by Nora Roberts
The laugh rewarded her, but Brie didn’t relax. “You know that whenever your crown gets too heavy you can take a break in Houston. God knows I can always use an extra pair of hands at the gallery. How are you, Brie, really?”
“I …” Oddly she found herself wanting to pour out everything, anything. There was something so comforting in the faceless voice. Duty, she remembered. Obligation. “I’m fine.”
“It’s Chris, remember? Oh, God, Brie, when I read about the kidnapping, I nearly—” She broke off, and Brie barely heard the quiet oath. “I spoke with your father, you know. I wanted to come. He didn’t think it would be the best thing for you.”
“Probably not. I’ve needed time, but I’m glad you wanted to.”
“I’m not going to ask you questions about it, love. I’m sure the best thing to do is forget it entirely.”
Brie gave a quick, uncontrollable laugh. “That seems to be what I’m doing.”
Chris waited a moment, not quite satisfied with Brie’s reaction. Ultimately she let it pass. “I will ask you what the hell’s going on over there in Camelot.”
“Going on?”
“This secret, whirlwind romance that’s now at the engagement point. Brie, I know you’ve always been discreet, but I can’t believe you didn’t say a word to me, not a word about Reeve MacGee.”
“Well, I suppose I really didn’t know what to say.” That had the ring of truth, Brie thought bitterly. “Everything’s happened so fast. The engagement wasn’t set or even discussed until Reeve came out here last month.”
“How does your father feel?”
Brie gave a wry smile, grateful she didn’t have to guard her expression. “You could say he nearly arranged it himself.”
“I can’t say I disapprove. An American ex-cop—you always said you’d never marry anyone too suitable.”
Brie smiled a little. “Apparently I meant it.”
“Actually, I was beginning to think you’d never take the plunge. You’ve always been too clever about men for your own good. Remember that model in Professor Debare’s class?”
“The male model?” Brie hazarded, and was rewarded by another long laugh.
“Of course. You took one look at that magnificent study in masculine perfection and dubbed him a shallow, vain opportunist. The rest of us were drooling over his pectoral muscles—then he took Sylvia for fifty thousand francs.”
“Poor Sylvia,” Brie murmured, lost.
“Ah, well, she could afford it. Anyway, Brie, I know you’re busy. I’ve called to invite myself, and Eve, for a few days.”
“You know you’re always welcome,” Brie said automatically while her mind raced. “You’re coming for the ball. Can you stay over then?”
“That’s the plan. I hope you don’t mind me dragging Eve along, but the girl’s driving Daddy mad. Brie, the child wants to be an actress.”
“Oh?”
“You know Daddy, all business. He just can’t see one of his darling girls wearing greasepaint and costumes. Now if she wanted to be an agent … Anyway, I thought it might do them both good to be a few thousand miles apart for a week or so. So if you can find an extra couple of beds in that palace of yours …”
“We’ve always got the folding cots.”
“I knew I could count on you. We’ll fly in the day before the ball, then. I can give you a hand—and meet your betrothed. By the way, Brie, how does it feel to be in love?”
“It—” She looked down at the ring on her hand, remembered what could sweep through her at a touch, at a look. “It’s not very comfortable, actually.”
Chris laughed again. “Did you think it was going to be? Take care of yourself, darling. I’ll see you soon.”
“Goodbye, Chris.”
After she’d hung up, Brie sat still for a moment. She’d pulled it off. Christina Hamilton hadn’t suspected anything. Brie had been bright, cheerful—deceitful. On a surge of temper, Brie tossed her notes so that they scattered, floated, then fell. She continued to frown at them after she’d heard the discreet knock at her door.
No, she wouldn’t pick them up, Brie decided. She’d leave them just where they were, just where they belonged. “Yes, come in.”
“Excuse me, Your Highness.” Janet entered the sitting room with her usual lack of fuss. “I thought you’d like to know that the ballroom is in order. The drapes are being rehung.” Though she glanced down to the papers lying on the floor, she made no comment. “Did your call come through?”
