Affaire Royale by Nora Roberts

elegant as her personal office. There was a row of file cabinets along one wall, metal and businesslike. Though the desk was ornate, made of beautiful cherry, it was covered with files and notes and papers. Going over, she sat down and picked one up. It was a note concerning a donation to the pediatric ward of the hospital in her handwriting.
    Odd to see it, she mused. Earlier she’d tested herself by simply picking up a pen and writing out her name, just to see her signature. The writing was big, looping, just bordering on the undisciplined, and very distinctive. Brie set down the note and wondered where to begin.
    “I’ll see about some coffee,” Reeve suggested.
    “And some cakes or cookies,” Brie said absently as she began to sort through the papers on her desk. “I missed lunch.” Looking up, she lifted a brow. “I was too angry to eat, but it appears I’m going to need something before this is done.”
    “Hamburger?”
    “Cheeseburger, no onions.” Then she grinned because it had come out so naturally. “I like them well done.” She could almost, almost picture herself sitting at that desk with a harried, impromptu lunch while she made calls and signed papers. With a burst of enthusiasm, she began to organize.
    She was good at it. It was thrilling to discover she had a talent. Within two hours she’d assessed the situation in her office and had begun, slowly, systematically to cope with details, problems and decisions. It came naturally, as dressing, eating, walking came. She had only to think of the angles, consider them and work her way through. At the end of her two hours, her confidence was strong and her mood high. When she left the office her desk was still cluttered. But it was her clutter now—she understood it.
    “It felt good,” she said to Reeve when she settled in the car again. “So good. You’ll think I’m foolish.”
    “Not at all.” He sat beside her but didn’t reach for the key just yet. “You accomplished a hell of a lot in a couple of hours, Brie. As a cop, I know just how frustrating and boring paperwork can be.”
    “But when it does something, it’s worth the headache, isn’t it? AHC is a good organization. It doesn’t just preach. It helps. All that equipment in the pediatric ward, the new wing. The wheelchairs, walkers, hearing aids, tutors. They cost money, and we get the money.” She glanced down at the glitter of diamonds and sapphires on her finger. “It makes me feel justified.”
    “Do you need to be?”
    “Yes. Just because I was born to something doesn’t mean I don’t have to earn the right to it. Especially now when …”
    “You can’t remember being born to it.”
    “I don’t know how I felt before,” she murmured, staring down at the elegant little leather purse she carried.“I only know how I feel now. I’ve been given a title, but it doesn’t come without a price, that I know.”
    He started the car. “You learn fast.”
    “I have to.” Weariness was there, but she didn’t relax. She couldn’t. “Reeve, I don’t want to go back just yet. Can we drive? Anywhere, it doesn’t matter. I just need to be out.”
    “All right.” He understood the need to be away from walls, from restrictions. He’d grown up with them, as well. He’d rebelled against them, as well. Without thinking, he headed toward the sea.
    There were places just outside the capital where the road stretched and curved along the seawall. There were places before Cordina’s port, Lebarre, where the land was wild and free and open. Reeve pulled up beside a clump of pitted rocks where the trees grew slanted, leaning away from the wind.
    Brie got out of the car and drank the scene in. Somehow she knew the scent and taste of the sea. She couldn’t be certain she’d been to this spot before, yet it soothed her. Letting the need to know slip away, she walked toward the old, sturdy seawall.
    Tiny springy purple flowers crowded their way up through the cracks, determined