Princess in the Iron Mask. Victoria Parker

satisfied sigh that quite frankly belonged in the bedroom she reached over a paper mountain. Her lab coat moulded to her curvaceous bottom, the hem riding upward, giving Lucas a tantalising glimpse of sculpted ankles and sleek, toned calves. Swallowing hard, he whipped his gaze back up, just in time to see her pushing those huge ugly spectacles up her nose.

      Swaying between the need to rip them back off or glue them in place, he cursed under his breath. Dios, he was not meant to feel anything. And the only thing he needed from her was to damn well comply.

      ‘Well, I’ve no wish to see them,’ she said.

      Lucas kept his tone modulated, easy. ‘That is unfortunate. They desire your hasty return to Arunthia. I have been commissioned to escort you home.’

      She slammed her hands onto lush, rounded hips and her eyes fired darts full of ire. ‘Mr Garcia, I’m not an express shipment. If it’s haste you desire the door is directly behind you. Furthermore, if I wanted a vacation in Arunthia I’m quite capable of getting there myself. I don’t require an escort.’

      Lucas hitched a brow. He knew exactly what she required. A damn good—

      ‘More importantly, I can’t leave England right now.’

      ‘Do you not wish to see your family? Reacquaint yourself with the country of your birth?’ he asked, trying a little guilt on for size.

      ‘Not particularly,’ she replied, a hint of pink dusting her sculpted cheekbones.

      Was she lying or embarrassed by her callous disregard? The notion began to appease him—until her arms fell listlessly to her sides and she bit down hard on her bottom lip. A drop of blood pooled on the plump surface and she sucked the flesh. Grimaced.

      Miss Verbault was either into self-punishment or underneath her chosen façade lay an emotional maelstrom. Lucas decided to go on the first theory. If she had any conscience she would have returned home months ago.

      ‘If they’re that desperate to see me, why aren’t they here?’

      ‘Unfortunately they are incapacitated at present.’

      ‘They usually are incapacitated, Mr Garcia,’ she said, rubbing her brow with the tips of her fingers.

      His head reared. ‘Naturally. They do rule a small country. Something I’m sure is a time-consuming vocation.’ What did she want? Weekly trips? How narrow-minded could one person be?

      ‘Oh, I’ve noticed. For twenty-eight years, believe me, I’ve noticed,’ she said, now rubbing harder, almost punishing. As very well she should.

      Any other woman would be overjoyed to have even a small taste of the privileged life she rejected. To be royalty and live in pure luxury was, for most, an impossible dream. Dios, for some, placing food upon the table or returning to their loved ones at all was an impossible dream.

      The woman was a conundrum. You’re not here to crack the code, Garcia. Just do your job and get the hell out.

      Lucas flexed his neck and battled on. He hadn’t forged his way through the ranks by falling at the first hurdle or being a passive negotiator. Then again, he was adept at dealing with men. Not tall, striking, obstinate females.

      Ordering his voice to remain civil, Lucas persisted. ‘Regardless of their responsibilities, they look forward to your visit.’

      A heavy sigh poured from her mouth. ‘Oh, I’m sure. The question is, what do they want from me?’

      A growl rumbled up his chest. ‘They merely want to see their daughter.’ He avoided the topic of an Anniversary Ball, celebrating her parents’ fifty years of marriage, as had been suggested. Apparently she was uncomfortable at such gatherings. It was more likely she couldn’t bear to leave her precious lab. Even Lucas could see it was the personal white fortress of an ice maiden.

      ‘I’ll arrange a conference call,’ she said.

      ‘In. Person.’

      She snorted. Actually snorted. The most unladylike sound he’d ever heard. Dios, he’d met camels with more grace.

      ‘I don’t think so.’ Turning back to the desk, she began to stack files. Then unstack them. Yanking at the cuffs of her lab coat every so often. His eyes narrowed on her small wrists. She was either cold or the habit was a nervous tic.

      ‘Why now? Their timing is impeccable.’

      ‘You seem to be an intelligent woman. Did you honestly think you could ignore your family for ever?’ Could she not have mustered the decency to return one note from over half a dozen letters?

      ‘Hoped would be more like it.’ She swivelled on her heels to face him. ‘I’m sorry, Mr Garcia, but your journey has been wasted. I’ve no intention of leaving here, with you or anyone.’

      Crossing her arms tightly over her chest, she stood mutinous. His eyes dipped of their own accord, his pulse hitting one-fifty at the sight. Her pose had tightened the shapeless lab coat, offering him a hint of her rounded hip, cinching her small waist and enhancing the lush fullness of her breasts.

      Blood hot as Arunthian lava seared through his veins.

      ‘I’m afraid you have no choice,’ he bit out, furious at his inappropriate physical reaction. ‘Responsibility and duty outweigh personal desires.’

      Claudia’s luscious mouth dropped open and a fleeting image of those full lips pressing into his chest gave him momentary pause. His imagination flamed and he could practically feel her softness sliding against his strength. The heaviness of her breasts as he cupped the soft globes.

      Primal lust hit with devastating impact. Sweat trickled down his spine. Torrid heat surged south. His groin pulsed once, twice, and hardened within seconds. Holy…

      Lucas flexed his neck until he heard a soft click. What the hell was wrong with him? Nothing that an hour with a woman wouldn’t fix. Any woman bar this one. Preferably a blonde. With blue eyes.

      Dios, when was the last time he’d engaged in no-strings self-indulgence? Months? Years? No wonder he was in such a damn state. Working night and day had obviously begun to take its toll.

      Claudia’s sudden laughter crashed into his train of thought. A dark, hollow sound designed to chill the air.

      ‘How wonderfully droll. I live in a free country, Mr Garcia, what are you going to do? Carry me out of here?’ Laughter died on her tongue as her hand snaked up her chest to curl around her delicate throat.

      The temptation to replace her hand with his made his palms itch. To caress or throttle—he’d yet to decide.

      The air crackled with sweltry tension and Lucas raised one dark brow…

      Claudia took a tentative step back. ‘You wouldn’t dare.’

      No, he wouldn’t, but she didn’t know that. Dios, he was no animal. Although he’d witnessed many in his lifetime.

      Suddenly his thoughts locked as his brain malfunctioned and an image flashed in his mind’s eye. Nostrils flaring, he hauled air into his lungs and shut down the defect.

      He searched for a retort. ‘I would far rather you walked.’

      She shook her head slowly. ‘Not going to happen. Listen, just tell them I’ll think about it, okay?’

      Lucas smiled, although he imagined it was more of a smirk. What she asked of him was not only unthinkable but impossible. He was not going home empty-handed.

      ‘I have to finish my work, Mr Garcia.’

      Ah. He’d wondered how long it would take before she dropped the topic of her profession into the equation. The obvious chink in her armour.

      ‘It’s very important,’ she said.

      So was the country she belonged to. Lucas glanced around her workspace,