Affaire Royale

by Nora Roberts

  nearly copper. Without makeup, in the strong light her face was exquisite. She had the bone structure, the complexion, photographers strove to immortalize. As an image, Reeve mused while he floated in the cool water near her, she was flawless. And as an image, she intrigued him—as images intrigue any man.

  It was the woman he hungered for. He had yet to resolve whether he could separate one from the other and have what he wanted. He’d worked in law enforcement too long not to understand that every act had consequences. For everything taken, certain payments had to be made. It was far from clear as yet what his payment would be.

  “I’m told you use the pool every day,” she began, tipping back to drench her hair again. “You’re a strong swimmer?”

  He put just enough power into his kick to keep afloat. “Yes.”

  “Perhaps I’ll join you one morning. I’m beginning to catch up with my work enough to lose an hour or so a day. Reeve …” She cupped water in her hand, then let it fall back into the sea. “You know the AHC ball is only a few weeks away.”

  “I’d have to be deaf not to. There’s hammering and confusion in the Grand Ballroom almost every day.”

  “Just a few necessities,” she told him offhandedly. “I only mention it because I feel you should know as my …” Her gaze went automatically to the ring on her left hand. Though he watched her, Reeve couldn’t read her expression. “As my fiancé,” she continued, “you’ll be expected to open the ball with me and, in a very real sense, host it.”

  He watched her hair float and spread on the surface of the water. “And?”

  “You see, until then we can keep social engagements to a minimum. The kidnapping, though we’re playing it down, is an excellent excuse to keep a low profile, as well as the engagement itself. The ball, however, will be a full-scale event with a great deal of press, and many people. I wonder if my father took into consideration the social pressure you’d be under when he asked you to take this—position.”

  Reeve dipped lower in the water, moving closer to her, but not close enough to touch. “You don’t think I can handle it?”

  She blinked, then focused on him with a laugh. “I’ve no doubt you’ll handle it beautifully. After all, Alexander admires your mind and Bennett your tailoring. You couldn’t have a better endorsement.”

  It amused him. “And so?”

  “It’s simply that the longer this goes on, the larger the favor becomes. Even after the engagement’s broken, you’ll have to deal with the repercussions, perhaps for years.”

  He turned to float on his back, and closed his eyes. “Don’t worry about it, Brie. I’m not.”

  “Perhaps that’s why I do,” she persisted. “After all, I’m the cause of it.”

  “No.” His disagreement was mild. “Your kidnapper’s the cause of it.”

  For a moment, she said nothing. After all, he’d given her the opening she’d been angling for. Though she wasn’t sure if she should take it, she went ahead. “Reeve, I won’t ask if you were a good policeman. Or if you’re good as a private detective. Your record speaks for itself. But are you happy in your work?”

  This time he fell silent. His eyes closed, he could feel the sun beat down on his face while the water lapped cool over his body. He was still hovering over those coals.

  No one had ever asked him if he’d been happy in his work. In fact, he hadn’t asked himself until recently. The answer had been yes. And no.

  “Yeah. I get a certain satisfaction from my work. I believed in what I was doing on the force. Now I only take a case if I believe in it.”

  “Then why aren’t you investigating the kidnapping, instead of guarding me?”

  He shifted position until the water lapped up to his shoulders and he could see her. He’d wondered when she would ask. “I’m a private investigator, not a cop anymore. Either way, I wouldn’t have any jurisdiction here.”

  “I’m not talking about rules and laws, but of inclinations.”

  “One of the most admirable—and annoying—things about you is your perception.” He wondered how her hair would feel now, wet from the sea, and gave in to the urge to reach out to it. He wondered how she would react if she knew he’d been doing some quiet probing, some peering behind the curtain of protocol and drawing his own conclusions without filling her in. In chess, even a queen could be used as a pawn.

  “Yeah, I’ve thought about it.” He answered easily, as easily as he treaded water. “But until your father asks, I’m officially security. Just security.”

  She felt the slight tug where his fingers tangled in her hair. Barely, just barely, their legs brushed under the water. “And if I asked? Would you consider it then?”

  He kept his hand on her hair, but her question distracted him. “What do you want, Brie?”

  “Help. Between my father and Loubet, I know next to nothing about the status of the investigation. I’m being protected, Reeve. Both of them want to cocoon me, and I don’t like it.”

  “So you want me to do some digging and fill you in?”

  “I thought of doing it on my own, but, then, you have more experience. And …” She smiled at him then. “It isn’t possible for me to make a move without your being there in any case.”

  “Found another use for me, Your Highness?”

  With a brow lifted, she managed to look dignified while she was soaking wet. “It wasn’t meant to be an insult.”

