Page 137 of Modern Romance January 2025 1-4

‘Did she try to talk you out of it?’ She sat very still, not betraying the strange emotions coursing through her.

‘Yes.’ He turned his back on her then, so he could add the spinach and garlic to a frying pan on the stove, to which he added white wine and cream then lowered the heat. ‘She begged me not to go through with it. With Mark, she’d found true love. She wanted that for me.’

Rosie’s heart fell to her feet. ‘But you didn’t?’

‘There are many types of love. I love her—she loves this country. I wanted her to be able to come home.’

‘But she loves you too. She probably didn’t welcome your sacrifice.’

‘It’s not exactly a sacrifice,’ he said, and her heart began to race in a way she hated. She sucked in a breath, trying to calm her rioting feelings. He wasn’t talking about her, and she didn’t want him to be. ‘I got to come home too, to become crown prince, and one day king. I have dated more women than I can remember, and not once have I been tempted to describe it as “love”. If I was going to meet some mystical soulmate, I would have done so by now. My life is fine without that.’

Rosie was conscious of every single cell in her body. Every rush of blood, every breath in and out, every flicker of expression on her face. She felt as though he must be too, as though he must be able to read her self-consciousness, even when she couldn’t explain what was at the root of it. She wasn’t sure she bought his easy dismissal of the idea of love. He’d dated a lot, that was true, but it seemed unlikely that none of those relationships had led to something more serious. Most people were wired to seek connection; Rosie was not—she’d made herself this way. And Sebastian?

‘I suspect,’ he drawled, ‘the sacrifice has all been on your part.’

She moved her hand from her chin and placed it in her lap, bringing her attention back to their conversation. ‘The trade-off was worth it.’

‘In what way?’ he asked, the question relaxed. But Rosie could hear something in his voice, the persistent question he couldn’t make out. Why had she gone along with this? That really bothered him. Well, they were here to get to know one another, and she had no issue with explaining this part of her history to him.

‘I always remember a story my father told me, a long time ago, about my mother.’

Sebastian flicked the heat off the steak, then came back to the bench, still and watchful.

‘On their second date, when they still barely knew one another, they went to a pizza bar near the university, and sat at a small table on the sidewalk. My father described it as one of the most perfect nights—the stars were shining brightly, a busker down the street sang beautifully, the pizza was delicious, and my mother smelled of sweet almonds. He told me he knew he loved her, even then.’

Sebastian’s expression didn’t change.

‘But towards the end of the night, a tear rolled down my mother’s cheek. My father put a hand on hers, and asked her what was wrong? Why was she crying, on such a perfect night?’

Rosie reached for her glass of wine and took a sip.

‘She looked across the street and spoke softly.“No one in Cavalonia should have to live like that, Grieg.”My father followed her gaze and saw a young woman with a little boy, perhaps three or four. Before he could think of what to say, my mother had stood and gone to the pizza bar, where she ordered a large pizza and bought a bottle of water and some cakes too. He watched as she carried the bag of food from the counter, and across the street to where the homeless family was sitting against the wall. On their next date, he found out that she’d gone back to them every day since, taking food, clothes, books for the little boy. She didn’t have much money, but she had a heart that was bigger than all of Cavalonia.’

Silence stretched between them, but Rosie didn’t feel it. She was in the past, thinking of her mother.

‘She was studying to become a human rights lawyer when they met. Her purpose was the improvements of others’ lives. I’ve always wanted to be like her, to make her proud.’

She jerked her gaze back to Sebastian’s face, and when she spoke her voice was thickened by emotion. ‘Working for the king gave me a chance to help, in some way. I could influence policy and get to know key players in the government. But as princess, I have so much more reach, more power. Some of the things I’m working on will make a huge difference for our people. For many of them, I hope.’

‘And that was your trade-off?’ he asked, turning away from her and removing the steaks from the pan before using a slotted spoon to lift the potatoes from the water and place them in the same oil. They splattered and he turned the heat back up on high. She watched, mesmerised by his confidence and economy of movement.

‘I’m not interested in relationships,’ she said. ‘So much like you, I didn’t find the idea of a pragmatic marriage to be much of a sacrifice at all.’

‘You’re younger than I am,’ he said thoughtfully.

‘Yes, and?’

‘I’ve spent more than ten years having relationships, getting to know women—more than enough time to know that I do not want a love match. You, however, are inexperienced.’

Her brows lifted. ‘Gee, thanks.’

‘It’s a statement of fact. You’ve said as much yourself, many times.’

‘I’ve been engaged,’ she pointed out. ‘If I wanted a normal marriage, I could have had it.’ Though she never intended that marriage to be normal either.

‘You were engaged?’ he repeated, eyes locking on hers with an intensity that made her blood throb. ‘To whom?’

‘A man named Robert.’

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