Page 145 of Modern Romance January 2025 1-4

Stricken, she glanced out of the window at the exact moment the front door quietly creaked open and she gripped her coffee cup with both hands, her heart in her throat. An intruder? On his private island?

Well, it might have been private, but it was surrounded by water and last she’d checked, boats could go just about anywhere they wanted. Could someone have made their way to his home?

With her pulse racing, she silently placed down her mug and grabbed the nearest thing she could find—a pepper grinder—and tiptoed out of the kitchen, her back to the wall as she crept closer and closer to the front door. And bumped headfirst—or rather was bumped into by—a big, broad, sweaty, practically naked body.

And screamed, her eyes shut—so much for defending them with a pepper grinder.

‘Cara,cara, stop, it’s okay.’

Sebastian’s voice flooded her body, and the relief was immediate, if somewhat short-lived. She opened her eyes and stared up at him, mouth dry. ‘I thought you were still asleep. I thought, I heard the door, and I thought—’ She closed her eyes again. ‘It’s you.’

‘Yes, it’s me,’ he responded, one side of his lips quirking upwards. ‘It’s just me.’

But Sebastian could never be ‘just’ anything, she admitted to herself, all too aware of his state of undress.

‘You’re not wearing anything.’

‘I’m wearing something.’

‘Not anything much,’ she amended.

‘I’ve been for a run.’

‘At this hour?’

‘I always wake early.’

‘Of course you do.’

‘What does that mean?’

Her voice was still trembling. ‘Just that you’re not someone I can imagine sleeping in. Or relaxing.’

‘Haven’t we been relaxing, these last few days?’

She stared up at him, frowning. They’d been spending time together on a secluded island, but Rosie would have described it as the exact opposite of relaxing. With Sebastian, there was an energy that kept her constantly on guard. She felt everything tighten inside of her, shaking her head a little. ‘I don’t know.’

‘No,’ he agreed, even though she hadn’t exactly explained what she was thinking. ‘No one can reach the island, Rosalind. You are safe here.’ He caught her chin, lifting her face towards his. ‘Do you think I would ever expose you to danger?’

Her heart soared at that question, at the implicit promise of protection, and of something else that might underpin it—that he cared about her. But no one cared about her, really. No one but the king. Even her father had found Rosie too difficult to spend time with as she’d grown older, because of how similar to her mother she was. He looked at Rosie and saw Juliet, and his grief threatened to destroy them both.

But Sebastian didn’t care about Rosie. Her safety had to do with her position in the royal family, his obligation to her—on paper at least—as a husband, and his need for a quickly delivered heir.

‘How do you know?’ she asked, merely because she felt she had to say something, while her mind was spinning in a thousand different directions.

‘Because I have made it safe.’

‘How?’

‘There are patrol boats out there,’ he said, nodding. ‘Watching the perimeter.’

Her eyes widened. ‘Boats that could see us? That could have seen us in the water the other day?’

‘No. They are my private staff, not the Cavalonian army. I have trusted this team for a long time.’

Her heart began to settle.

‘On top of that, the house has heavy security surrounding it. Any unexpected activity immediately sets off an alarm.’

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