  “No, probably not.” He let her go. Perhaps it was time to use her and be used by her in a more active sense. “I’ll give it some thought.”

  She decided it would be more strategic to retreat than advance. “I’ll have to be content with that.” In three smooth strokes she was back at the boat and pulling herself over the side. “Shall we try some of the wine and cold chicken Nanny packed for us?”

  Nimbly he dropped onto the deck and stood a moment as the water drained from him. “Does Nanny always take on kitchen duty for you?”

  “She likes to. We’re all still children to her.”

  “Okay, then. No use letting the food go to waste.”

  “Ah, practicality again.” She picked up a towel, rubbing it briefly over her hair before she tossed it aside again. “Well, then, come down into the cabin and help me. I heard that we have apple tarts, as well.” With water still beaded on her skin, she ducked down into the small cabin. “You seem very at home on a boat,” she commented when he joined her.

  “I used to do a lot of sailing with my father.”

  “Used to?” Brie drew the bottle of wine from the cooler and gave the label a nod of approval.

  “There hasn’t been as much time for it the past few years.”

  “But you’re close to him?”

  After a quick look, Reeve found a corkscrew and took the bottle from her. “Yes, I’m close to him.”

  “Is he like my father? I mean—” She heard the quiet pop of the cork and began to look for glasses. “Is he very dignified and brilliant?”

  “Is that how you see your father?”

  “I suppose.” She was frowning a bit as he poured the wine. “And kind, yes, but controlled.” She knew she had her father’s love, but his country and his power came first. “Men like that must be, after all. So are you.”

  He grinned as he touched his glass to hers. “Dignified, brilliant or kind?”

  “Controlled,” she returned, giving him an even look as she sipped. “You make me wonder what you’re thinking when you look at me.”

  The wine was cool and dry on his tongue. “I think you know.”

  “Not entirely.” She took another sip, but hoped he wouldn’t know it was for courage. “I do know that you want to make love with me.”

  The sun slanted in the open cabin door and framed her. “Yes.”

  “I ask myself why.” Brie lowered her glass but held it with both hands. “Do you want to make love with every woman you meet?”

  Under different circumstances, he’d have thought she was teasing, but her question was
as simple as it sounded. So was his answer. “No.”

  She managed a smile, though her nerves were beginning to jump. Was this how the game was played? she wondered. And was it a game she was trying to play? “Every other one, then?”

  “Only if they meet certain requirements.”

  “Which are?”

  He cupped her face with his hand again. “If they make me think of them first thing in the morning, even before I know what day it is.”

  “I see.” She twisted the glass between her fingers. They were damp from nerves but still steady. “Do you think of me first thing in the morning?”

  “Are you looking for flattery, Gabriella?”

  “No.”

  He tilted her head up just a little more. She didn’t stiffen, didn’t move away, but again he sensed she was braced—not so much wary as waiting. “What, then?”

  “To understand. Not knowing myself or my past, I want to understand if I’m attracted to you or simply to the idea of being with a man.”

  That was blunt enough, he mused. Not particularly flattering, but blunt. He’d asked for it. When he took the wineglass from her to set it aside, he noticed her fingers were tense. It gave him some satisfaction. “And are you attracted to me?”

  “Are you looking for flattery?”

  Humor came into his eyes. Reeve saw her smile in response. “No.” Lightly, briefly, he touched his lips to hers while they watched each other. “Apparently we’re both looking for the same thing.”

  “Perhaps.” She hesitated only a moment before she brought her hands to his shoulders. “Perhaps it’s time we discover if we’ve found it.”

  It was the way he’d wanted it—away from the palace, away from the walls. There was only the lap of water against the boat, so quiet, so rhythmic it was barely there at all. The cabin was small and low. There were shadows; there was sunlight. They were alone.

  It was the way he’d wanted it—yet Reeve found himself hesitating. She looked so delicate in this light. Delicate, and he’d agreed to protect her. What sort of objectivity would he have left after they became lovers? Brie rose on her toes to touch her mouth to his again. Reeve felt the pleasure, the sweetness, the need ease through him and settle.

  What sort of objectivity did he have now? he admitted. It had been no less than the truth when he’d spoken of thinking of her every morning.

  “You’re not so sure,” Brie murmured as she brushed his cheek. Excitement was rising in her, quicker, freer than she’d anticipated. He had doubts, she realized. He had second thoughts. It relieved her, aroused her. How inadequate she would have felt if he’d been so sure and she’d been the only one with nerves. “I come to you without any past. For now, for this moment, let’s forget either of us has a future. Just today, Reeve. Just an hour—or a moment.”

  He could give her that. He would give her that. Take just that. This time when their lips came together it wasn’t lightly, wasn’t briefly. When it’s only for the moment, needs intensify. They drive; they compel. Passion pent up; passion held back. Passion set free.

