Page 96 of Modern Romance September 2026 Books 1-4

‘And I’m a responsibility?’ she asked, unable to help herself even though she already knew the answer.

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘As my wife, my queen and the mother of my child, you most certainly are.’

‘Therefore, it’s your responsibility to make me happy?’

His frown deepened. ‘Yes. Why are you asking these questions, Wren?’

‘Because it’s the hour I requested from you—we’re supposed to talk about this stuff.’ She took a breath. ‘I don’t want to be your responsibility, Isandro. I don’t want to be another burden you have to carry. My grandparents made no secret of the fact that I was a burden to them, and I certainly was to my mother, and I’m tired of feeling that way.’

‘Of course, you’re not a burden I have to carry.’ His voice was impossible to read as he turned and moved on to the next exhibit. This time it was a king’s coronation mantle from the Renaissance period. It glittered with cloth of gold, trimmed in ermine, and embroidered in gold and silver thread.

‘Yes, I am,’ she insisted, following him. ‘You just said my happiness was your responsibility.’

He swung round abruptly, a glitter of irritation in his dark blue eyes. ‘Where are you going with this?’

‘I told you. My grandparents resented having to look after me, and for my mother I got in the way of her grand romance. I was a responsibility she didn’t want and I basically ruined her life for five years.’ She swallowed. ‘Can you see how I might not want to be that for you?’

‘Yes, but it hasn’t been five years yet.’

‘It was six with Carlotta,’ she said, unable to help herself.

His expression darkened. ‘That was different.’

‘How?’

‘Carlotta didn’t love me,’ he said tersely. ‘But you do.’

‘So? You have to work at being a better husband to me than you were for Carlotta? Because of my feelings?’

‘Of course, because of your feelings.’ He stepped close to her all of a sudden. ‘I may not know love, Wren, but I do care about you. I care about your happiness, and I want to make sure that your life with me is a happy one.’

Her throat closed with a sudden and sharp grief. She could see now, the issue that she’d always known about, the issue that had him in his grip. ‘But don’t you want to be happy?’ she asked.

His gaze flickered and he turned away as suddenly as he’d faced her. ‘My happiness is unimportant in the greater scheme of things.’ He walked on, glancing at the exhibits but not stopping, and she watched his broad back, seeing the tension in it and his shoulders.

‘Is that because of your father?’ she asked, feeling suddenly angry, but not at him. At the parents who hadn’t cared about him, who’d made him feel as if he’d grown up in a palace of strangers. No wonder he thought his feelings didn’t matter. That’s exactly what he’d been taught. ‘Because of your parents?’

Isandro stopped, but didn’t turn. Ahead of him was an exhibit showcasing yet more medieval weaponry. Not that he needed to see it when the woman behind him was deploying her own particular kind of weapon.

Since the evening before, when she’d walked out, he’d been thinking about it over and over. Her asking him if he’d marry her if there weren’t a baby, and his own frank answer. No, he wouldn’t.

That had hurt her, which was exactly what he hadn’t wanted, so he’d spent the whole day thinking about how to make it up to her. To do better. He’d remembered how much she’d liked the Valdoran Museum—she’d talked to him about it several times—so he’d thought that she might like a visit, especially since she hadn’t been out of the palace since she’d arrived.

Initially, he’d been pleased and almost a little triumphant at her pleasure when they’d drawn up outside the museum. He’d arranged for them to have it all to themselves, and he too had enjoyed himself, wandering through it with her and answering the questions she had about Valdoran history. It was good to be alone with her, to have no one else around, to just be a man with a woman he liked, wandering together through history.

But then she’d started asking questions, saying that she didn’t want to be his responsibility, that she didn’t want to be a burden, and he didn’t know what to say to that. Yes, she was his responsibility, as his wife she always would be, but that couldn’t be helped. He was a king and there would always be burdens, that was the job.

He hadn’t wanted to talk about it any more and had walked on quickly, hoping she’d leave the subject alone, but naturally she didn’t.

Now he just stood there, gritting his teeth, feeling her gaze on him drilling between his shoulder blades.

‘Of course, it’s because of my father,’ he said shortly, turning around. ‘He was a terrible king and that was my mission in life. To be better than he was.’

She stood not far from him, in her soft, loose blue trousers and an ivory sweatshirt, casual clothes that somehow made her look so impossibly sexy that his breath caught every time he looked at her.

Tonight. He would have her tonight, no matter what they talked about now. She wouldn’t refuse him, not given how she’d been looking at him all evening.

‘You’re already a better king, Isandro,’ she said, folding her arms across her chest.