Affaire Royale Read Online Free PDF Page A

quiet, very stubborn smile. “I don’t choose to be monitored, Dr. Franco. I choose to go home.”
    “Perhaps neither of you remembers Gabriella said the same thing only hours after her tonsils were removed.” Armand stood in the doorway, watching his delicately built daughter face down the tanklike Franco. Coming in, he held out his hand. Though her hesitation to accept it hurt, he curled his fingers gently over hers. “Her Highness will come home,” he said without looking at the doctor. Before Brie could smile, he went on, “You’ll give me a list of instructions for her care. If she doesn’t follow them, she’ll be sent back.”
    The urge to protest came and went. Something inherent quelled it. Instead she inclined her head. What should have been a subservient movement was offset by the arrogant lift of brow. Armand’s fingers tightened on hers as he saw the familiar gesture. She’d given him that look countless times when she’d bargained for and received what she wanted.
    “I’ll send for your things.”
    “Thank you.”
    But she didn’t add “Father.” Both of them knew it.
    Within an hour, she was walking out. She liked the cheerful, spring dress splashed with pastels that she waswearing. She had felt both relief and satisfaction when she’d discovered she had a clever hand with cosmetics.
    As Brie stepped into the sunlight there was a faint blush of color in her cheeks, and the shadows under her eyes had been blotted out. Her hair was loose, swinging down to brush her shoulders. The scent she’d dabbed on had been unapologetically French and teasing. She found, like the robe, that she was comfortable in it.
    She recognized the car as a limo and knew the interior would be roomy and smell rich. She couldn’t remember riding in it before, or the face of the driver who smiled and bowed as he ushered her inside. She sat in silence a moment as her father settled in the seat across from her.
    “You look stronger, Brie.”
    There was so much to say, yet she had so little. Details eluded her. Instead there were feelings. She didn’t feel odd in the plush quiet of the limo. The weight of the glittery ring she wore was comfortable on her hand. She knew her shoes were Italian, but only the scuffs on the soles showed her that they’d been worn before. By her, certainly. The fit was perfect.
    The scent her father wore soothed her nerves. She looked at him again, searching. “I know I speak French as easily as English, because some of my thoughts come in that language,” she began. “I know what roses smell like. I know which direction I should look to see the sun rise over the water and what it looks like at dawn. I don’t know if I’m a kind person or a selfish one. I don’t know the color of the walls of my own room. I don’t know if I’ve done well with my life or if I’ve wasted it.”
    It tore at him to watch her sitting calmly across from him, trying to explain why she couldn’t give him the love he was entitled to. “I could give you the answers.”
    She nodded, as controlled as he. “But you won’t.”
    “I think if you find them yourself, you’ll find more.”
    “Perhaps.” Looking down, she smoothed her fingers over the white snakeskin bag she carried. “I’ve already discovered I’m impatient.”
    Quick, dashing, he grinned. Brie found herself drawn to him, smiling back. “Then you’ve begun.”
    “And I have to be satisfied with a beginning.”
    “My dear Gabriella, I have no illusions that you’ll be satisfied with that for long.”
    Brie glanced out the window as they climbed up, steadily up, a long, winding road. There were many trees, with palms among them, their fronds fluttering. There was rock, gray, craggy rock thrusting out, but wildflowers shoved their way through the cracks. The sea was below, deep, paintbrush blue and serene.
    If she looked up, following the direction of the road, she could see the town with its pink and white buildings stacked like pretty