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and Leo narrowed his eyes.

      ‘The Queen,’ he repeated softly. ‘What did my mother say to you?’

      ‘Only that I shouldn’t expect you to—to be faithful.’

      ‘Only?’

      Alyse gave him a watery smile. ‘She did the whole “men have needs” spiel, and how I was to turn a blind eye.’

      ‘My mother was basing her experience on my father,’ Leo answered shortly. ‘And their marriage, which has been nothing but unpleasant and acrimonious. I wouldn’t ever listen to marriage advice from her.’

      ‘I was only eighteen. I didn’t know any better, I suppose.’

      Leo nodded, his expression still cold. He hadn’t softened in the least towards her, or her indiscretion, no matter what his mother might have said. ‘Well, you clearly used my mother’s advice as a justification for your own behaviour.’

      ‘It wasn’t like that, Leo.’

      ‘I don’t really want to hear.’

      ‘And I don’t want to tell you, but you’ve got to understand.’ She was stumbling over her words in her haste to explain, to reach him. ‘It was one awful night. A friend from university. I was drunk.’

      ‘I really don’t need these details.’

      She stared at him miserably. ‘I know, but I just want you to understand. I’d seen a photo of you with that duke’s daughter, Liana, in a magazine. There were articles all over the place about how you were dumping me for her.’

      ‘And you never thought to ask me about it?’

      ‘I never asked you about anything! We never talked. I didn’t even have your mobile or your email address.’

      ‘I think,’ Leo said coldly, ‘you could have got in touch if you’d wanted to. In any case, it doesn’t even matter.’

      She blinked, stared. ‘It—doesn’t?’

      ‘No. Admittedly, I’m disappointed you thought so little of the agreement we’d made, the vows we would say. I know we’ve been pretending to be in love, Alyse, but we weren’t pretending that we were going to get married. The rings on both our fingers is a testament to that.’

      ‘I know,’ she whispered. She felt the first sting of tears and blinked hard. ‘I wish it had never happened.’

      ‘Like I said, it doesn’t matter. Naturally, I expect you to be faithful to me during our marriage. What happened in the past we can forget about. Thank God the press never found out.’ He turned away from her, towards the bed, and Alyse watched him miserably. She’d never felt as far away from him as she did now...and it was her own fault.

      ‘I’m sorry,’ she said quietly.

      ‘Like I said, it’s in the past. Let’s go to bed.’ His meaning was clear as he slid beneath the sheets, his back to her: they would not be consummating their marriage tonight.

      Swallowing, Alyse slid into bed next to him. They lay there silently, the only sound the ragged draw and tear of their breathing and the whoosh of the waves on the sand. She could feel the heat of his body, inhaled the scent of his aftershave, and her body still pulsed with longing. Yet she’d never felt farther away from him, or from hope, than she did in this moment.

      She knew it was her own fault. She thought of that single night four years ago and closed her eyes in shame. It had been a terrible lapse of judgement, a moment of weakness she’d tried to block out since.

      She’d been revising for exams and had caught sight of that awful photograph of Leo laughing with Liana, a gorgeous icy blonde, in a way he never had with her. Jealousy had sunk its razor-sharp claws into her soul, bled out her heart.

      She’d been just twenty years old, engaged to Leo for two years, having seen him only a handful of times and spoken to him even less—yet firm, so firm, in the belief she loved him. And in that moment she’d felt certain he would never love her. Never even laugh with her.

      It was the closest she’d ever come to breaking off the engagement, but even at her lowest point, halfway to heartbroken, she’d known she couldn’t do it. Didn’t possess the strength to call a halt to a romance that had captivated the world and still didn’t want to.

      Yet her despair at feeling that Leo would never love her, never even like her, had led her to go out with a casual friend—Matt—and get far too drunk on cheap cider.

      Even now the details of the evening were fuzzy; they’d gone back to her flat and started talking. She’d been drunk enough to be honest, too honest, and she’d said something about how Leo didn’t actually love her.

      Matt had laughed and said that was impossible; everyone knew how they loved each other madly. Alyse had been just sober enough to keep from insisting on the truth, but she’d stared at that picture of Leo with the lovely Liana—she’d bought the magazine, if only to torture herself—and something in her had broken.

      Without thinking about what she was doing, she’d reached for Matt and kissed him clumsily. She still didn’t know what had driven that impulse, perhaps just a desperate need for someone to want her.

      He had responded eagerly, both alarming and gratifying her, and somehow it had all got out of control. In her drunken state she hadn’t been able or even willing to stop it.

      The next morning Matt had been sheepish and she’d been stricken. She’d felt ashamed and dirty, yet also strangely defiant, imagining Leo with the lovely Liana. Hating the thought of it, and hating what she’d done too.

      Just as Leo hated it. He believed her one indiscretion showed her love for the flimsy fairy tale he thought it was—and lying there, wide awake and restless, she felt the first seed of doubt burrow deep into her heart, its shell cracking apart all her certainties.

      What if Leo was right?

      Too restless to lie still any longer, Alyse slid from the bed and headed out to the beach. The sand was cool and soft beneath her bare feet and the sky above was inky black and spangled with stars. The air was cooler now, and in only her nightdress she felt goose bumps rise on her arms.

      She sat on the sand, as miserable as she’d ever been when she’d believed herself to be hopelessly in love with Leo. And this time it was because she had a sudden, sneaking fear that she wasn’t, and perhaps never had been.

      What did that say about her? Could she really have been so childish, so deluded, so wrong to convince herself she loved a man she barely knew? And to have kept believing it for so long?

      Resting her chin on her knees, Alyse thought back to that first fateful night when Leo had come to her birthday party. Her mother had been almost as excited as she was, telling her that she’d been friends with Sophia in school, and how Leo was such a handsome prince... She’d reminded her too, of course, of the way she’d fallen in love with Alyse’s father Henri at a party just like that one, across a crowded room...

      Just like she’d convinced herself she had with Leo.

      Had she wanted her parents’ fairy tale for herself? Was that why she’d convinced herself of her love for Leo, because in her loneliness and uncertainty she’d longed for something more, had half-believed she could have it with Leo?

      Everyone else had seemed to think she could, and in her innocence and immaturity she’d allowed a girlish attraction to become something so much bigger and deeper in her own mind and heart. And had continued to believe it, because as time went on and the media frenzy had grown, not to believe it took more strength and courage than she’d ever possessed.

      Alyse let out a soft groan and pressed her forehead against her drawn-up knees. She didn’t want to believe she’d been so deluded, didn’t want to let go of her love so easily, so awfully.

      And yet the derision on Leo’s face had cut her to the bone, to the soul. You don’t even