Page 148 of Modern Romance January 2025 1-4

Despite her desperate attempt to cling to rational thought, the idea of going back to the palace—and the way things had been before—brought a small frown to her face, forming a divot between her brows.

‘What’s wrong?’

She glanced at him, her frown deepening. What did she want? For more? More than the marriage they’d been living in for the last five months? For what they’d started to share on the island, but in the palace? He’d already said he’d never live there.

But she could move in with him.

She caught herself midway through the thought.

That’s not what they were, and it wasdefinitelynot what she wanted. Was it? Confusion rattled through her.

She closed her eyes on a wave of nausea, as an image popped into her mind of Rowena—her father’s fourth mistress, that Rosie could remember. She’d been a nurse, and very kind. She’d started coming to the house to spend time with Rosie, even when Grieg wasn’t home. Rosie had liked her.

The ending of their relationship had destroyed Rowena.

She’d still tried to see Rosie, but hadn’t been able to get through even five minutes without bursting into tears.

Rosie heard, six months later, that Rowena had fallen asleep behind the wheel of her car on the way home from a late shift. It was plausible, of course, but all Rosie could remember was the older woman’s plaintive cry that she didn’t want to live without Grieg and Rosie in her life. She’d wondered, ever since Rowena’s death, if she’d actually fallen asleep behind the wheel, or if it had been intentional. Guilt and grief had mingled together. Though she’d only been thirteen years old, she’d carried that burden a long time, wondering if she could have done something differently.

‘Wife.’ Sebastian’s hand on hers shook her out of the memory. ‘What’s the matter? You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.’

Emotions swirled inside of her. Pain, sadness and yes, determination. Because those women had let their lives be destroyed by Grieg. He was like Sebastian in some ways: far too handsome for his own good, easily able to charm whomever he wished, and quite cold when needed. Rosie blinked across at Sebastian and had no doubts that Sebastian would cast her aside when it suited him, per their marriage agreement.

This was not real. This was not meaningful. And she refused to hope for more—not when it wasn’t on offer, and not when even the desire for more could destroy a woman.

‘I’m fine,’ she said, resolute, removing her hand and forcing a brittle smile to her face. ‘Fishing sounds great.’

In the end, despite the sobering of her mood, fishingwasgreat. Unlike the handful of times she’d gone as a girl, and spent hours casting in a line, waiting and waiting, and catching nothing, Sebastian took them to a cove with an old timber jetty and they cast off from the very end of it. She caught her first fish within ten minutes, and almost as soon as she threw her line back in, another fish availed itself of the bait. Sebastian focused on the crab pots he’d dangled over the edge, and in a gesture of pure chivalry, handled the bait and fish removal for Rosie, so she didn’t even have to get her hands dirty.

‘Why do I feel like you do this a lot?’

Sebastian grinned. ‘Because I do. Or rather, I did. Before.’

‘Before you came home?’

He nodded once, his handsome features set in a firm mask of concentration.

‘With Mark?’ she prompted.

His eyes slid to hers. Her heart thumped, but she stole herself against such a silly response. ‘He loved to fish. He loved all sports, actually, but fishing was one of those things, he always said, that combined his greatest loves—family time, because we would go together, the importance of feeling like you could keep yourself alive without all the modern crap, like supermarkets, and the peace, and time, to contemplate life. He was a deep thinker, and it wasn’t unusual for us to spend a whole day fishing without saying a word.’

‘Even as a kid?’ she prompted.

‘I liked it.’

‘You were a deep thinker too?’

‘I found I could keep my mind busy,’ he said.

‘Where would you fish?’

‘There was a stream just a mile or so from our house. When I was older, I’d ride my bike down and throw the line in after school, always trying to impress Mark with my haul.’ He grinned, but there was something behind the grin, something she wanted to understand.

‘Was he impressed?’

‘If there was reason to be. Mark was lavish with praise when deserved, but he didn’t believe in gilding the lily.’

‘It sounds like you were very close to him.’

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