by Nora Roberts
she’d known what she’d find behind the wall of closets in her bedroom.
Struggling with impatience, she slipped lower in the water. Impatience, she’d discovered, was very much a part of her. Memory would come, Brie assured herself. And if it didn’t come soon, naturally she’d find another way.
Reeve MacGee. Brie reached for the soap and a soft, oversized sponge. He might be her access to another way. Who was he? It was a relief to think of him rather than herself for a while. A former policeman, she remembered, and a friend of the family. Though not a close enough friend, Brie remembered, that he knew her well. He had his own life in America. Had she been there? He’d said she had.
She lay there, willing her mind to open. Only impressions came to her. Stately marble buildings and long formal dinners. And a river, a river with lush green grass on its banks and much boat traffic. It tired her, she discovered, to push herself to remember something even so unimportant. Still, she thought she’d been to Reeve’s country.
Concentrate on him, Brie told herself. If he were to be any help to her she had to understand him. Good-looking, she thought, and very smooth on the outside. She wasn’t so sure about what lay within. He seemed to her a man who would be ruthless and solitary, a man who did things in his own style. Good, she thought. That was precisely what she needed.
He had no reason, as her family did, to want to shield her. Nor did he have a reason, she added with a frown, to give her the help she wanted. Perhaps he’d agreed only to keep close to her so that he could do the job her father had commissioned him for. Bodyguard, she thought with annoyance. She wanted no one’s shadow falling over hers.
And yet, Brie continued as she dipped the sponge into the water, isn’t that what she’d asked for herself when she’d spoken to him? Because she’d felt … what, when she’d seen him standing in the hall? Relief. It shamed her to admit it. Her family had been there, concerned and loving, and yet she’d felt an overwhelming sense of relief seeing a stranger standing behind them.
Perhaps it was better that she’d forgotten herself. Brie threw down the sponge so that water splashed up and hit the side of the porcelain. How was she to know if she would like the woman she was? She might easily find herself to be someone cold, unfeeling, selfish. All she had discovered was that she was a woman who liked beautiful clothes and manicures. Perhaps she was just that shallow.
But they loved her. Brie picked up the sponge again to press it against her face. The water was hot and smelled like an expensive woman. The love she’d seen in her family’s eyes had been real. Would they love her if she didn’t deserve it? How long would it take to discover what depths there were in her?
Passions. She remembered the flare she’d felt when Reeve had kissed her hand. It had been sharp and raw and stunning. Didn’t that mean she had normal feminine needs? But had she ever acted on them? With a half laugh, Brie lay her head back and closed her eyes. How many women could honestly say they didn’t know if they were innocent or not?
Would he know? Would a man like Reeve sense such things about a woman? Sometimes when he looked at her Brie felt him reaching inside and finding nerves no stranger had a right to find. Now when she thought of him, she wondered what it would be like to have him touch her—really touch her. Fingertips against the skin, palm against flesh. She felt the arousal start deep, and let it work through her.
Was this a new experience? Brie wondered as she pressed a hand to her stomach. Had other men made her feel so … hungry? Were there other men who had sent her mind to wandering, imagining, dreaming? Perhaps she was a careless sort of woman who desired a man just because he was a man. Was she a woman a man would desire?
Rising from the tub, she let the water cascade from her. Reeve had been right about the possible advantages of her situation. She could watch and observe what reactions she brought to others. Tonight she would.
* * *
On the arm of her father, Brie walked down the long stairway. There’d be cocktails in the petit salon, he’d told her, but hadn’t added he’d come for her because she wouldn’t know the way. He did pause at the base of the stairs to kiss her hand. It was a gesture much like Reeve’s, but brought her a smile rather than excitement.
“You look lovely, Brie.”
“Thank you. But it would be difficult not to with the collection of clothes in my room.”
He laughed and looked young. “You’ve often said clothes were your only vice.”
“And are they?”
He heard the need behind the light question and kissed her hand again. “I’ve never been anything but proud of you.” Tucking her hand through his arm again, he led her down the corridor.
Reeve noticed a certain tension between Alexander and Loubet, Armand’s minister of state. It came out in politeness, the rigid sort. When Alexander takes the throne, Reeve thought dispassionately, Loubet would not be at his side.
Alexander interested Reeve. The young prince was so internal. Control didn’t sit on him as easily as it did his father; he worked for it. Whatever simmered beneath was kept there, never permitted to boil—at least not in public. Unlike Bennett, Reeve thought, shifting his gaze to the other prince.
