Page 66 of Modern Romance Collection February 2025, 5-8

The silence stretched. She was about to say his name, to bring him back from where his memories seemed to have taken him, when a gust of breeze blew. Aston’s eyes flicked to her temple. She reflexively moved her hand to check her fringe. He was too quick, gently grasping her wrist in one hand, the other reaching out to brush her fringe out of the way, exposing the ugly scar. She turned her head, her heart beating a sickening rhythm, the bile rising to her throat. His question would come. How much to give away in answering it?

Aston let her wrist go, as if her touch burned him.

‘What happened to you?’

She couldn’t look at him. She wouldn’t allow herself to see the pity on his face. She’d seen enough of it to make her sick to the stomach. Still, Ana had to give him some answer. He didn’t need the whole story, just a simple truth.

‘It was a car accident.’

‘When?’

‘A little over six months ago.’ Just after the Spring Ball.

‘I didn’t see anything in the press.’

She kept her eyes downcast, focussing on his shoes instead—deck shoes, she mused.

‘It was there, for a while. It wasn’t big news.’

All lies. Her parents had paid a small fortune to kill the story, and had bought the most egregious pictures. Though if someone knew what they were doing and looked hard enough she suspected it would be easy to find. The Internet was for ever, after all, so the royal press secretary continually reminded her. Still, not all the stories could be suppressed, like the lies about her being a party girl, avoiding her responsibilities. They continued to follow her...

‘Do you have other injuries?’

‘I had some. They’re better now.’ Carla hadn’t been so lucky...

Aston slipped his hand under her chin and tilted up her head. She didn’t want to meet his gaze but didn’t want him to think she was afraid either. The conflicting sensations warred within her. She wanted to break away, to flee, but there was nowhere to go.

‘Is this why you asked whether I could keep you safe?’

His voice was filled with empathy, yet with a core of steel. The look on his face wasn’t one of pity, but of resolve. He might have told her about his brother, yet she sensed there was so much about him that he held back. Why should she be the one to have to share everything when it was clear there were things he didn’t want to disclose?

She jerked her head from his grip. If she told him about Count Hakkinen and he didn’t believe her, she wasn’t sure what she’d do. It would be another wound she’d have to recover from.

‘I think I’m done eating now, and I’m very tired. I’d like to return to my room.’

Aston frowned. ‘Ana, you...’

She held up her hand, invoking an attitude even her mother would have been proud of.

‘“No” is a complete sentence, Mr Lane.’

He had the good grace not to follow her as she walked away.

CHAPTER FIVE

THEMAINSUITEwas a beautiful room, with views of the ocean beyond complementing the earthy colours inside. The water gleamed a glorious, vibrant blue. Almost the same blue as Aston’s eyes. Ana didn’t want to think of that, of them and how they pierced her, looking for a way in. She didn’t want her secrets laid bare—not yet. Perhaps never, even though it seemed unavoidable now, all because he’d seen her scars.

Ana knew she was hiding. She hadn’t gone to breakfast on deck this morning, asking for it to be brought to her room. Unable to face Aston and the inevitable questions that would lead to the accident and talk of her stalker. She felt a clawing fear that Aston wouldn’t believe her about that, and where would she be left?

But thinking about it...reallythinking and not driven by the panic of the evening before... Ana realised he’d seen her scars and still the world kept turning. It hadn’t ended. Even more, Aston hadn’t appeared disgusted by them. There hadn’t been a look of pity on his face. Some shock, yes. Then had come the concern and his question of whether this was the reason she’d asked if he could keep her safe. It was as if he’d cared. Had thought about her first, before himself. Sure, he’d pushed her a little, but he hadn’t demanded anything as she’d walked away. He’d taken no for an answer.

Ana knew she couldn’t hide there all day. It was coming to lunch and Ricci had let her know there’d be food on the deck soon. She checked her phone. A reflex, even though right now she had nothing to fear. There was a message from Cilla with one word:Okay?She responded with a thumbs-up. She checked in on her friend, Carla, who was fine. Ana felt a stab of guilt that she didn’t know how long it would be before she could visit her friend again, but Carla said that her physical therapists were pleased with her progress and that she understood why Ana had wanted to leave.

It all meant that Ana had no excuse to stay in her room any longer. She didn’t want to be a coward. She’d been afraid for so long, it’d be nice to find her courage again, to face Aston, because he’d been right: she was running away from herself.

Ana fished through the clothes in her wardrobe, outfits she’d brought with her that she thought might be good for a yacht. Nothing held much interest—practical neutrals, mix and match, easy to grab and throw in a suitcase before she’d left. Instead, her gaze was drawn to the array of resort wear in jewelled colours and silky fabrics. Some were barely there, which she looked at with a kind of yearning. She wanted to show courage, but she wasn’t ready for Aston to see everything. Not yet.

Instead, she chose a silk dress in a caftan style that gathered slightly at the waist to give her shape, and otherwise floated about her body. She ran her hands over the exquisite fabric, so soft and beautiful in pinks and blues, crystals stitched around the deep vee of the neck. Something about it made her feel pretty, probably the first time since the accident.

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