He didn’t know what to think. That was the problem. The woman he’d grown to care for wouldn’t treat him this way, use him to get what she wanted then go.

Ilsa wasn’t acting like the woman he knew.

Maybe he didn’t know her so well after all.

‘I believe there’s more to you leaving than you’re letting on. Tell me what it is and I’ll believe you.’

‘Noah,’ she said finally, ‘I’d hoped we’d part as friends.’

‘Friends? Friends trust each other. They support and respect each other. But Iknowyou’re lying to me.’

He watched her flinch, but still she said nothing. His mouth curled in distaste. Her silence spoke volumes. It didn’t seem possible, but he had to face the fact that Ilsa wasn’t the woman he’d believed her.

Why else would she refuse to explain? He’d offered to help her and he had the determination and resources to do just that.

‘What’s happened that you’re needed so urgently? Has your father found you another aristocrat to marry?’ His voice was harsh with hurt and rising anger. ‘Or has your fiancé changed his mind and that marriage is back on?’

Ilsa stiffened, a pulse throbbing at the base of her throat. But still she said nothing.

Until this moment Noah had told himself he was wrong.

But she refused to contradict him.

Could it really be that she planned to leave him to marry a man she didn’t love, simply to carry on their oh-so-pure bloodlines?

Or maybe, despite what she’d said, she’d been in love with her ex-fiancé all this time. Was that why she’d fallen like a ripe peach into Noah’s hand, on the rebound?

Still he waited for her to say she didn’t want to go. He’d gather her close and decide how to help her. Then they could stay together—

‘I’m sorry you’re upset, Noah.’ She did up her belt in a couple of deft movements. ‘I’ll be packed and gone in twenty minutes.’

Then she turned and reached for her suitcase.

CHAPTER TEN

THETAXITOOKIlsa to the airport. On the way she used her phone to book a flight out of Turkey. The next available was to London and she took it.

She didn’t care where she went. Noah’s burning eyes and lashing accusations had stripped her bare.

Ilsa could imagine only too well his reaction if she’d told the truth—shock and dismay. For he’d made it abundantly clear he wasn’t looking for permanency.

She was shocked herself. Logic told her it should be impossible to fall in love with a stranger after only a few weeks. Yet it had happened and now she was stuck in this terrible limbo, yearning for a man she couldn’t have.

Ilsa had opened herself up to him in ways she never had with anyone. Now she paid the price.

She hadn’t thought it possible to hurt more than when she’d said she had to leave. How little she’d known.

When he’d lashed out at her, accusing her first of being a stuck-up socialite who’d dumped him because he wasn’t royal, and then of using him to secure a business deal... Ilsa had wanted more than anything to set him straight. To explain that he was the best man she’d ever known.

But then would come the questions, the demands. Noah wasn’t the sort to take no for an answer, so she’d let him believe that ugliness rather than allow him to glimpse the truth. Because if he realised how much she wanted him he’d bekindto her and then she feared she wouldn’t have the strength to walk away, pretending to be heart-whole.

She blinked furiously, fighting the tears glazing her eyes. She couldn’t let them fall here in the taxi.

Ilsa shivered, folding her arms around herself and staring blindly at the passing landscape.

When she’d got aboard the yacht mere hours ago she’d dashed into the bathroom, needing time alone to sort out what to do. She’d wanted to face Noah fully clothed, hoping that would provide the armour she needed and help her hide her feelings for him.

When the shower door had opened and he’d stood there, tall, naked and aroused, and so incredibly dear, she’d known she fought a losing battle. She could no more tell him to go than she could fly.