Bennett was relaxed in his chair, only half listening to the conversation around him. He didn’t seem to be compelled to analyze words and meanings as his brother did. His willingness to enjoy what came interested Reeve, as well.
As Gabriella did. Reeve had no way of knowing if the girl he’d met once had become an intense woman like her first brother, or a cheerful one like her second. Perhaps she was nothing like either. After two short conversations, he was as curious to find out as Brie herself.
Who was she? He asked of her the same question Brie had asked of him. Beautiful, yes. Classic looks and elegance hadn’t been lost along with her memory. He sensed a steel will beneath them. She’d need it, he decided, if she was to discover herself.
Attraction. He certainty felt it for her. It wasn’t anything like the dazzle he’d experienced ten years before. Now he saw her as a woman who struggled every moment not to lose control of a situation she couldn’t even understand. If she could hang on while her world turned upside down around her, she wasn’t a woman to underestimate.
Desire. He’d felt that, as well, each time he saw her. She had a way of looking at a man with those topaz eyes. Had she always? he wondered. Or was it simply now, when she was groping? A man had to be careful. She might look like a woman who could be touched, seduced, bedded, but she was and would always be a princess. Not the frothy fairy-tale sort, he thought, but flesh and blood.
When he turned and saw her, she seemed to be both.
Her head was lifted, as if she were walking into an arena rather than a salon. Clusters of pearls gleamed at her ears, at her throat, in her hair where it was swept back from her face. Her dress was the color of grapes just before they ripen. The silk and pearls suited her skin. Her stance suited her title. She didn’t cling to her father, though Reeve thought she might have liked to cling to something. She was braced and ready. And, he thought with approval, she was watching.
“Your Highness.”
Brie waited calmly while Loubet crossed the room and bowed. She saw a man, older than Reeve, younger than her father. His blond hair was just touched with gray, his face just touched with lines. He smelled distinguished, she thought, then smiled at how her mind worked. He walked with a slight stiffness of the left side, but his bow was very elegant and his smile charming.
“It’s good to see you home.”
She felt nothing when their hands touched, nothing when their eyes met. “Thank you.”
“Monsieur Loubet and I had some business to attend to this evening.” Her father gave her the cue smoothly. “Unfortunately he won’t be able to join us for dinner.”
“Business and no pleasure, Monsieur Loubet,” Brie said just as smoothly.
“It’s a pleasure just to see you home safely, Your Highness.”
Brie saw the qu
ick glance that passed between the minister and her father. “Since the business pertained to me, perhaps you’ll elaborate over drinks.”
As she crossed the room, she caught Reeve’s small nod of approval. Some of the knots in her stomach loosened. “Please, gentlemen, be comfortable.” She indicated for everyone to sit. Everyone, she noted with a smile, but Bennett, who was already at his ease. “Do I have a favorite?” she asked him with a gesture toward the bar.
“Artesian water and lime,” he said with a grin. “You’ve always said there’s enough wine served at dinner without fuzzing your mind beforehand.”
“Very sensible of me.”
Reeve walked to the bar to see to her drink while Brie took a seat on one of the sofas. The men settled around her. Was her life so dominated by men? she wondered briefly, then took the glass and sipped. “Well, shall I tell you what I see?” Without waiting for a reply, she set down her glass and began. “I see Alexander is annoyed, and that my father is picking his way carefully, as a man through a minefield. I’m at the core of this.”
“She should be left alone,” Alexander stated suddenly. “It’s family business.”
“Your family’s business remains Cordina’s business, Your Highness.” Loubet spoke gently but without, Brie thought, any affection. “Princess Gabriella’s condition is a matter of concern both personally and for the government. I’m very much afraid that the matter of the temporary amnesia would be exploited by the world press if news of it leaks. We’re just now settling our people down after the kidnapping. I wish only to give them and Her Serene Highness an opportunity to rest.”
“Loubet is quite correct, Alexander.” Armand spoke without gentleness, but Brie heard the affection.
“In theory.” As he drank, Alexander shot Reeve a quietly resentful look. “But we already have outsiders involved. Gabriella needs rest and therapy. Whoever did this …” His fingers tightened on the facets of his glass. “Whoever did this will pay dearly.”
“Alexander.” Brie laid a hand on his in a gesture he recognized, but she didn’t. “I have to remember what happened before anyone can pay.”
“When you’re ready, you will. In the meantime—”
“In the meantime,” his father interrupted, “Brie must be protected in every possible way. And after consideration, I agree with Loubet that part of this protection should come from concealing the amnesia publicly. If the kidnappers knew you hadn’t told us anything, they might feel compelled to silence you before you regained your memory.”