“Yes. Yes, I spoke with Miss Hamilton. And you’re welcome to relay to my father that she suspects nothing.”
Janet kept her hands folded neatly in front of her. “I beg your pardon, Your Highness?”
“Are you actually going to try to tell me you don’t report to him?” Brie demanded. She rose, guilt and despair pushing at her. “I’m well aware of how closely you watch me, Janet.”
“Your welfare is our only concern, Your Highness.” Janet’s voice remained colorless; her hands remained folded. “If I’ve offended you—”
“The subterfuge offends me,” Brie tossed back. “All of it.”
“I know Your Highness must feel—”
“You don’t know how I feel,” Brie interrupted as she whirled around the room. “How can you? Do you remember your father, your brother, your closest friend?”
“Your Highness …” After a moment, Janet took a step closer. That kind of temper, that kind of emotion had to be handled gently. “Perhaps none of us really understands, but that doesn’t mean we don’t care. If there were anything I could do to help….”
“No.” Calmer, Brie turned back. “No, nothing. I’m sorry, Janet. I’ve no business shouting at you.”
The smile was slight and did little to change her expression. “But you had to shout at someone. I’d hoped—that is, I’d thought that perhaps after you’d talked to an old friend you might begin to remember something.”
“Nothing. Sometimes I wonder if I ever will.”
“But the doctors are hopeful, Your Highness.”
“Doctors. I’ve had my fill of them, I’m afraid. They tell me to be patient.” With a sigh, she began to rearrange a vase of gardenias. “How can I be patient when I have nothing more than flashes of who I am, of what happened to me?”
“But you have flashes?” Again Janet stepped closer, and after a brief hesitation laid a hand on Brie’s. “You do remember bits and pieces?”
“No—impressions. Nothing as solid as pieces.” The image of the knife was solid, and too ugly to dwell on. She needed something her mind could accept, something that eased it. “Pieces could be put together, couldn’t they, Janet?”
“I’m not a doctor, Your Highness, but perhaps you should accept what you have now.”
“That my life began less than a month ago?” Brie shook her head. “No, I can’t. I won’t. I’ll find the first piece.”
A floor above, Alexander sat in his cool-colored, spacious office and watched Reeve. He’d planned the interview carefully, and felt fully justified.
“I appreciate your giving me some time, Reeve.”
“I’m sure you feel it’s important, Alex.”
“Gabriella’s important.”
Reeve nodded slowly. “To all of us.”
It wasn’t precisely the response he’d expected. Then again, he knew the value of having alternate moves. “While I appreciate what you’re doing, Reeve, I feel my father leaned too heavily on an old friendship. Your position becomes more delicate every day.”
Reeve sat back. Though there were nearly ten years between them, he didn’t consider that he was facing a boy. Alexander had become a man earlier than most. Reeve debated his next move, and decided on an aggressive one. “Are you concerned about the possibility of my becoming your brother-in-law, Alex?”
If there was anger, the prince concealed it. “We both know what games are being played. My concern is Gabriella. She’s very vulnerable now, too vulnerable. Since, through my father’s wi
shes, you remain closer to Gabriella than her family, you’re in a position to observe and advise.”
“And you’re worried that I might observe what’s none of my business and advise what’s inappropriate.”
Alexander spread his hands on his desk. “I can see why my father admires you, Reeve. And I think I can understand why Brie trusts you.”
“But you don’t.”
“No, actually, I think I do.” He wasn’t unsure of himself. A man in Alexander’s position couldn’t afford to be. But he took a moment, anyway. He wanted to be certain he used the right words, the right tone. “I’m confident that as far as Brie’s safety goes, she’s in good hands. Otherwise …” He brought his gaze to Reeve’s. They held level. “Otherwise, I’d see that you were either sent on your way or carefully watched.”
“Fair enough.” Reeve took out a cigarette. Alex shook his head at the offer. “So you’re satisfied with my position as bodyguard, but you’re concerned about a more personal relationship.”
“You’re aware that I objected—no, let’s be candid—that I fought the business of your becoming engaged to my sister.”
