Page 59 of Modern Romance Collection February 2025, 5-8

‘We don’t know each other,’ she said. ‘A marriage would be a disaster if we couldn’t stand the sight of each other after a few weeks.’

He had no doubt their chemistry would carry them through and, in the end, what did it matter? His inheritance would be secure and he’d be gone half the year, climbing. They wouldn’t have to see each other if they didn’t want to. He didn’t stop to question why those thoughts didn’t sit comfortably with him. Why they somehow lacked...

He shook himself from his introspection. ‘Let’s make a deal,’ he said, his voice somehow strange, urgent and rough to his own ears. ‘Come away with me today. I’ll keep you safe from whatever it is you’re afraid of. Get to know me. Then, if you agree that an engagement would be an advantage to both of us, we’ll marry. You don’t like what you see? I’ll take you to Isolobello, to your sister.’

‘You sound certain of yourself.’

If only she knew; losing her was not an option. A flash of need roared through him—a desire to conquer, not a mountain but aperson. What he wouldn’t give to take her now. To kiss her,showher what they could...no,would...be together. He breathed through it. Where was his own steely resolve now?

‘The choice is simple—yes or no. What’ll it be, goddess?’

Aston knew the chance he was taking with that final question, the risk. Yet the certainty remained. She desired him, and he desired her. That was a simple truth he could work with.

She cocked her head. Her winter-blue gaze locked with his. It was as if she was trying to chisel into the soul of him with a pick forged of ice. Was she making him wait?Oh, Princess... The punishment would be so sweet when he could turn the tables.

‘Okay,’ she said.

Not a ‘yes’, but an agreement nonetheless. An unexpected lightness washed over him. Aston flashed her a smile. He began to walk towards her. She didn’t back away, standing her ground, unafraid, of him at least.

‘I’m honoured. Now there’s one thing I’m certain of,’ he said, slipping his arm round her waist, leaning down and murmuring into her ear, ‘It’s time for you to live a little.’

CHAPTER FOUR

ANASTOODATthe bow of the yacht as they left the marina, gripping the railings till her fingers blanched white. The water was an impossible kind of blue ahead of her as they left the harbour towards the open sea.

People might have thought that as a princess she had a life replete with choices. Carriages, crowns, a world in which she could do anything she wished. That was so far from the truth, it was almost laughable. She was chained. The restraints might have been gold and jewel-encrusted, but she’d never really had freedom.

Today, yet again, she was left with no real choices. The alerts on her phone in the maze hadn’t been from Cilla. They’d been notifications about Count Hakkinen. A news report announcing he was to receive an award for bravery for saving her, or so the story went. Dragging her from a crashed car after her accident when she was certain he’d been the one doing the chasing. Her parents knew how she felt and what she feared, and yet they proposed this. Howcouldthey?

As part of her role as princess she’d been asked to hand out medals for various sorts of awards. Ana bet anything that her parents would ask her to give the medal to this man to prove to her that her fears were imagined. Groundless.

She couldn’t do it.She wouldn’t. How could she face him? They’d have to shake hands. He’d look at her, search for her old wounds, knowing that she was scarred and all the while believing that no one could love her but him.

That had left her with only one option. To join Aston on his yacht for this farcical trial to see how they’d get on together. It had been presented to her as a choice, but what choice did she really have? She’d needed an escape, and Aston had given her one, but could she afford to say no? If she did, he’d deliver her to her sister, but she’d be back to the beginning and without options. No real assets or means of her own, her parents’ determination that she must marry for duty, Count Hakkinen... In the end, this time away seemed more about putting off the inevitable than learning about whether she and Aston could get on.

At least leaving had been easy enough, as he’d promised. He’d spoken to her parents as she’d packed her bags. She didn’t need to take any sentimental gifts because her parents weren’t into sentimentality. The family photos were all formal portraits. Nothing was candid or unscripted, for fear that it might find its way into the press. No selfies for her. Her clothes were all chosen for her by a stylist. There were colours she liked but nothing she owned ever felt like it had been her own choice. It was as if she was a blank canvas.

For how long had she simply been a passenger in her own life?

She’d packed everything into two suitcases. Aston had told her if she needed anything else he could source it for her. It was a generous offer, but she wasn’t fool enough to forget that everything came with a price. People always wanted something from her; he was no different.

The final goodbyes from her family weren’t about best wishes, but a reminder about appearances. To be discreet. Not to create a scandal. Her parents clearly thought this was the quickest way to ensure the marriage, given her obvious reluctance. She wondered what Aston had said to them, though it hardly mattered. Getting away was the main aim. She’d worry about the rest later.

Scandal, she was happy to avoid. Discretion didn’t trouble her, especially when she wanted to fade into the background. No way was she going to flaunt herself and draw Count Hakkinen’s attention. The end game of marriage was a problem but, as Aston had said, what her parents didn’t know about their private agreement wouldn’t hurt them...

A shiver of sensation ran up her spine. Not unpleasant, rather signifying a presence.

‘You make the most beautiful figurehead,’ Aston said, voice a mere murmur on the breeze. They might only be words, but she wasn’t immune to them. Ana closed her eyes for a moment, relishing the compliment. The sun on her skin. The salty tang of the air.

‘Thank you.’ She faced him, the breeze ruffling her hair over her face. Ana reached up and checked her fringe, brushing it to cover her forehead.

‘Before we spend too much more time together, am I breaching propriety by calling you Anastacia now? Or are you going to require me to call you “Your Highness”?’

‘No, of course not. Anastacia is fine. Or Ana.’

‘Ana.’

The way he said it, softly. Gently. Almost on a breath, like a whisper imbued with a kind of tenderness entirely unfamiliar to her. A tone that made her believe for a fleeting second that she was someone special.

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