Page 47 of Claiming His Virgin Princess

‘Noah.’

Finally she lifted her chin, drawn by a magnetism she couldn’t resist.

Those eyes. As gorgeous as ever. That face, all strong lines except for his sensual mouth and the hint of a cleft in his chin that accentuated his masculinity and at the same time made it seem more approachable, less overwhelming.

Except she felt overwhelmed. Totally overwhelmed.

Did he feel the fine tremors running under her skin?

His mouth crimped a little at the corners. An attempt at a smile or a grimace? Surely the last thing he wanted was to run into her.

‘This is a surprise,’ she managed, suddenly aware of the people around them. She snapped her eyes away from his and noticed several suddenly averted faces, as if they’d been caught staring.

Even here, in this bastion of the well-to-do, there’d be curiosity about their reunion.

Was that what this was? Excitement eddied deep inside before she squashed it. Of course it wasn’t a reunion. Noah despised her.

‘I thought I might run into you here.’ His words yanked Ilsa’s attention back to his face. And to the fingers still wrapped around her arm.

Why didn’t he let go?

She wanted to think it was because he didn’t want to. Because he craved the connection as much as she did, but she couldn’t let herself fantasise like that.

‘Really? How did you—?’ No, she wouldn’t go there. ‘You’re looking well, Noah.’ Ilsa forced a smile. It was true. He looked fit, well-rested and heart-whole.

She feared she didn’t. Sleep had been difficult this week because she’d grown accustomed to snuggling up against Noah’s naked body. On his yacht sheer exhaustion from their lovemaking had ensured she’d slept wonderfully, whereas now she spent every night going over what might have been and what could never be.

‘So are you.’ Yet as his piercing gaze searched her face tiny vertical lines appeared on his forehead as if something perplexed him.

‘Well.’ She stepped back and he released her arm. Strange how her skin tingled from his touch. ‘It’s been good to see you but—’

‘I thought you were heading straight back to Altbourg. Wasn’t your family expecting you?’

She shrugged, not wanting to admit she still had no definite plan. ‘I’ll go home soon. There are people I needed to see first in London.’

He nodded. ‘Ah, yes. Lord Brokebank. You looked very cosy on your date.’

‘Breakhurst.’ Ilsa’s mouth tightened. There was no mistaking the steely note in Noah’s voice. ‘You’ve become a fan of the gossip columns, then?’

She and Antony had been photographed leaving a restaurant. The fact that the pursuing paparazzi had lost them in a traffic snarl had led to speculation that they’d spent the night together.

‘Hardly.’ Noah looked grim.

Ilsa tilted her chin. She refused to tell him it hadn’t been a date. Antony was a financial guru as well as an old friend. They’d met to discuss her plan to endow an enterprise that, given time, would become financially self-sustaining and provide programmes for social change.

‘What are you doing in London, Noah?’

His stare seemed to grow darker, even more intense, and her breath seized. He’d come here to see her and, despite everything, a tendril of excitement budded.

Hectic heat rose in her cheeks as she remembered him taking his pleasure, and ensuring she did too.

‘I have some matters to deal with before I head back to Australia.’ Wassheone of those matters? No. Their relationship was over. ‘We need to talk in private, Ilsa.’

He kept his voice low, but she heard the steely note of determination.

Ilsa raised her eyebrows. ‘Really?’

Injured pride surfaced. It didn’t matter that she’d lied by omission, letting Noah think she’d used and discarded him. His accusations had hurt and she still carried the unhealed scars. How could he have been so ready to think her shallow?

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