“And the woman in the cottage could pretend she was a princess who lived in a palace.” He touched a strand of her hair that danced in the wind. “Life’s full of dreams, Brie. It’s never simple, but it can be sweet.”

“What do you dream?”

He curled her hair around the tip of his finger, then set it free. “Of tilling my own land, watching my crops grow. Being away from the streets.”

“You have land in America? A farm?”

“Yeah.” He thought of it waiting for him. Next year, he promised himself. He’d waited this long.

“But I thought you were a policeman—no, a detective now, working for yourself. A kind of adventurer.”

He laughed at the term, not bitter, just amused. “People outside the business tend to think of dark alleys and forget the paperwork.”

“But you’ve seen the dark alleys.”

He gave her a look, one hard and calm enough to make her swallow. “I’ve seen them, maybe too many of them.”

She thought she understood. She knew, without knowing, that she’d traveled a dark alley herself. For a moment she looked at the sea and sky. It wasn’t the time to think of the dark. “What will you grow on your farm?”

He thought of it. At times like this he almost believed it would happen. “Corn, hay, some apples.”

“And you have a house.” Caught up, she twisted around to face him more directly. “A farmhouse?”

“It needs some work.”

“It has a front porch? A big front porch?”

He laughed, pleasing her. “It’s big enough. After I’ve replaced a few boards it might even be safe.”

“On warm nights you’d sit out on a rocker and listen to the wind.”

He tugged her hair. “The grass is always greener.”

“So they say. Still, I think I could deal with fifty weeks of demands, of being on display, if only I had two weeks to sit on a rocker and listen to the wind. So you have land, a farmhouse, but no wife. Why?”

“An odd question from one’s fiancée.”

“You only say that to annoy me and evade answering.”

“You’re perceptive, Brie.” He dropped off the wall and held out his hand. “We should be getting back.”

“It only seems fair that I know more of your life when you know so much of mine.” But she gave him her hand. “Have you ever been in love?”

“No.”

“I wonder sometimes if I have.” Her voice was wistful as she looked back out to sea. “That’s why I goaded you into kissing me last night. I thought perhaps it might remind me.”

He saw the humor in her statement, but he wasn’t amused. “And did it?”

“No. It wasn’t as though I’d never been kissed before, but it didn’t bring anyone to mind.”

Was she deliberately challenging him again, or was she just that artless? It didn’t seem to matter. His hand slipped to her wrist. “No one?”

She heard the change, that gentle, dangerous tone. It was a tone a woman would be wise to be wary of. But she wasn’t just a woman, Brie reminded herself as she lifted her head. She was a princess. “No one. It makes me think no man’s been important to me before.”