by Nora Roberts
“An American woman.” Her breath came quickly, erratically. It would have been so easy not to question, but to accept. She wanted to accept, to move into his arms, maybe into his heart. Discovering that was what she wanted most changed everything and compounded the questions. “An American woman who makes her living in the theater. No rank, no pedigree. Not as suitable for an affair as another aristocrat, another European.”
“No.” He said it simply and watched the hurt come into her eyes. But he wouldn’t lie. “To have my name linked with yours wouldn’t be suitable to certain members of the council, certain high officials. It’s more agreeable when I socialize with a woman of title or with an ancestry.”
“I see.” She brought her hand up and removed his from her neck. “So it would be more … tactful if I agreed to a clandestine affair.”
Anger transformed his face into hard, unyielding lines. No one seeing him now would believe he could smile so sweetly. “I don’t believe I asked you to be tactful.”
“No, you hadn’t gotten to it yet.” She was going to cry. The knowledge stunned her, humiliated her. Humiliation snapped her back straight and kept her eyes dry—so dry they hurt. “Well, thanks for the offer, Your Highness, but I’m not interested. When I sleep with a man, I do so with no shame. When I have a relationship with a man, it’s in the open.”
“I’m aware of that.”
She’d started to storm away, but his words brought her up short. “Just what do you mean?”
“You’ve been very open about your relationship with my brother.” There was no smile now, or any sign of temper. His eyes were flat and dark. “Apparently you’ve had no shame there, either.”
Confusion came first, then a glimmer, then a flash of insight. Because it was safer than being hurt, Eve let her fury take her. “So that’s what this is all about. Some sibling rivalry, some curiosity about your brother’s taste. What did you think, Alex, he’d had his turn, now you wanted to see what all the fuss was about?”
He stood where he was, knowing he didn’t dare step toward her. “Be careful.”
She was beyond care, but not yet beyond words. “The hell with you. You may be an aristocrat, a prince, a ruler, but underneath you’re as much a fool as any other man and I won’t stand here and explain or justify my relationship with Bennett to a fool. You could take lessons from him, Alex. He has a heart and a genuine affection for women. He doesn’t consider them trophies to be passed around.”
“Are you finished?”
“Oh, more than. I suggest you speak to Bennett, Your Highness, if you want to find out my … pros and cons. I’m sure you’d be fascinated.”
“What I was feeling for you had nothing to do with Bennett—and everything to do with him. I’ll drive you back.”
He started toward the car. The two guards who’d kept at a discreet distance climbed into theirs.
Chapter 6
“Ethel, I want another white slip for Cat.” Clipboard in hand, Eve was going through the costumes, one item at a time, with her wardrobe mistress.
“White slip. Size thirty-four.”
“Not too low cut. I want some subtlety.”
“A subtle white slip. Size thirty-four.”
Eve chuckled, but continued to go through the wardrobe for the first production. “Let’s keep within budget. Make it nylon—as long as it looks like silk.”
“She wants a miracle.”
“Always. Oh, and let out Big Daddy’s jackets, say, an inch and a half. I’m going to want Jared padded a bit more.”
Ethel chewed her stick of peppermint gum while she noted down instructions. She’d been in wardrobe for twenty-two years. She could, with forty-five minutes notice, make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear. “If the cast keeps eating the way they did the other night, you won’t need any padding.”
“I intend to keep an eye on that, too.”
“Never doubted it.” Ethel brought her half glasses down farther on her nose and looked at Eve over the straight edge. “Somebody ought to be keeping an eye on you. You give up sleeping?”
“Looks that way.” She fingered two children’s costumes. “These may have to be altered. I audition kids tomorrow. Let’s pray we can find two who can play nasty little monsters.”
“I have a couple I’m willing to lend out.” Gabriella stepped into the wardrobe room.
“Brie, I was hoping you’d make it by.” Tucking the clipboard under one arm, Eve embraced her with the other.
“I’d have made it by yesterday, but I had four dentist appointments, two haircuts and a meeting with an impossibly tight-pursed budget committee.”
“Just another day of glamour and leisure. Princess Gabriella, may I present Miss Ethel Cohen, my miracle worker with needle and thread.”
Ethel dropped into an awkward curtsy. “Your Majesty.”
“We settle for ‘Your Highness’ in Cordina.” Smiling, Gabriella offered a hand. “So many costumes.” She studied the rack, the trays and boxes full of accessories, then fingered a rope of glass beads until she felt Ethel was more at ease. “How in the world do you keep track of everything?”
“I have a system, Your Highness. As long as I can keep certain people from fouling it up.” She cast a narrow-eyed look at Eve.
“I’m just checking off,” Eve muttered. “I’m not touching anything.”
“So far,” Ethel said under her breath.
“Did I hear you say that someone should keep an eye on Eve?”
“Yes, ma’am, Your Highness. Too keyed up and not sleeping right. I’d be obliged to anyone who could get her out of my hair for a while.”
“A fat lot of respect the producer gets around here.”
“Concern’s often more important,” Gabriella commented. “I believe I can help you out, Miss Cohen. I have twenty free minutes. Eve, I’d love a cup of coffee.”
