Modern Romance Collection February 2025, #5-8

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER TWO

A NA WALKED THROUGH the vast palace halls with Aston beside her. He didn’t try to make conversation. There was no flirtation. They moved in silence other than the echo of their footsteps on the polished marble floors. That didn’t stop her body reacting to him. Her mind had blanked the moment she’d set eyes on Aston Lane, the first time since the Spring Ball, in his impeccable dark suit, crisp white shirt and vibrant blue tie, the colour of his eyes. Dressed for business, the only problem being the business was her .

Ana’s thoughts churned as violently as her belly, which seemed as if it contained a nest of vipers, twisting and knotting. Only a short time ago, it might have been her dream for her parents to suggest marrying this man. It was a secret fantasy that had begun the moment she’d met him. Once, all the girls at her school had talked about crushes and practised signatures in the name of whichever boy had snagged their imagination. Back then, she hadn’t understood, marvelling at the choices the other girls seemed to have had. All she knew was that she’d be marrying a prince and he’d be chosen for her.

On meeting Aston, she’d understood the strength of a crush. Thoughts of him had filled her waking moments, her dreams. Love. Marriage. Impossibilities. But what had they hurt? When immersed in those dreams, she’d been the Anastacia before her accident, his goddess. He was the man who’d seen her, craved her. Her fertile imaginings had taken root when she’d been another person altogether.

Now she’d been thrust into a kind of nightmare.

She’d known there was an expectation she’d marry someone her parents had chosen for her, yet seeing Cilla and Caspar fall in love, rapidly, deeply and irrevocably, had planted a seed that perhaps it was something she could have too. That, whilst she might have to marry a prince, there was hope for more than a sterile relationship borne of duty. Something to aspire to.

Hope was such a cruel thing when so viciously cut down. She wasn’t a goddess any more. She was unmistakably mortal, not the woman he’d met at the ball—the woman she’d wanted him to see, to take notice of. That woman was now a ghost. She clenched her fists, nails cutting into her palm. Her parents, she might excuse on a more charitable day. Aston...? She’d always thought of him like the elusive lynx that stalked the alpine forests here—wild and free, impossible to pin down. Somehow those thoughts had given her a futile kind of hope that maybe there was something more for her.

‘Where are we going?’ he asked.

She realised that she was walking faster now, though his long strides kept up with ease. Yet no speed was fast enough. She wanted to break into a run to escape this. The feelings. The humiliation that she was being sold for a quick wedding like the damaged goods she was.

‘To the maze.’

It was a place she often went to contemplate. Deliberately taking wrong turns, sitting in the garden chairs placed at the dead ends, surrounded by the high hedges. Her parents never understood why she didn’t simply take the shortcut straight to the centre, with its grand fountain and shaded pergola. She believed they missed the point. It was about the journey, not the destination.

‘Trying to lose me so quickly?’ he asked.

‘What if I said yes?’

She arrived at the palace doors and opened them wide. The air was cool, the sunlight sudden and bright. Ana squinted.

Aston cocked his head. ‘That would be disappointing. Since it seems like I’ve only found you again.’

She looked up at him and his intense gaze fixed on her, almost as bright and blazing as the sunshine outside. It was as if he was trying to peer right into the heart of her. She didn’t want to be exposed, for him to witness her cracks, her flaws. He’d only known her as the perfect princess. She feared what he’d think of this changed version of herself.

‘I wasn’t lost. I was right here.’

Except she had been lost. In many ways, she was still lost. It was as if she had no tether at all.

‘I was told you were happy with the arrangement. That suited me. There’d been plans for you to marry Santori without a fuss, so it seemed logical to me at the time.’

Logical . She didn’t know why the use of that word in this situation stung. In her fantasies, she’d expected more—for him to want her, to love her. They’d been a safe kind of thing, and she’d known deep in her heart that they were unattainable. Now she only felt disappointment so heavy and oppressive it might crush her. That he was...settling.

Aston Lane was a man she’d always believed wouldn’t sell out or sell himself, and yet he’d done that and bought her in the process, not for love but for some other reason. She’d thought he was a man who struck his own path. Yet he’d chosen a predictable one, in her world at least.

