Affaire Royale (3 page)

“Is that what happened this time?”

“She wanted to drive in the country. It’s something she does from time to time. The responsibilities of her title are many. Gabriella needs an escape valve. Until six days ago, it seemed like a very harmless one, which was why I permitted it.”

The very tone told Reeve that Armand ruled his family as he did his country, with a just, but cool hand. He absorbed the feeling as easily as he did the information. “Until six days ago,” Reeve repeated. “When your daughter was abducted.”

Armand nodded calmly. There were facts to be dealt with; emotion only clouded them. “Now, until we’re certain who abducted her and why, she can’t be allowed something so harmless. I would trust the Royal Guards with my life. I can’t trust them with my daughter’s.”

Reeve tapped out his cigarette gently. The drift was coming across loud and clear. “I’m not on the force any longer, Armand. And you don’t want a cop.”

“You have your own business. I understand you’re something of an expert on terrorism.”

“In my own country,” Reeve pointed out. “I certainly have no credentials in Cordina.” He felt his curiosity pick up another notch. Impatient with himself, he frowned at Armand. “I’ve had the opportunity to make contacts over the years. I could give you the names of some good men. If you’re looking for a royal bodyguard—”

“I’m looking for a man I can trust with my daughter’s life,” Armand interrupted. He said it quietly, but the thread of power lay just beneath. “A man I can trust to remain as objective as I myself must remain. A man who has had experience dealing with a potentially explosive situation with … finesse. I’ve followed your career.” He gave another quick smile at Reeve’s bland look. “I have a few connections in Washington. Your record was exemplary, Reeve. Your father can be proud of you.”

Reeve shifted uncomfortably at the mention of his father. The connection was too damn personal, he thought. It would make it more difficult for him to accept and be objective, or to refuse graciously—guiltlessly. “I appreciate that. But I’m not a cop. I’m not a bodyguard. I’m a farmer.”

Armand’s expression remained grave, but Reeve caught the quick light of humor in his eyes. “Yes, so I’ve been told. If you prefer, we can leave it at that. However, I have a need. A great need. I won’t press you now.” Armand knew when to advance and when to retreat. “Give some thought to what I’ve said. Tomorrow, perhaps we can talk again, and you can speak with Gabriella yourself. In the meantime, you are our guest.” He rose, signaling an end to the interview. “My car will take you back to the palace. I will remain here a bit longer.”

*   *   *

The late-morning sunlight filtered into the room. Vaguely wanting a cigarette, Reeve watched its patterns on the floor. He’d spoken with Armand again, over a private breakfast in the prince’s suite. If there was one thing Reeve understood, it was quiet determination and cold power. He’d grown up with it.

Swearing lightly, Reeve looked through the window at the mountains that cupped Cordina so beautifully.

Why the hell was he here? His land was thousands of miles away and waiting for his plow. Instead he was in this little fairy-tale country where the air was seductively soft and the sea was blue and close. He should never have come, Reeve told himself ruthlessly. When Armand had contacted him, he should simply have made his excuses. When his father had called to add weight to the prince’s request, Reeve should have told him he had fields to till and hay to plant.

He hadn’t. With a sigh, Reeve admitted why. His father had asked so little of him and had given so much. The friendship that bound Ambassador Francis MacGee to His Royal Highness Armand of Cordina was strong and real. Armand had flown to the States for his mother’s funeral. It wasn’t possible to forget how much that support had meant to his father.

And he hadn’t forgotten the princess. He continued to stare out the window. The woman slept behind him in the hospital bed, pale, vulnerable, fragile. Reeve remembered her ten years before, when he’d joined his parents for a trip to Cordina.

It had been her sixteenth birthday, Reeve remembered. He’d been in his twenties, already working his way
up on the force. He hadn’t been a man with illusions. Certainly not one to believe in fairy tales. But that had been exactly what Her Serene Highness Gabriella had been.

Her dress—he could still remember it—had been a pale, mint-colored silk nipped into an impossibly small waist, billowing out like clouds. Against it, her skin had been glowing with life and youth. She’d worn a little ring of diamonds in her hair, glittering, winking, sizzling, against that deep, rich chestnut. It was hair a man wanted to run his fingers through, possessively. Her face had been all roses and cream and delicacy, with a mouth that was full and promising. And her eyes … Reeve remembered them most of all. Her eyes, under dark, arched brows, surrounded by lush, lush lashes, had been like topaz.

