To Claim His Heir by Christmas(33)

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.

Sucking in a shaky breath, she rose to her feet and walked over to where he perched on the edge of the bed, his honed body glistening, those black sapphire eyes holding hers captive. And, despite the fact he looked like hell, the mere sight of him, in all his myriad beauties and unguarded mercies, still made her weak at the knees.

Down she went onto the floor before him. Never leaving his gaze, loving the way he opened his legs to let her in. The way he reached up hesitantly, fingers trembling, as he brushed a wayward curl from her temple.

'Luciana … ' he murmured. 'I … ' A faint crease lined his brow. 'What are you doing down there?'

'I'm doing this right. On one knee.'

'Doing what right?'

When light dawned, he shook his head vehemently.

'Like hell you are.'

He grasped her waist and lifted her up, plonking her astride his knee with a rustle of her skirts.                       
       
           



       

'You will not kneel before me. And isn't that my job?'

'Not when we're living in this splendid era called the twenty-first century, Thane.'

Not when she heard that hint of panic in his voice-the one that reminded her of the day on the beach with Nate. That fear of rejection. She could kick herself for not considering it before. That by taking away her choice he gave her no option to say no. To reject him. Lord, it was amazing what a mess two people could make in a few days.

Wriggling back, she tried to clamber off his lap. Thanks to Thane, she somehow ended up on the bed, where she hoisted up her skirts-slipping and sliding as tulle and chiffon met satin sheets. By the time she was on her knees again she felt like a triathlete after a three-day event. Likely resembled one too, with her tiara askew. But one look at the man of her dreams, wearing a towel that left nothing to the imagination, getting on his knees too, as if he needed them equal, and her every thought zeroed in on him. Only him.

'And why shouldn't I kneel before you?' she said. 'I respect you. I'm proud of you. For breaking free of your father's hold, for fighting for your people.'

She trailed her fingertips down the scimitar line of his jaw and stared into those beautiful dark fathomless eyes.

'You're going to be a powerful and noble King and I'll be honoured to stand by your side. Our son needs a wonderful daddy too, and that man can only ever be you. And I need the man I love with my whole heart to be with me always. So … Thane Guerrero of Galancia … will you do me the great honour of becoming my husband?'

His throat was convulsing, and his magnificent chest shook as if he fought his emotions. Until one rogue teardrop finally spilled on his first spoken word.

'L … Love? You love me, Luciana?'

Holding his jaw in her hands, she leaned forward and kissed his tear away, breathing him in. 'Oh, I love you. I always have. Since the moment you knocked out a Viking in my honour.'

'Really?'

'Really, really. I just didn't believe in fairytales and happy-ever-afters. Didn't believe in happiness for myself at all. The right to dream beyond duty was drummed out of me when I was three feet tall. Duty was why I would marry-not for love. So, like a self-fulfilling prophecy, I ran years ago, when my heart screamed at me to stay and tell you who I was. I listened to my father and an age-old feud, ignoring my every instinct to come to you with our son. Duty would never bring happiness-my parents are proof of that-so when I discovered I was the key to your crown I ran scared again.'

She brushed his damp hair back from his temple, tucked one side behind his ear.

'But I think if we try we could have both. I promise I'm not running any longer. I'm here to stay-more than ready to be your Queen. Your wife and your lover too, if you want me. So what do you say?'

'Yes.'

Swooping in he came, and back down she went to the mattress, the heat of his body spilling over her.

'Yes. Yes, I'll marry you.' He wrapped her in his arms in a cherishing crush and breathed against her neck. 'I want it all too, Luciana. You'll always come first to me. Always. I love you so much. You've always owned my heart. Only you.'

A sigh feathered the aching wall of her throat and she closed her eyes as the last stain of doubt was erased. Replaced by the sweet sherbet-bright happiness that fizzled inside of her. If she'd heard him right, that was.

'I have?'

'Always,' he said, his lips moving over her skin.

For long moments they held on tight. Breathing. Loving. Calming. Trying to accept a dream beyond dreaming, a thing too precious ever to risk again. Then he was kissing her with exquisite annihilating tenderness and she was melting beneath his fervid ardour.