‘How gratifying romance isn’t dead.’

His expression changed to something fleeting, softer. ‘I recognise the error. A goddess like Flora should be nurtured—worshipped.’

They hadn’t even stepped into the sunshine and it was as if she’d gone up in flames, self-combusted at the thought of what his brand of worship might be. Oh, the tempting, tempting words slipping from his tongue... Was it the truth? Or was he like the snake in the garden of Eden, filling her head with pretty lies to get what he wanted?

She stepped through the doorway and down a short flight of sandstone steps to a gravel path. The tall yew hedges loomed large in front of them. The voice in the back of her head wouldn’t stay quiet. What could he possibly want with her? He was a man with the world at his feet. Yet she drove those feet forward to the entrance of the maze, where she hesitated. Aston stopped beside her, his presence palpable, like a living thing it loomed so large.

‘I think you’ll find I’m not a goddess and that I have feet of clay.’

He made a show of looking down at her shoes and back to her face. His lips curled at the edges into the hint of a smile. ‘Let me be the judge of that. I’m sure you have very pretty feet, even if of clay.’

She snorted, an un-princess-like sound, and caught herself. Aston grinned, so devastatingly handsome he could have taken her heart and torn it in two and she’d hardly have noticed, caught in the heat of his gaze, the glorious flash of his smile. But that was all a trap.

‘Before an official announcement of any engagement, I’ll be visiting my sister. She’s invited me. I’ve said yes.’

It was truth and a lie. Her sister had invited her to stay but Ana hadn’t accepted. She hadn’t wanted to involve Cilla in her problems. Her sister had her own wedding to organise and deserved this time, the joy. But perhaps staying in Isolobello would give her some clarity to come to terms with what had happened. How this was the price she was expected to pay for that night in Monaco and what had followed. To accept the crushing of her dreams. Moreover, it could be an escape from everything, most of all herself.

Aston frowned for the briefest of moments.

‘I see we have a lot to discuss.’ The lack of an immediate refusal surprised her. Instead, he motioned to the maze’s entrance. ‘Let’s begin. Which way, Princess?’

His voice was soft and deep, better suited to midnight than mid-morning. How would it sound, whispered into her ear in the darkness? She rubbed the centre of her chest, her heart fluttering against her ribs.

‘I’ll go straight ahead and you can take the left path.’

Whilst it wasn’t sporting, the path ahead was a shortcut which took her directly into the centre of the maze. There she could sit and try to untangle her knot of feelings, whilst Aston tried to find her. She dared a look at him. The corner of his mouth had quirked again into a knowing smile. Was she so transparent?

‘No chance. You know the way and I don’t. I’d be lost without you.’

There was that fluttering in her chest again, joined by warm sensation flooding over her. Now they were outside, it was probably just the sun.

‘Don’t be so sure I’ll show you the right direction,’ she said. If she went straight ahead, he’d know she’d been planning to cheat, so she turned left. He laughed and a sparkle of goose bumps shimmied down her spine at the sound.

Aston adjusted his long stride to fit hers, walking at her side. ‘I’m happy to follow.’

‘I thought you’d be more of a leader.’

They strolled along the gravel path with the hedges above their heads. Something seemed to bloom in the moment, become almost pregnant with expectation, even though she wanted to run from it.

‘I’m happy to see where you take me...for now.’

There was something slightly ominous in those last two words. ‘Fine. How about you pick the way next?’

‘You’re prepared to take your chances with me? That’s gratifying.’

‘I’m curious to see whether you’ll succeed or fail.’

They reached a crossroads in the maze. She knew the way, of course: right. Which would he choose?

‘I’m not one for losing, Princess—at anything .’

More words of warning, she was sure. Aston stopped for a moment, as if deciding, then took a left. They walked a little way and reached a dead end.

‘You’re not going to make it easy for me, are you?’ he asked, making his way to an alcove cut into the hedge. There sat a beautiful, creamy marble sculpture of a woman in classical style. A stopping point for contemplation. Aston studied the sculpture for a moment.

