His eyes scanned her face, his expression thoughtful. ‘Imagine if she’d been here all along, a part of Fabrizio’s life. If Mark had been a part of his life, ifIhad been. Would Fabrizio have turned into such a foolhardy, headstrong, risk-taking man?’

Rosie’s lips pulled to the side. ‘We’ll never know.’

‘I know.’ He pressed his fingers to the centre of his chest. ‘I know that my grandfather threw a blade through many, many lives when he chose cruelty towards his own daughter instead of offering understanding.’

She shook her head slowly, wanting to deny that, to argue on the king’s behalf. But the more Sebastian spoke, the more she saw some sense in what he was saying. ‘I think we’re both right,’ she said after a pause. ‘You think he threw a blade through everyone’s lives, well, I suppose he did. But isn’t it also true that he did so because he believed it was right for the country?’

Sebastian’s lips compressed. ‘You cannot honestly believe that.’

‘Why not?’

His nostrils flared as he expelled a sharp breath. ‘He does not deserve the faith you have in him.’

‘Or maybe it’s just what he deserves.’

‘No.’ He reached over, a frown on his face. ‘You’re far too good for him, and if you are not careful, he will ruin your life as he did my mother’s.’ His frown deepened. ‘Perhaps he already has.’

It was a cryptic comment that hung between them for a second, but when Rosie went to respond, Sebastian turned and pushed out of the car.

Sebastian didn’t want to think of Mark. Of the man who’d raised him to be the best version of himself, who he feared he might be letting down by being back here in Cavalonia. Had he thrown his mother to the wolves by returning? Or had he done what Mark would have wanted?

On his deathbed, Mark had spoken of how hard it had been for Maria. He’d intimated that he regretted having been the catalyst for her exile, even though their marriage had been so happy.

And then he’d died, and Sebastian had been abandoned again, floundering in a way he’d thought was far behind him, grief-stricken like he had been as a child. Not rejected this time by choice but abandoned all the same. It had been a salient reminder about the transient nature of connections, about the importance of protecting himself from that kind of loss, and it was a lesson he intended to keep firmly in his sights.

Even if he became a father?

The thought flooded his veins with ice, because to become a parent was to assume an obligation of love, wasn’t it? And what then? Risk was inherent in that; risk was everywhere. Sebastian wouldn’t allow himself to be weakened by their child. This baby would be a means to an end, just as Rosalind was. It was all about the kingdom, nothing more. But nor would he abandon his baby. Never would he allow them to feel insecure or unwanted. Sebastian would not have the mistakes of the past be repeated—he was not the king, and he was not his father. Mark lived on in Sebastian in a way that had little to do with biology and everything to do with the sheer force of Mark’s will, and his desire to mould Sebastian into a man who was better than the king, better than his birth father.

Sebastian could only hope that Mark’s faith was not misplaced, that this marriage and potential pregnancy weren’t a betrayal of the values Mark had instilled.

But of course, they weren’t. If Rosalind didn’t comprehend the nature of their marriage, if she secretly harboured a desire for more than he would offer, then he might have seen a problem. But she was as pragmatic about all this as he was, and for that he was very grateful.

CHAPTER SIX

INSIDE,THEHOUSEwas every bit as charming as outside, with its high ceilings and wide corridors, and rooms that were generously proportioned and decorated in a manner that was comfortable without being ostentatious. It was not the kind of billionaire bolt hole she would have expected Sebastian al Morova to own, but she liked it all the more for its authenticity.

‘There’s nothing else on the island?’ she asked with a shake of her head, as she stepped onto the deck at the front of the house and looked towards the ocean, then to the mountain behind them.

‘There is a lighthouse,’ he said, ‘on the other side. We can hike to it tomorrow if you’re interested.’

Her stomach dropped to her toes. He was really planning to spend the time herewithher. Getting to know her, per her request.

‘I—I like hiking,’ she said after a beat.

‘Do you get to do much of it?’

‘Not since our marriage.’

He glanced at her in that unnerving way of his, as though looking straight inside her.

‘I don’t get much space from the paparazzi,’ she pointed out. ‘The palace is my sanctuary.’

‘Of course.’

Except, there was more he wasn’t saying, more he was thinking, and she wanted to pull at that string and understand him better. Their marriage was a flashpoint though. To discuss it was to discuss its origins, and that led them to the king, which inevitably caused them to argue, and so she steered clear of the conversation.

‘Does your mother like it here?’