by Nora Roberts
Being with her, and not being with her, was like taking a long, slow walk a few inches over very hot coals. The steam was there, the sizzle—but it wasn’t possible to cool off or take the fatal plunge into the heat.
“That little cove.” Brie lifted her hand to point. “It looks quiet.”
Without fuss they began to tack toward the small shelter. She worked with the wind, coaxing it, bowing to it. Once the lines were secure, Brie merely sat staring across the narrow strip of water.
“From here Cordina looks so fanciful. So pink and white and lovely. It seems as though nothing bad would ever happen there.”
He looked with her. “Fairy tales are traditionally violent aren’t they?”
“Yes.” She smiled a little looking up at the palace. How bold it looked, she thought. How bold and elegant. “But then no matter how much it looks like one, Cordina isn’t a fairy tale. Does your practical democratic American mind find it foolish—our castles, our pomp and protocol?”
This time he smiled. Perhaps she didn’t remember her roots but they were there, dug in. “I find it intelligently run. Lebarre is one of the best ports in the world regardless of size. Culturally Cordina bows to no one. Economically, it’s sound.”
“True. I, too, have been doing my homework. Still …” Brie ran her tongue over her teeth before she leaned back and circled her knee with her arms. “Did you know that women weren’t granted the right to vote in Cordina until after World War II? Granted as though it were a favor, not a right. Family life is still very Mediterranean, with the wife subservient and the husband dominant.”
“In theory, or in practice?” Reeve countered.
“From what I’ve seen, very much in practice. Constitutionally, the title my father holds can pass only to a male.”
Reeve listened, looking across the water as she did. “Does that annoy you?”
Brie gave him an odd, searching look. “Yes, of course. Just because I have no desire to rule doesn’t mean the law itself isn’t wrong. My grandfather was instrumental in bringing women’s suffrage to Cordina. My own father has gone farther by appointing women to positions of importance, but change is slow.”
“Invariably.”
“You’re practical and patient by nature.” She gave a quick shrug. “I’m not. When change is for the better, I see no reason for it to creep along.”
“You can’t overlook the human element.”
“Especially when some humans are too steeped in tradition to see the advantage of progress.”
“Loubet.”
Brie sent him an appreciative look. “I can see why my father enjoys having you around, Reeve.”
“How much do you know about Loubet?”
“I can read,” she said simply. “I can listen. The picture I gain is one of a very conservative man. Stuffy.” She rose, stretching so that the bikini briefs went taut over her hips. “True, he’s an excellent minister in his way, but so very, very cautious. I read in my diary where he tried to discourage me from my tour of Africa last year. He didn’t feel it proper for a woman. Nor does he feel it proper for me to meet with the National Council over budget matters.” Frustration showed briefly. She was, Reeve noted, learning fast. “If men like Loubet had their way, women would do no more than make coffee and babies.”
“I’ve always been of the opinion that such things should be joint efforts.”
She smiled down at him, obviously amused and relaxed. “But then, you’re not such a traditionalist. Your mother was a circuit-court judge.” At Reeve’s steady look, her smile widened. “I did my homework,” she reminded him. “You weren’t a subject I overlooked. You graduated from American University summa cum laude. Under the current circumstances, I find it interesting that you have a degree in psychology.”
“A tool,” he said easily, “in the career I chose.”
“True enough. After two and half years on the police force and three citations for bravery, you went undercover. The facts become vague there, but rumor has it that you were on the team responsible for breaking one of the major crime rings operating in and around the District of Columbia. There’s also a rumor that at the request of a certain United States senator, you served on his security force. With your reputation, your intelligence and your record you could easily have made the rank of captain, despite your age. Instead you chose to resign from the force altogether.”
“For someone who said they knew little about me, you certainly have enough data.”
“That tells me nothing about you.” She walked to starboard. “I want to cool off. Will you come?” Before he could answer, she was over the side and in the water.
She was unbelievably provocative, but he’d yet to determine if this was deliberate. Thoughtful, Reeve rose. Finding out might be an education in itself. As smoothly as Brie, he slipped into the water.
“Soft,” she said as she treaded water lazily. She’d already been under and her hair was wet, sleeked back from her face. Dripping, struck by the sun, it was 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 wer
e 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.