“By my name.” Brie looked down in annoyance at the bandage on her wrist. That would be done away with soon, she decided, then managed to shift herself up. “I’m told it’s Gabriella.”

“You’re more often known as Brie.”

She was silent a moment as she struggled to find the familiarity. The blank pages remained blank. “Very well, then. Now tell me what happened to me.”

“We don’t have the details.”

“You must,” she corrected, watching him. “If not all, you have some. I want them.”

He studied her. Fragile, yes, but under the fragility was a core of strength. She’d have to build on it again. “Last Sunday afternoon you went out for a drive in the country. The next day, your car was found abandoned. There were calls. Ransom calls. Allegedly you’d been abducted and were being held.” He didn’t add what the threats had been or what would have been done to her if the ransom demands weren’t met. Nor did he add that the ransom demands had ranged from exorbitant amounts of money to the release of certain prisoners.

“Kidnapped.” Brie’s fingers reached out and gripped his. She saw images, shadows. A small, dark room. The smell of … kerosene and must. She remembered the nausea, the headaches. The terror came back, but little else. “It won’t come clear,” she murmured. “Somehow I know it’s true, but there’s a film I can’t brush away.”

“I’m no doctor.” Reeve spoke in brisk tones because her fight to find herself affected him too strongly. “But I’d say not to push it. You’ll remember when you’re ready to remember.”

“Easy to say.” She released his hand. “Someone’s stolen my life from me, Mr. MacGee … What’s your place in this?” she demanded suddenly. “Were we lovers?”

His brow lifted. She certainly didn’t beat around the bush, he mused. Nor, he thought, only half-amused, did she sound too thrilled by the prospect. “No. As I said, you were sixteen the one and only time we met. Our fathers are old friends. They’d have been a bit annoyed if I’d seduced you.”

“I see. Then why are you here?”

“Your father asked me to come. He’s concerned about your security.”

She glanced down at the ring on her finger. Exquisite, she thought. Then she saw her nails and frowned. That was wrong, wasn’t it? she wondered. Why would she wear such a ring and not take care of her hands? Another flicker of memory taunted her. Brie closed her hands into fists as it hovered, then faded. “If my father is concerned about my security,” she continued, unaware that Reeve watched her every expression, “what is that to you?”

“I’ve had some experience with security. Prince Armand has asked me to look out for you.”

She frowned again, in a quiet, thoughtful way she had no idea was habit. “A bodyguard?” She said it in the same impatient way he had. “I don’t think I’d like that.”

The simple dismissal had him doing a complete reversal. He’d given up his free time, come thousands of miles, and she didn’t think she’d like it. “You’ll find, Your Highness, that even a princess has to do things she doesn’t like. Might as well get used to it.”