“I’m aware that both you and Loubet expressed doubts.”
“I don’t like my opinion coinciding with Loubet’s,” Alexander muttered, then gave Reeve a quick, completely open smile. “My father considers Loubet’s talents and experience as minister of state compensation for his outdated views on a great number of things.”
“Then there’s the matter of the limp.” At Alexander’s expression, Reeve blew out a stream of smoke. “A great deal of our families’ histories are known to each other, Alex. My father happened to be in the car along with Loubet and the prince when they had the accident some thirty-five years ago. Your father broke his arm, mine suffered a mild concussion. Loubet, unfortunately, had more serious injuries.”
“The accident has nothing to do with Loubet’s position now.”
“No, I’m quite sure it doesn’t. Your father doesn’t handle things that way. But perhaps he’s more tolerant because of it. He was driving. A certain amount of remorse is only human. In any case”—Reeve brushed the subject aside—“it merely serves to show that our families are tied in certain ways. Old friendships, old bonds. My engagement to your sister was easily accepted because of that.”
“Do you easily accept it?”
This time it was Reeve who hesitated. “Alex, do you want a comfortable answer or the truth?”
“The truth.”
“It wasn’t a simple matter for me to agree to a mock engagement to Gabriella. It isn’t a simple matter for me to go through the motions of being her fiancé, or to see my ring on her finger. It isn’t simple,” Reeve said slowly, “because I’m in love with her.”
Alexander didn’t speak, nor did he give any sign of surprise. After a moment, he reached out and ran a fingertip down a silver picture frame. His sister looked back out at him, smiling and lovely. “What do you intend to do about it?”
Reeve lifted a brow. “Isn’t it your father’s place to ask, Alex?”
“It isn’t my father you’ve told.”
“No.” Reeve crushed out his cigarette slowly, deliberately. “I don’t intend to do anything about it. I’m well aware what my responsibilities and my limitations are as concerns your sister.”
“I see.” Alexander picked up a pen and ran it absently through his fingers. It seemed he didn’t know Reeve MacGee as well as he’d thought. “And Brie’s feelings?”
“Are Brie’s feelings. She doesn’t need any more complications at this point. Once she remembers, she’ll no longer need me.”
“Just like that?”
“I’m a realist. Whatever develops between Brie and me now is very likely to change once her memory returns.”
“And yet you want to help her get to that point.”
“She needs to remember,” Reeve said evenly. “She suffers.”
Alex looked at the picture again, was drawn to it. “I know that.”
“Do you? Do you know how guilty she feels that she can’t remember the people who want her love? Do you know how frightened she is when she has one of the dreams that take her to the edge of remembering, then leave her lost?”
“No.” Alexander dropped the pen. “She doesn’t confide in me—I think I see why. And I think I see why my father trusts you completely.” Looking down at his hands, he felt helpless, frustrated. “She has dreams?”
“She remembers the dark, hearing voices, being afraid.” He thought of her dream about the knife, but kept his silence there. That was for Brie to tell. “It seems to be little more than that.”
“I see. I understand a great deal more now.” Again Alexander’s gaze locked on his. “You’ve a right to resent my questions, Reeve, but I’ve the right to ask them.”
“We’ll agree to both of those.” Rising, Reeve put an end to the interview himself. “Just remember, I’ll do everything I’m capable of doing to keep your sister safe.”
Alex stood to face him. “We can both agree to that, as well.”
* * *
It was late when Reeve stood under a hot, soothing shower. He needed it more than he needed an empty bed. His evening had been spent escorting Brie to a dinner party, where they’d both been deluged with questions on the wedding. When, who, where? How much? How soon? How many?
If things didn’t begin to turn around for Brie after the ball, they’d no longer be able to use preparations for that as an excuse for the lack of plans.
All they needed now was a fictitious wedding date, Reeve thought, letting water pour over his head and beat on his neck. If things didn’t begin to jell soon, they’d find themselves standing at the altar just to keep the tongues from wagging.
