Affaire Royale (20 page)

He pulled out her emotions with a look. She couldn’t stop it. “I don’t want violence in my life,” she said passionately. “And I don’t, I won’t, accept the fact that I’ve killed.”

“Then you’ll never pull out of this.” His voice was harsh as he backed her into the seat. “You’ll go on living your fantasy. The princess in the castle—cool, distant and unattainable.”

“You speak to me of fantasy?” He was pushing her; it no longer mattered that she’d once asked him to. He was pushing her toward a dark boundary. “You make your own illusions. A man who’s spent his life looking for trouble, seeking it out, who pretends he’ll be content to sit on the porch and watch his crops grow.”

She’d hit the mark. Fury and frustration welled up and poured out in his voice. He had his fantasies, and she’d become one of them. “At least I know what my own reality is and I’ve faced it. I need the farm for reasons you’re not willing to understand. I need it because I know what I’m capable of, what I’ve done and what I might do yet.”

“With no regrets.”

“Damn regrets. But tomorrow might be different. I have a choice.” He wanted to believe it.

“You do.” Suddenly weary, she looked away. “Perhaps that’s where we differ. How can I live my life the way I’m obligated to live it knowing that I’m—”

“Human,” he interrupted. “Just like the rest of us.”

“You simplify.”

“Are you going to tell me that a title makes you above the rest of us?”

She started to snap, then let out a long breath. “You’ve cornered me. No, I’m human, and flawed, and I’m afraid. Accepting my own … shadows seems the most difficult of all.”

“Do you want to go on?”

“Yes.” She reached for the door handle. “Yes, I want to go on.” Stepping from the car, she looked around and wished she knew where to begin. Perhaps she already had. “Have you come out here before?”

“No.”

“Good, then it’s like the first time for both of us.” She shielded her eyes, looking. “It’s so quiet. I wonder if I planned to have the fields planted one day.”

“You talked of it.”

“But did nothing about it.” She began to walk.

Wildflowers grew as they pleased, in the field, along the path. Some were yellow, others blue. Fat, businesslike bees hummed around them. She saw a butterfly as big as the palm of her hand land and balance on a petal. The air smelled of grass, rich grass, rich dirt. She walked on without purpose.

A jay swooped by, annoyed by the intrusion. It flew off, complaining, into the trees. No fairy tale here, she mused. It would be hard, hard work to clear, to plant, to harvest. Is that why it remained undone? Had she only been dreaming again?

“Why did I buy this?”

“You wanted a place of your own. You needed a place where you could get away.”

“Escape again?”

“Solitude,” he corrected. “There’s a difference.”

“But it needs a house.” Suddenly impatient, she turned in a circle. “It needs to live. Look there—if some of those trees were cleared, a house could snuggle in and look out over the fields. There’d be stables there. Yes, and a pasture. A hen house, too.” Caught up, she walked farther, quickly. “Right along here. A farm has to have fresh
eggs. There should be dogs and children, don’t you see? It’s nothing without them. Daisies in a windowbox. Laughter through the doorways. The land shouldn’t sit unloved this way.”

He could see it as she did. After all, he’d seen his own land in precisely the same way. Yet they remained worlds apart. “From what I’ve been told, it isn’t unloved.”

“But untended. Nothing alive can go untended.”

Annoyed with herself, she turned to walk farther in the high grass. As she did, her foot hit something and set it rattling against rock. Reeve bent down and picked up a red thermos, empty, with the stopper and top missing. His instincts began to hum. He held it by the base, touching no more than was necessary. He’d been a cop too long.

“In your dreams you’re sitting someplace quiet, drinking coffee from a red thermos.”

Brie stared at it as though it were something vile. “Yes.”

“And you were sleepy.” Casually he sniffed at the opening, but his mind was already working ahead. Just how sophisticated was the police lab in Cordina? he wondered. And why hadn’t the farm been thoroughly investigated? Why had a piece of evidence so potentially important been left unheeded? He was damn well going to find out.

She’d walked this way on her own, he mused. He’d been very careful not to influence her direction. Then she systematically pointed out where a house, the stables would be. If she’d sat here before … He skimmed until his gaze rested on a big, smooth rock. It was only a few yards away, where the sun would be full and warm in the late morning and early afternoon. A spot for a dreamer.

