Affaire Royale by Nora Roberts Page B

bad-tempered and undeniably regal gesture, she flung out a hand. “It’s
my
reputation.”
    “There’s always mine,” he said coolly.
    With that she turned to him, giving him a haughty stare, first down, then up. “I believe it’s safe to say you have one already. And it doesn’t concern me,” she added before he could speak.
    “As my fiancée, it certainly should.” Reeve started the engine and began the leisurely drive down.
    “It’s a ridiculous charade.”
    “Agreed.”
    That stopped her. She had opened her mouth to continue to rage, then closed it again with a nearly audible snap. “You find it ridiculous to be engaged to me?”
    “Absolutely.”
    She discovered something else about herself. She had a healthy supply of vanity. “Why?”
    “I generally don’t get engaged to women I barely know. Then, too, I’d think twice about hooking up with someone who was willful, selfish and bad tempered.”
    Her chin came up. From out of her bag she grabbed a pair of tinted glasses and stuck them on her nose. “Then you’re fortunate it’s only a pretense, aren’t you?”
    “Yes.”
    She snapped her bag closed. “And of short duration.”
    He didn’t grin. A man only takes a certain number of risks in one day. “The shorter the better.”
    “I’ll do my best to accommodate you.” She took the rest of the journey in simmering silence.
    It was a short one, but she wasn’t grateful for it. Having something, someone, specific to direct her anger at helped ease the fear of facing people who were only names to her. She would have liked more time to prepare.
    The building that housed the headquarters for the Aid to Handicapped Children Organization was old and distinguished. It had once been the home of her great-grandmother, the thin, efficient Janet Smithers had told her.
    Brie stepped from the car with practiced ease. Her stomach muscles were jumping. As she walked to the entrance, she went over the floor plan in her mind. She wouldn’t have reached for Reeve’s hand, but when his closed over hers, she didn’t pull away. Sometimes it was necessary, even preferable, to hold hands with the devil.
    She stepped inside, into a cool white hall. Immediately a woman who sat at a desk just beyond the entrancerose and curtsied. “Your Highness. It’s so good to see you safe.”
    “Thank you, Claudia.” The hesitation on the name was so brief Reeve hardly noticed it himself.
    “We didn’t expect you, Your Highness. After what—what happened.” Her voice faltered. Her eyes filled.
    Compassion moved Brie, before instinct, before politics. She held out both hands. “I’m fine, Claudia. Anxious to get to work.” There was a warmth here, a bond she hadn’t felt with her personal secretary. Still, there could be no pursuing it until she understood it. “This is Mr. MacGee. He’s … staying with us. Claudia’s been with AHC for nearly ten years, Reeve.” Brie gave him the information he’d given her only that morning. “I believe she could run the organization single-handed. Tell me, Claudia, have you left anything for me to do?”
    “There’s the ball, Your Highness. As usual, there are complications.”
    The Annual Charity Ball, Brie recited to herself. A tradition in Cordina and the biggest fund-raiser for the AHC. She, as president, would organize. As princess she would hostess. It drew the rich, the famous and the important to Cordina every spring. “It wouldn’t be the ball without complications. I’ll get to work, then. Come on, Reeve, we’ll see how useful you can be.”
    Past the first hurdle, she went up the stairs, down the hall and into the second room on the right.
    “Well done,” Reeve told her as she closed the door.
    “I keep hoping …” With a shrug, she let the thought go. She kept hoping that someone would trigger something, would trip the first lock on her memory so that remembrances would come through. Briskly she moved over and drew the curtains.
    The room wasn’t as