‘Venus, I believe—the goddess of love,’ he murmured with a grin. ‘A sign, perhaps?’

‘Of the universe mocking us.’

There was no love here; he knew it, she knew it. Once she might have had fantasises that this man could fall in love with her when no other woman had seemed able to tame him. But even she’d been sensible enough to know that they weren’t rooted in reality.

Aston’s expression was unreadable. Of course, being a renowned businessman, he’d have to know how to keep a poker face.

‘The universe wouldn’t dare mock a goddess.’

‘And yet here we are, Mr Lane.’ She nodded to the statue, one of her favourites in the whole maze. ‘What do you think of love?’

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 why not love? 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.’

‘That’s not all you’re curious about. I can see you have so many questions begging to be asked.’

‘How do you know?’

Most people didn’t glean anything from her. Some unkind people had called her ‘the ice princess’. That had been a carefully cultivated persona. Emotion hadn’t been valued in her family. Ana had learned years before that to get any attention from her parents she needed to be quiet, dutiful. She was their mirror. They wanted only to see themselves when they looked at her. Viewing themselves as perfect, they’d expected the same from their children.

‘A world of thought shows in your eyes. You seem...worried.’

He saw too much. It was as if a hand gripped her throat. Marrying meant there’d be no hiding from him. He’d lay all her wounds bare, wounds she wanted no one to see—particularly him. Because if she showed him her deepest hurts and fears and he didn’t believe her, was disappointed? It would crush her.

‘If I ask questions, will you answer them?’

He raised his eyebrows, as if surprised at the question. ‘Of course. I’m not interested in secrets.’

A tension that had been ratcheting tighter and harder seemed to ease a little, like a garrotte loosened at the last moment, allowing her to take a breath. She didn’t know this man, not really. Yet he seemed willing for her to know him. And there was one question her ego had been pressing to get an answer to.

‘Why marry me ?’ He climbed mountains into the clouds whilst she was so...earthbound.

Aston quirked one dark, strong eyebrow. ‘Why not marry you?’

Ana crossed her arms. ‘That’s no kind of answer. You promised.’

He blew out a slow breath. ‘You’re a princess. Our mothers knew each other. There’s a family connection. You understand marriage for practical reasons, not love. Ergo, you’re perfect.’

It all sounded so sensible, as her parents had claimed: this is a sensible choice . Yet her body carried the evidence of her imperfections which her mother couldn’t let her forget. And she’d rather stopped wanting to be sensible...

‘What if I don’t want to be the perfect princess any more?’

‘Who do you want to be instead?’

Wasn’t that the question? ‘I—I don’t know.’

It hurt to make that admission, the uncertainty of it. She wanted so desperately to discover herself, but didn’t know how. So much of her life had simply been dictated to her.

‘No matter what you say, you’ll always be perfect to me.’ He looked down at her with his brilliant blue eyes, the colour of alpine gentians that dotted the mountains in spring. Something about him in that moment seemed so serious and solemn. Had she been a romantic any longer, she might have believed him.

Ana shook her head. ‘You don’t know me at all.’

He didn’t deny it. ‘There are other considerations.’

‘Which are?’

‘Do you remember the Spring Ball? How we danced?’

She’d been thrilled each moment in his arms at the strength of him. How safe she felt. How desired and desirable. Telling him as much might leave her exposed. When so many people had tried to strip her down to her essentials, she still wanted to keep some things close.

‘I danced with many people that night,’ she said, as if the time spent with him was of no consequence—another lie she told to protect herself.

Whilst she’d danced with many, she only remembered one. As long as she lived, she’d never forget how it had felt to be in his arms, which made this situation even more dangerous. He wanted the woman she’d been. That woman had been a fantasy created by others, like her own fantasises about him.

‘Perhaps I should remind you.’ Everything was hushed here at the centre of the maze, protected from the real world by the high hedges. The only sound aside from their voices was the twitter of birds in the shrubbery and the tinkle of the water from the fountain.

Aston stood back and gave her some space. ‘Care to dance?’