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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 back 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.
