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‘Well…if you’re sure,’ she said, relief blending seamlessly with her bewilderment. ‘We could think about getting married in the New Year. But don’t you want to spend Christmas with Nate? He’ll miss you.’
‘No,’ he said, turning his back on her, unable to lie to her face as he strode to the door.
If he thought for one second that she might come back he would hold out hope. And it had almost killed him waiting night after night in Zurich, praying she’d walk through the door. A second serving of that persecution would ruin him.
Fingers curled around the door handle, he pushed his final retort past his lips. ‘I won’t force you into a marriage you don’t want, Luciana. In the long run that will only harm Nate. I’ll explain to everyone that things haven’t worked out between us.’
‘Wha…What do you mean? What about Nate? Your crown?’
‘I’ll find another way.’
There was no other way. But in that moment he realised he’d crawl through the dust of his heart to give her what she wanted, needed. He’d make up for the delay to his people somehow.
‘As for Nate—we will arrange visits.’ Though how he’d manage to say goodbye every time, he wasn’t sure.
‘Thane? Turn around—look at me, please.’
He couldn’t. He’d change his mind.
‘I’ll arrange a jet for early morning. But I can’t be here when you leave. I’ll be at the castle. Business.’
The barracks was his destination, and he knew it. He needed to be out cold when she left. He didn’t trust himself otherwise. And there was no better way to vanquish his emotions than via his father’s legacy.
‘Be careful, Luciana. Love my son for me.’
‘Thane, please wait. Talk to me.’
The soft pad of her footsteps sounded behind him and he momentarily stalled as her sensual jasmine and vanilla scent curled around him in an evocative embrace, luring him back.
No. No more talking. He didn’t want her to see what lay beneath. Something too dark to describe.
Thane hauled open the door before she could touch him and vaulted up the staircase to the foyer, where he snatched his keys from the side table and stormed into the night.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
TWELVE HOURS LATER thousands of miles separated them, and not only was Luciana still reeling from their final showdown but the man refused to leave her be.
Blind to the lush Arunthian vista as the car snaked up the steep incline towards the palace, she saw only those intense obsidian eyes searching her face before he’d sped from her suite, as if he were committing her to memory, as if she were the brightest star in his universe—it was a devastating impression she couldn’t erase.
Nor could she erase the questions trying to wade through her woollen, sleep-deprived brain—why was he suddenly willing to give up twenty-four-seven access to his son, delay taking his throne?
Because despite his inglorious method of coercing you into Galancia, his intentions were pure. His only thought was for his people, and he wouldn’t force you down the aisle for anything.
And she couldn’t have made her desires clearer, could she? No.
A fiery arrow of self-censure tore through her chest and she squeezed her eyes shut. ‘No, Thane, I don’t want to marry you.’ But in that moment—that gasping, suffocating moment—she truly hadn’t. Had only envisaged a life of dictatorship, one-sided love and the misery of duty. Where she became a dark blonde replica of her mother.
And that had petrified her. Thrown her into a panic that had whirled out of control. Muscles burning, aching to run and never, ever return. And the idea that she could consider, even for a millisecond, parting him from Nate again made shame crawl over every inch of her skin.
With a restless shake of her head she cuddled Nate to her side, forcing herself back to the present, and glanced up at the fairytale façade of Arunthe Palace—all cream stone walls and fanciful turrets with conical slate roofs—as the car rocked to a stop outside the grandiose scrolled iron gates.
And when the habitual dread didn’t pervade her body, didn’t line her soles with lead, suddenly, astoundingly, she watched a smile play at her mouth in the reflection of the window. Apparently battling with the dark Prince had given her the courage to face anything. Even her mother’s disapproving glare and her father’s steely, vexed countenance as he rehashed her latest escapades in reckless rebellion.
