CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
F OR A MOMENT , in that golden hour of dawn’s first breath, Rosie thought she was back on his island. The lighting, the feeling of waking up beside him, the satisfaction she felt deep in her soul, it was all so familiar. But then, she remembered. The last week. The negative pregnancy test. Their fight last night. And the smile that had breezed across her lips fell, as she woke up fully and looked across at Sebastian. Whether she’d moved in some way, or he’d just happened to wake up, his eyes were on her, and when they connected, they looked at one another and she felt a rush of something she couldn’t explain.
‘Good morning,’ he murmured, scanning her face, as though he too was uncertain how to proceed, or perhaps how she’d react.
Rosie sighed softly, because she wasn’t angry anymore. She was just...sad. There was something inside of her that made her want so much more than this, but she knew it was impossible. Was that the difference between herself and the women who’d had their hearts broken by her father? Was it just as Sebastian said? That they were honest with each other, and therefore nothing could go wrong?
‘Okay?’ he prompted, putting a hand on her shoulder tentatively, as if not sure that he should touch her.
She nodded slowly. ‘Yeah.’
He frowned, like he was thinking something but not expressing it. ‘Are you hungry?’
She was starving, but everything was so complicated and messy, and she didn’t know what to do next. On the one hand, sex was sex. But on the other, something was shifting inside of Rosie, the feeling that they’d crossed a line that had been hugely important to her. Sex on the island was one thing. It was different; removed. But being here, together, it was blurring all the lines and making her forget what they were, and what she wanted. Nothing made sense.
‘I’ll make breakfast,’ he said, and before she could argue, he was up and pulling on boxer shorts, walking out of the bedroom and damn it if Rosie didn’t let him. Damn it if she didn’t allow herself this one small indulgence of pretending that things between them were just this easy.
She flipped onto her back, eyes focused on the ceiling, her mind spinning and rolling.
Maybe she could put this down to the disappointment of her negative pregnancy test? Emotions were running high, so they’d slipped up and slept together. It didn’t mean anything except that she was in a vulnerable place.
But if that were the case, why wasn’t she scooting out of his place at the first opportunity and getting back to her real life? Why was she allowing herself the indulgence of playing make-believe with her husband?
She groaned softly as she got out of bed and dressed in her underwear and one of his shirts, scraping her hair into a loose ponytail as she left his room.
He was tipping scrambled eggs into the pan when she stepped into the kitchen, and two mugs of coffee were on the counter. Her heart skipped a beat.
It was just so normal.
So domestic.
In her heart of hearts, this, right here, was everything she’d ever wanted in life.
She’d wanted it so badly she’d never admitted that to herself, never let herself reach for it, nor hope for it, because the fear of not getting it had been almost paralysing.
And she still didn’t have it.
This was the impossible dream.
She’d married for practicality, and the reality of that made her fantasies unattainable.
‘I was surprised the other day,’ he said, his tone soft. ‘I was sure we’d have made a baby, and when I got your text, I felt so many things, cara mia . I was angry with myself, devastated for both of us, and all I could think was that I needed to see you, to make sure you were okay.’ One side of his mouth lifted in a half smile. ‘And then I came to you, and you were so dismissive, I handled it badly.’
‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘Or if you did, I did too,’ she conceded. ‘I was angry with you.’ She lifted her shoulders. ‘I felt like you’d cut me out of your life so easily, and I just... I don’t know. But the thing is, I think I needed to go through that, Sebastian, to really understand how much this matters to me. I’ve spent my whole life convinced that I didn’t want children, but this week proved how wrong I was about that.’
He stirred the eggs, folding them neatly. ‘And now?’ he prompted, reaching for two plates.
She waited for him to continue.
‘You’re still committed to this?’
‘Yes.’
He expelled a breath. ‘We can make this work.’
Her smile was wistful. ‘We don’t have to. This was never about you and me. It’s about the royal line of succession. It’s about an heir.’
‘That’s not what you said before the island. Then it was all about getting to know one another.’
