think of it. The idea he was turning into his father.
She smoothed her hand over her midriff, as if he made her ache inside, but her tone strengthened as if she was resolved. Her stance one of weary resignation. ‘But I will marry you. For my son. He needs you and he loves you.’
Thane closed his eyes. Why didn’t that make him happy? Why couldn’t he be satisfied with that?
Verity hailed down on him in an icy blizzard, pummelling his flesh through to his bones. He longed for her to want only him. For Thane to be enough.
To Claim His Heir by Christmas Page 16
