“Controlled,” she returned, giving him an even look as she sipped. “You make me wonder what you’re thinking when you look at me.”

The wine was cool and dry on his tongue. “I think you know.”

“Not entirely.” She took another sip, but hoped he wouldn’t know it was for courage. “I do know that you want to make love with me.”

The sun slanted in the open cabin door and framed her. “Yes.”

“I ask myself why.” Brie lowered her glass but held it with both hands. “Do you want to make love with every woman you meet?”

Under different circumstances, he’d have thought she was teasing, but her question was as simple as it sounded. So was his answer. “No.”

She managed a smile, though her nerves were beginning to jump. Was this how the game was played? she wondered. And was it a game she was trying to play? “Every other one, then?”

“Only if they meet certain requirements.”

“Which are?”

He cupped her face with his hand again. “If they make me think of them first thing in the morning, even before I know what day it is.”

“I see.” She twisted the glass between her fingers. They were damp from nerves but still steady. “Do you think of me first thing in the morning?”

“Are you looking for flattery, Gabriella?”

“No.”

He tilted her head up just a little more. She didn’t stiffen, didn’t move away, but again he sensed she was braced—not so much wary as waiting. “What, then?”

“To understand. Not knowing myself or my past, I want to understand if I’m attracted to you or simply to the idea of being with a man.”

That was blunt enough, he mused. Not particularly flattering, but blunt. He’d asked for it. When he took the wineglass from her to set it aside, he noticed her fingers were tense. It gave him some satisfaction. “And are you attracted to me?”

“Are you looking for flattery?”

Humor came into his eyes. Reeve saw her smile in response. “No.” Lightly, briefly, he touched his lips to hers while they watched each other. “Apparently we’re both looking for the same thing.”

“Perhaps.” She hesitated only a moment before she brought her hands to his shoulders. “Perhaps it’s time we discover if we’ve found it.”

It was the way he’d wanted it—away from the palace, away from the walls. There was only the lap of water against the boat, so quiet, so rhythmic it was barely there at all. The cabin was small and low. There were shadows; there was sunlight. They were alone.

It was the way he’d wanted it—yet Reeve found himself hesitating. She looked so delicate in this light. Delicate, and he’d agreed to protect her. What sort of objectivity would he have left after they became lovers? Brie rose on her toes to touch her mouth to his again. Reeve felt the pleasure, the sweetness, the need ease through him and settle.

What sort of objectivity did he have now? he admitted. It had been no less than the truth when he’d spoken of thinking of her every morning.