Page 2 of Claiming His Virgin Princess

‘Do you really think it’s a good idea, Peter?’ asked her mother. ‘Ilsa’s twenty-seven, not seventeen. Taking her away then was sensible, but to do it now—’

‘Of course it’s sensible. That time it was only her fantasies about romantic love at risk. This time the attention she’s attracting is hurting Altbourg. Everything’s up in the air. The strained relationship with Vallort. The end of the treaty negotiations.’

Ilsa sucked in her breath as shock punched her stomach. Her skin turned clammy.

Her father saw her as aliabilityto Altbourg?

She’d always worked hard to serve her country. She hadn’t cavilled at a dynastic betrothal to Prince Justin or, when he died, to his successor, Lucien. Even though the matter-of-fact negotiations had made her feel like a second-hand car being offered to a bargain-hunter. She’d swallowed her pride, just as she’d once buried her romantic dreams and done what was demanded of her.

As for public speculation, she was doing her best to squash it, going about her royal appointments when she’d rather not see anyone.

‘Peter! You can’t mean it. Ilsa loves her country. No one works harder for Altbourg. She’s always done everything we asked of her.’

Warmth flickered behind Ilsa’s breastbone and she found herself pressing her palm there. Her mother, at least, understood.

‘Of course she does. She was trained to.’ Ilsa swallowed hard, forcing down the knot of bitterness closing her throat. Her dad loved her, she knew he did, but she also knew that tone. He was in royal mode and that trumped family feeling. ‘But at the moment she’s a liability. Things would be easier without her here for now.’

She drew a shuddering breath that didn’t fill her lungs.

So much for loyalty and obedience. For never putting her own wishes first.

At seventeen she’d believed love would transform her life. She’d been wrong, of course, but learned you didn’t die of a broken heart. She’d emerged stronger and more determined. She’d found solace in duty, the love of her family and the respect of her people.

Except now her people pitied her, strangers asked the most intrusive, salacious questions and her family...

She blinked. No need to dwell on that.

What mattered, she realised, was that she’d spent her life doing what was expected of her. Doing the right thing.

Reliable Ilsa. The caring Princess who softened the face of royalty in Altbourg and fed the popular craving for a photogenic face.

But she was more than a face to be photographed for the voracious magazines. More than a hostess or gracious ambassador or even a dynastic pawn.

All her life her future had been mapped out and now, abruptly, that map had disintegrated, leaving her rudderless and, if her father were right, a liability.

How long since she’d been simply Ilsa? Since she’d done something for herself?

Maybe that was why Ilsa had felt restless for so long. No, worse than restless. She felt hollow inside. As if all that existed was a shell with no substance.

Ilsa had been trained to be independent. She knew no one else could make her feel better. It was something she had to do herself.

Suddenly, selfishly, shewantedto feel better, wanted to feel something other than responsible and dutiful, if only for a short time.

She wanted a taste of freedom.

Sheneededit.

CHAPTER ONE

NOAHNODDEDASthe guy beside him elaborated on his business idea.

It wasn’t the right time or place. The glamorous Monaco Yacht Club was crowded, and the band’s music carried out to the massive deck through the open doors. But Noah understood the need to grab every chance to interest potential sponsors when you were starting out. Besides, the idea had merit.

Yet his attention kept straying to the dance floor.

It was filled with beautiful people, or people rich enough to pretend they were beautiful. The older ones danced circumspectly; the younger ones were obviously conscious of how they looked. Time and again he caught female eyes on him as dancers checked whether he was checking them out.

Only one stood out.

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