Brie picked up her glass again, and though she sipped calmly, Reeve saw her eyes were anything but. “How can we conceal it?”
“If I may, Your Highness,” Loubet began with a glance at Armand before he turned to Brie. “Until you’re well, Your Highness, we think it best that you remain home, among those who can be trusted. It’s a simple matter to postpone or cancel your outside commitments. The kidnapping, the strain and shock of it alone, will suffice without going further. The doctor who cared for you is your father’s man. There’s no fear that he’ll leak any news of your condition except what we wish him to.”
Brie set down her glass again. “No.”
“I beg your—”
“No,” she repeated very gently to Loubet, though her gaze shifted to her father. “I will not remain here like a prisoner. I believe I’ve been a prisoner quite long enough. If I have commitments, I’ll meet them.” She saw Bennett grin and lift his glass in salute.
“Your Highness, you must see how complicated and how dangerous this would be. If for no other reason than the police have yet to apprehend whoever kidnapped you.”
“So, the solution is for me to remain closed up and closed in?” She shook her head. “I refuse.”
“Gabriella, our duty is not always comfortable for us.” Her father tapped the cigarette he’d lit during the conversation.
“Perhaps not. I can’t speak from experience at the moment.” She looked down at her hands, to the ring that was becoming familiar. “Whoever kidnapped me is still free. I mean to see they’re not comfortable with that. Monsieur Loubet, you know me?”
“Your Highness, since you were a baby.”
“Would you say I am a reasonably intelligent woman?”
Humor touched his eyes. “Far more than reasonably.”
“I think then, with a bit of coaching, I could have my way, and you yours. The amnesia can be kept quiet if you feel that’s best, but I won’t hide in my rooms.”
Armand started to speak, then sat back. A slight smile played on his lips. His daughter, he mused with approval, hadn’t changed.
“Your Highness, I would personally be pleased to help you in any way, but—”
“Thank you, Loubet, but Mr. MacGee has already agreed to do so.” Her voice was gracious and final. “Whatever I need to know in order to be Princess Gabriella, he’ll tell me.”
There was quick resentment again from Alexander, speculation from Armand and barely controlled annoyance from Loubet. Reeve felt them all. “The princess and I have an arrangement of sorts.” He sat comfortably, watching the reactions around him. “She feels that the company of a stranger might have certain advantages for her.”
“We’ll discuss this later.” Armand rose, and though the words weren’t abrupt, they were as final as his daughter’s had been. “I regret your schedule doesn’t permit you to dine, Loubet. We’ll finish our business tomorrow morning.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
Polite goodbyes, a distinguished exit. Brie looked after him thoughtfully. “He seems very sincere and dedicated. Do I like him?”
Her father smiled as he reached for her hand. “You never said specifically. He does his job well.”
“And he’s a dead bore,” Bennett announced ungraciously as he rose. “Let’s eat.” He pulled Brie close by linking arms. “We’re having the best of the best tonight in celebration. You can have a half-dozen raw oysters if you like.”
“Raw? Do I like them?”
“Love them,” he said blithely, and led her into dinner.
* * *
“It was … amusing to find Bennett enjoys a joke,” Brie said some two hours later as she stepped onto a terrace with Reeve.
“Was it enlightening to learn you can take one?” He paused to cup his hand around his lighter. Smoke caught the breeze and billowed into the dark.
“Actually, yes. I’ve also learned I detest oysters and that I have a character that demands restitution. I’ll get him back for tricking me into swallowing one of those things. In the meantime …” Turning, she leaned back against the strong stone banister. “I can see I’ve put you in a bit of an awkward position, Reeve. I didn’t intend to, but now that I have, I’m afraid I don’t intend to let you out.”
“I can handle that for myself, when and if I choose.”
“Yes.” She smiled again. Then the smile became a laugh as she tossed her head back. Fear seemed so far away. Tension was so much simpler to deal with. “You could at that. Perhaps that’s why I feel easy around you. Tonight I took your advice.”
“Which was?”
“To observe. I have a good father. His position doesn’t weigh lightly on him, nor does the strain of this past week. I see the servants treat him with great respect, but no fear, so I think he’s just. Would you agree?”
The moonlight played tricks with her hair, making the pearls look like teardrops. “I would.”
“Alexander is … what’s the word I want?” With a shake of her head, she looked overhead to the sky. The long, pale line of her throat was exposed. “Driven, I suppose. He has the intensity of a much older man. I suppose he needs it. He hasn’t decided to like you.” When she shifted her head again, he found his eyes were on line with her lips.
