Page 84 of Modern Romance September 2026 Books 1-4

Her lashes fluttered, her hips shifting restlessly under his hand. ‘Perhaps I can revisit that.’

‘Perhaps?’ He eased his finger around her clit, stroking in slow, deliberate circles. ‘I think you want to be there, Wren. I think you’re desperate to be there.’

‘I… I think you’re desperate to…to have me there, too.’

There wasn’t any reason to deny it, not when he’d made such a point of being angry with her resistance. ‘Of course I want you to be there,’ he said, watching the colour rise in her cheeks, listening to her breathing quicken in response to his stroking finger. ‘I won’t have another cold marriage, little bird. And especially not with you.’

Her lashes veiled her gaze, her voice getting breathless. ‘S-so…it’s just about s-sex, then?’

The question was a strange one. Hadn’t this whole thing between them been about sex? He was certainly sexually obsessed with her, and that didn’t seem to be going away any time soon.

‘Did you think it was about something more?’

She stilled, and then, to his surprise, she gripped his wrist and pulled his hand away from her. She sat up and reached for the remains of her nightgown, proceeding to wrap it around her naked body, hiding herself away from him again.

‘Wren?’ He stared at her, not understanding what was happening. But something had happened. Her expression was tight, as if his question had hurt her in some way. ‘What is it?’

‘Nothing.’ She knotted the fabric of her nightgown between her breasts.

‘No, it’s something.’ He reached for her again, but she pulled away, slowly rising to her feet.

Anger began to smoulder inside him. She’d closed herself up again, like a door being shut and locked.

Fool. She thinks this is about something more, not just sex.

Realisation poured like ice water through his veins, though, really, it was something he should have seen, something he should have thought about long before this. He’d assumed she felt the same way he did, that this chemistry between them was the driving force of their obsession with each other. And why would he think anything else? She’d never said anything about her feelings for him.

Did you ever think about what she wants out of this marriage?

The ice water became even icier. No, he hadn’t thought about what she wanted. He hadn’t thought about that at all, because their feelings and desires were irrelevant in the greater scheme of things. Emotions were unimportant when it came to matters of state, and her pregnancy was a matter of state. So was their marriage.

‘Wren,’ he repeated, putting more force into his voice. ‘Don’t walk away from me.’

She stilled, her back to him, her nightgown gathered protectively around her. ‘What? I thought we’d finished.’

Isandro shoved himself to his feet, and did up his trousers, frustration coiling inside him. ‘We need to talk about this.’

‘Talk about what?’ She turned her head to the side. ‘This is just about sex, isn’t it? At least, that’s what you said.’

He could hear the sharp edges in each word, slight but there. ‘Is it? It seems as if it’s about something more to you.’

‘Oh, don’t worry about me.’ She turned to him finally, her expression serene as it normally was. ‘Was there anything else?’

He took a couple of steps towards her, closing the distance between them, ignoring the way his shirt hung open from her exploring hands. ‘We should talk about this marriage.’ He studied her face, trying to look for signs as to what she was thinking, what she was hiding, but he couldn’t see any.

Wren raised one delicate brow. ‘What about it?’

Was she being deliberately obtuse or was this more about those barriers of hers that she’d so firmly lowered. ‘Tell me what you want from it,’ he said tersely. ‘I know marrying wasn’t what either of us wanted, but it’s happening, and so we need to make the best of it. And the best way to do that is to talk about what kind of marriage we’re going to have.’

‘Oh,’ she said. ‘So now you want to talk about that.’

‘What do you mean now?’

‘I tried to talk to you about it at breakfast the day after you kidnapped me.’

Isandro stared at her. ‘I did not kidnap you.’

‘So what was dragging me off a plane, then imprisoning me in the palace, if not a kidnapping?’