Page 6 of Back to Claim His Crown
His hand dropped but he was uncomfortably close now and he didn’t back off. Nor did she. But there was fire in his eyes—a different kind of anger to the one she’d seen before.
‘So you were trying to rip your way out of it and scratched yourself to pieces in the process?’
She hadn’t scratched herself—or not as badly as he was suggesting.
‘Where’s your maid?’ He glared at her.
She didn’t actually have one. All those assistants had been supplied by the palace.
His expression tightened. ‘What about your sisters? Your mother?’
‘I don’t know where any of my family is,’ she mumbled.
He looked at her so intently she had the feeling he was holding something back from her.
‘You should have been out of this get-up hours ago,’ he said harshly.
‘I agree.’ She closed her eyes, refusing to cry. She’d been struggling alone for hours and suddenly she was hot and furious. The damned wedding dress made her skin crawl. She reached up behind her again to try to tug the back of the tightly stitched lace bodice apart.
‘Stop hurting yourself.’ He moved quickly, his hands encircling her wrists.
It brought him too close to her. No one had ever invaded her personal space like this. Her breathing quickened as he held her hands above her head. She felt a vulnerability that was absolute. He was so much stronger than her. But she also felt a sweeping yearning that was—
‘You’re badly marked,’ he said huskily.
‘I’m not,’ she denied despairingly. She had zero pride left, zero strength to battle control on two fronts. So she just told him the truth. ‘I get a rash when I’m upset or anxious, nervous, whatever. It looks worse than it is.’ She drew a shaky breath. ‘Hopefully, I haven’t actually drawn blood. They’ll kill me if I have—the dress is supposed to go on display later...’
There was a moment of awkward silence but she couldn’t stop gazing up into his eyes. She could study that scar this close. It was a jagged, ugly mark that clearly hadn’t been stitched by a skilled surgeon. It gave him a dangerous look. But his grip on her wrists was gentle. He smelled of caramel—a rich, sweet softness she’d not expected. She sensed he was holding himself rigid while within her all kinds of reactions were detonated. Weird ones. But ones she didn’t quite want to end yet, which had to be why she remained so stupidly still.
‘I will assist you,’ he said gruffly, releasing her.
She shot him a startled look. ‘You don’t want to summon a maid and leave me to it?’
That serious expression didn’t lighten. ‘I am uncertain of which palace staff—if any—I can trust. I would prefer not to allow anyone else into this suite just yet.’ His voice was a rusty monotone.
He was the most suspicious person on the planet. But then perhaps he had reason to be. She’d seen the footage of Anders’s expression when he’d registered it was Lucian standing before him. And Garth’s. Raw shock had widened their eyes before undisguised horror burnished them. Ultimately ugly fury had contorted Ander’s entire stature. Lucian’s return had been his living nightmare.
So she nodded. Truthfully, she didn’t want anyone else to see her even more abandoned. This man had seen her worst moment and he was more than enough.
‘Well, if you wouldn’t mind just cutting the back of the dress where it’s been stitched? Then I’ll get out of here and...’
She trailed off. She had no idea where she was going to go or what she was going to do.
Impossibly, he was watching her even more closely now. ‘And...?’
She swallowed. ‘I’m not sure.’
‘No?’
She couldn’t help hearing his cold tone as judgement. ‘Gosh, it’s not like I’ve been jilted at the altar and humiliated in front of an audience of millions or anything. I can’t think why I would need some time to get my head together.’
Anger flickered across his face. It pleased her, oddly, to have forced a change in his plank-of-wood impression.
‘You may stay the night here while you work out your plan for tomorrow,’ he said stiffly.
‘How very kind of you,’ she said sharply. ‘But if I could just borrow a phone, I’ll call my mother.’
‘You have no phone?’
