Affaire Royale Read Online Free PDF Page B

asked for his assistance. While I appreciate your concern, I find the idea of yet another stranger in my life uncomfortable.”
    “Reeve is the son of my oldest and closest friend. He isn’t a stranger.” Nor am I, he thought, and willed himself to be patient.
    “To me he is. By his own account he tells me we’ve met only once, almost ten years ago. Even if I could remember him, he’d be a stranger.”
    He’d always admired the way she could use such clean logic when it suited her. And willfulness when it didn’t. Admiration, however, didn’t overshadow necessity. “He was a member of the police force in America and handled the sort of security we require now.”
    She thought of the neat red uniforms at the gate, and the men who sat in the car following the limo. “Aren’t there enough guards?”
    Armand waited until the driver stopped in front of the entrance. “If there were, none of this would be necessary.” He stepped from the car first and turned to assist his daughter himself. “Welcome home, Gabriella.”
    Her hand remained in his and the light breeze ruffled between them. She wasn’t ready to go in. Armand felt it, and waited.
    She could smell the flowers now. Jasmine, vanilla, spice, and the roses that grew in the courtyard. The grass was so green, the stone so white it was almost blinding. There had to have been a drawbridge once, she was sure of it. Now there was an arched mahogany door at the top of curved stone steps. Glass, sometimes clear, sometimes tinted, glistened as it should in palaces. At the topmost tower a flag whipped in the wind. Snowy white with an arrogant diagonal slash of red.
    Slowly she looked over the building. It tugged at her, welcoming her. The sense of peace wasn’t something she imagined. It was as real as the fear she’d felt not long before. Yet she couldn’t say which of those sparkling windows were hers. She’d come to find out, Brie reminded herself, and stepped forward.
    Even as she did, the wide door was flung open. A young man with dark, thick hair and a dancer’s builddashed out. “Brie!” Then he was on her, embracing her with all the strength and enthusiasm of youth. He smelled comfortably of horses. “I’d just come in from the stables when Alex told me you were on your way.”
    Brie felt the waves of love coming from him, and looked helplessly over his shoulder to her father.
    “Your sister needs rest, Bennett.”
    “Of course. She’ll rest better here.” Grinning, he drew back, keeping her hands tight in his. He looked so young, she thought, so beautiful, so happy. When he saw her face, his eyes sobered quickly. “You don’t remember? Still?”
    She wanted to reach out to him. He seemed to need it so. All she could do was return the squeeze of hand to hand. “I’m sorry.”
    He opened his mouth, then shut it again, slipping an arm around her waist. “Nonsense.” His voice was cheerful, but he kept her carefully between himself and their father. “You’ll remember soon enough now that you’re home. Alex and I thought we’d have to wait until this afternoon to see you in the hospital. This is so much better.”
    As he spoke he was easing her gently in the front door, talking quickly, she was sure, to put both her and himself at ease. She saw the hall, wide and stunning with its frescoed ceiling and polished floor, the gracious sweep of stairs leading up and up, to what she didn’t yet know. Because her heart was pounding, she concentrated on the scents that soothed her. Fresh flowers and lemon wax. She heard the sound of her heels striking the wood and echoing.
    There was a tall, glossy urn on a stand. She knew it was Ming, just as she knew the stand was Louis XIV. Things, Brie thought. She could identify them, catalog them, but she couldn’t relate herself to them. Sunlight poured through two high arched windows but didn’t warm her skin.
    Escape. The need for it rolled around inside her. She wanted to turn around and walk out, go back