by JoAnn Ross
Somewhere, deep inside her, a self-protective anger flared. “Besides, in case you have forgotten, I’m not some silly female with nothing to do but sit around, eating bonbons while waiting for Prince Charming to carry me off. I have a career, Burke. One I’ve worked damn hard to establish.
“And then there’s the tour. What makes you think I could just drop everything, leaving Dixie in the lurch, just because you had a whim for a royal wedding?”
Pushing past him, she raced down the stone steps, her beaded skirt billowing behind her. Burke didn’t follow. Instead he stood there all alone in the dark, his arms folded across his chest and watched her run away.
He’d give her time to get used to the idea, Burke decided reluctantly. He would also permit her to finish this tour, which was so important to her father’s honor.
But the day the Darling sisters gave their last performance, Sabrina Darling was going to be his.
Forever.
CHAPTER 13
TWELVE WEEKS LATER, Sabrina stood on the stage of the Las Vegas casino, drinking in the audience applause. It was, finally, the last night of the tour. Although they’d fallen short in their goal to earn the entire three million dollars that the government had claimed Sonny owed, for some reason, at the last minute, the IRS auditors had proved remarkably agreeable, settling for what they had earned and marking their father’s debt paid in full. An additional surprise had been the reversal of the ruling that the government could seize her parents’ Tennessee farm.
As the shiny silver curtain closed for the last time and the enthusiastic audience began filing from the vast dinner theater, Sabrina knew she should be ecstatic.
During these past three months, her lingering anger toward her father for not being perfect had vanished, and she could accept the fact that Sonny Darling, like everyone else, including herself, was flawed.
Indeed, Sabrina no longer blamed him for leaving behind so many problems. Instead she remembered the warm and generous love he’d always had for his family and his friends.
So, her duty to her father done, tomorrow morning she’d return to New York to meet with a producer who wanted her to star in his new play.
The play, entitled Command Performance, was a marvelous modern romantic musical takeoff on the classic Cinderella tale, bound to garner accolades from both critics and theatergoers.
Her career was at a turning point; she knew this play would establish her as a credible actor, an actor with range. And, as a bonus, she’d even get to sing.
Still, Sabrina felt let down. She tried telling herself that the grinding nine months of the tour had left her depressed. But she knew the real reason was that she missed Burke. Horribly.
Raven joined Sabrina in the wings. Together they watched the last of the audience leave. “Well, that’s that,” Raven said. “We can all return to our own lives.”
“I suppose so,” Sabrina murmured unenthusiastically.
“Yep,” Raven said, “this time tomorrow, Ariel will be in Hollywood, I’ll be in Atlanta and Mom’ll be back on the farm.”
When Sabrina didn’t comment, Raven gave her a long, considering look. “So, where are you going to be?”
“New York,” Sabrina answered promptly. “You know I’ve got a meeting with that producer.”
“I thought, perhaps you’d change your mind.”
“Why on earth would I do that? It’s a marvelous part.”
“I thought you might prefer to take on another role.”
Sabrina understood Raven’s meaning all too well. “Whatever there was between Burke and me was over three months ago. In case you haven’t noticed, I haven’t heard a word from him.”
“That’s not exactly true,” her mother’s voice entered the conversation. Sabrina briefly closed her eyes, praying for patience, as Dixie and Ariel joined them. “What about the flowers that have been delivered before every show?”
“You and Raven and Ariel get flowers, too.”
“True, but your arrangements are always larger,” Ariel who noticed such things, correctly pointed out.
“And what about Sonny’s collection?” Dixie asked.
The antique Western guns had begun arriving at the farm a week after the Darlings’ departure from Montacroix. Yesterday, Dixie had received a call from the housekeeper that the Winchester, the last of the collection, had been delivered.
“That doesn’t count,” Sabrina argued. “When you called Montacroix and asked Burke if he was behind the purchases, he told you he bought them back because he valued family tradition.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing.” Sabrina shrugged her bare shoulders. “In fact, it just drives home the point that his own family traditions make it impossible for us to be together.”
“Why, I do declare,” Ariel drawled. “You are acting every bit as dim-witted as Katie Stuart, when she let me steal her husband. And all because having come from a family of sharecroppers, she didn’t believe she was good enough to be the wife of a Georgia state senator.”
“Read my lips,” Sabrina said slowly, as if speaking to someone who did not understand her language, “Southern Nights is a soap opera. Not real life.”
“Actually,” Dixie considered thoughtfully, “lately, real life has seemed a lot messier than any daytime television drama.” She patted Sabrina’s arm comfortingly. “It was obvious to everyone that you and Burke were in love, darling.”
“So,” Raven said, “since boy loves girl and girl loves boy, what’s the problem?”
“How about the little fact that I can’t give him an heir?”
Sabrina had told her mother and sisters the truth about her condition the day they’d left Montacroix. Although they’d responded with sympathy—and anger at Arthur Longstreet—none of them had been able to convince her that her inability to have a child was not an insurmountable barrier.
“You told us Burke said it didn’t matter,” Ariel reminded her.
“It was the moonlight talking.”
