She saw nothing familiar, nothing that should make her tense. But she was tense. The land was lovely in its windswept, rock-tumbled way. It was quiet, colorful, idyllic. Yet she continued to worry the strap of her bag.

“Do you want to stop, Gabriella? Would you rather go somewhere else?”

She turned to him quickly, then just as quickly turned away again. “No. No, of course not. Cordina’s a beautiful country, isn’t it?”

“Why don’t you tell me what’s wrong?”

“I’m not sure.” She made her hand lie still in her lap. “I feel uneasy, as if I should be looking over my shoulder.”

He’d already decided to give her whatever answers she needed without frills or cushions. “You ran along this road a month ago. In a storm.”

Her fingers curled. She made them relax. “Was I running toward the city or away?”

He glanced at her again. It hadn’t occurred to him to make that particular connection. His respect for her mind went up another notch. “Toward. You were no more than three miles outside of Lebarre when you collapsed.”

She nodded. “Then I was lucky, or I still knew enough to go in the right direction. Reeve, this morning …”

Regrets? he wondered as his fingers tightened on the wheel. Were regrets and common sense coming so soon? “What about it?”

“Nanny was waiting for me in my room.”

Should he be amused? Whether he should or not, Reeve couldn’t prevent the smile at the picture that formed in his mind. “And?”

“We talked. She brings warm milk to me some nights. I suppose I wasn’t thinking of such things last night.” Brie smiled, too, but only briefly. “She also brought me a doll, something I’d had as a child.” Slowly, determined to be very clear on every detail, Brie told him what she’d remembered. “That was all,” she said at length. “But this time it wasn’t an impression, it wasn’t a dream. I remembered.”

“Have you told anyone else?”

“No.”

“You’ll tell Kijinsky when you see him tomorrow.” It wasn’t a question but more in the line of an order. Brie struggled not to feel resentment but to understand.

“Yes, of course. Do you think it’s a beginning for me?”

He’d slowed the car while she’d talked. Now he sped up again. “I think you’re getting stronger. That was a memory you could handle, maybe one you needed before you faced the rest.”

“And the rest will come.”

“The rest will come,” he agreed. And when it did, she wouldn’t need him any longer. His job would be over. His farm …

He thought of it now, but it seemed as if he’d been away years rather than weeks. It didn’t seem merely a quiet, serene spot any longer, but lonely, empty. When he went back, he’d no longer be the same man with the same desires.

Following the directions he’d been given, Reeve turned off the coast road and headed away from the sea. The going wasn’t as smooth here. Again he slowed the car, this time because of the uneven road.