Modern Romance Collection: July Books 5 - 8. Natalie Anderson
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friends or—?’
Her sudden shocked laugh cut him off. ‘You think there is some sort of stigma attached to having counselling for post-traumatic stress?’
‘What I think is not relevant.’
She felt her anger and, yes, disappointment, swell a tight knot in her chest. ‘Actually I think it’s very relevant.’
‘In our position it pays to be aware, anticipate the effect our actions will have. We must always be conscious of how the public perceive them. From this point on our lives, everything we do, is going to be scrutinised.’
‘What do you mean,’ she asked, ‘from this point on? You have spent your life playing for the cameras.’
Spasms of irritation flickered across his face. ‘Mental health is a sensitive issue and the press can spin—’
‘You’re afraid that people will say you’ve married someone unstable? You know something, Sebastian? I actually don’t care what you think,’ she shouted. How much simpler her life would be if that were true! ‘I had a problem. I couldn’t sleep and I got help.’ She drew a slicing motion with her hand. ‘End of story.’
‘Don’t overreact!’
His dismissive attitude made her jaw quiver. ‘I’m not the one overreacting. You can’t deal with it—tough, Sebastian! But you know what I think? You’re the one with the problem,’ she charged, her brown eyes sparking with contemptuous accusation.
He watched, jaw clenched, his anger slipping away as Sabrina bent and picked up the slingback heels she had been wearing, pulling the silk across her deliciously rounded bottom tight before she straightened up and flung him a look of contempt over her shoulder. Then, shoes dangling from the fingers of one hand, her slender back rigid, she flounced in a dignified fashion from the room.
He winced at the sound of the door slamming.
Eyes squeezed closed, he lifted one of the glasses he had filled to his lips. The fizz slid smoothly down his throat but didn’t produce any lightening of his mood as the bubbles seeped into his bloodstream.
With a curse he slammed the glass down, before he began to pace across the room. He was furious with her for being unforgivably right. He exhaled, his chest lifting as he came to a halt, eyes closed, a low grunt of self-directed anger rumbling in his chest.
She was right and he had never felt more ashamed of himself. What the hell was wrong with him? He had responded to her confidence like the sort of narrow-minded bigot he despised. She wouldn’t be doing any confiding in him again in a hurry.
Maybe that was why he’d done it, as another way to push her away?
How many times had he sneered when his father had adopted a similar attitude? Truth was disposable; unfairness could always be spun in your favour.
After a moment he walked towards the recently closed door.
The room was empty. One lamp beside the bed was switched on, illuminating the darkness. He could hear the sound of running water in the bathroom. Calling Sabrina’s name, he walked across the room. The bathroom door was open and she stood barefooted in a silk slip at the marble washbasin, her hands under the running tap as she stared at her reflection in the mirror.
‘Sabrina.’
She reacted to the sound of her name like a startled deer and spun around, wary-eyed, to face him. Their eyes connected and her chin lifted to a haughty angle, despite the blue-veined pulse he could see leaping at the base of her creamy throat. ‘Do you mind knocking before you come into my room?’
‘Yes, as a matter of fact I do, and I’m damned if I’m going to start off this marriage with sulks and closed doors.’
She switched off the water and stalked past him. ‘Fine, next time I’ll lock it. And I’m not sulking.’
‘I’m sorry...’
She had been ready to counter anything he threw at her except that...an apology! It crossed her mind she had misheard him. ‘What did you say?’
‘I’m sorry. That was...’ He hefted a sigh and dragged a hand back and forth across his already mussed hair. ‘I’m so busy pretending to be the Prince everyone wants that it’s hard to switch off.’
That was the way he operated. He focused on the task at hand. It had never mattered what the task was; he gave all the same commitment and he didn’t carry baggage to weigh him down. Because he had shrugged off the accident it had not even crossed his mind to consider that it might not be so easy for Sabrina.
Her dark eyes widened. ‘You don’t have to prove anything to anyone.’
He shrugged, an ironic half-smile quivering the corners of his mouth. ‘Only myself maybe. You must be aware that people are waiting for me to fail?’
She shifted uneasily, feeling an unexpected stab of sympathy for Sebastian as she remembered the comments earlier that day of his father’s aide.
Her fingers playing with the thin spaghetti strap of her silk slip drew his eyes to the smooth curve of her shoulder.
‘Well, you have worked pretty hard at establishing yourself as the Playboy Prince, haven’t you?’
He gave a hard grin, the gleam in his blue eyes and the flash of white teeth making her stomach flip. ‘That was not all hard work—some of it came naturally. Look, I am not going to pretend I am something I am not. I am not a romantic...which, considering our circumstances, might not in itself be a drawback. I was never looking for a soulmate—’
‘Or a wife.’
He blinked; she could see that her comment had caught him unawares. ‘True, but marriage is a contract and I understand contracts.’
But not love.
Sebastian didn’t believe in love and maybe that made it easier than believing in it as she did, and knowing that it was something she could never have.
Don’t think about the things you can’t have, Brina, she told herself. Focus on the things you can have, the things you can achieve...you can have children... Something she had always considered one of the greatest gifts a woman could be blessed with. Beyond that she had allowed herself to believe that she might be in a position one day to have influence on things she cared about: health care, women’s education... She might be able to leave a legacy even if she could not have love.
‘People aren’t always looking. Luis wasn’t looking and he found his soulmate.’
‘I am not Luis, Sabrina.’
‘No, you didn’t run, but you wanted to!’ she countered, knowing the accusation was unfair but unable to repress the great sense of frustration she felt.
‘I am not a romantic. I do not believe that I will be walking down a street and be struck by the emotional version of a lightning bolt when I find my soulmate. You regret that you have not had your time out there kissing frogs and waiting for one to turn into a prince. The fact is, the only Prince you will have is me...but I promise you, cara,’ he continued, his voice softening to a low, throaty, toe-curling purr as he took another step towards her, ‘those butterflies you spoke of do not require a soulmate. You can feel them. You will feel them.’
Heart racing, her blood pounding, she quivered but didn’t evade his hand as his fingers trailed down her cheek, the light touch sparking nerve endings to life before his hand fell away.
‘You sound very confident.’
‘There has been an attraction between us from the first moment we met. I really don’t want our married life to start with closed doors. How about we push those doors open?’
Their eyes locked, neither spoke; the touch of his hand on the bare skin of her shoulder made her jump. She moved to pull the strap of her slip up but his free hand caught her wrist.
Her heart was thudding