She shivered, remembering. It had seemed so sensible back then, but she’d had no idea of the can of worms she’d been about to pry open.
‘Tell me something,’ he said, placing the eggs on two plates and sliding one across the counter to her. It reminded her so much of the island that she had to dig her fingernails into her palm to anchor herself back to this reality.
‘What would you like to know?’
‘The not having kids thing. What’s that about?’
She shook her head to demur. She’d spent a lifetime not talking about this to another soul. But with Sebastian, there was something that pulled to her. Even after everything they’d been through. Even after this past week, she still felt as though she wanted to open up to him. Why?
‘Do you not like kids? Or the idea of childbirth?’
‘I love kids,’ she corrected automatically. ‘But childbirth terrifies me.’
He reached for a fork and lifted some eggs to his mouth, chewing before speaking. ‘But still,’ he said, contemplatively. ‘To decide never to have kids, that’s a leap.’
She arched a brow. ‘Not for me.’
He waited, forking some more eggs into his mouth.
‘You know about my mother,’ Rosie said, pushing her eggs around her plate, her appetite disappearing.
‘That she’s in a coma, yes.’
‘But what you don’t know, because no one really knows besides my father, is that she had a stroke hours after giving birth. It was a complication from the delivery,’ Rosie said, not meeting his eyes. It was easier to talk that way, easier to think. ‘I wanted to get to know you because I was worried that the same thing might happen to me. I mean, I’ve seen doctors, and they say it’s not probable, but no one can tell me it won’t happen. No one’s been able to rule it out. So I just decided I’d never risk it.’
‘I don’t understand. Do you fear this might happen to you or do you think it’s a genuine possibility?’
She frowned. ‘I guess because of how alike we are, the latter. I look like her, I sound like her. I’m just like her. Why would that happen to her and not me?’
Sebastian drew in a sharp breath, drawing her gaze. ‘Why didn’t you tell me this?’
‘I don’t talk about it, generally. It’s personal.’
‘But relevant to us.’ His voice was raw. ‘Relevant to what I’ve asked of you.’
‘Yes,’ she conceded. ‘But ultimately, this decision was mine to make.’
‘I don’t agree. If I had known this, I would never have asked you to fall pregnant.’
‘That’s not fair,’ she responded. ‘It’s not your call.’
‘I beg your pardon, but how do you think I would feel if that happened to you?’
Her heart stammered for no reason she could think of, and she leaned forward a little. ‘I don’t know. How would you feel?’ And she held her breath whilst waiting for him to answer, hope a strange, strangling feeling.
‘Guilty as hell,’ he muttered. ‘I would consider that I had essentially killed you.’
Guilt.
Not exactly a declaration of love.
And was that what she wanted from him? Rosie stood, eggs forgotten, pacing to the other side of the room, her whole body feeling as though it were in freefall. ‘What are you saying? That you don’t want to do this?’
‘We can’t do this. Good God, Rosalind. What were you thinking, to keep this from me? If there’s even the slightest chance our pregnancy would harm you, I will not do it.’
She flinched a little. ‘You need an heir. The country needs an heir. And I am your wife.’
‘Yes. But this is not a risk worth taking,’ he responded, swiping his hand through the air. ‘It’s not a risk I will allow you to take. Not for me, and not for this—’ he gestured from his chest to hers. ‘Jesus Christ—’
She glared at him. ‘What?’
‘You’re not really my wife, Rosalind. This is an arranged marriage. Two weeks ago, you said you hated me. You sure as hell don’t care about me. Why would you be willing to put yourself through this?’
She stared at him, aghast. How could he think that, even after the island? How could he think her feelings hadn’t changed? Was he really so obtuse? Surely, he knew that everything had shifted.
At least, it had for Rosie.
You’re not really my wife.
Evidently, for Sebastian, this was still very much a contractual arrangement. She blinked rapidly, focusing on a point over his shoulder. Even after everything that had happened with them.
