Page 75 of Modern Romance June 2025 1-4

Tiberius was conscious of not a little astonishment. ‘Ashamed of you?’ he repeated. ‘Why would I be ashamed of you?’

‘Because I’m an Accorsi,’ Guinevere said. ‘Because I’m sheltered and I don’t know anything. Because I’m not—’

Tiberius laid a gentle finger over her soft mouth, silencing her. ‘I’m not ashamed of you,’ he said. ‘I married youbecauseyou were an Accorsi. Because I wanted Kasimir to be whole, not divided.’

That hot blue flame of her temper had begun to burn in her eyes and she reached up, gripped his wrist and pulled his finger away. ‘I don’t want to be a symbol, Tiberius. I want to do something. I’ve spent years being trapped in that damn palace, and if I’m to be your queen I need to know how. I already know what it’s like to be forgotten and I’m tired of it.’

Then, as if to emphasise her point, she nipped the end of his finger, sending a bolt of white heat through him and making his breath catch.

‘If you do not wish to give our people a ringside seat for what I do to you at night,’ he growled, ‘I would advise against doing things like that.’

She dropped his hand, but gave him an unrepentant look. ‘If you want your war prize ready, willing and eager every night, then I would advise giving me something to do.’

Stubborn little Accorsi!

She’s not wrong.

Looked at from her point of view, that was of course how she would see it. And, no, she wasn’t wrong. He hadn’t given her any time this past week, nor spared her a thought beyond what they did in bed together. Of course there were things they needed to discuss, he just…

You just don’t want to think about her. You don’t want to think about another person’s needs.

And how could he when the needs of his subjects mattered more? Then again, if she was to be his queen, then not teaching her what she needed to know was shortsighted. Especially if she could help him in his endeavours. He wasn’t used to sharing the burden, it was true, but that wasn’t because he didn’t want to share it with someone.

He met her gaze and held it. ‘I see your point. For the record, I am genuinelynotashamed of you, little lioness. I have just been very busy with trying to fix everything that is broken in Kasimir—and there is so much that is broken.’

The sparks of her temper faded, her blue gaze turning softer. ‘I know,’ she said quietly. ‘I do know that. But the state Kasimir is in is not your fault, Tiberius. You understand that, don’t you?’

Another little shock went through him, as if she’d somehow found a vulnerable place inside him. ‘I know that,’ he said tersely, sounding far more defensive than he wished. ‘Of course it isn’t my fault. Why would you think I believe that?’

She ignored his tone. ‘Because of the way you’re trying to fix it. As if you alone are responsible for it.’

‘But isn’t it my responsibility? I am the King. It is my job to protect and care for my subjects.’ And before he could stop himself, he added, ‘If it hadn’t taken me so long to reclaim the crown, there wouldn’t have been—’

‘No,’ Guinevere interrupted, gently but very firmly. ‘You can’t think that. My father stole the crown and he is to blame for what happened—not you. Also, you can’t take the burden of repairing an entire country upon yourself. That’s ridiculous. Besides, how can you take care of anyone else if you don’t take care of yourself?’

‘I don’t need taking care of,’ he said, again far too tersely.

‘Of course you do,’ she disagreed. ‘You’re working yourself to the bone and everyone else around you too. The burden can be shared, you know.’

It was as if she’d reached inside his head and plucked out that very thought.

Of course it could be shared. Except no one had ever offered to do so because they were worried abouthim…as ifhiswellbeing mattered to them. His father had made sure he was fed and clothed, and had taught him all he needed to know about being a king. But his father hadn’t been concerned for Tiberius himself. All that had been important was being strong enough to take the crown and then to take responsibility for the country. His own wellbeing had always come last.

‘I do not matter,’ he said. ‘Only Kasimir does.’

Guinevere’s deep blue eyes were soft. ‘You do matter,’ she said quietly. ‘You matter to me.’

That softness, the way she was looking at him, rubbed against a raw place inside him—a place he hadn’t thought was vulnerable. ‘Why should you care?’ he demanded, unable to keep the edge out of his voice. ‘You barely know me.’

‘Why should I care?’ she repeated, her eyes widening in surprise. ‘Because I’m your wife and your queen and because someone has to, Tiberius. You can’t do this all on your own.’

He wasn’t sure why he wanted to argue with her—tell her that he’d been doing this all on his own since his father had died and he’d succeeded very well, thank you very much. He wasn’t sure, either, why there was a curious leaden feeling in his gut…as if he’d wanted her to say something else, though what, he didn’t know.

Right then, though, the limo came to a stop outside the hospital and it was time for them to get out.

‘I am not doing this on my own,’ he said curtly. ‘Now it’s your turn to help.’

Guinevere’s mouth had gone dry and her stomach was unsettled with nerves. The conversation with Tiberius had distracted her from the upcoming appearance, but unfortunately it hadn’t made her feel any more settled.

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