To Claim His Heir by Christmas(27)

'Nate has asked to see Santa Claus and the Christmas fête is in Hourana this weekend. I was thinking we could all go as a family. For Nate.'

He knew that would sway her so he used it abominably. But they had to go out and paint a united front. Play happy families. Deflect his uncle's attempts at undermining him. Word of his impending marriage had spread like wildfire and his people were in a celebratory mood. It was the perfect time to introduce them.

'For Nate. Right.'

She gave him a short nod and forced one of those serene smiles that sparked his temper. Made him want to shake it out of her.

'I'm sure he'd enjoy that.'

Another victory. But no relief in sight. 'Good. I'll see you in the morning.'

He stepped towards the staircase, stopping when her fingers tentatively touched his sleeve, sending a fresh arrow of heat through his veins.

'Thane? Please wait. Don't go yet. We need to talk. About when I can go back to Arunthia.'

Never.

'I need to leave now. Maybe we'll talk tomorrow.'

A soft sigh slipped past her lips. 'I can't marry you without tying up my life at home. I have my own responsibilities. And you said we'd talk about it yesterday, when you dropped the "we're getting married on Christmas Eve" bomb on me. As you were walking out of the door, I hasten to add.'

That spark of temper ignited in the pit of his stomach and raged through his body, firing his voice to a blazing pitch. 'Si, well, you owe me four years, so I'm damn sure you can wait another day.'

Guilt thrashed him and he instantly wanted the words back. He was unsure why he'd said them with such a vicious lash of his tongue. Maybe because she'd called Arunthia home. Maybe because he knew she didn't want to marry him, only wanted to leave, no matter what excuse she gave herself. Henri was quite capable of tying up her life. She wanted her freedom. Something he could not, would not give her. His son was here to stay.                       
       
           



       

Moreover, the date was set, their marriage arranged. She would become his wife in less than a week. And if the thought that they had to perform for the crowds tomorrow wasn't enough to convince him to tame his tongue and start building bridges, the way she flinched as hurt darkened her beautiful eyes certainly was.

* * *

Luciana knew regret when she saw it. Though it still failed to lessen the strike of his words-each one like a knife-blow to her chest.

At the searing impact, his deep pained frown vanished behind her eyelids and the sound of his retreating footsteps gave way to the forlorn thunder of her heart.

Three days of this and she was ready to crack. Living on a knife-edge while a red river screamed through her blood, chanting for her to escape. Sleep was a fool's dream. One day blurred into the next. And stone-cold silences caromed off the oppressive walls until she felt a relentless ache of loneliness that refused to abate.

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.