Affaire Royale by Nora Roberts Page A

wouldn’t have been displeased if what he was now proposing hypothetically were fact.
    “I would, however, take it one step closer than a suitor. If you have no objections, I’d like to announce your engagement to Gabriella.” He waited for some sign, some gesture or expression. Reeve gave him nothing more than what seemed to be polite interest. Armand rubbed a thumb over the rock. He could respect a man who could keep his thoughts to himself.
    “As her fiancé,” he continued, “you can be by her side without raising any questions.”
    “The question might arise as to how I became Her Highness’s fiancé after being in Cordina only a few days.”
    Armand nodded, liking the clean, emotionless response. “My long association with your father makes this more than plausible. Brie was in your country only last year. It could be said that you developed your relationship then.”
    Reeve drew out a cigarette. He found he needed one. “Engagements have a habit of leading to marriage.”
    “Proper ones, yes.” Armand set the stone back on his desk and folded his hands. “This, of course, is only one for our convenience. When the need is over, we’ll announce that you and Gabriella have had a change of heart. The engagement will be broken and you’ll each go your own way. The press will enjoy the melodrama and no harm will be done.”
    The princess and the farmer, Reeve thought, and grinned. It might be an interesting game at that. Before it was over, there might be a few moments to remember. “Even if I agree, there’s another player involved.”
    “Gabriella will do what’s best for herself and her country.” He spoke simply, as a man who knows his own power. “The choice is yours, not hers.”
    A lack of choice. Hadn’t she said that was what she resented most? There was more to being royal than the pretty silver crown and glass slipper. Reeve blew out a stream of smoke. He might sympathize, but it wouldn’tstop him from making this choice for her. “I can understand your reasons. We’ll play it your way, Armand.”
    The prince rose. “I’ll speak to Gabriella.”
    Reeve hadn’t thought she’d be pleased. When it came down to it, he didn’t want her to be. It was easier on him when she was a bit prickly, a little icy. It was the lost, vulnerable look that undid him.
    When Brie swept out of the palace a few minutes before one, he wasn’t disappointed. She’d thrown on a jacket, the same dark, rich suede as her skirt. Her hair fell free down the back and caught every color of the sun. Her eyes, when she tossed her head back and aimed them at him, were gold, glorious and molten. A creature of the light, he thought as he lounged against the car. She didn’t belong behind castle walls, but under the sky.
    Reeve gave her a small bow as he opened the door for her. Brie sent him one long smoldering look. “You stabbed me in the back.” She dropped into the front seat and stared straight ahead.
    Reeve jingled the keys in his pocket as he crossed over to the driver’s side. He could handle it delicately … or he could handle it as he chose. “Something wrong, darling?” he asked her when he settled beside her.
    “You’re joking?” She looked at him again, hard and full. “You dare?”
    He took her hand, holding it though she gave it a good, hard jerk. “Gabriella, some things are best taken lightly.”
    “This farce. This deceit!” Abruptly, and with finesse, she went off in a stream of rapid, indignant French he could only partially follow. The tone, however, was crystal clear. “First I have to accept you as a bodyguard,” she continued, reverting to English without a pause. “So that whenever I turn you’ll be there, hovering. Now this pretense that we’re to be married. And for what?” she demanded. “So that it won’t be known that my father has engaged a bodyguard who isn’t Cordinian or French. So that I may be seen constantly with a man without damaging my reputation. Hah!” In a