'Why else would I search for you for weeks, turn over every stone in Zurich looking for you, while my heart wouldn't beat and my lungs could barely breathe?'

She felt one fat tear trickle down the side of her face. 'Ah, Thane, why didn't you tell me?'

'I didn't want to give you that power over me again. Stupid to think I had any control over it at all. I even kidded myself I was only after my crown. That worked for … '                       
       
           



       

He hiked his shoulders and she felt the play of muscle against her palms.

'I don't know-maybe a day? I wish I'd told you that at the ice rink, instead of making it all about the throne. I was a coward.' Red scored his cheekbones. 'And now I'm rambling.'

She laughed at his newfound candour. 'No, you're not-you're talking, and I love it. It's wonderful. That's what I need.'

'To share. You told me. See? I do listen to you, Luciana, I just …  At first I thought I was doing the right thing. And, Dios, I should have asked you to marry me, but I didn't want to hear your voice say no. I was silencing you, and that made me as bad as my father. Black. Twisted up inside. I kept having these visions of you hurting yourself, like my mother used to, and-'

'Hey, look at me. Never going to happen. She wasn't well, Thane. And that was your father's doing-it had nothing to do with you. You're nothing like him. You're a heroic man in here.' She placed her palm over his heart … a heart that thumped in tandem with hers. 'Will you tell me about her one day?'

Closing his eyes, he rested his brow against hers. 'One day soon. Just not today. Let me enjoy having you back in my arms.'

'Okay.' That was plenty good enough for her. 'Just promise me you'll keep talking. If you're hurting I need to know, so I can be there for you. In the silence I'd convinced myself we were doomed. When you don't share with me my mind runs wild. You were at the castle, trying to keep us safe, and I was picturing you with mistresses, you know?'

His eyes sprang open and his head reared back. 'Que? You are crazy, Luce.'

'Yeah, well, one day I'll tell you about my childhood. Or, better yet, I'll sleep out one night and not bother telling you what I'm doing and who-'

'Like hell you will.'

'Need I say more?'

He growled. 'I didn't think of that. But I swear you'll see a snowball in hell before I ever take a mistress.' He brushed his lips over hers, back and forth. Teasing. Tormenting. 'Only you.'

Then he began to rain lush, moist kisses down her throat in a golden trail.

'I've been the only lover in your life, yes?'

Blood thrumming, she writhed against the satin sheets. 'Y … Yes, you know that.'

Nudging at the lace covering her breast, he swirled his hot breath over her skin as he murmured, 'And you are the only lover in mine. There has only been you and there will only ever be you.'

Blame it on the havoc being unleashed on her body, but it took her a second to catch on-and then she pushed at his shoulders to gauge his expression. 'You mean you haven't slept with anyone since me?'

Nonchalance made his shrug loose, as if he didn't see the big deal. 'No. It felt wrong. Like I was betraying my heart.'

'But … but you're a man.'

A laugh rumbled from the depths of his chest. 'I am so glad you've noticed that, angel.'

'And you're … hot.'

His eyes smouldered along with his smile as he towered above her, dominating her world, as always.

'I am hot for you right now,' he growled, with such sexual gravitas she shivered. 'Hot enough to show you exactly how much of a man I am.'

His sinful tongue licked across the seam of her lips in silent entreaty and she fisted his hair and surrendered, holding him to her as that black magic enthralled her.

It was the distant tinkle of glasses and music that pierced her lust fog.

'Oh, Lord, Thane, our guests! You have to get dressed. We're getting married on the beach in … ' Lifting her head, she peeked at the bedside clock. 'Crikey-seven minutes.'

And she wouldn't like to guess what she looked like. Their wide eyes met and they both burst out laughing like lovestruck teenagers.

'Seriously, though, I was thinking this private ceremony could be for us. We'll have a big splash at the cathedral, before your coronation. It will give my father time to come round too. We need peace between our houses, Thane. I want us to end this feud. You and I. Together.'