Page 60 of Modern Romance Collection February 2025, 5-8

It had been a mistake, telling him her name’s diminutive. The name that not even her parents or brother used. Only Cilla and a few close friends. It implied a greater intimacy between them than there truly was, yet she couldn’t take the words back now. She was stuck with it, that creeping level of familiarity that seemed to erode all of her well-preserved boundaries. She wanted to keep calling him Mr Lane. But that would never do, not now. The barrier had been breached for ever.

‘Aston,’ she said, trying his name out. It was so new and unfamiliar, it felt unexpectedly intimate. She needed to keep reminding herself that this thing between them was convenient and nothing more. Using his name was nothing special. ‘Where are we heading?’

‘Why don’t you let this be a surprise, see where life takes you?’ he said. ‘Of course, if it gives you a greater sense of security, I’m happy to let you know.’

How well he read her. Her life had held no real surprises. Every part of her day in the palace was diarised. Simply ‘seeing where things took her’ wasn’t in her repertoire. But she supposed this journey could be about discovering new things. Discovering herself...

‘I suppose I could leave myself in your capable hands.’

‘I’m sure you’ll find them more than capable, when the time comes.’

Her lips parted, as the breath hitched in her chest, heat rising to her cheeks. ‘Your confidence no doubt gets you into trouble.’

‘Plenty of time to reap the rewards of that trouble later.’

He smiled. This man was a danger when he did; he was so handsome, it was blinding. She almost needed sunglasses for the glare. Since coming on board the yacht, he’d taken off his jacket. Removed his tie. Her gaze fixed on the base of his throat, the brown skin there. The way a dusting of hair sprinkled on the slice of chest she could see. She wanted to bury her nose at the base of his throat and breathe him in. His scent, of old granite and spice, catching on the breeze.

‘You’ve heard what I have to say on the subject.’

‘I promise to take your lead.’

She tried to rein in her emotions, the way her heartbeat became thready and out of control around him. How there never seemed to be enough air to fill her lungs when he was close. Ana turned, putting him behind her again to peer into the water below them. The bow of the boat cut through the deep blue. She caught a grey flash in the wave below them, then another, breaking the surface.

‘Dolphins riding the bow wave.’ Aston leaned forward, forearms on the rail next to her.

‘Oh. That’s...magical.’

Four of them surfed ahead of the yacht, occasionally leaping out of the water, so joyous and free.

‘I’ve never seen them leaving Halrovia’s harbour before. It’s lucky for you.’

She wasn’t one for signs, but somehow this felt like a good omen, something positive in an otherwise difficult day. Ana kept watching till the dolphins peeled off either side of the yacht and disappeared into the depths. The magic of the moment broke and reality intruded about what she was doing, because she wasn’t free like the dolphins. A lack of some tether made her anxious, not relaxed, like everyone might assume.

Aston straightened. ‘Do you want to see your room? I’m sure you’d like to settle in.’

Anastacia nodded and he led her below decks, through a long passageway ending in a suite. The carpet on the floor was thick and plush. The whole room an opulent display of glass, sleek lines and neutral, modern styling. Her two suitcases sat on the floor ahead of her. What must Aston think? Surely it was a sad indictment of her life that this was all she had to bring with her? But as she looked at him, he wasn’t focussed on her meagre belongings, but at the expansive bed overlooking the ocean, then her.

‘This is the master stateroom,’ he said. ‘I hope it meets your expectations. You should find everything you want here. If you don’t, a phone on the bedside table will connect you to my staff. I’ve asked my Chief Stewardess, Ricci, to give you anything you need to make your journey a comfortable one.’

Being Aston’s yacht, Ana was certain the master stateroom would normally have been inhabited by him. ‘Isn’t this your room? I don’t want to usurp you.’

She wasn’t sure she wanted to sleep in his bed either. There was something entirely too intimate about the thought of lying where his own body had been. Thoughts came to her mind unbidden. Did he sleep naked or clothed? She shut them down.

Aston shrugged. ‘You’re not. It’s only mine when there’s no one more important on the yacht.’

‘Who measures a person’s relative importance here?’

The corner of his lips curled up into a sly kind of grin. ‘Me, of course.’

Heat rushed to her cheeks again and Ana was sure her they were now a rosy red. What was she, a woman of twenty-four or some teenager with a full-blown crush? Right now, it was hard to tell.

‘I’m grateful.’

‘It’s no sacrifice. Hold your gratitude for later, Princess, when your thanks are deserved.’

‘How many staff do you have working here?’

‘Twenty. If Ricci is unavailable, you’ll be able to find someone else quite easily.’

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