“Brie, I’m up to my ears—”
“I could pull rank.”
Eve let out a windy sigh. “And would, too. All right, but we’re going to have to make it fifteen, and in my office.”
“Fair enough.” Brie linked arms with Eve, then looked over her shoulder, mouthing the word twenty to Ethel.
“And how is it you have twenty free minutes in the middle of the day?”
“Luck. Nanny’s with the children at the farm, Reeve’s in conference with Papa and Alex, and my afternoon appointment came down with a virus.”
“You don’t sound sympathetic.”
“I’m relieved. You have no idea how tedious it is to sit around eating watercress sandwiches—nasty things—and planning a fund-raiser with a woman with more hot air than imagination. If I’m really lucky, the virus will last three or four days and I can have the whole thing planned without her.”
“Talk about nasty. Well, here, as we say in the States, is where the buck stops.” She opened the door to her office and gestured Gabriella inside.
“Adequate enough,” Gabriella decided, turning a circle. “But you need some fresh flowers and something to replace that hideous painting.”
“I don’t even notice really. It’s more important that I’ve been requisitioned a coffeemaker.” Eve hit the switch. “It’ll be hot in a minute.”
Gabriella set her purse on the desk and casually moved to the window. “A pity you don’t have a better view.”
“I didn’t think there was a bad view in Cordina.”
Gabriella let the curtain fall back into place, then turned. “You know, Eve, I stopped by home when I dropped Reeve off. Alexander looks every bit as hollow-eyed as you.”
Eve moved away to busy herself with cups and saucers. “I suppose he has a lot on his mind.”
“No doubt about that, and a bit more than state affairs. Did you quarrel?”
“We had words. Do you want it black or with some of this awful powdered milk?”
“Black.” Gabriella waited until Eve poured and handed her a cup. “Like to talk about it?”
“He’s your brother.�
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“And you’re my friend.” Without tasting, Gabriella sat and set the cup on the edge of the desk. “I love both of you, enough, I think, to be objective. Has he been difficult?”
“No.” Eve took a long drink. “Impossible.”
“Sounds like Alex.” She couldn’t prevent the hint of a smile. “In his defense I have to say he doesn’t try to be impossible, he just is. What did he do?”
Eve finished off her coffee, then rose immediately to pour more. “He kissed me.”
Gabriella lifted a brow, pursed her lips and considered. “That doesn’t seem like such a terrible thing to me.”
“Come on, Brie, I’m talking about Alexander the Proper. And he didn’t just kiss me,” she added because it sounded so foolish out loud. “He tried to seduce me.”
“I can’t believe it’s taken him so long.” At Eve’s expression, Gabriella lifted a hand in a negligent wave. “After all, Eve, Alex may be an idiot, but he’s far from stupid. It’s difficult for me to believe you were shocked.”
“I was shocked.” Then with a grimace Eve relented. “All right, maybe I wasn’t shocked, but I was surprised.”
“Did you kiss him back?”
If the “him” had been anyone else, she would have laughed. “Really, Brie, that’s hardly the point.”
“No, it is the point, but it’s also none of my business.”
“I didn’t mean that.”
“If you didn’t, you should have,” Gabriella told her as she sampled her coffee. “Still, if you’re angry with Alex, I think there’s more to it than a kiss.”
She tried to sit, then stood again to roam the room. Nothing seemed right, she thought. Nothing fit into place. “He only kissed me because of Bennett.”
While Eve paced the room, Gabriella set her coffee down again. “I hate being dense, but what does Bennett have to do with Alex and you?”
“Just like a man,” Eve muttered as she walked back and forth. Her oversized shirt flapped at the hips with each movement. She’d told herself she wasn’t going to give it another thought. She’d promised herself that if she did think of it, she wouldn’t be upset. So much for promises. She gestured with her cup and nearly sloshed coffee over the sides. “Like a little boy wanting a shiny red ball because it belongs to another little boy. Well, I’m not a red ball.” She slammed her cup into its saucer. “I don’t belong to anyone.”
Gabriella let the silence hang a moment, then slowly nodded. “I think I’m following you. Stop me if I’m wrong. You think Alex tried to seduce you because he thinks Bennett already has.”
“Bingo.”
“Eve, that’s absurd.”
“You bet it is. I said the same thing in more graphic terms to Alexander.”
“No, no, no.” More than a little amused, Gabriella laughed off Eve’s indignant agreement. “I meant it’s absurd to think that Alex and Ben have ever played one-upmanship over anything. It simply isn’t in their nature.”
It wasn’t the sympathy she’d counted on. Families stick together, she reminded herself, but Gabriella was a woman. She wanted a woman’s reaction. “How do you explain the fact that he said I’d slept with Ben?”
“Alex said that?”
“Yes, he said it. Do you think I imagined it?”
Amusement became a shadow of concern. “No, of course not. I thought you’d misunderstood something he did or said.” The concern hovered a moment, then faded. “I still do.”
“It was very plain, Brie. Alex thinks Ben and I …” She left the obvious unstated as she thought it through. “Maybe everyone does.”