“From what I saw of the prince, I doubt if he’s ever—in his entire life—uttered a word he didn’t mean,” Raven said.
“I don’t want to talk about Burke anymore,” Sabrina insisted. “And if you don’t all mind, I think I’d like to be alone for a little while.”
“Of course,” Dixie answered quickly. A bit too quickly, Sabrina considered. “We’ll be upstairs, in our suite.” She gave her stepdaughter a hug overbrimming with maternal comfort. “Come along girls, you can help me pack. I don’t know why I always save it until the last minute,” she complained as the trio disappeared behind the rows of stage curtain.
Alone at last, Sabrina walked back onto the stage and stood there, staring out at the empty theater, remembering the heady sound of applause that had rocked the rafters.
This was where she belonged, she reminded herself firmly. Onstage. Not locked away in some gilded tower like Rapunzel.
“Wrong fairy tale, Sabrina,” she muttered out loud, her voice echoing in the vast emptiness. Exhaling a long weary sigh, she turned to leave, when suddenly, the red velvet-draped doors at the back of the theater burst open.
“I don’t believe it!”
Sabrina couldn’t decide whether to laugh or to cry as Burke came galloping down the aisle on that same black stallion he’d ridden the day they’d made love in the gamekeeper’s cottage.
“Good evening, milady,” he greeted her as he reined the horse in just below the stage.
His wonderful, all-too-familiar deep voice shattered her last thought that this might be a hallucination, born of her desperate, lonely thoughts.
“You’ve obviously gone stark raving mad,” Sabrina accused, even as her out-of-control heart sprouted gossamer wings.
“Mad about you,” Burke agreed easily. He held out his arms for her perusal. “What do you think? Do I live up to your image of Prince Charming?”
Oh, he did. In fact, he surpassed every romantic daydream she’d ever had. “The horse is su
pposed to be white.”
“Surely a remarkably talented performer such as yourself would have heard of literary license,” Burke countered easily. His tone was mild, but as he took in the sight of Sabrina dressed in a strapless, beaded red gown that fit like a lover’s caress, heat rose in his eyes.
“I also had to leave most of the shining armor at home.” He placed a hand against his gleaming chest plate. “Men were a great deal smaller back in the good old days of the Round Table. And the helmet’s impossible to see out of.”
“You look very dashing,” Sabrina assured him.
“That’s exactly what I wanted to hear. You, of course, look as delectable as ever.”
The feelings were there, so strong Sabrina was surprised that the air wasn’t lit with electrical sparks. But even as she wanted to fling herself into his arms, to cover his handsome, smiling face with kisses, she reminded herself that nothing had changed.
“What are you doing here, Burke?” she asked softly.
“Living out a fantasy?”
“No, really.”
Burke wondered why he thought this was going to be easy. Biting back a curse, he reached into the leather bag attached to his saddle and pulled out a thick long roll of paper.
“I wanted to bring you this, for one thing.”
She bent down and took the papers. “Blueprints?”
“For the new theater that’s being built on the banks of Lake Losange,” he informed her. “In fact, I would have been here sooner, but I’ve been tied up with architects trying to get the place designed before the end of your tour. Congratulations, by the way, on retiring your father’s debt.”
“We came in five hundred thousand short,” she allowed. “But for some reason...”
Her voice drifted off as comprehension dawned. Sabrina was tempted to look above her head for the glowing light bulb. “If you paid that money—”
“I would never do such a thing without asking your permission first,” Burke interrupted.
The needle on that internal lie detector, which had gotten such a workout during her marriage, was practically going off the chart. “But you did do something.”
“All right.” Burke shrugged his armor-clad shoulders. “As it turned out, your government wanted very much to negotiate a banking treaty with Montacroix. When I explained that I was uncomfortable signing my name to a joint accord with a government who seems unable to reach a compromise with its own citizens, the IRS came to the belated, but wise conclusion that the penalties assessed on your father’s estate were mistakenly extreme.”
It was the same thing Dixie’s new accountant had told them in the beginning. Unfortunately the IRS had remained firm and the accountant, while a partner in a nationwide firm, had not possessed Burke’s clout.
“You mixed private and state business? For me?”
“For your family,” Burke corrected. “I have grown quite fond of your sisters and your mother.”
“Thank you.”
“It was my pleasure.” Actually, Burke had rather enjoyed watching those State Department officials coming down so hard on the individuals who’d given Sabrina and her mother and sisters so much unwarranted grief.
“You still haven’t looked at the drawings,” he reminded her.
Her eyes skimmed over the drawings. The theater had been designed specifically for those small, intimate audiences that had made the Broadway theaters so special. “It looks very nice.”
“I was hoping you’d think so. Of course, you’re invited to make any changes you want. Look at the name,” he suggested.
Her eyes widened. “You named an entire theater after me?”
“Of course. I thought it only appropriate. You are intending to perform for your subjects, aren’t you?”
“Burke, we’ve been through this before—”
“I rather thought,” Burke said, deftly cutting off her planned refusal, “that you might like to debut your new play and the theater at the same time.”
“My new play?” She tapped the blueprints against her palm. “Don’t tell me that you’re behind that meeting I have tomorrow!”
