Page 5 of Back to Claim His Crown
So she really just wanted to get out of her dress now. Then out of hereentirely. Though quite how she was going to do either, she didn’t know. Even if she had been able to twist herself to undo the tiny buttons she couldn’t because of the stupidly long nails the beauticians had insisted she wear to make the rings look nice. Nor could she cut the minuscule hand-stitching that seamstress had spent hours putting in. She was ready to scream with the frustration of it.
Thankfully, just then the door finally opened. But Zara’s relief and appreciation died as she saw who strode in. Lucian himself.
The door slammed behind him and he’d taken only one step before he spotted her in the corner and abruptly halted. She watched him swiftly visually sweep the rest of the room before his gaze paused on the yards of silk tulle in a heap on the floor. His hands curled into fists.
The sight of him shocked her all over again, despite the fact he’d been emblazoned across the television screen for hours. He wasn’t wearing his jacket but, to her immense relief, he’d put a top on. The black tee shirt ought to look incongruous with the formal trousers, yet somehow he pulled it off. It hugged his enormous muscles. He didn’t look anything like a pampered Royal, more like an elite soldier. Or mercenary.
That was when her mind decided to replay the image of him standing bare-chested and statue-still in that cathedral. The light had shone down on him like some celestial intervention—highlighting the tattoo; the childhood scar on his ribcage; the tanned frame; his ridged abdomen; the dusting of hair on his chest that arrowed at his waistband. Ripped and raw, his was the hewn body of a fighter and every inch of it was imprinted on her mind—not budging even when she tried to blink it away.
She’d not seen her fiancé in such a state of undress. She’d not seenanyman in such a state. Yes, she’d been that sheltered. She’d not even been allowed to bathe at public beaches. Not to protect her, not because she was that ‘precious’, but to help hide her family’s drastically depleted resources. Her parents’ pride wouldn’t allow them to let her be seen in anything less than designer and, as they could afford none, then she couldn’t be out.
Her older sisters had backed them up, adamantly insisting she remain in the countryside. She’d been stuck there so long she’dalmostaccepted it...until now.
‘What are you doing in here?’ He interrupted her thoughts with that arctic tone. ‘Are you alone?’
Of course she was alone. She’d effectively been alone her entire life.
‘What do you want?’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Why are you here?’
His accusatory tone made her hackles rise.
‘This was the room I was assigned,’ she said. ‘I’ve been staying here for the last week.’
He didn’t move, yet somehow he seemed even bigger. ‘Once upon a time it was my room.’
She stared at him in horror. The man hadn’t been home in who knew how long, for reasons also unknown, and she was in his room. Had she been sleeping in hisbed?
‘I wasn’t aware of that. I apologise.’
She’d just been deposited here and left to her own devices and now she was utterly mortified. Again. But King Lucian showed no embarrassment. No emotion at all. He stepped closer, his gaze neutral. She almost shivered but she didn’t want to betray her fear.
Except it wasn’t fear making her shiver.
‘I forgot you were...’ He trailed off.
Right.
‘Of course,’ she muttered awkwardly. ‘It’s been a very busy time for you.’
Everyone had forgotten her. Especially him. Except the media chose that exact moment to remember her—airing the replay of Anders’s rejection of her in the cathedral in that instant—
Frigid bitch.
She picked up the remote and turned the coverage off, but the insult echoed in the room. Somehow, she’d lived through that utter humiliation in front of millions, yet being alone with this particular man brought her anger forth now. He’d destroyed the day so clinically.
‘If you could get someone to find me another room, I’ll gather my things and go right away.’ She turned towards the bedroom.
She heard his swiftly indrawn breath and next instant his hand landed heavily on her shoulder.
‘What have you done?’ he snarled huskily. ‘You’ve hurt yourself.’
She froze at his touch. He must have movedincrediblyswiftly.
‘I haven’t,’ she choked.
‘Your back is—’
‘I can’t get out of this dress,’ she snapped. She was already so mortified there was no point striving for any dignity now. ‘I was a little thinner and they had to stitch me into it last-minute—’ She broke off and twisted to face him.
