Page 103 of Modern Romance Collection May 2024 Books 1-4

“One has a right to swear when someone is refusing to listen.”

A quick glance confirmed there were no boats anywhere nearby. She killed the engine, waiting until the boat slowed and began to drift with the current, keeping her gaze forward.

“I told you before when you first came to me that I was done listening to you.” To her horror, tears pricked the backs of her eyes. “I gave in once. I’m not doing so again.”

“I meant that nearly making love to you on the back of a boat in the middle of the Caribbean was wrong.” She felt him just behind her, felt his tension and energy rippling off his body. “That giving in to our physical attraction was wrong when we haven’t sorted out everything that happened between us before my accident.”

The explanation made sense. Indeed, as her embarrassment cooled, it all sounded terribly rational. Which made her response seem all the more outlandish.

All the more dangerous. She’d submitted again, had allowed herself to be carried away by emotion. But all she was doing was digging her grave deeper. And what about Julius? If she did give in, what would happen when he did remember? Would this softer side of him disappear? Or would he keep aspects of the man she saw now, a man who loathed the thought of being married off to a woman he hadn’t chosen for himself? A man who could potentially be hurt by an affair, too?

Suddenly overwhelmed by everything that had happened the past few days—Julius’s unexpected arrival, his amnesia, their kiss—all hit at once and stripped away what few tatters remained of her pride.

“It’s better to keep things unknown.”

“Better for who, Esmerelda?”

She heard the accusation in his voice, the censure. She brushed it all aside as she grabbed the key still in the ignition.

“For both of us, Your Highness.”

CHAPTER TEN

THETHINTHREADof navy that clung to the horizon spread slowly upward, drenching the Caribbean Sea in darkness as day turned to night. Soft shades of pink and lavender decorated the sky above the villa. It reminded Julius of a painting he’d once seen at a museum in London, a decorated warship being pulled out to sea to be scrapped. A beautiful sunset that had deepened the sensation of loss, the passing of an era as an elegant ship past its prime was sent to a shipyard to be broken into pieces.

Another impression, a flash in time, of him standing before the painting, the gallery around him quiet as he’d stared, trying to reconcile his commitment to duty with an ache that hollowed out his chest and left him painfully empty.

A feeling he’d experienced once more when he’d heard the raw grief in Esmerelda’s voice. When she had severed the connection between them. A connection that went beyond mere desire. A connection he had felt ever since he’d woken up to this new life.

Stars winked into existence overhead. They’d arrived back around one. Esmerelda had tied off the boat and walked back to the villa without a single glance in his direction. He’d debated following her, demanding answers, kissing her senseless and feeling her come alive beneath his touch again.

But he’d kept his distance, doing his damnedest to respect the boundaries she’d erected.

For now.

Had she simply been running from him again, he would have pursued. He was done with the subterfuge, the deception, what he suspected at this point were outright lies.

Yet he had kissed her as if his life had depended on it, had nearly stripped her bare and driven himself into her on the back of a boat where anyone could have seen them. That he had so nearly lost complete and total control had been unnerving to say the least. It had also struck at something deep inside, something innate that had risen from the dark and pulled him back.

His head dropped back against the back of his chair. It was odd to look at a vase and know that it was most likely a Waterford. To thank Aroldo in French without even thinking about translation when he’d come back to the villa. There were parts of himself that came naturally, logical aspects that were so ingrained not even a traumatic injury could wrench them away.

Yet what he suspected was one of the most critical moments of his life, a defining event involving a woman who had tried to help him today out of simple kindness, evaded him.

“...better to keep things unknown...”

Something pulled at his memory, a loose thread that dangled just out of reach. The more he tried to grasp it, to form an image of what had happened, the more his head started to pound.

He let out a growl as he exploded out of his chair. It was time for answers.

His suite included an alcove with bay windows that overlooked the bay and the faintest glimpse of the lighthouse. A pale gray desk with a slate-colored top stood in front of the windows, a laptop in the center.

So far, his searches had been restricted to himself, reading articles about suspected romances, goodwill trips to other countries and even archived stories dating back all the way to his birth. He’d also read up on his parents and Rodina.

The one person he hadn’t searched had been Esmerelda. He’d wanted answers about her past, about who she was and who she had been to him, to come from her.

But that wasn’t to be.

He typed in her name and “security guard Rodina.” The first result, a video link, made him frown:Bodyguard saves island prince from runaway horse.

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