Page 27 of Modern Romance September 2025 1-4

Colour flushed her cheeks and she threaded a harried hand through the now tousled strands of her long hair, half turning her head away from his glittering dark scrutiny. ‘I—’

‘And if your answer is still no, I want to know why. We’ve been together almost a month. You seem happy—’

‘I am happy!’ Bunny broke in, thinking that she had never been happier in her life before. ‘But I still think it’s too soon.’

‘It’s not too soon for me,’ Sebastian countered with a roughened edge to his dark, deep drawl. ‘Why would it still be too soon for you?’

Loathing being put on the spot in such a way, Bunny got off the bed and said lamely, ‘It just is!’ As if that were an explanation, when really it was the only explanation she had that she was willing to offer.

She vanished into the en suite to take off her make-up and freshen up.

The door behind her opened, framing Sebastian.

Faint colour burned along the exotic line of his high cheekbones and his narrowed dark golden eyes were brilliant and focused hard on her.

‘Explain,’ he told her. ‘You didn’t foresee this problem when you suggested that we get engaged instead of married, did you? ’

‘No,’ she conceded, squirming at that mistake on her part. ‘And that was very shortsighted of me. I just didn’t want to risk your idea of being with me changing. I wanted you to have more time.’

Sebastian flung his handsome head back in a sudden movement. ‘How much more time?’ he demanded rawly. ‘I feel like I’m on trial here, Bunny. I asked you to marry me, which was huge for me.’

‘I know… I know,’ she began, frantically struggling to think of what to say to satisfy him.

‘I’m fully committed to you. It is not unreasonable to ask you for a date,’ he ground out.

Anger was poisoning the air, gathering round her like a dark cloud.

There was a very slight shake in his dark deep voice.

She knew that he was furious with her, striving to control his temper.

Sebastian, who almost never lost control of his emotions.

She felt like the worst person in the world for making him feel so frustrated with her.

She felt as though she had let him down.

And then it was as though all the air, toxic or otherwise, had been sucked away from her because Sebastian just turned on his heel and walked away.

‘Where are you going?’ she gasped, trailing after him.

‘I can’t stay with you tonight,’ Sebastian said gruffly without turning his head as he opened the bedroom door. ‘I’m out of patience. It seems like I want much more than you’re prepared to give me and I’m banging my head up against a brick wall.’

The door thudded on his departure, and, in a daze, she got ready for bed.

Why couldn’t she simply agree to marry him?

Was it because of Tristram telling her that he wanted her to marry him even though there had been no ring or even a mention of meeting his family?

He had strung her along that way for months on end, insisting he cared for her when patently he didn’t.

Had she really withheld her consent to marriage because Sebastian couldn’t offer her love?

After all, he had offered her so many other important things.

Like a beautiful home at Knightsmead Court, furnished even to her preferences.

He had been unashamedly emotional when he’d viewed their little blip on the ultrasound screen.

He looked after her in every possible way.

He was everything she wanted, everything she loved.

Was she the one with the problem, rather than him? And why was that?

She lay sleepless all night working it out.

She didn’t feel good enough for Sebastian Pagonis and that basic truth hit her hard.

She was an ordinary girl without a pedigreed background, so why would he want her?

After all, Tristram hadn’t really wanted her when it came down to brass tacks.

At least, he hadn’t wanted her enough . Had she been trying to ensure that Sebastian did want her enough to stay with her for good?

But how could anyone prove that in advance?

All she had done was make Sebastian feel as if he weren’t good enough.

He felt as though he were on trial. She shivered at that idea, that she could have subjected him to feeling like that.

She was cold in the early morning light filtering through the windows because she hadn’t closed the curtains, cold inside and out because Sebastian wasn’t with her, lighting up her world the way he usually did. And hadn’t she taken that for granted?

That he would keep on trying? Keep on trying to prove himself?

Her heart sank. Love was supposed to be kind and caring and generous but what had she given him?

Reaching a sudden decision, Bunny sprang out of bed, weary and heavy-eyed but determined to set that date for Sebastian and apologise for all the insecurities that had subconsciously trapped her.

