Reeve found her there—after looking everywhere else he could think of. He had to control both his impatience and his relief as he stepped onto the terrace. Armand had assured him Brie was looked after—and he noticed the two people going about their business not too close to the princess, but close enough. But the prince had been cautious enough to enlist his help from the beginning, as well.

After their conversation, Reeve understood better why Armand had called in the help of an outsider, one whose feelings for Cordina and the royal family were more or less secondhand. Or had been, Reeve thought as he stood looking at Gabriella. Now more than ever he needed his objectivity. And now more than ever he found it all but impossible to find.

“Brie.”

She turned slowly, as if she’d known he was there. Her hair was ruffled a bit by the wind, but her eyes were calm. “The first night we walked here I had questions. So many of them. Now, weeks later, too few of them have been answered.” She looked down at the rings on her hands—conflicting emotions, conflicting loyalties. “You won’t tell me what you spoke of with my father after I left.”

It wasn’t a question, but Reeve knew he had to answer it. “Your father thinks of you before he thinks of anything else, if that helps.”

“And you?”

“I’m here for you.” He came to her so that they stood as they had once before, under the moonlight. “There’s no other reason.”

“For me.” She looked at him, searching, fighting not to let her heart lead her mind. “Or to satisfy an old family bond?”

“How much do you want?” he demanded. When he grabbed her hands he wasn’t thinking of how small and delicate they were but of how strong, how searing her eyes could be. “My feelings for you have nothing to do with family bonds. And my being here now has everything to do with my feelings for you.”

But what were they? she wondered. He seemed so careful not to tell her. Was it so difficult for him to say, “I care”? Brie looked down at their joined hands. Perhaps for him it was, she reflected. Not all fairy tales ended happily ever after. Reeve wasn’t a knight galloping to sweep up the princess and carry her off. He was a man. She hadn’t given her heart to a knight.

“I want this to be over,” she said encapsulating everything from her blank past to the uncertain present. “I want to feel safe again.”

The hell with objectivity, with plans. He took her by the shoulders. “I’ll take you to America for a while.”

Puzzled, she put a hand to his arm, holding on or holding off, she didn’t know. “To America?”

“You can stay with me on the farm until this whole business is over.”

Until. The word reminded her that some things had to end. Just end. She dropped her hand. “This whole business begins with me. I can’t run from it.”