Page 54 of Modern Romance Collection February 2025, 5-8

He shrugged in a dismissive way. ‘It’s a strategic campaign of sorts.’

‘You make is sound like a kind of...battle. Have you ever been in love?’

The answer to that question seemed important. Never having been in love herself, she could only guess what it was like. And she’d never know, because she’d never be given the chance. Once, it hadn’t been something she’d dwelled on too much. Now a wash of sadness flooded over her.

‘No.’

Short, sharp and to the point. No embellishments or sweet words. A hint of where he stood on the matter for future reference.

‘Then how are you qualified to say anything about it?’

She looked up at him. His jaw now a hard line, his eyes flinty. ‘I’ve lived long enough to bear witness.’

Ana was left to wonder, what had Aston seen that had left him so cynical? He’d never been in love. Was that by choice, or by cruel accident? What experience had framed his views? His parents? They were a reported love-match. His father was an Australian wine maker who’d fallen for Aston’s mother. From what she’d read about Girard and the family story, it sounded romantic. Though who knew? People wrote about her family all the time and hardly any of it was the truth. She knew from bitter experience that the Internet was full of lies.

But, from Aston, she wanted to find out more. Curiosity gripped her. She’d seen enough to know women fluttered about him like hummingbirds to a feeder of sugar water. He’d obviously had plenty of opportunity, so whynotlove? It seemed like a normal, human thing to desire. Hadn’t the Trojan War been fought over it? For sure, wars had been fought over less...

Aston turned from Venus and began walking back the way they’d come as she hurried to catch up.

‘Let’s get on the correct path,’ he said.

She wasn’t sure he was talking about the maze.

They took no detours now, heading the right way, him striding forward with purpose. She reached her hand into her pocket and touched her phone, but its notifications had been blissfully silent. Her thoughts whirred as they walked, Aston’s gleaming leather shoes crunching a relentless rhythm on the gravel. To the end, when she knew what Aston sought was a beginning.

Her questions remained. What was the point to this? It wasn’t love. He wouldn’t need to marry for...for...sex. She’d seen enough on the Internet of any number of beautiful women gracing his arm, looking very...satisfied, like cats having stolen a few laps of cream.

As they made the final turn, she couldn’t hold in the question any longer.

‘Why marry, if not for love?’

The words blurted out of her. His pace faltered briefly before picking up even faster. It was almost as if he was trying to outrun the question. A strange observation. She’d always believed a man like him to be fearless. He’d have to be, from what she knew of his mountaineering. Why should a question like that worry him?

‘I’m told it’s a good time to settle down,’ Aston said, as they walked through the last break in the maze.

A beautiful fountain lay in the middle of an open space, with the water trickling with a gentle sound. To the left sat a small pergola covered in vines. Under it was a garden lounge, where she’d spent as many moments as she’d been allowed, contemplating. Too many moments contemplating him, if she was being honest with herself. Till the accident had stolen everything away from her.

He led her under the shade.

‘Time?’ she asked, curiosity getting the better of her. ‘You’re what—in your early thirties? Such an old man.’

He stood so tall and imposing beside her. His dark hair was slightly unruly, as if he’d raked his fingers through it rather than used a comb. A slight stubble shaded his jaw. He looked somehow...wild. Whilst staring out at the fountain was something Ana found calming, it appeared Aston didn’t feel the same. His jaw was clenched hard.

‘You’d be surprised.’

‘I would. Who thinks it’s a good time? Not you, by the sounds of it?’

Aston cocked his eyebrow. Those eyes of his were like shards of blue glass, gleaming and sharp.

‘My parents.’

It sounded as if it cut him to say the words. His voice was rougher, in a way that spoke of pain, not pleasure.

‘Do you do everything your parents tell you to do?’ she asked. He struck her as a man who listened to no one.

Aston gave another seemingly nonchalant shrug, but she could see the tension marking every part of him. ‘Do you?’

‘Some of us have greater choices than others. You seem to have more than most. I was simply curious.’

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