‘Because the king needs this, right?’ he asked, his tone hardening. ‘First of all, you agree to marry a complete stranger, and now this? To risk your life because he demands an heir? What won’t you do for that man?’
She dropped her head. It wasn’t about the king. Not really. It hadn’t been for a long time. This was about Sebastian, and it was about the baby that she now wanted more than anything.
‘I wish I’d never told you.’
‘Well, I’m glad you did.’ They stared at each other, neither talking for several beats. She could see his mind working though, the wheels turning. ‘Rosie...’ It was the first time he’d ever called her that and her stomach swooped because far from sounding like a term of endearment, it terrified her. There was such finality in these two syllables. ‘We’re not doing this.’
She blinked. ‘Doing what?’
‘We’re not having a child together.’
Nausea rose inside of her at the ease with which he was decreeing that. ‘You don’t understand. I want this.’
‘Like you wanted our marriage? You sacrificed your whole goddamned life to help other people because you think that’s what your mother would want you to do, and you’re going to do it again and again unless someone stops you.’
‘I want to have your baby,’ she repeated, wishing he could understand. ‘It’s a leap of faith I’m willing to take.’
‘And your mother?’ he asked with intensity. ‘Wouldn’t she have said the same thing?’
Rosie opened her mouth but shook her head. ‘I don’t know.’
‘You can’t say for sure that this won’t happen to you.’
‘A thousand things can go wrong at any point in a pregnancy, or in life. If I can accept that, why can’t you?’
Silence.
‘This is ridiculous,’ she said. ‘I was explaining how I used to feel , not offering a genuine risk assessment—’
‘It doesn’t matter. Now that I know, it changes everything.’ He paused in the doorframe, his back to her, his shoulders squared. ‘Our marriage isn’t worth this risk, Rosalind. Nothing is.’
Rosie glanced around for her dress and pulled it on quickly, her mind spinning. She hadn’t expected this.
Because she’d had a long time to come to terms with her mother’s stroke, and to grapple with her own feelings and fear about it. She’d evolved from being terrified of having a baby to accepting that there was always going to be a small risk, but that she wanted to take it, because the gift of having Sebastian’s baby suddenly felt like what she’d been placed on earth for.
He had to understand that.
No, it was more than that.
He had to understand what he’d come to mean to her.
Rosie’s heart began to rush as she strode out to find Sebastian. He was standing in the kitchen, staring at the counter, as if the Magna Carta were inscribed into the stone.
‘I want to have your baby,’ she said softly, crossing the room. ‘Not because of the king, not because you need an heir, not because you asked me. I want to have your baby because something happened on the island, and suddenly, everything I am became bound up in you, and the idea of us creating a new life together seems like the kind of gift I never thought I’d be given. I was devastated when I saw that negative pregnancy test because having your baby is genuinely the beginning and end of what I want.’ She pressed a hand to her side, forcing herself to be bold. ‘No, that’s not true,’ she whispered. ‘I also want you in my life, Sebastian.’ God, it was terrifying to put herself out there like this. She felt an echo of every single one of the women her father had hurt, felt a kinship with their vulnerabilities and susceptibility. But maybe it was also incredibly brave to face your feelings head on? Maybe what she was doing was simply stepping into a truth she’d been fighting for too long.
He stared at her, his eyes flinty. ‘What are you saying?’
Really? He was going to make this that hard for her? ‘I’m saying that somewhere on the island, I stopped thinking of this as an arranged marriage. I think you did too. I think that’s why you don’t want to take this risk.’ She pressed a hand to his chest, her eyes beseeching. ‘Could it be that you care about me too much to think of losing me?’
A muscle jerked in his jaw. ‘I do care about you,’ he admitted after a long, painful silence. His voice was raw, the words almost dragged from him. ‘You’re so different from what I thought, and if we’d met under different circumstances, if I was a different man, perhaps—’ he shook his head a little. ‘But there is no sense in playing that game. This is an arranged marriage, and it always will be, and at its heart there is a rotten, rotten core we will never be able to outgrow.’
