Page 164 of Modern Romance January 2025 1-4

‘Then stop thinking and tell me how you feel.’

‘That’s not a good idea.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because I suspect I’ll regret whatever I say right now.’ He crossed his arms over his chest. ‘You should leave, Rosalind. Go back to the palace, go back to your king. Forget any of this ever happened.’

‘You aren’t listening, my love.’

Anger flooded his veins. It had been coursing through him all day, since Rosie had thrown a grenade into his life.

No, two grenades.

If I fall pregnant, I might have a stroke, or die.

Oh, and by the way, I’m in love with you.

What the hell?

How dare she lay that at his feet? The one thing he’d been clear that hedidn’twant. Would never want. Could never have. He sat up a little straighter, the final statement clawing at his insides. He’d drawn lines around his life, a barrier around his heart. He’d done it so long ago, and he’d been glad for it. It had kept him safe.

But what about Rosie? Hadn’t she done the exact same thing? She’d chosen a loveless relationship once before, and then again with Sebastian. She’d entered into a practical marriage with a contract outlining what she was and wasn’t prepared for that marriage to look like. She’s protected herself fiercely too, and yet she’d let herself love him regardless. She’d let him in.

More fool her.

There was only darkness ahead for them if they forgot this was all make-believe.

‘What’s going on?’

He glanced across at his mother, but barely saw her. Until he did. Until he saw her serenity here, the way she seemed so completely at home, as much as the trees in the garden surrounding them, as much as the ancient vines that wrapped through their stems. This was her home—he’d brought her here. No matter what, it had been the right decision. Even if it led to Rosie’s heart break?

‘Nothing,’ he muttered. ‘Tell me more about your plans for the garden.’

But it was no use. The more his mother talked, the more Sebastian disappeared into his thoughts. His memories.

Rosie on the island, the sun making her hair glow like a halo, her smile, her laugh, the twinkle in her eyes whenever she told a story. Rosie in his bed, making love to him as though there was nothing else she wanted in life—as though he were her everything.

Rosie, as she’d been before the island, always so straitlaced, as though she didn’t dare let her guard down around him. Had she known even then how out of control things would get, if they let it?

Had he?

Was that why he’d treated her with such disdain?

Never in his life had Sebastian kept a woman at such arm’s length and gone out of his way to treat her with coldness. That had been about the king though, and Rosie’s place in his life. Except, what if it hadn’t? What if it had always been about the potentially explosive nature of their relationship? What if he’d intuited the potential for conflagration and had wisely chosen to stay away, until he couldn’t?

He’d always charted a path of solitude. He was safer on his own. It hadn’t even been consciously done, until Rosie. Until he’d had to actively remind himself why he wanted to keep all aspects of their marriage clearly delineated. It was better for both of them! Didn’t she see that? Couldn’t she understand?

Except, she loved him.

She wanted him in her life.

And he...

‘Sebastian.’ His mother pressed at his arm with her hand. ‘You are worrying me now. What’s going on?’

His eyes flashed to hers, probing, his heart twisting as though it were being mauled by a pair of angry, cold hands. He had spent so long hating the king that he hadn’t even questioned the way that hatred had overflowed into his own life. Tainted it. Ruined it.

He looked at his mother, his features taut.

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