Page 135 of Modern Romance January 2025 1-4

She laughed then. ‘Are you fishing for compliments, Your Highness? Do you need me to tell you that’s the most fun I’ve ever had in bed?’

‘No,’ he said with a grin, and her gut lurched; danger sirens blared in the back of her mind, but she wilfully ignored them. Sex was sex, nothing more. ‘But a guy doesn’t ever get sick of hearing that.’

Rosie’s lips pulled to the side, the smirk hiding a strange little dart of pain somewhere in her chest. ‘I suppose women tell you how good you are all the time?’

‘Is that your way of asking about my relationship history?’

Rosie’s eyes widened. Had she been so transparent? ‘God, no.’ She sat up straight, dislodging his hand from her chest, pulling her long blond hair over one shoulder. ‘I’m really not interested in the women you’ve been with. I’m sure there were a lot.’

He was quiet, and from where she sat, she couldn’t see his reaction. Eventually, he responded, his voice deep. ‘And does that bother you, wife?’

God. She loved hearing him say ‘Rosalind’, but hearing ‘wife’ was somehow even more compelling after what they’d just done. Her heart leapt into her throat, and she felt a stifling need to be alone, to try to understand what was happening.

‘Not at all. Just like I’m sure you don’t care about the men I was with before you. That’s not what we are.’

‘True.’ His voice rang with non-concern. ‘But it’s natural to be curious.’

‘I’m not curious.’

‘Liar,’ he laughed, standing, coming around to the side of the bed nearest to Rosie and holding out his hand. ‘Come swimming with me.’

She looked longingly towards the water, imagining how delightful it would feel against her skin, how wonderful the sense of relief given the heat of the day. But even though she’d come to the island to get to know him, swimming with him seemed too intimate after what they’d just done. She needed space and the room to re-establish her boundaries, to reinforce her strength and independence before she had to face him again. She just wished her voice hadn’t emerged so prim and proper when she’d offered a small shake of her head and said, ‘Please, go on without me. I’m not in the mood for swimming.’

CHAPTER SEVEN

ROSIEMANAGEDTOavoid him for the better part of the day, so by the time they were reunited in the kitchen that evening, her equilibrium had returned, and she was once again content that she could be married to someone like Sebastian, make love to him as necessary, but still not lose sight of all the reasons she had for avoiding any real reliance on him.

‘You cook?’ she asked with obvious surprise, as he placed a couple of steaks into a pan.

He eyed her with a look that set her pulse racing far faster than was safe. She ducked her hands beneath the kitchen bench, in case the heartrate monitor on her watch gave her away.

‘You’re surprised?’

She lifted one shoulder. ‘I suppose I am.’

‘Why?’

She gestured towards him with a flick of her wrist. ‘You just don’t seem like the type?’

His expression was faintly mocking, reminding her of the tension that had characterised so much of their marriage. She sat a little straighter.

‘I wasn’t raised royal,’ he reminded her.

‘No, but you’re still...you.’

He lifted one thick, dark brow. ‘Which means I’m incapable of cooking?’

She rolled her eyes. ‘You’re just so...’

‘Yes?’ he drawled, turning away from her so he could turn the steaks over, a sizzle and spark demarcating the action, before he turned back to her and braced his palms on the counter, regarding her with an expression that further sped up her pulse.

‘You’re just not really the domestic type.’

‘Cooking is just a part of life. Or rather, it was.’

‘You don’t cook now?’

‘Only occasionally.’

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