Her eyes widened, her breath shallow.
‘The king,’ he supplied, taking a step away from her. ‘You love him and will defend him with your dying breath. I feel the exact opposite. There is no way to get beyond that, Rosalind.’
Her eyes filled with tears. ‘He is a part of my life, but he doesn’t have to be a part of our marriage.’
‘You are too loyal to draw that line, and too filled with goodness to accept my stance. You will try to reunite us, I know it. You will try to make me forgive him, and I can’t. I won’t.’ His nostrils flared. ‘Could you really be married to someone who despises, with every bone in his body, your precious king?’
Rosie flinched. ‘Your relationship with him is complicated.’
He laughed harshly. ‘No, it’s not. It’s simple. We have no relationship—that was his choosing.’
Her heart hurt for the king. The foolish king, who’d sent his daughter away rather than simply love her through the turmoil of her marriage breakdown. Rosalind had always seen his way, but even that had been shifting. Though she was not a parent, she’d spent the last few weeks imagining their child, and the love that had begun to form in her heart for that creation was a mother’s love; she already knew there was nothing she wouldn’t do for a baby, if she was lucky enough to have one.
‘He was wrong to send you and your mother away,’ she said, quietly. ‘I think if you asked him, he’d admit that now.’
Sebastian made an angry noise, a sound of impatience and disbelief.
‘But that’s a separate matter.’
His eyes flashed to hers.
‘I’m telling you that I’ve fallen in love with you, and I’m asking if you feel the same way.’ She held a hand up to forestall an immediate response. ‘I mean real love. The kind of love that doesn’t give you a choice. The kind of love that demands you feel it and fight for it.’ He stared at her, his face blank, but in his eyes, she saw a swirling of emotions that tied her tummy into knots. She didn’t know what he was feeling, but she needed to. Urgency softened her voice, hastened her words. ‘We aren’t going to agree about everything—the king is a case in point. But I love you in a way that makes me want to fight through that, to reach out and grab this, you, this gift we’ve somehow stumbled upon, with both hands.’
He still said nothing. Her heart trembled. His nostrils flared as he inhaled, and his chest shifted. Finally, he opened his mouth to speak but the words that came out were like the cracking of a whip. ‘I cannot decide if what you are feeling is wishful thinking, blind optimism or some kind of Stockholm syndrome.’
She gasped, his response, ever so slightly mocking, the very last thing she’d expected after all they’d shared. She stared at him, trying to reconcile his words with the man she’d come to know—and love—and failing. ‘Sebastian—’
‘Or is it that you are telling me you love me to try to get me to give in to you? To acquiesce to your desire to have a baby, no matter what? After all, it’s what the king needs, so you must feel compelled to provide it.’
Her eyes hurt with the threat of tears. ‘You think I’m manipulating you?’
A muscle jerked in his jaw. ‘I don’t know what to think.’
‘Then stop thinking and tell me how you feel.’
‘That’s not a good idea.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because I suspect I’ll regret whatever I say right now.’ He crossed his arms over his chest. ‘You should leave, Rosalind. Go back to the palace, go back to your king. Forget any of this ever happened.’
‘You aren’t listening, my love.’
Anger flooded his veins. It had been coursing through him all day, since Rosie had thrown a grenade into his life.
No, two grenades.
If I fall pregnant, I might have a stroke, or die.
Oh, and by the way, I’m in love with you.
What the hell?
How dare she lay that at his feet? The one thing he’d been clear that he didn’t want. Would never want. Could never have. He sat up a little straighter, the final statement clawing at his insides. He’d drawn lines around his life, a barrier around his heart. He’d done it so long ago, and he’d been glad for it. It had kept him safe.
But what about Rosie? Hadn’t she done the exact same thing? She’d chosen a loveless relationship once before, and then again with Sebastian. She’d entered into a practical marriage with a contract outlining what she was and wasn’t prepared for that marriage to look like. She’s protected herself fiercely too, and yet she’d let herself love him regardless. She’d let him in.