Yes, if she’d sat there, resting, thinking, drinking coffee—

“What are you thinking?”

He brought his gaze back to her. “I’m thinking you may have sat against that rock there, drinking your coffee, planning. You got sleepy, perhaps even dozed off. But then you tried to shake the sleepiness off. You told me that in your dreams you didn’t want to be sleepy. So maybe you managed to get up, stumble in the direction of your car.” Turning, he looked back to where his sat. “Then the drug took over. You collapsed and the thermos
rolled aside.”

“A drug—in the coffee.”

“It fits. Whoever kidnapped you was nervous and under enormous pressure. They didn’t take the time to look for the thermos. Why should they? They had you.”

“Then it would have to be someone who knew my habits, who knew that I was coming here that day. Someone who …” She trailed off as she looked down at the thermos.

“Someone who’s close to you,” he finished. He lifted the thermos. “This close.”

She felt the chill. The urge to look over her shoulder, to run came back in full force. Using all her self-control, she remained still. “What do we do now?”

“Now we find out who fixed your coffee and who might have had the opportunity to add something extra to it.”

It wasn’t easy to nod, but she did. “Reeve, shouldn’t the police have gotten this far?”

He looked past her, into middle distance. “You’d think so, wouldn’t you?”

She looked down at the rings on her hand—one a diamond that should have symbolized faith. One of sapphires that should have symbolized love. “My father,” she began, but could go no further.

“It’s time we talked to him.”

*   *   *

It was dangerous for them to meet, but each drove down the long, rough road to the cottage. This was a time it would have been more dangerous not to meet.

The spot was isolated, overgrown, unlovely—a forgotten little cottage on a forgotten plot of land that had never been successfully tilled. That’s why it had been perfect. It was close enough to the little farm to have been convenient, far enough away from town to go unnoticed. The windows were boarded, except for one where the boards had been hacked away. They’d already discussed burning the place down, leaving the ashes to rot—like
the body they’d buried in the woods behind.

The cars arrived within moments of each other. The two people were too disciplined, too cautious to be late. And both, as they approached each other, were strung tight with nerves. Circumstances had made it necessary for them to trust the other with their lives.

“She’s beginning to remember.”

An oath, pungent and terrified. “You’re sure?”

“I wouldn’t have contacted you otherwise. I value my life as much as you value yours.” They both knew as long as one remained safe, so did the other. And if one made a mistake …

“How much does she know?”

“Not enough to worry yet. Childhood memories, a few images. Nothing of this.” A crow cawed frantically overhead, making both of them jolt. “But things are coming back. It’s more than just nightmares now. I think if she pushes, really pushes, it’s all going to come back.”

“We’ve always known it would come back. All we need is a bit more time.”

“Time?” The derisive laugh startled a squirrel. “We’ve precious little left. And she tells the American everything. They’re lovers now—and he’s clever. Very clever. I sometimes think he suspects.”

“Don’t be a fool.” But nerves twisted and tightened. How could the American have been anticipated? “If that idiot Henri hadn’t gotten drunk.
Merde!
” They’d seen their carefully executed plans shattered because of wine and lust. Neither of them regretted having to dig a grave.

“There’s no use going over that now. Unless we can take her again the exchange is impossible. Deboque remains in prison, the money is out of reach and vengeance is lost.”

“So we take her again. Who’d expect a second kidnapping to be attempted so soon?”

“We had her once!” It wasn’t so much temper as fear. Both of them had lived on the edge since Brie had been identified at the hospital.

“And we’ll have her again. Soon. Very soon.”

“What about the American? He’s not as trusting as the princess.”

“Dispensable—as the princess will be if she remembers too much too soon. Watch her closely. You know what to do if it becomes necessary.”

The small silenced gun with its lethal bullets was safely hidden. “If I kill her, her blood’s on your hands, as well.”

Thoughts of murder weren’t troubling. Thoughts of failure, of discovery were. “We both know that. Our luck only has to hold until the night of the ball.”

“The plan’s mad. Taking her there, right from the palace when it’s filled with people.”