  It was only for the moment. They’d both agreed; they’d both decided. They’d both forgotten.

  Bodies pressed, flesh to flesh. Mouths tasted. Hungry, so hungry. He felt her hands skim up his back, small and smooth with the nails oval and tidy again. First they brushed, then they gripped and held. Strength—it poured from her making it easy to forget the delicacy. Needs—hers throbbed against him, making it easy to forget logic, plans, decisions. Longings had no logic; there was no plan to passion. The scent of the sea was mild. Her perfume was heady. Swimming in both of them, Reeve drew her with him onto the neat, narrow bunk.

  Brie felt the tiny ridges of the woven spread as her back pressed against it. He’d told her there would be no roses, no satin sheets for them. Nor did she want them. Illusions weren’t important. Reality was what she’d been searching for. With him she’d find it.

  Legs tangled, arms tight, they drove each other. Some journeys are fast, furious and uncontrollable. She no longer thought, have I felt this before? Now was all they had. Opening her eyes, she looked up at him. His face was close, shadowed. It filled her vision. Now was all she wanted.

  She reached up to bring his mouth back to hers.

  Sweetness. Perhaps rose petals growing hot and ripe in the sun would taste like this. Pungent, like wine mulled over an open fire. Intoxicating, like champagne just uncorked. The more he tasted, the more he understood the meaning of true greed. And when he touched, he understood obsession.

  She was like a statue, finely crafted, lovingly polished. But she was flesh and blood. Under his hand she moved, she pulsed. A statue might be admired, revered, studied. He could do that as his gaze roamed, as his hands stroked. But it was the woman he wanted. And the woman, he realized, had little more patience than he.

  On a moan of pleasure she rolled, pinning him beneath her so that she could touch as freely as he. Pounding inside her was a need so wild it had no form, no beginning. Perhaps that’s why she didn’t fight it. Neither did she have a beginning.

  She wanted to draw in that rich, deep male taste. And she did. She wanted to see her hand, pale and feminine, against his tanned skin. And she did. The sensations it brought her were something she’d never be able to describe with cool, clear reason, but she recognized happiness.

  When she felt the top of her bikini loosen there wasn’t any self-consciousness, only pleasure. Touch me. Her mind hummed the words only an instant before they were obeyed.

  Lost in each other, they twisted on the bunk, demanding as much as they gave, offering as quickly as taking. As his mouth followed after his hands, she arched, crying out in astonished delight. If there was more, she’d have more. But if this was everything, she’d need nothing else.

  Had she known her body was so sensitive? Had he? Incredibly, he seemed to know just where she craved to be touched, where she longed to have his lips brush or linger. There would be no less for him.

  Bold, confident, she yanked at his brief trunks until there was nothing between him and her hands. Excitement careened through her when he groaned, when he shuddered. When she felt the last dregs of civilization desert him.

  He’d made love before. He could remember what it was to feel a woman’s body, to bury himself in one. Why was it he couldn’t remember anything like this? If needs had ever clawed at him this sharply before, he had no knowledge of it. She was filling him, overwhelming him. All at once, there was nothing else—no sea lapping, no sun streaming through a door, no subtle movement of a boat beneath. There was only Gabriella, strong, sleek and seductive. There was only Gabriella, and a desire so tangled with emotion he couldn’t fight it. He couldn’t fight what he didn’t understand. Instead he gave himself to it, and to her.

  She arched, with her fingers digging into him like spurs. He heard her gasp, felt her stiffen. Then she was going with him, racing with him. Neither knew nor cared who set the pace.

  * * *

  Perhaps only moments had passed. It seemed like only moments. They were still tangled together, damp flesh against damp flesh, fast heart against fast heart. She wasn’t relaxed, but stunned. Perhaps, she thought as Reeve’s breathing continued to come unsteadily against her ear, she’d never relax again. Certainly she’d never be the same again.

  She looked at the sun coming into the cabin. The same sun. She heard and felt the motion of the sea. The same sea. But not the same Gabriella. Never the same, from this moment. Innocence was gone. It was only now that she could be certain she’d had it to lose. And it was only now, she realized, that she was sure she’d wanted to.

  “So there was no one else,” she murmured, thinking aloud.

  He felt something twist inside him. Lying still, he closed his eyes until it eased. When he lifted his head, he saw that her eyes were heavy, but her skin had that glow that spoke of the aftermath of passion. And he saw, when he looked down at her, that he’d lost a great deal more than his objectivity.

  H
is heart, which he’d always believed was very firmly in his possession, was hers. At that moment, he knew, she could break him in half with a careless word. So it was he who spoke almost carelessly.

