Free Affaire Royale by Nora Roberts

Wedgwood. She pulled out a bud and twirled it by its stem as she turned back to Reeve.
    “So I work here.” She saw the thick leather book on the desk, but only touched it. Would she open it to find her days filled with lunches, teas, fittings, shopping? And if she did, could she face it? “What work do I do?”
    It was a challenge. It was a plea. Both were directed to him.
    He’d done his homework. While Brie had slept the afternoon before, Reeve had gone through her files, her appointment book, even her diary. There was little of Her Serene Highness Gabriella de Cordina he didn’t know. But Brie Bisset was a bit more internal.
    He’d spent an hour with her secretary and another with the palace manager. There had been a brief, cautious interview with her former nanny in which he’d had to gradually chip away at a protective instinct that spanned generations. The picture he gained made Princess Gabriella more complex, and Brie Bisset more intriguing than ever.
    He’d decided to help her because she needed help, but nothing was ever that simple. The puzzle of her kidnapping nagged at him, prodded, taunted. On the surface, it seemed as though her father was leaving the investigation to the police and going about his business. Reeve rarely believed what was on the surface. If Armand was playing a chess game with him as queen’s knight, he’d play along, and make some moves of his own. It hadn’t taken Reeve long to discover that royalty was insular, private and closemouthed. So much better the challenge. He wanted to put the pieces of the kidnapping together, but to do so, he had to put the pieces of Gabriella together first.
    From her description of her family the day before, Reeve had thought her perceptive. Her impression of herself, however, was far from accurate. Or perhaps it was the fear of herself, Reeve reflected. For a moment, he speculated on what it would be like to wake up one morning with no past, no ties, no sense of self. Paralyzing. Then he quickly dismissed the idea. The more sympathetic he was toward her, the more difficult his job.
    “You’re involved in a number of projects,” he said simply, and stepped forward to the desk. “Some you’d term day-to-day duties, and others official.”
    It came back to her then, hard, just what had passed between them the night before. Being moved, being driven. Had any other man made her feel like that before? She didn’t step back, but she braced herself. Emotions, whatever they might be, couldn’t be allowed to interfere with what she had to do.
    “Projects?” she repeated smoothly. “Other than having my nails painted?”
    “You’re a bit hard on Gabriella, aren’t you?” Reeve murmured. He dropped his hand on hers, on the leatherbook. For five humming seconds they stood just so.
    “Perhaps. But I have to know her to understand her. At this point, she’s more a stranger to me than you are.”
    Sympathy rose up again. Whatever his wish, he couldn’t deny it completely. The hand under his was firm; her voice was strong, but in her eyes he saw the self-doubt, the confusion and the need. “Sit down, Brie.”
    The gentleness of his voice had her hesitating. When a man could speak like that, what woman was safe? Slowly she withdrew her hand from his and chose one of the trim upholstered chairs. “Very well. This is to be lesson one?”
    “If you like.” He sat on the edge of the desk so that there was a comfortable distance between them, and so that he could look fully into her face. “Tell me what you think of when you think of a princess.”
    “Are you playing analyst?”
    He crossed his ankles. “It’s a simple question. You can make the answer as simple as you like.”
    She smiled and seemed to relax with it. “Prince Charming, fairy godmothers, glass slippers.” She brushed the rose petals idly against her cheek and looked beyond him to a sunbeam that shot onto the floor. “Footmen in dashing uniforms, carriages with white satin