“The plan can work. Have you a better one?” There was only silence for a moment, but it wasn’t a comfortable one.

“I wish to God I’d stayed here with her, instead of that fool Henri.”

“Just keep your eyes and ears open. You’ve gained her trust?”

“As much as anyone.”

“Then use it. We’ve less than two weeks.”

Brie sat with her hands folded in her lap, her back very straight and her eyes level. She waited for her father to speak. Questions, too many of them, had formed in her mind. Answers, too many of them, had yet to be resolved.

Who was she? She’d been told—Her Serene Highness Gabriella de Cordina, daughter, sister. A member of the Bissets, one of the oldest royal families of Europe.

What was she? She’d learned—a responsible woman with an organized mind, a sense of duty and not so quiet wells of passion. But something had happened to take the rest away from her, those vital little details that make a person whole. She was only just beginning to fight for the right to have them back.

Drugged coffee, a dark room, voices. A knife and blood on her hands. She needed those memories, those details to have the rest. She’d just begun to face this.

The room was very quiet. Through the west windows, the light was lovely, serene. It turned the red carpet to blood without violence.

“So you believe the coffee Gabriella carried in this was drugged.” Armand spoke without heat as he glanced at the red thermos that sat on his desk.

“It’s logical.” Reeve didn’t sit. He faced Armand, as well, standing just beside Brie’s chair. “It also fits in with the recurring dream Brie has.”

“The thermos can be analyzed.”

“Yes, and should be.” Though his eyes were very calm, he watched Armand’s every movement, every expression. Just as he knew Armand watched his. “The question is why it wasn’t found before this.”

Armand met Reeve’s gaze. When he spoke, he spoke with authority, not with friendship. “It would appear the police have been careless.”

“It would appear a great many people have been careless.” It wasn’t as easy as it had once been, Reeve discovered, to hold back temper. He saw nothing on Armand’s face but cool, steady calculation. And he didn’t like it. “If the coffee was drugged, as I believe it was, the implications are obvious.”

Armand drew out one of his long, dark cigarettes and lit it slowly. “Indeed.”

“You take it very calmly, Your Highness.”

“I take it as I must.”

“And I as I must. I’m taking Brie out of Cordina until this business is resolved. She isn’t safe in the palace.”

Armand’s jaw tensed, but only briefly. “If I hadn’t been concerned for her safety, I wouldn’t have brought you here.”

“Without the bond between our families, I never would have come.” Reeve’s reply was mild and final. “It’s not enough anymore. Now I want answers.”

Armand was suddenly and completely royal. “You have no right to demand them of me.”

Reeve took one step forward. He needed only one. “Your crown won’t protect you.”

“Enough!” Brie sprang out of the chair to stand between Reeve and her father. If it was a protective move, it wasn’t a conscious one. She couldn’t have said which of the two she sought to protect. Her anger whipped through her with a force that helped smother other emotions. “How dare the two of you speak around me as if I were incapable of thinking for myself? How dare the two of you
protect
me as though I were incompetent?”

“Gabriella!” Armand was out of his chair before it fully registered how often he’d heard and dealt with that tone before. “Mind your tongue.”

“I won’t.” Infuriated, she turned on him, leaning over the desk with both palms pressed to it. Another time he would have thought her magnificent—as her mother had been. “I won’t be polite and inoffensive. I’m not a cotton-candy princess to be displayed, but a woman. It’s my life, do you understand? I won’t stand here silently while the pair of you bully each other like a couple of arrogant children over the same prize. I want answers.”

Armand’s eyes were cool and remote. So was his voice. “You want more than I’m free to give.”

“I want what’s mine by right.”

“What’s yours is yours only when I give it to you.” Brie straightened, pale but steady. “Is this a father?” Her voice was soft yet cut like a knife. “You rule Cordina well, Your Highness. Can the same be said for your family?”

It struck clean to the bone. Not a muscle on his face moved. “You have to trust me, Gabriella.”

“Trust?” Her voice wavered only once. “This,” she told him with a gesture toward the thermos. “This shows me I can’t trust anyone. Not anyone,” she repeated. Turning, she fled from both of them.