Page 21 of Claiming His Virgin Princess

‘The truth. Only ever the truth.’ She’d had enough of prevarication and polite lies to last a lifetime.

‘You know the truth.’ His voice hummed low and soft, the sound of pure seduction. ‘I want you. Badly. Of course I want to kiss you. All over.’ He watched her eyes widen and his mouth snagged up at one side in a smile that looked like a grimace. ‘I want to feast on you slowly, Ilsa. And then I want to...’

He closed his eyes and shook his head. She fought the urge to plant her mouth on his. To grab his shoulders and press herself against him from head to toe.

His eyes snapped open and she saw raw longing there. She recognised it because she saw it daily in the mirror.

Noah swallowed, the movement jerky. Finally she noticed the rigid set of his shoulders and the tight clench of his jaw. She’d been so wrapped up in her response to his words she hadn’t read the signs.

‘I haven’t kissed you because when we do there’ll be no stopping. But I need to wait till you’re ready.’ His voice was rough, almost brutal. Yet Ilsa had never heard anything more wonderful. ‘Unless you want to be ravished on the spot, kissing will need to wait until you’re ready for more.’

Her chest rose shakily as relief flooded. He’d promised her time. Yet self-doubt and unrequited longing had made her wonder. It still seemed incredible that this stunning man should desire her, a woman no man had ever hungered for before.

‘You’re right. That will have to wait a little longer. But—’ she paused ‘—I’m looking forward to it.’

Noah’s breath hissed and she imagined him scooping her up and stalking off with her, because his patience had reached its limit. Excitement raced through her.

‘So am I, Ilsa. You have no idea how much.’

By mutual consent they moved apart, not wanting to test their willpower. Even so the rest of that evening became etched in her memory as one of the best of her life.

The ancient city glittered like a thousand jewels displayed just for them under a black velvet sky. The dark water shimmered with lights from ashore and from other boats.

She and Noah stood on deck as they sailed in. Ilsa caught her breath at the floodlit dome and delicate minarets of the Blue Mosque. Then there was the ancient dome of Hagia Sophia and the clustering compound of buildings that was Topkapi Palace, where generations of Sultans had lived. They passed the Golden Horn and the grand Dolmabahçe Palace spreading along the waterfront. Ilsa was glad her first sight of the city was at night, when its beauty seemed more fairy tale than real.

Finally Noah took her ashore to a magnificent, traditional mansion right on the water. Several storeys high, it had tall windows and beautiful ornamentation, as lovely as anything she’d seen in Venice. The ceilings soared and the spacious rooms were decorated in an elegant style that bordered on the romantic.

He’d rented the house rather than book into a hotel or travel to and from the yacht. Because this would give them privacy.

Ilsa’s heart softened again at Noah’s thoughtfulness. He made her feel that she truly mattered to him.

It was the most wonderful gift she’d ever received.

That night, as she lay in her vast bed, watching the lights reflected on the dark water, she decided Noah was unlike any man she’d known. He heated her blood with a smile. Made her heart turn over with his thoughtfulness. The more time she spent with him, the more she wanted.

She just hoped she didn’t come to want too much.

This could only ever be a holiday fling.

Exploring the city with Ilsa was eye-opening.

She was carefree and alluring. Everywhere she drew attention with her smile. She’d looked a million dollars wearing sequins and come-take-me heels, but casually dressed, her hair in a ponytail, she bowled Noah over. Again.

A discreet security team guaranteed they weren’t bothered by paparazzi but didn’t interfere as Ilsa smiled and chatted her way through the streets.

She talked to fishermen, leaning out from a bridge with their rods. She paused to admire water-sellers in bright clothes, carrying ornate metal urns on their backs, and others selling snacks like peeled cucumbers dipped in salt or rounds of sesame bread.

People were eager to talk with her. She exuded a warmth that drew them like moths to candlelight.

He’d thought from some things she said that public events were a chore. Now he mused that it wasn’t the public she disliked, but something else. Something to do with royal protocols and arrangements, perhaps.

Suddenly he found himself curious again about her failed engagements.

He longed to know more but refused to probe.

Noah had wondered too what she’d want to see in the city. The fabled treasury of the sultans? Instead she’d suggested the covered market. Shopping, of course, he should have guessed. Except, instead of going to the Grand Bazaar, Ilsa opted for the Spice Market.

Just inside the door Ilsa’s hand slipped into his. ‘Isn’t it amazing?’

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