  “No, there was no one else. Do you want an apology?”

  She wasn’t sure how to react or how to respond. Did a man feel responsible when he’d taken a woman’s innocence? How would she know? Maybe not responsible, she thought, but uncomfortable. She couldn’t afford the luxury of showing just how that idea hurt. Instead she kept her eyes level and her voice calm. “No, I don’t look for apologies. Do you?”

  His tone didn’t change, nor his expression. She could read nothing in either one. “Why would I?”

  “I started this, Reeve. I’m well aware of that.” She started to rise, but he held her in place.

  “Regrets?”

  Her chin came up, just a bit, but enough to show him her mood. “No. Have you?”

  The first time she’d been with a man, he thought, and he’d started a stilted, foolish conversation for his own defense. She was entitled to some tenderness, some sweetness and some truth. He touched her face, just a fingertip along her cheek.

  “How could I regret being given something beautiful?” He kissed her then, softly, lengthily. “How can I regret having made love to you when it’s something I’m already thinking about doing again?”

  Reeve saw her lips curve just before he shifted so that he could cradle her against him. When they started back to Cordina, he knew he’d have to begin thinking again, planning. If he was to help her … but not now. Not just yet.

  Content, and finding she could indeed relax. Brie rested a hand over his heart. It put her engagement ring directly in her line of vision. In the shadowed light it didn’t seem so stunning, so demanding. It seemed—almost—as if it belonged there. But it wasn’t real, she told herself quickly. It wasn’t anything more than a prop in a complicated game. Not real. She closed her eyes, settling her body against Reeve’s.

  No, the ring wasn’t real, but this was, she thought as she let herself drift. This was real—for as long as it lasted.

  Chapter 8

  Nothing seemed to become easier, Brie thought as she walked down the wide, window-lined corridor toward the Grand Ballroom. There were paintings that any artist with a soul might have wept over. There was furniture that had been lovingly polished for centuries. She passed by without a glance.

  Rather than simplifying with each day, life became more complicated. Hadn’t Reeve told her life was never simple? It wasn’t any use wishing he’d been wrong.

  Nearly a week before, she’d lain beside him on a narrow little bunk, half dozing until they’d turned to each other again. And made love again. Didn’t that make them lovers? she asked herself as she stopped by one of the windows. Weren’t lovers supposed to be at ease with each other—continue to desire each other? Yet a week had passed. In that week, Reeve had been faultlessly polite, outwardly attentive. He’d even in his own way been kind. And he’d gone out of his way to avoid touching her.

  Putting her hands on the sill, Brie looked down. The guards were changing. As she watched the quiet, rather charming procedure, she wondered if Reeve felt it was time her guard also changed. And what she’d do if he left.

  Of course, she’d known all along she’d have to face the gossip. Their engagement was still top news, not only in Cordina and Europe, but in the United States, as well. It wasn’t possible to leaf through a magazine without finding herself.

  That was nothing, Brie told herself with a little shrug. Gossip came and went. Unconsciously she twisted the diamond on her finger. Yes, gossip wasn’t important. But Reeve was—perhaps too important.

  If she understood herself better, her life better, would she know how to deal with what was happening? Or should she be dealing with what wasn’t happening? No, life wasn’t simple.

  Falling in love must be difficult enough when everything was normal, but when there were so many blank pages, so many responsibilities to be learned, it was more frightening than exhilarating.

  He’d go back to his farm, she reminded herself. To his farm, to his country, to his life. She, her family and a handful of people who had to be trusted were already aware of that. Even if Reeve asked her, could she go? He wouldn’t ask, she told herself, trying to accept it. After all, she was just one lover in his life, one woman, one incident. It couldn’t be for him as it was for her, where he was the only one.

  Responsibility. She closed her eyes a moment as she forced the word into her head. She had to think of her responsibilities and stop dreaming. There’d be no splashy wedding, no lovely white dress and veil that every designer in the world was hoping to make. There’d be no huge cake, no crossed swords. There’d be an end, and a polite goodbye. She had no right to wish differently. But she hadn’t the strength not to.

  When she turned, the figure across the wide corridor had her jolting back toward the windows.

  “Alexander.” Brie dropped the hand she’d pressed instinctively to her heart. “You frightened me.”

  “I didn’t want to disturb you. You looked …” Unhappy, he wanted to say. Lost. “Thoughtful.”

  “I was watching the guards.” The smile she gave him was the same polite one she gave to everyone. Everyone but Reeve. But unlike Alexander, she didn’t notice. “They look so trim and handsome in their uniforms. I was on my way to the ballroom to make sure everything was in order. It’s hard to believe there’s so little time left before the ball and yet so much to be done. Nearly all the responses are in, so—”