Almost reluctantly, he turned to look at her now.

Her face was still delicate, perhaps more so since she’d grown from girl to woman. The sweep of her cheekbones gave her dignity. Her skin was pale, as though the life and youth had been washed out of it. Her hair was still rich, but it was brushed straight back, leaving her face vulnerable. The beauty was still there, but it was so fragile a man would be afraid to touch.

One arm was thrown across her body, and he could see the sparkle of diamonds and sapphire. Yet her nails were short and uneven, as though they’d been bitten or broken off. The IV still fed into her wrist. He remembered when she was sixteen she’d worn a bracelet of pearls there.

It was that memory that caused the anger to roll through him. It had been a week since her abduction, two days since the young couple had found her collapsed on the side of the road, yet no one knew what she’d been through. He could remember the scent of her perfume from ten years before. She couldn’t remember her own name.

Some puzzles could be left on the shelf and easily ignored; some could be speculated on and left to others. Then there were those that intrigued and tempted. They called to the part of him that was seduced by questions, riddles and the often violent way of solving them that, he’d nearly convinced himself, had been overcome.

Armand had been clever, Reeve thought grimly, very clever, to insist that he see Princess Gabriella for himself. What was he going to do about her? he asked himself. What in hell was he going to do? He had his own
life to start, the new one he’d chosen for himself. A man trying for a second beginning didn’t have time to mix himself up in other people’s problems. Hadn’t that been just what he’d wanted to get away from?

His brow was furrowed in the midst of his contemplations; that was how she saw him when she opened her eyes. Brie stared into the grim, furious face, saw the smoldering blue irises, the tight mouth, and froze. What was dream and what was real? she asked herself as she braced herself. The hospital. She allowed her gaze to leave his only long enough to assure herself she was still there. Her fingers tightened on the sheets until they were white, but her voice came calmly.

“Who are you?”

Whatever else had changed about her over the years or over the past week, the eyes were the same. Tawny, deep. Fascinating. Reeve kept his hands in his pockets. “I’m Reeve MacGee, a friend of your father’s.”

Brie relaxed a little. She remembered the man with the tired eyes and military stance who’d told her he was her father. No one knew how restless and frustrated a night she’d spent trying to find some glimmer of memory. “Do you know me?”

“We met several years ago, Your Highness.” The eyes that had fascinated him in the girl, and now in the woman, seemed to devour him. She needs something, he thought. She’s groping for any handhold. “It was your sixteenth birthday. You were exquisite.”

“You’re American, Reeve MacGee?”

He hesitated a moment, his eyes narrowing. “Yes. How do you know?”

“Your voice.” Confusion came and went in her eyes. He could almost see her grab on to that one thin thread. “I hear it in your voice. I’ve been there … Have I been there?”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

He knew, she thought. He knew, but she could only guess. “Nothing.” Tears welled up and were vanquished. She was too much her father’s daughter. “Can you imagine,” she began very steadily, “what it is to wake up with nothing? My life is blank pages. I have to wait for others to fill it for me. What happened to me?”

“Your Highness—”

“Must you call me that?” she demanded.

The flash of impatient spirit took him back a pace. He tried not to smile. He tried not to admire it. “No,” he said simply, and made himself comfortable on the edge of her bed. “What would you like to be called?”

“By my name.” Brie looked down in annoyance at the bandage on her wrist. That would be done away with soon, she decided, then managed to shift herself up. “I’m told it’s Gabriella.”

“You’re more often known as Brie.”

She was silent a moment as she struggled to find the familiarity. The blank pages remained blank. “Very well, then. Now tell me what happened to me.”

“We don’t have the details.”

“You must,” she corrected, watching him. “If not all, you have some. I want them.”

He studied her. Fragile, yes, but under the fragility was a core of strength. She’d have to build on it again. “Last Sunday afternoon you went out for a drive in the country. The next day, your car was found abandoned. There were calls. Ransom calls. Allegedly you’d been abducted and were being held.” He didn’t add what the threats had been or what would have been done to her if the ransom demands weren’t met. Nor did he add that the ransom demands had ranged from exorbitant amounts of money to the release of certain prisoners.

