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has nothing to do with the princess thing,’ Leo answered her shortly. ‘And I don’t believe in double standards. If I seem angry, Alyse, it’s not because you’ve had sex before. It’s because you had sex while you were engaged to me.’

      And, before she could even process that statement, he had yanked on his trousers and was heading out into the night.

       CHAPTER EIGHT

      LEO STRODE ACROSS the beach, knowing that, just like last night, he had nowhere to go and hating it. Damn this island. Damn Alyse. Damn himself, for caring about what she’d done—and who she’d done it with.

      He didn’t feel merely betrayed, which was what made him so angry. He felt hurt.

      Stupid, because it had happened years ago, and it wasn’t as if they’d actually loved each other. So what if she’d loved someone else? Given herself to someone else? What did it really matter?

      And yet it did.

      He knew he was overreacting; knew he should be at most surprised, and a little annoyed, perhaps, by her infidelity during their engagement, but he shouldn’t actually care.

      Not like this. Never like this.

      ‘Leo?’

      He turned and saw her slender form framed in the doorway of the hut, now clothed in one of those ridiculously frothy robes, the candlelight silhouetting her slight yet still lush curves, curves he remembered the feel of under his palms. Leo turned his face away.

      ‘Please don’t storm off,’ she said, the desolation in her voice reaching him in far too many ways. ‘Talk to me.’

      Leo didn’t reply. He didn’t want to talk to her, didn’t want to explain the feelings that churned inside him, the feelings he wasn’t sure he understood—or wanted to understand—himself.

      ‘Please, Leo.’

      Wordlessly he stalked back to the hut, his back to Alyse and the all-too-tempting image she presented in her ridiculous robe. Fine. They would have it out. She could spill all the gritty details and then he would never let her close again. Not as a friend. Not as a lover. He’d take her body and use her popularity and their marriage would be exactly what he’d always wanted and intended it to be. Nothing more.

      She stood by the bed, the candlelight silhouetting her figure so she might as well have been naked. He tried not to gaze at the dip of her waist, those high, pert breasts, the shadow between her thighs, but still his groin ached. He’d been unbearably close to burying himself so deep inside her he would have forgotten who he was. What he actually wanted.

      ‘I know I should have said something, maybe this afternoon,’ she continued, her voice low, her fingers toying with the sash of her robe. ‘But I didn’t want to bring it up, to ruin what was between us—’

      ‘There was nothing between us,’ Leo cut her off harshly, too harshly. His words were loud and ragged in the hushed stillness of the night. They were emotional, he thought furiously.

      Alyse stared at him, her eyes wide. ‘Please don’t say that.’

      ‘I knew this would happen,’ he continued relentlessly, remorseless now. ‘A single day of barely enjoying each other’s company and you’re building castles in the air. Friendship never would have been enough for you.’

      He saw the hurt flash across her face but she lifted her chin and managed a small smile that touched him with its bravery; he didn’t want to be touched. ‘Maybe not,’ she said quietly. ‘And I admit, I have a tendency to build those kinds of castles. I’ve been doing it ever since I met you.’

      He stilled, every nerve tautening with sudden apprehension, even alarm. ‘What are you talking about?’

      Alyse drew a shuddering breath. ‘I’ve been in love with you since I met you, Leo. Since my eighteenth birthday party.’

      She really didn’t choose her moments well. Alyse saw the shock blaze in Leo’s eyes, followed quickly by something that looked almost like fury.

      She shouldn’t have told him now, should never have told him. Yet how could she keep the secret of her feelings any longer? How could she make him understand what had driven her recklessly into another man’s arms—if only for one unfortunate night—if he didn’t know how much she loved him?

      ‘You love me,’ he repeated, and she heard derision.

      ‘I do,’ she answered steadily. ‘I fell in love with you at my party...’

      He arched an eyebrow, his mouth twisting unpleasantly. ‘Did you fall in love with the way I danced? Or perhaps the way I drank champagne?’

      ‘I just fell in love with you,’ she answered helplessly. ‘I can’t explain it. Trust me, I’ve tried to explain it to myself many times.’

      ‘Such a conundrum,’ he drawled, his contempt evident in every taut line of his face.

      He didn’t believe her, Alyse realised. She hadn’t expected that. Surprise, perhaps, or even horror—but incredulity? She spread her hands. ‘Why do you think I agreed to the engagement? To our marriage?’

      ‘Not because you loved me.’

      ‘I couldn’t imagine life without you,’ Alyse blurted, the words spilling out of her. ‘And I knew—of course, I’ve always known—you didn’t love me back. But I hoped, like your father had said, that love or at least affection might come with time. That’s why I kept at it, at the pretending—because I hoped—’

      ‘And did that hope lead you into another man’s bed, Alyse?’ Leo cut her off, his voice wintry. ‘Because I can do without that kind of love, thank you very much.’

      ‘It was a mistake,’ she whispered. ‘A terrible mistake.’

      His expression only grew colder. ‘Clearly.’

      She swallowed, hating that she had to rake this all up, yet knowing she needed to come clean. She’d hidden this heartache and shame for too long already. Maybe confession would help her—and Leo—to move on. ‘It was one night, Leo. One awful night. That’s all.’

      ‘Is that supposed to make it more excusable?’

      She felt the first flicker of anger. ‘For someone who doesn’t believe in double standards, you’re sounding like a bit of a hypocrite.’

      ‘A hypocrite?’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘How do you reckon that?’

      ‘It’s not as if you’ve been celibate for the last six years,’ she answered, and she watched his mouth form a smile that held no humour or happiness at all.

      ‘Haven’t I?’ he asked softly, his words seeming to reverberate through the room, through the stillness of the night and of her own soul. He couldn’t actually mean...?

      ‘But—but six years...’ she stammered, and his smile turned hard.

      ‘Yes, I’m well aware of how long a period of time it was.’

      She shook her head slowly. ‘I never thought—or expected— The engagement wasn’t real...’

      ‘On the contrary, our engagement has always been real. So is our marriage. It’s the emotion you insist you’ve been feeling that isn’t, Alyse. You don’t love me. You don’t even know what love is. A schoolgirl crush? A shaft of desire?’ He shook his head, the movement one of both dismissal and derision. ‘That’s all love ever is. And, in any case, you don’t even know me. How on earth could you think you loved me?’

      She shook her head again, drew in a shuddering breath. She still couldn’t believe he’d been celibate for so long. For her. ‘But the magazines—they said you were with Liana Aterno.’

      ‘You