That would be the ultimate in fantasy and foolishness, wouldn’t it? he asked himself. Married to prevent rumors from generating. Yet how much more difficult could that be than what was going on now?
He’d had to sit through dinner, watching her, being congratulated on his good fortune. He’d had to sit within a few feet of her and remember what it had been like for them when they’d just been two people on a narrow bunk in a tiny cabin.
Trouble was, he remembered too well, needed too much. Since then he’d been very careful to avoid any opportunity for them to be quite that alone. When they weren’t in the palace or in the car, they were at a party or one of her charity functions. He took her to the AHC headquarters or the Red Cross. He accompanied her to the museum, but he never suggested another sail.
Neither of them could afford it, he decided as he stepped from the shower. Certainly neither of them had planned on his forgetting the rules and falling in love with her. He still had a job to do. She still had a life to rediscover. Once both were accomplished, the ties would be broken.
As they should be, Reeve thought. With a towel hooked around his waist, he rubbed a fresh one over his hair. Brie didn’t belong in a ramshackle farmhouse in the mountains. He didn’t belong in a palace. It was as simple as that.
Then he stepped through to the bedroom and nothing was simple.
Brie sat in an armchair, a low light shining over her shoulder as she thumbed through a book. The nerves were there, but so was determination. She managed to hide the first as she looked up.
“I think I’ve always loved Steinbeck,” she said as she set the book aside. “He makes me feel as though I’ve been to Monterey.” She rose, and though she’d been too nervous to plan it, she looked like a bride. The simple white robe fell to her ankles and covered her arms to the wrist. Her hair fell over her shoulders, where lace gave a glimpse of the skin beneath.
Reeve stood where he was, as stunned by the ache as he’d ever been stunned by anything. “Did you want to borrow a book?”
“No.” She stepped toward him as though she were confident. “You wouldn’t come to me, Reeve. I thought it was time I came to you.” Needing the contact, she took his hands. Somehow it made the confidence genuine.“You can’t send me away,
” she murmured. “I won’t go.”
No, he couldn’t send her away. Common sense might tell him to, but common sense hadn’t a chance. “Pulling rank again, Gabriella?”
“Only if I must.” She lifted his hand to her face a moment. “Tell me you don’t want me. I might hate you for it, but I won’t make a fool of myself again.”
He knew he could lie, and that the lie might be best for her. But the lie wouldn’t come. “I can’t tell you I don’t want you. I doubt I could tell you even if I thought I could make you believe it. And I’m very likely to make a fool of myself.”
With a smile, she wrapped her arms around him. “Hold me. Just hold me.” She closed her eyes as her cheek pressed against his shoulder. This was where she’d wanted to be. “I’ve been going crazy waiting, wondering. I nearly lost my nerve tonight coming down the hall.”
“It might have been best if you had. It’s hardly discreet for you to visit me in my room at midnight.”
Laughing, she tossed her head back. “No, it’s not. So let’s make the best of it.”
With her arms flung around his neck, she found his mouth with hers. It was what she wanted, all she wanted, Brie realized as she poured herself into the kiss. Whatever she had to fight to get another day successfully behind her, if she could share the night with him, she could do it.
“Reeve.” Slowly she drew away so that she could see him. “For tonight, let’s not have any pretenses, any deceptions.” She brought his hand to her face again, but this time she pressed her mouth to it. “I need you. Can that be enough?”
“It’s enough.” He loosened the sash of her robe. “Let me show you.”
The light was low, the windows open. She could smell the sweet peas that climbed gleefully on the trellis just below. When he slipped the robe from her shoulders, she shivered. But from excitement, not from the breeze.
“You’re lovely, Brie.” Now that they were bare, Reeve followed the slope of her shoulders with his hands. “Every time I see you, it’s like the first time. The light is different, the angle, but it strikes me just as it did the first time.”
He brushed her hair back from her face until only his hand framed it. Then he watched her, only watched, until her heart began to thud. He kissed her, once, twice, slowly but lightly. As her lids fluttered closed, he brushed his lips over them, as well. Gentleness he hadn’t shown before. She’d come to him. Now he could give it.