Page 156 of Modern Romance January 2025 1-4

‘Who says?’

Was it an attempt at a joke? If so, she wasn’t laughing.

‘I’ll let you know when the timing is right, and our teams can sync our schedules.’

His eyes narrowed, as if with anger. As if she’d said the exact opposite of what he wanted. ‘Excellent, and perhaps my private secretary can offer tips on our performance? Maybe there’s a position we should be trying that we missed.’

‘You’re seriously snapping at me?’ she asked, her tone rife with hauteur.

A muscle jerked at the base of his jaw. ‘Yes, but I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting this.’

She realised then, with compunction, that she wasn’t the only one who was grieving. This was the baby he’d been hoping for too. She glanced away, her heart breaking for a whole other reason now.

She didn’t know how to do any of this, but she had to cling onto the boundaries they’d established. The island had made everything complicated, and though it had fundamentally changed her, it hadn’t changed them. They were too different, and this marriage was only ever going to be this: a ruse.

Why fight that?

‘We’ll try again next month,’ she said softly, swallowing past a lump in her throat.

‘Yes.’ He reached for her then, but she flinched away. Not because she didn’t want him to touch her, but because she wanted it so, so badly, more than she could ever express, and she knew it would never be enough. One touch, one kiss, even if they were to fall backwards into her bed, it wouldn’t be enough, because it didn’t mean anything. Not to him, anyway. And to her?

She moved towards her bedroom door. ‘And I’ll see you tomorrow night.’

He nodded, but his expression showed distraction. ‘You’re disappointed. You really wanted this.’

‘Yes,’ she agreed. ‘I’m sure it will happen. We’ll just keep trying.’

‘Right.’ He hovered though, as if he wanted to say something else, but she needed him to go now. Her grief was all-consuming and if he lingered, she suspected he’d see it, and maybe see more than she wanted him to. Everything was such a mess.

He strode towards the door but stopped, just inside of it. ‘Will you call me if you need anything, wife?’

Wife.

What a joke.

She used to think he was being ironic when he used the label—after all, they were hardly spouses in the traditional sense—but she’d never reallyfeltthe irony like she did now. It was like being taunted with something she wanted and could never have. The realisation of just how badly she wanted it all to be real was like an enormous rock boulder being dropped into a placid lake. Ripples emerged in every direction of Rosie’s soul, leaving her bereft by how alone she was. Just like she’d always thought she wanted—just as she’d always been.

When had that happened?

She’d worked so hard on the island to remind herself that their marriage was just a means to an end, that the baby would be too. She’d told herself again and again that this was all just an arrangement for the good of the kingdom. When had she started to want the kinds of things she’d always told herself were off limits?

Her loneliness was a deep, soul-aching pain, because she’d glimpsed an alternative. For one brief week, she’d lived something else, and she’d never be the same again. Panic slicked her insides; she swallowed hard, paling imperceptibly. She recognised who she’d become: one of her father’s girlfriends. Was this the desperation they had felt?

She straightened her spine. While she couldn’t deny her feelings, she could certainly try to hide them from him. ‘I won’t need anything.’ Her voice emerged pleasingly clear. ‘Goodbye, Sebastian.’

She didn’t look at him again; it had taken every ounce of effort she had left to dismiss him with such apparent coldness. If he stayed a moment longer, she was terrified she’d beg him to stay.

CHAPTER TWELVE

AFFAIRSOFSTATEwere neither here nor there for Sebastian. He’d been to enough formal events even before returning to Cavalonia to know the drill. He was generally nonplussed by them, regardless of how big and important they were.

It didn’t bother him that this evening’s party would feature the entire parliament and their partners, nor that dignitaries from all over Europe had been invited.

As he stepped from his limousine dressed in a midnight-black tuxedo, he could only think of Rosalind. He was anxious to see her, to reassure himself that she was fine.

She hadn’t been fine the day before.

She’d been breaking, and he’d understood that, but hadn’t known how to fix it. He had only been able to think of one way, and that wasn’t a solution, so much as a stopgap measure. Making love to her might push the reality from her mind but it wouldn’t actually change the fact that despite many, many, many attempts, they hadn’t conceived.

---