He felt so smug he could hear his own grin. 'Shall I finish that for you?'
'No, thank you. It's best if we don't go there, okay?'
She was right. He should be getting a handle on her relationship with the Viscount, not testing her memory. Not watching that beautiful blush frisk down her neck and caress her collarbone. Not inhaling her subtle vanilla and jasmine scent until his body prickled with heat and unleashed a firestorm of memories that turned him hard as steel.
Like the sensation of those plump lips softening beneath his as she'd surrendered to him. The way she'd felt when he'd thrust inside her virginal tight body. The way her legs had curled around his waist as he took her over and over. Lithe, svelte legs … glossed with skin that had felt like finely powdered icing sugar beneath his palms and tasted just as sweet. The softest, most exquisite texture he'd ever touched. Legs that were taunting him now because they were fuller. Lusher. Just like her breasts …
Thane shifted in his seat, the creak of leather sharpening his arousal as his body roared to life. Feral lust pushed incessantly against his zipper. Worse still, she exacerbated his darkly erotic state by squirming and lifting her hair from her nape as if she were over-hot. Well, that made two of them.
Depressing the window button, he let the cool air slither through the gap in a wispy sheet of fog and relished the odd snowflake that settled on the back of his hand.
Luciana's answer was to snatch a bar of chocolate from the mini-bar and have ravenous sex with every bite. He could virtually hear her silent moans.
'Hungry?' he asked, his voice as thick as his throat.
She licked the sweet treat from her lips with a sensual flick of her tongue. 'Erm … yes. Dinner was awful.'
He took the opening for what it was. Perfect for getting him back on track. 'The food or the company?'
Her gaze drifted to stare unseeingly out of the tinted window. The runway floodlights flickered over her at intervals, highlighting the honeycomb strands in her lavish hair and lending her skin an incandescent glow.
Ethereal was surely the only word to describe her in that moment. Seraphic. And his ardour dulled as he was struck with the feeling that he was too dark to touch her. That he would taint her somehow.
Right at this moment she was crushed up against the door, as far away from him as she could get, and Thane hardened his body, trying to expunge the terrible self-awareness, the stomach ache that whispered of rejection. Not once had she rebuffed their volatile passion. Not once. The reason for which he wanted to know. Now.
'You never answered my question,' he said, his tone darkly savage. 'Was it the food or the company that was so bad you could not eat?'
Her absurdly long, decadent eyelashes were downswept. 'Does it matter?' she asked softly.
Patience dwindling, he went in for the kill. Even though he was unsure if he could go through with this if she said yes.
Astounding and unthinkable as it was, if she did he'd rather put her on an Arunthian plane without another word. The 'why' of it wouldn't be difficult to find if he cared to revisit his boyhood, watch misery trickle down his mother's face as she pined for another. But delve into the past he would not. That long-ago place was a dark punishment he would never descend to again.
'Are you in love with Augustus, Luciana?'
She massaged her temple as if he were a headache she wished to rub away.
'I wasn't born to marry for love, Thane. I have no choice over the direction my life takes.' Her voice was tinged with bitterness and he felt a flicker of suspicion spark in his gut.
Frowning, he narrowed his eyes on her face, his guts twisting into a noxious tangle. 'Have you been in his bed?'
If he'd blinked he would have missed it. Her wince of distaste.
'That is none of your business.'
'Have you been in his bed, Luciana?' he asked again-harder, darker. Almost cutthroat.
'What difference does it make?'
'For hell's sake, just answer the question!'
Up came her arms with an exasperated toss. 'No! Okay? I haven't been anywhere near his rotten bed. Would you want to?' She groaned aloud as if she wished the words back, and shoved another chunk of chocolate between her pink lips.
Thane felt a smile kick the corner of his mouth as relief doused over him like a warm shower of summer rain. That temper of hers still gave her a candid, somewhat strident bent.
'And you still intend to marry this man?' Even though the idea appalled her?
'Yes.'
He would have to be six feet under first.
