Page 86 of Modern Romance June 2025 1-4

‘So you should be.’ His hand slid down to the back of her neck, stroking her idly. ‘I’m sorry about your pretty dress. I will get you another.’

‘I don’t care.’ She peeked up at him. ‘It sacrificed itself for a good cause.’

He glanced down and smiled, his gaze sparking with something that wasn’t physical desire, yet had elements of it. And also elements of something warm and tender and utterly glorious.

Her heart tightened painfully, and a kind of wonder moved through her that he’d chosen to give such a smile to her.

‘I’ll buy you many sacrificial victims, in that case,’ he said. ‘You can offer one up to me every evening.’

‘Please do.’

She sighed, then moved, shifting herself off him and wrapping the remains of her dress around her. He made a growl of protest, reaching for her to pull her down with him as he lay on his back on the rug. She propped her head up with her hand and she leaned an elbow on his chest.

‘Did you really spend all your childhood learning how to be a king?’ she asked idly—though the question wasn’t idle in the slightest. She was taking advantage of his relaxation.

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘My father knew it would take time to get the throne back, so he had to start early. He’d initially planned to take it back himself, but then he got sick.’

‘So you had to be the one, then?’ She picked up an olive from the bowl nearby and fed it to him. ‘That must have been difficult.’

‘It was. It took longer than we’d hoped, since getting support for our cause took some time.’

She thought for a moment, then picked up a grape and fed that to him. ‘My father used to make fun of you. As a way to reduce the threat you presented, I think. He called you weak and ineffectual.’

There was a satisfied expression on Tiberius’s face that she secretly thought looked far too good on him. ‘I’m glad he did. It meant your father’s supporters underestimated me.’

Guinevere picked up another olive and ate it, trying to decide what to ask him next. Something that wouldn’t make him tense up or scare him away. But she burned to know so much.

‘I’m sorry about your mother,’ she said carefully. ‘It must have been hard to grow up without her.’

‘I was too young to remember her—and my father didn’t talk much about her—but I certainly felt the lack when I was younger.’

She watched him, noting the shadows cast over his face by the sun and the branches of the tree above them. Gilding the long, sooty length of his lashes, highlighting the strong lines of his forehead and nose.

‘My mother died young, too,’ she said after a moment. ‘And I don’t remember her either.’

His gaze rested on hers and there was concern in his eyes. ‘Did you have anyone, lioness? Anyone to care for you?’

A lump rose unexpectedly in her throat and she had to swallow hard because, again, this was supposed to be about him, not her. ‘No. I was safer being alone.’

He reached out and brushed her cheek with his fingertips. ‘I’m sorry you had to deal with that. But know that you’re not alone now. And that you’re not a prisoner here. You may leave the palace whenever you wish.’

She badly wanted him to tell her that she had him, but he didn’t, and that made her heart clench unexpectedly.

‘You know that you’re not alone either, don’t you?’ she couldn’t help saying, leaning into his touch. ‘That I am here?’

His mouth curved and the warmth in it made the tightness in her heart clench into a strange kind of pain. ‘And I’m glad of it. Speaking of which…shouldn’t we be discussing your role as Queen?’

She smiled back. ‘Yes. But have another olive first.’

He didn’t protest when she fed it to him, nipping at her fingertips instead, and soon they were too distracted to discuss anything at all.

CHAPTER TEN

Tiberius glanced athis watch yet again, to check the time. It wasn’t quite five, but it would be soon—though not soon enough for the anticipation gathering inside him.

At five a messenger would come and hand him a note, telling him where to meet his wife. He never knew where she was going to hold their daily two hours of queenship teaching—she always picked the place—but it came as a pleasant surprise every time.

They’d been doing this for a couple of weeks now, and while initially he’d been impatient for the two hours to end, after that first time—on the rug in the orchard, with her warm body against his, her touching him slowly and with care, then feeding him olives and grapes—now he was almost disappointed when it was over.

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