She pulled on a robe and went to look for him.

In an unfamiliar house, that wasn’t an easy task.

She checked several empty bedrooms, marvelling that such a large property was maintained simply for the couple of annual family get-togethers Sebastian tolerated for the sake of courtesy.

If he ever forgave her for infuriating him to such an extent, she would suggest that he found somewhere else for such meetings because he had admitted that he didn’t use the Athens house on any other occasion.

Unhappily, no bedroom contained him. She returned to her room and showered and dressed, seriously worried that she had no idea where he had gone.

It was one of her bodyguards who let her into that secret by asking her when she wished to head to the airport for their return flight to the UK. ‘What does Sebastian want?’

He frowned in bewilderment. ‘Mr Pagonis flew to Switzerland at six this morning…’

And belatedly she recalled him mentioning something about that change of flight plan while she had been dressing for that awful dinner the night before.

Gloom set in then, over her solitary breakfast. She tried to phone him.

The call, unusually, wasn’t answered. Convinced he still wasn’t speaking to her, she desisted from sending a flood of texts, although it was a challenge when she knew that it would be a week before she saw him again.

She travelled back to Knightsmead, feeling as though she were carting around her own very personal little black cloud. She had been selfish, unreasonable and shortsighted and she wasn’t accustomed to seeing such traits in herself, so that knowledge couldn’t lift her spirits.

She spent a lot of her time with her family that week, until suspicious eyes began to turn in her direction and pretending that everything was fine became too much of a strain.

For the first time in her pregnancy, she felt nauseous and reckoned it was simply nerves and a lost appetite.

Her brother John called in when she was working in the library.

‘Don’t be trying to lift that,’ he warned her when he found her crouched over a book box.

‘No, don’t worry, I’m just digging through it. There are books that need restoration and I’m setting them aside first…new bindings, torn pages. Some of them are very old and need special care,’ she explained.

‘Parker said he’d bring us tea and snacks in here. I’ve only got an hour before my next appointment. Do you mind if I leave you being industrious and go and have a snoop round your fabulous home for myself?’ her brother enquired with amusement.

‘Not at all. Go ahead,’ she encouraged, because, unlike the rest of her family, John had been too busy to come for the original tour she had offered them. Like her, he was into history and would enjoy browsing alone more.

She rose on her socked feet off the rug.

Sebastian had warned her that she was to lift nothing as well.

Well, so much for his caring side, she thought painfully, when his polite phone calls had done nothing to mend the breach between them.

Did he sulk? This was where you discovered that Mr Perfect wasn’t, after all, Mr Perfect, she reflected heavily.

But then she hadn’t tackled the controversial subject of when they might marry on the phone either, she acknowledged wearily.

She lifted the heavy family bible she wanted to place on the upper gallery table where—according to Parker—it had always sat. Being almost as old as the library, Parker was a font of knowledge about such matters.

She carted the giant book with care in her gloved hands and mounted the wooden staircase.

Reaching the gallery, she settled the old family bible back in its former resting place.

Flushed with success, she started down the stairs again at speed and, whether it was the socks on her feet or the gloves she wore for handling ancient books, she slid like a sledder at the top of a mountain on a big run.

With a sharp cry of alarm, she tried to right her balance, but it was too late.

She went bumpety, bumpety bump down the stairs and landed awkwardly with a twisted ankle.

Parker burst in with all the urgency of an ambulance and knelt down by her side, wringing his worn hands in horror and dismay. ‘Miss Woods… Miss Woods, what do I do?’

‘I’ll handle this…’ John appeared, frowning down at her. ‘You went up those stairs without shoes on, didn’t you? And those stupid slippery gloves? Do you have a death wish?’ he asked quietly as Parker sped from the room, thoroughly unsettled by her accident.

Bunny didn’t rise to the bait, because of course John the ever practical was right. ‘I’ve hurt my ankle, probably going to have a few bruises on my bottom as well,’ she groaned as he helped her up and into the nearest armchair.