More fool her.
There was only darkness ahead for them if they forgot this was all make-believe.
‘What’s going on?’
He glanced across at his mother, but barely saw her. Until he did. Until he saw her serenity here, the way she seemed so completely at home, as much as the trees in the garden surrounding them, as much as the ancient vines that wrapped through their stems. This was her home—he’d brought her here. No matter what, it had been the right decision. Even if it led to Rosie’s heart break?
‘Nothing,’ he muttered. ‘Tell me more about your plans for the garden.’
But it was no use. The more his mother talked, the more Sebastian disappeared into his thoughts. His memories.
Rosie on the island, the sun making her hair glow like a halo, her smile, her laugh, the twinkle in her eyes whenever she told a story. Rosie in his bed, making love to him as though there was nothing else she wanted in life—as though he were her everything.
Rosie, as she’d been before the island, always so straitlaced, as though she didn’t dare let her guard down around him. Had she known even then how out of control things would get, if they let it?
Had he?
Was that why he’d treated her with such disdain?
Never in his life had Sebastian kept a woman at such arm’s length and gone out of his way to treat her with coldness. That had been about the king though, and Rosie’s place in his life. Except, what if it hadn’t? What if it had always been about the potentially explosive nature of their relationship? What if he’d intuited the potential for conflagration and had wisely chosen to stay away, until he couldn’t?
He’d always charted a path of solitude. He was safer on his own. It hadn’t even been consciously done, until Rosie. Until he’d had to actively remind himself why he wanted to keep all aspects of their marriage clearly delineated. It was better for both of them! Didn’t she see that? Couldn’t she understand?
Except, she loved him.
She wanted him in her life.
And he...
‘Sebastian.’ His mother pressed at his arm with her hand. ‘You are worrying me now. What’s going on?’
His eyes flashed to hers, probing, his heart twisting as though it were being mauled by a pair of angry, cold hands. He had spent so long hating the king that he hadn’t even questioned the way that hatred had overflowed into his own life. Tainted it. Ruined it.
He looked at his mother, his features taut.
‘Have you forgiven your father?’
Maria’s face showed surprise at the question. ‘No.’ Her tone softened a little. ‘But I understand him better.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘That I am not angry with him anymore. Not for sending me away.’ She lifted a hand to Sebastian’s cheek. ‘Though it is impossible to forgive him for taking all of this from you.’ She sighed. ‘Why are you thinking about him now, Sebastian, when everything is finally as it ought to have been?’
Because Rosie had made him think. She’d made him look and see and understand. She’d pushed him when he didn’t want to be pushed. She’d been brave time and time again. Brave in a way he simply didn’t know if he could be. He shook his head, confused, angry, lost.
‘But it’s not. You should not have been cut from the line of succession. You should be inheriting the throne.’
‘I have no interest in the throne,’ she said with a lift of one shoulder. ‘I never did. All I wanted was to come home again, to be here.’ She gestured to the garden.
Sebastian made a noise, a strangled sound. Rosie had every reason to run from commitment. She was just as scared of rejection as he was. She was utterly alone, and yet she was also brave. Was he really going to let her down? Was he really going to keep hiding, playing it safe, when she was willing to take such risks?
‘But that’s not what’s bothering you.’
‘It is, in part.’
‘And the rest?’
The rest? The rest was everything. The rest was an awakening, a sense that he had made mistake after mistake, pushed away when he should have pulled closer, said no when he should have shouted yes, over and over again.
He dropped his head into his hands and let out a low, dark growl. ‘I think I’ve done something really damned stupid.’
‘What is it, darling?’ Maria watched as he dragged his hands through his hair. When his gaze met hers, Maria saw a look of disbelief in the depths of her son’s eyes, a look of shocked, confused disbelief and then, relief. Because finally, he understood, and he was ready to be brave, just like her.
‘I believe I’ve fallen head over heels in love with my wife.’