Page 105 of Modern Romance Collection May 2024 Books 1-4

He stopped in front of her window, hands on his hips, his shoulders rising and falling with his ragged breathing. Her ire cooled as she recognized that this was not a man chastising her for doing her job.

She laid her book down and slid off the bed. She walked up behind him. Slowly, she laid a hand on his back, felt the tension bleed away at her touch.

“I’m all right.”

He turned then, grabbed her hand and held it in his.

“The horse came down on your chest.”

“Yes.”

“Show me.”

She knew what he meant, hesitated only a moment before pulling aside the neckline of her shirt. His eyes zeroed in on the half-moon scar just below her collarbone.

“I watched the video.” His fingers came up, rested on the white marking. The intimacy of it, of him touching such a vulnerable part of her, stole her breath. “You didn’t hesitate.”

“I couldn’t.”

He whirled away from her.

“Do you always give yourself away so lightly, Miss Clark?”

Fury climbed up her spine, radiated throughout her body.

“It was my choice and don’t you dare question it.”

“Choice,” he spat out as he turned back to her. “Except just this morning you told me you followed this path to please your father. You sacrificed your own body to shield me. And why? For duty? For a man who apparently cared for nothing but his job?”

“It’s not just a job,” she snapped back. “You told me countless times you and your father were the crown. There was no Julius without the title. It wasn’t a matter of pride or ego, it simply was. You took your responsibilities and duties seriously, not because it brought you esteem or satisfied some selfish pleasure, but because you knew you could do it and do it well. There were times I saw how tired you were, how you wanted to step back, but you always moved forward.”

“Moved forward at the expense of building relationships with others. I’ve read countless articles,” he said at her confused look, “scoured TV and magazine interviews. Did you know I rarely talk about my mother? Don’t even mention her. I can remember her, how much she loved me, and yet all I talked about was elections, construction projects, deficit spending. Even in that video of you...” He paused, looked down and sucked in a breath. “My father is king. He smiled at people, waved. I looked hard. Cold.”

Her heart broke then, but in an altogether different way from when Julius had dismissed her. This time the fractures were for the man standing in front of her, a man torn between past and present, between the duty he had forgotten and the man he was without the burden of the crown.

“You could be, yes.”

“Why?”

She shook her head.

“I don’t know. I tried asking a few times after the accident.”

“Why then?”

She hesitated. This was what came from telling lies. One lie led to another, forced her to pause and think about what she was going to say.

Or you could just tell him now.

She looked up at him, at the tension furrowing his brow, at the pain and anger and fear lurking in his eyes.

No. Telling him now would be unburdening herself to get the weight of her own mistakes off her shoulders. Selfish. Adding to his conflict.

“We became closer after the accident.” She would stick to the truth as much as possible. “You visited me in the hospital. You brought me a book. After that you started talking to me more, asking my opinion about legislation or something similar from a citizen’s perspective.”

“You said before we became friends.”

“We did.” She smiled sadly. “It was a very nice time in my life. I made friends at the academy.”

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