“There’s no need to thank me, Your Highness. I haven’t done anything yet.”

Armand blew out smoke. He could relax, just a little, in front of the son of his friend. “You think I’m too hard on my sons.”

“I think you know your sons better than I.”

Armand gave a half laugh and sat. “You have your father’s diplomatic tongue.”

“Sometimes.”

“You have, also, if I see clearly, his clear and clever mind.”

Reeve wondered if his father would appreciate the comparison, and smiled. “Thank you, Your Highness.”

“Please, in private, it must be Armand.” For the first time since his daughter had awoken, his emotions slipped. With one hand he kneaded the skin just above his eyebrows. The band of tension there could be ignored for only so long. “I think I’m about to impose on your father’s friendship through you, Reeve. I think, because of my love for my daughter, I have no other choice.”

Reeve measured the man who sat across from him. Now he saw more than the royalty. He saw a father desperately hanging on to control. In silence, Reeve took out a cigarette of his own, lit it and gave Armand just a few more minutes. “Tell me.”

“She remembers nothing.”

“She doesn’t remember who kidnapped her?” With a faint scowl Reeve studied the toe of his shoe. “Did she see them at all?”

“She remembers nothing,” Armand repeated, and lifted his head. “Not even her own name.”

Reeve took in all the implications, and their consequences. He merely nodded, showing none of the thoughts that formed and raced through his mind. “Temporary amnesia would be common enough after what she’s been through, I imagine. What does the doctor say?”

“I will speak to him shortly.” The strain, having gone on for six days, wore on him, but he didn’t allow it to come through in his voice. “You came, Reeve, because I asked you. Yet you never asked me why.”

“No.”

“As an American citizen, you’re under no obligation to me.”

Reeve blew out a thin stream of Virginia tobacco to mix with the French of Armand’s. “No.”

Armand’s lips curved. Like his father, the prince thought. And like his father, Reeve MacGee could be trusted. He was about to trust him with his most prized possession. “In my position, there is always a certain element of danger. You understand this.”

“Any leader lives with it.”

“Yes. And, by birth and proximity, a leader’s children.” For a moment he looked down at his hands, at the ornate gold ring of his office. He was, by birth, a prince. He was also a father. Still, he’d never had a choice about which came first. He’d been born, educated and molded to rule. Armand had always known his first obligation was to his people.

“Naturally, my children have their own personal security.” With a kind of controlled violence, he crushed out his cigarette. “It seems that it is inadequate. Brie—Gabriella—is often impatient with the need for guards. She’s stubborn about her privacy. Perhaps I’ve spoiled her. We’re a peaceful country, Reeve. The Royal Family of Cordina is loved by its citizens. If my daughter slipped away from her guards from time to time, I made little of it.”