“Kidnapped.” Brie’s fingers reached out and gripped his. She saw images, shadows. A small, dark room. The smell of … kerosene and must. She remembered the nausea, the headaches. The terror came back, but little else. “It won’t come clear,” she murmured. “Somehow I know it’s true, but there’s a film I can’t brush away.”

“I’m no doctor.” Reeve spoke in brisk tones because her fight to find herself affected him too strongly. “But I’d say not to push it. You’ll remember when you’re ready to remember.”

“Easy to say.” She released his hand. “Someone’s stolen my life from me, Mr. MacGee … What’s your place in this?” she demanded suddenly. “Were we lovers?”

His brow lifted. She certainly didn’t beat around the bush, he mused. Nor, he thought, only half-amused, did she sound too thrilled by the prospect. “No. As I said, you were sixteen the one and only time we met. Our fathers are old friends. They’d have been a bit annoyed if I’d seduced you.”

“I see. Then why are you here?”

“Your father asked me to come. He’s concerned about your security.”

She glanced down at the ring on her finger. Exquisite, she thought. Then she saw her nails and frowned. That was wrong, wasn’t it? she wondered. Why would she wear such a ring and not take care of her hands? Another flicker of memory taunted her. Brie closed her hands into fists as it hovered, then faded. “If my father is concerned about my security,” she continued, unaware that Reeve watched her every expression, “what is that to you?”

“I’ve had some experience with security. Prince Armand has asked me to look out for you.”

She frowned again, in a quiet, thoughtful way she had no idea was habit. “A bodyguard?” She said it in the same impatient way he had. “I don’t think I’d like that.”

The simple dismissal had him doing a complete reversal. He’d given up his free time, come thousands of miles, and she didn’t think she’d like it. “You’ll find, Your Highness, that even a princess has to do things she doesn’t like. Might as well get used to it.”

She studied him blandly, the way she did when her temper threatened her good sense. “I think not, Mr. MacGee. I find myself certain that I wouldn’t tolerate having someone hover around me. When I get home—” She stopped, because home was another blank. “When I get home,” she repeated, “I’ll find another way of dealing with it. You may tell my father that I declined your kind offer.”

“The offer isn’t to you, but to your father.” Reeve rose. This time Brie was able to see that for sheer size he was impressive. His leanness didn’t matter, nor did his casually expensive clothes. If he meant to block your way, you’d be blocked. Of that much she was sure.

He made her uneasy. She didn’t know why, or, annoyingly, if she should know. Yet he did, and because of this she wanted nothing to do with him on a day-to-day basis. Her life was jumbled enough at the moment without a man like Reeve MacGee in her way.

She asked if they’d been lovers because the idea both stirred and frightened. When he’d said no, she hadn’t felt relief but the same blank flatness she’d been dealing with for two days. Perhaps she was a woman of little
emotion, Brie considered. Perhaps life was simpler that way.

“I’ve been told I’m nearly twenty-five, Mr. MacGee.”

“Must you call me that?” he countered, deliberately using the same tone she had. He saw her smile quickly. The light came on and switched off.

“I am an adult,” she went on. “I make my own decisions about my life.”

“Since you’re a member of the Royal Family of Cordina, some of those decisions aren’t just yours to make.” He walked to the door and, opening it, stood with his hand on the knob. “I’ve got better things to do, Gabriella, than princess-sit.” His smile came quickly, also, and was wry. “But even commoners don’t always have a choice.”

She waited until the door was closed again, then sat up. Dizziness swept over her. For a moment, just a moment, she wanted to lie back until someone came to help, to tend. But she wouldn’t tolerate being tied down any longer. Swinging out of bed, she waited for the weakness to fade. It was something she had to accept for now. Then carefully, slowly, she walked toward the mirror on the far wall.

She’d avoided this. Remembering nothing of her looks, a thousand possibilities had formed in her mind. Who was she? How could she begin to know when she didn’t know the color of her eyes. Taking a steadying breath, she stood in front of the mirror and looked.