Clearly Henri was pushing her into it. That bastard. He should have killed the man years ago, when he'd had the chance. Fury pummelled at him to think she was being forced to the altar as his mother had been. And Thane's every protective instinct kicked in-he wanted her kept far away from Henri and Augustus. Where neither of them could reach her.
'You will not touch him, comprende? Nor will you allow him to touch you.'
Not that he was giving her the chance to do either.
Huffing a little, she arched one fair brow. 'That's going to prove a bit difficult when we are married, Thane.'
'Which is precisely the reason you are not marrying him.'
His mind was set. Firstly, she had the rarity of blue blood, and a union with her would give him his crown. Four years early. His struggles to build a better life for his people would end. His uncle's dictatorship would cease as Thane took total control of the throne. Finally he could make amends.
And secondly-he easily silenced the impish taunt of his earlier words-there would be no riding bareback into hell as he aligned with the enemy. Because while she might be a Verbault at this moment, Thane would soon make her a Guerrero. Tomorrow seemed as good a day as any. Saving her from a fate worse than death-namely the vapid Viscount and her father's political clutches.
Win-win. Let it not be said that he wasn't knight in shining armour material.
A faint crease lined her forehead as she fingered back the curtain of her hair to glance at him warily. 'I … I'm not?'
This could go two ways, he decided. Either he'd be flooded with a profusion of gratitude or she'd fight him under the influence of some misplaced loyalty to her father. So it was a good job there wasn't a battle he couldn't win.
'No. Instead you are marrying me.'
CHAPTER FOUR
IN THE DISTANCE Luciana heard the driver's door open, then close with a deft clunk. Then came a cacophony of voices that fluttered around the car-the cadence low, masculine. And all the while she stared at Thane, who wore a mask of impermeable steel. Her mouth was working but no sound was emerging as she swung like a pendulum, lurching from fighting tears of frustration to biting back a laugh that was sure to lean over to the hysterical side-because the proposal she'd expected had finally come to pass. From the wrong man entirely.
Are you sure about that, Luce?
Yes, she was sure-of course she was sure.
And the worst thing about all of this … ? For a split second all she'd seen was Thane and all she'd heard was 'marry' and 'me', and the little girl inside her who'd gorged on fairytales and dreams of love-the one who hadn't seen the darker side of marriage and was blissfully unaware of her duties-had felt her heart leap to her throat in utter joy.
Foolish little girl. Foolish heart.
Blame it on temple-pounding awkwardness, but the silence finally pressed a sound from her throat.
'Thane? Are you crazy?'
Crazy? He was insane. Mad as a hatter. Nutty as a goddamn fruitcake.
'Quite probably.'
There, you see-he's even admitted it.
'We're enemies, or have you conveniently forgotten that?'
Oh, she could just imagine Thane having a chinwag with her father. Hey, do you remember me? The one who tried to assassinate you? Well, I want to marry your daughter. Yeah, that would go down well. Not.
If he had attempted the assassination. But why would her father spout such a heinous lie? Truth was, she was drowning in reasons why she couldn't marry him. And that was without broaching the topic of Natanael.
'You and I are not enemies, Luciana.'
His eyes took on the lustrous glitter of the black sapphires they reminded her of and she shivered in response.
'Any chance of that ended when I took your innocence five years ago and made you mine. If your father and my uncle wish to prolong the feud that's up to them, but it has no bearing on our future.'
She shook her head in disbelief. Bad idea. Dizziness took the car, and her, for a little spin. 'How can you say that?'
'Easily. I am my own man, and I will not be dictated to by anyone or anything.'
A scoff burst past her lips. 'Bully for you. I, however, don't have a choice.'
'Which is precisely why I am giving you an alternative.'
So it would seem. The question was: why? He wanted her away from Augustus-that much was evident. Every time the other man's name was brought up he visibly fumed, until she half expected him to snort fire like some great mystical dragon. As if the thought of the other man touching her was abhorrent to him. But not because he loved her. No, no. His biting words from earlier were enough of a clue … 'We take what is rightfully ours. I made you mine … '
So in effect she could be a Picasso he'd spotted at Christie's and fancied would look wonderful mounted above his machete rack. A beautiful possession.