“No.”
“It doesn’t bother you?”
“Not everyone’s required to like me.”
“I wish I had your confidence,” she murmured. “In any case, I’ve added to whatever resentment h
e might feel toward you. Tonight when I said I wanted to walk outside and asked you to come with me, it annoyed him. His sense of family is very strong and very exclusive.”
“You’re his responsibility—in his opinion,” Reeve added when she started to protest.
“His opinion will have to change. Bennett’s different. He seems so carefree. Perhaps it’s his age, or the fact that he’s the younger son. Still, he watched me as though I might trip at any moment and need him to catch me. Loubet, what do you think of him?”
“I don’t know him.”
“Neither do I,” she said wryly. “An opinion?”
“His position doesn’t sit lightly on him, either.”
It wasn’t an evasion, Brie decided, any more than it was an answer. “You’re a very elemental man, aren’t you? Is it an American trait?”
“It’s a matter of pushing away frills that just get in the way. You seem to be a very elemental woman.”
“Do I?” She pursed her lips in thought. “It might be true, or it might be true now only out of necessity. I can’t afford frills, can I?”
The strain of the evening had been more than she’d admit, Reeve observed as she turned again to rest her palms against the stone. She was tired, but he understood her reluctance to go in where she’d have nothing but her own questions for company.
“Brie, have you thought about taking a few days and going away?” She lifted her head. Sensing the anger in her, he laid a hand on her shoulder. “Not running away, getting away. It’s human.”
“I can’t afford to be human until I know who I am.”
“Your doctor said the amnesia’s temporary.”
“What’s temporary?” she demanded. “A week, month, year? Not good enough, Reeve. I won’t just sit and wait for things to come to me. In the hospital I had dreams.” She closed her eyes a moment, breathed deep and continued. “In the dreams I was awake, but not awake. I couldn’t move. It was dark and I couldn’t make myself move. Voices. I could hear voices, and I’d struggle and struggle to understand them, recognize them, but I’m afraid. In the dream I’m terrified, and when I wake, I’m terrified.”
He drew in sharply on his cigarette. She said it without any emotion, and the lack of feeling said a great deal. “You were drugged.”
Very slowly, she turned toward him again. In the shadowed light her eyes were very clear. “How do you know?”
“The doctors had to pump you. It’s the opinion from the state you were in that you were kept drugged. Even when your memory comes back, Brie, you may not be able to pinpoint anything that happened during the week you were held. That’s something you’d better face now.”
“Yes, I will.” She pressed her lips together until she was certain her voice would be strong. “I will remember. How much more do you know?”
“Not a great deal.”
“Out with it.”
He flipped his cigarette over the banister and into the void. “All right, then. You were abducted sometime Sunday. No one knows the exact time, as you were out driving alone. Sunday evening a call came in to Alexander.”
“Alex?”
“Yes, he usually works on Sunday evenings in his office. He has a separate line there as all of you do in your own quarters. The call was brief. It said simply that you’d been taken and would be held until the ransom demands were met. No demands were made at that time.”
And where had she been held? Dark. All she could be certain of was dark. “What did Alex do?”
“He went directly to your father. You were searched for. Monday morning your car was found on a lane about forty miles from town. There’s a plot of land out there you own. It seems you have a habit of driving out there just to be alone and poke around. Monday afternoon, the first ransom demand was made. That was for money. There was no question about it being paid, of course, but before the arrangement could be made, another call came. This one demanded the release of four prisoners in exchange for you.”
“And that complicated things.”
“Two of them are set for execution. Espionage,” he added when she remained silent. “It took the matter out of your father’s hands. Money was one thing, releasing prisoners another. Negotiations were well under way when you were found on the side of the road.”
“I’ll go back there,” Brie mused. “To the place my car was found and to the place I was found.”
“Not right away. I agreed to help you, Brie, but in my way.”
Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “Which is?”
“My way,” he said simply. “When I think you’re strong enough, I’ll take you. Until then, we move slow.”
“If I don’t agree?”
“Your father might just take Loubet’s plan more seriously.”
“And I’d go nowhere.”
“That’s right.”
“I knew you wouldn’t be an easy man, Reeve.” She walked a few feet away, into a stream of moonlight. “I haven’t much choice. I don’t like that. Choice seems to me to be the most essential freedom. I keep wondering when I’ll have mine back. Tomorrow, after I meet with my secretary …”