She did not, Burke considered, appear pleased. “Actually, I am. Is there a problem?”
“Is there a problem?” Her temper flared. She waved the blueprints at him. “How about the little fact that I was led to believe that I’d been offered that part because of my talent?” And not, Sabrina considered furiously, because she’d been sleeping with a prince.
“The play was written with you in mind,” Burke said. “It was also written before you and I met.”
Having had one man manipulate her life, Sabrina was not prepared to allow Burke, no matter how much she loved him, do the same.
“Then how do you know about it?”
“The afternoon you and your sisters left Montacroix, the producer called the palace, hoping to talk with you. I took the call and informed him that your plane had already left. Then we had a long talk about you. And his offer. By the end of the conversation, he’d agreed to consider bringing the play to Montacroix.”
Burke held out his hands. “Believe me, Sabrina, that was my only involvement in the matter. If you do not wish to debut the play in my country, I would accept your decision.”
“Every actor wants to play the palace,” she murmured the old theater axiom.
“Does that mean that you agree?”
“I don’t know.” Sabrina was truly torn. Her heart was screaming yes! yes! Her mind was reminding her that nothing had changed.
“Perhaps this will help you make up your mind.” Burke reached into the leather bag again and pulled out another paper.
The piece of parchment was rolled and tied with a slim red ribbon. Sabrina scanned the brief lines, then looked up at him with wide and wary, but hopeful eyes.
“The legislature has amended the Montacroix charter,” Burke answered her unspoken question. “The male ascendancy clause stands. But an additional clause has been added to the original.”
“Allowing for the heir to be adopted,” Sabrina whispered, having to push the words past the lump in her throat.
“That’s right.” Tired of being so close to her without touching, Burke dismounted and leaped onto the stage with a deft grace that reminded Sabrina vaguely of Douglas Fairbanks. He already was wearing the armor; all he needed was a sword to make the image complete.
“Motherhood and fatherhood have very little to do with biology, chérie,” he insisted quietly. Somberly. He wrapped his strong arms around her. His palms stroked her rigid back, encouraging her to relax. “All that matters is that you and I will love our children.” He pressed a kiss against her hair, her temple. “As we love each other.”
Finally, because it had been an aeon since he’d touched her, kissed her, Burke lowered his mouth to hers.
Her bones were melting. As was the block of ice she’d encased her heart in twelve long weeks ago. “You seem to have thought of everything,” she said breathlessly when the wonderful kiss finally ended.
“Lord, I hope so. Oh, there is one more little thing.” With a great deal of reluctance, Burke released her long enough to dig into the front pocket of his slacks.
“You know,” Sabrina said, feeling remarkably lighthearted for the first time in months, “you’re beginning to look a lot more like Santa Claus than Prince Charming.”
Her smile faded from her lips, her mouth went dry as Burke handed her a black velvet box. She opened it, unable to hold in her gasp when she viewed the dazzling ring—a gleaming gray pearl surrounded by a glittering stardust of flawless diamonds set in brilliant platinum—lying on its bed of royal blue satin.
“Oh, Burke.”
“It’s made from stones taken from the crown.”
She looked up at him, clearly surprised. “Your crown?”
Burke shrugged. “I had them replaced with paste. No one will ever miss them. Besides, the crown is an outdated symbol. I have no intention of wearing it again.”
She r
emembered what he’d said about bringing Montacroix into the twenty-first century and realized that his behavior was in character. But still, to strip his family’s royal symbol of its precious stones for her was a major act of faith. And love.
“I couldn’t find a ring I felt suited you,” Burke explained. “So, I decided to have one made up. One that reminds me of your eyes, after we make love.”
He took the ring from its satiny bed. “I love you, Sabrina. More than life itself. And I will love our adopted children every bit as much as my parents have always loved my sisters and me. As much as yours loved you.”
His gaze was warm, but to her amazement, Sabrina viewed a hint of something that resembled fear in their swirling dark depths.
“Please don’t turn me down again, chérie. Because I’m not certain my not inconsiderable ego could withstand another buffeting.”
Burke Giraudeau de Montacroix was all Sabrina’s fairy-tale dreams come to life. But he was better. Much, much better. Because he was flesh and blood and most importantly, he possessed a very warm, generous and wonderfully loving heart.
“I love you, Burke.” She held out her trembling hand, giving him her answer.
When he slipped the ring onto her finger, tears of joy filled her eyes. He kissed her again, a long kiss that rocked her with emotion. Then, before she knew what was happening, he’d swept her up in his arms and she found herself seated across the saddle in front of Burke on the gleaming black stallion.
“I have one more thing to ask,” Burke murmured in her ear as they rode off together into the dazzling desert night.
“What’s that?” There was no request that she would not willingly grant this man who’d proved to her that happy endings really were possible, after all.
“Do you think we could convince your sisters to sing at our wedding?”
Happier than she’d ever been in her life, Sabrina laughed. “I’d like to see you try and stop them.”
* * * * *
Keep reading for a special preview of Herons Landing, the exciting new series from New York Times bestselling author JoAnn Ross and HQN Books!