Page 45 of Claiming His Virgin Princess

She’d wanted to give him everything. Toshowhim how much he meant to her, even if she didn’t dare tell him. How his care and tenderness, as much as his eroticism, had changed her, giving her the strength to stand up for herself.

Her mouth had wobbled at the realisation she’d have to use that strength to walk away from him.

So she’d given him pleasure, dropping to her knees and taking him in her mouth till he trembled and his powerful body stiffened on the verge of climax.

Yet he’d insisted they go there together.

Thatdemand had nearly undone her. Which was why she’d turned her back on him, knowing she couldn’t look into his eyes as they made love and not reveal her feelings.

Ilsa’s body throbbed with the memory of them together, his hands clamped on her, holding her against him as he pumped so hard she felt it in her very marrow. She’d revelled in every thrust, every hoarse breath.

‘We’re here.’

Ilsa blinked and looked out at the airport. Despair engulfed her. She wanted to say she’d changed her mind and needed to go back. Would the yacht still be there? Would Noah let her aboard?

But it was impossible. Other women might believe in fairy tales about finding Prince Charming, who’d turn their life around. A princess born and bred, Ilsa knew fairy tales weren’t real. The only person who could turn her life around was herself. Starting now.

Even if walking into the airport would hurt in every bone and muscle she possessed.

She paid the driver, smiled at his thanks and got out. She couldn’t look back. She could only go on, even if she had no idea where she’d go or what she’d do with a life that now seemed grey and empty.

‘I wish you’d reconsider, Ilsa. Your father...’

Ilsa didn’t want to hear what her father thought. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

Noah had believed she’d been an agent of her father, using sex to persuade him into a deal her father wanted. That she’d dumped him as soon as he’d signed on.

A shudder ran down her spine. She wasn’t ready to deal with Altbourg or the King.

‘I’ll be in London at least another week,’ she told her mother as she curled up on a seat looking over one of the city’s most exclusive squares. The view of green lawns and trees surrounded by impeccable white mansions was soothing. Ilsa was lucky to have the use of the house while her friend was away, travelling. ‘But you can assure him that there’ll be no more scandal about me.’

The press had gone wild with speculation, starting with photos taken on private phones in Monaco. Ilsa wasn’t sure what had caused more fuss. The fact she was with another man soon after her broken engagement. Or that she, the demure Princess, had been seen with bare thighs, her hair loose and wearing killer heels.

She’d read some of the reports and, despite the puerile speculation, it was rather nice to be described as sexy, vivacious and even, in one case, as every man’s secret fantasy.

It was a little balm to her wounded soul.

She didn’t feel sexy or desirable.

‘It wasn’t the photos of you partying that concerned him, darling.’

No, it had been the fact she’d spent weeks with a notoriously sexy billionaire aboard his private yacht. The press had been breathless with wild speculation. Had she gone with Noah in the hope of making Lucien jealous? Would the Altbourg royal family accept an Australian suitor? Her heart had cramped at that one.

The one good piece of news she’d had in the last week was a call from Lucien to say Aure´lie and the baby were safe.

‘Ilsa, did you hear me?’

‘Sorry. I was a bit distracted.’ She shifted, feeling that ache low in her back she sometimes got. She’d been tired and listless since arriving in London. Usually she soldiered on, even in pain. It was a luxury to relax.

‘By Katrin’s news? I’m not surprised. It’s shocked us all.’

‘You can say that again.’

Ilsa had taken a call from her cousin Katrin that morning, listening, dumbfounded, to the news that she and her husband were divorcing. Ilsa still couldn’t take it in. The pair had been so happy. But years of unsuccessful fertility treatment had taken a toll and they’d recently been advised that further treatment was likely to be unsuccessful. Soon after, Katrin’s husband had announced he wanted a divorce. He wasn’t interested in adoption. He wanted a wife who could bear his biological children.

Horrified, Ilsa had offered to fly home to support her cousin. But Katrin was leaving almost immediately for a research job in the States and they’d agreed to catch up later.

They were close friends as well as cousins. Similar in age, they had shared similar symptoms and been diagnosed with endometriosis at almost the same time.

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