She’d successfully maneuvered them all. Pleased that she’d given her secretary a nudge onto the dance floor, Brie accepted Alexander’s hand.

“That wasn’t very subtle,” he pointed out.

“But it worked. I don’t want to see her huddling in a corner all night. Now someone else is bound to ask her to dance.”

He lifted a brow. “Meaning me?”

“If necessary.” She smiled up at him. “Duty first.”

Alexander cast a look over Brie’s shoulder. Loubet’s slight limp was less noticeable in a dance. “She doesn’t look thrilled to be dancing with Loubet. Maybe she has some taste, after all.”

“Alex.” But she laughed. “In any case, I haven’t told you how handsome you look. You and Bennett—where is Bennett?”

“Monopolizing the little American girl.”

“Little—oh, you mean Eve.” She lifted a brow, noting the disapproval. “She’s not that little. In fact, I believe she’s just Bennett’s age.”

“He should know better than to flirt with her so outrageously.”

“From what I’ve seen, it’s hardly one-sided.”

He made a restless move with his shoulders. “Her sister should keep a tighter rein on her.”

“Alex.” Brie rolled her eyes.

“All right, all right.” But he skimmed the room until he’d found the slim brunette in the ripe red dress. And he watched her.

She lost track of how many dances she danced, how many glasses of wine she’d sipped at, how many stories and jokes she’d listened to. It had been, she realized, foolish to be nervous. It was all a blur, as such things should be. She enjoyed it.

She enjoyed it more when she found herself waltzing in Reeve’s arms again.

“Too many people,” he murmured against her ear. Slowly, skillfully, he circled with her toward the terrace doors. Then they were dancing in the moonlight.

“This is lovely.” There were flowers here, too, creamy white ones that sent out a delicate vanilla fragrance. She could breathe it in without having it mixed with perfumes or colognes. “Just lovely.”

“A princess should always dance under the stars.”

She started to laugh as she looked up at him, but something rushed through her. His face seemed to change—recede, blur? She wasn’t sure. Was it younger? Were the eyes more candid, less guarded? The scent of the flowers seemed to change. Roses, hot, humid roses.

The world went gray. For a moment there was no music, no fragrance, no light. Then he had her firmly by the arms.

“Brie.” He would have swept her up, carried her to a chair, but she held him off.

“No, I’m all right. Just dizzy for a moment. It was …” She trailed off, staring up into his face as if she were seeing it for the first time. “We were here,” she whispered. “You and I, right here, on my birthday. We waltzed on the terrace and there were roses in pots lining the wall. It was hot and close. After the dance you kissed me.”

And I fell in love with you. But she didn’t say it, only stared. She’d fallen in love with him when she was sixteen. Now, so many years later, nothing had changed. Everything had changed.