Page 81 of Modern Romance September 2026 Books 1-4

He couldn’t stand it suddenly, this need for her. This desperation. It had caused them both so much heartache, and had led them into this impossible situation. He couldn’t afford to make the same mistake with another woman, and he didn’t want to. But this want in him, the piece of him that was his father, wouldn’t be denied, which meant he had no other option but to confront her about it.

‘What are you doing here, Wren?’ he asked into the silence.

She jerked, looking sharply over to where he was sitting in the darkness by the pool. ‘Isandro?’

‘Who else would it be? No one else is permitted in my garden.’

‘I’m sorry.’ She turned back to the door. ‘I’ll leave you in peace.’

‘Wait.’ Slowly, he rose from the bench and walked across the grass to where she stood. ‘What are you doing out here?’

She watched him approach, a wary expression on her face. ‘I couldn’t sleep. I thought I’d get some air.’

‘In my private garden?’

‘I assumed you’d be asleep.’ She folded her arms across her chest in a defensive movement. ‘This garden is the closest.’

He gazed down at her. ‘No, it isn’t, as you well know.’

‘Well, I like this one.’ She met his stare. ‘You gave me permission to come here, remember?’

He did remember. She’d commented once on how peaceful the garden was, and he’d told her she was welcome to spend time there whenever she liked. She’d smiled at him as if he’d offered her the moon.

‘Why aren’t you in bed?’ He studied her face, limned in silver by the starlight. ‘Can’t sleep because of me?’

She glanced away. ‘No.’

He was reaching out before he could stop himself, taking her chin in his hand the way he had on the terrace earlier that evening, and turning her back to face him. Her gaze came to his in surprise. ‘Why don’t you want to share my bed, little bird? And tell me the truth this time.’

Chapter Six

She was an idiot. She should have stayed in her room, not gone wandering around the palace like a ghost. And most especially not stepped outside into Isandro’s private garden.

But she hadn’t been able to sleep. She’d thought she’d fall into bed and be out like a light after the ball, yet she hadn’t. She’d tossed and turned, her head too full of Isandro and his kiss, and the feelings she’d had for him for so long. Too full of marrying him, being his wife, having his child, and all the while trying to protect her own heart in the middle of it.

She didn’t know how she was going to do that. Now their scandal was out in the open, there were no more excuses for her to hide behind, and although she was good at pretending, she couldn’t hide her own reaction to him.

He knew she wasn’t giving him the truth and as with everything he wanted, he was relentless in getting it.

His fingers felt like hot coals on her skin, and she wanted to pull away and run straight back inside, but it felt as if running from him was all she’d been doing. Eventually she had to face him, give him something, or distract him in some way from the truth.

There is one way you could distract him…

Except that way meant giving him what he wanted at the expense of her own heart. Then again, was that easier than giving him the truth? Perhaps it was. She could give him her body, but she didn’t have to give him anything else. Maybe she could keep her heart free.

That was her only choice, though. She was too cowardly to give him the actual truth.

He was beautiful like this, the lines of his face outlined by starlight. His forehead, sharp cheekbones and straight nose. The strong line of his jaw and his mouth… God, his mouth.

He was still in his black evening trousers, but he’d ditched his jacket, wearing only the crisp white shirt. It was open at the neck, baring his throat, and his sleeves were rolled up.

He was everything she’d ever wanted.

Very deliberately, Wren stepped close to him, her pulse like a drum in her head. She held his gaze, his eyes black in the night, and when he brushed her lower lip with his thumb, she allowed her lips to part slightly.

The expression on his face changed, a fierce heat leaping in his eyes, and everything in her responded to it. It felt natural to rise on her toes, to press her mouth to his the way she’d been wanting to do for years, as if it was her right to kiss him, as if he were hers the way she’d always wanted to be his.

He made a sound deep in his throat, half a growl, half a groan, and then his hands were in her hair, his fingers sliding into it and curling into fists, holding her still as he deepened the kiss.