“Anyone who sees you and Bennett together and knows you understands it’s nothing but affection and friendship.” She stopped, and her lips twitched a little. “Anyone who’s seeing clearly.”
“You’ll forgive me if I don’t find this as amusing as you seem to.”
“I can’t help but be pleased Alexander is involved with someone I respect and care for.”
“We’re not involved.”
“Hmmm.”
“Don’t say hmmm—you remind me of Chris.”
“Good, that means you’ll think of me as a sister and listen to some advice.”
It was Eve’s turn to be amused. “Chris would be the first to tell you I rarely do.”
“Then make an exception. Eve, I know how it is to have feelings for someone who seems totally wrong for you.”
“I never said I had feelings,” she said slowly. “But suppose, for the sake of argument, I did. Alexander is totally wrong for me. Moreover, I’m wrong for him. I have a career, one that’s important to me. I have ties to another country. I like to do things when and how I choose to without deliberating how it might look to the press. I’ve never dealt well with rules, which I proved by doing miserably in school. Alexander lives by rules. He has to.”
“True.” Gabriella nodded as she sipped her coffee. “You know, Eve, your arguments are perfectly valid.”
“They are?” There was a little sinking sensation in her stomach. She braced against it and spoke more firmly. “Yes, they are.”
“I said I understood and I do. With the man I had feelings for, the arguments were almost identical and just as valid.”
Eve poured more coffee. It seemed as though she were living on caffeine, she thought. “What did you do?”
“I married him.”
Eve fought back a smile and plopped on the edge of her desk. “Thanks a lot.”
Gabriella set her coffee aside, noting that Eve had drunk three to her one. And coffee, she thought, wasn’t going to soothe her friend’s nerves. Love made wrecks of people no matter how strong they professed to be. It hadn’t been so long ago that she’d been in the turmoil of needing to love and being afraid to.
“Do you love Alex?”
Love. The most potent four-letter word. Denying it would be easy. Honesty took more of an effort. Eve felt Gabriella deserved the truth. “I haven’t let myself think of it.”
“Thinking has little to do with loving. But I’m not going to pressure you anymore.”
Affection coursed through her as she leaned over to touch Gabriella’s hand. “Brie, you could never pressure me.”
“Yes, I could,” Gabriella said briskly. “And it’s tempting. Instead I’ll tell you to try to remember that Alex has had to work very hard to develop an armor to contain his emotions. A strong, objective ruler is necessary for the country. It isn’t always easy for him, or for the people close to him.”
“Brie, the bottom line isn’t my feelings for Alex.”
“For those of us who can choose their own destinies feelings are always the bottom line.”
“I wish it were so simple.” If it were, she could open the door, even for a moment, and examine her own feelings, her own wants, face-to-face. She didn’t dare. They might be much bigger and much stronger than she was. It was a matter of self-protection, she told herself. Of self-reliance. She didn’t want to think it was a matter of survival.
“Brie, as much as I care for your family, I can’t afford to get emotionally involved with someone who has to put country and duty ahead of me. That sounds selfish, but—”
“No, it sounds human.”
“I appreciate that. You know, if—” She broke off as the phone on her desk rang. “No, don’t go,” she said as Gabriella started to rise. “Wait just a minute. Hello.”
“Eve Hamilton?”
“Yes.”
“You’re close to the royal family. If you have concern for their welfare, tell them to heed a warning.” The voice chilled her as much as the words. It was mechanical, sexless.
“Who is this?”
“A seeker of justice. A warning. There will be only one. François Deboque will be released from prison within forty-eight hours or a member of the royal house of Cordina will die.”
With the breath backed up in her lungs, Eve shot Gabriella a look. Her friends, her family. The threat wasn’t against some faceless title, but against peop
le she loved. She gripped the phone tighter and forced aside terror. “Only a coward delivers threats anonymously.”
“A warning,” the voice corrected. “And a promise. Forty-eight hours.”
The quiet click echoed over and over in Eve’s head even after she deliberately replaced the receiver.
Fear. Because she sensed it, Gabriella rose to put a hand on Eve’s. “What is it?”
When she focused on Gabriella again, Eve saw the tautness despite the princess’s attempt at composure. Taking her cue from that, she rose quickly. “Where are your bodyguards?”
“In the hall.”
“Your car’s outside?”
“Yes.”
“A driver?”
“No, I drove myself.”
“We need to go to the palace. I think one of your guards should ride with us. I’ll explain on the way.”
* * *
Inside Prince Armand’s office, three men sat in tense conversation. Smoke hung in the room, its scent competing with that of fresh flowers and old leather. Often rooms take their mood from the men who occupies them. This one held power, quietly, unarguably. Decisions made here were rarely made in haste and never made with emotion. Decisions made here could not be regretted after the heat of anger or the twists of grief had passed.
Prince Armand sat behind his desk and listened to his son-in-law. Reeve MacGee was a man he respected and trusted. He was friend, he was family, and more. Reeve’s background in law enforcement and special services made him invaluable as an adviser. Though he had refused any offer of title or position of state, Reeve had agreed to work, quietly, in the capacity of security adviser for the royal family.
“There’s little more you can do to improve the security here at the palace without making a public statement.”
“I have no desire to make a public statement.” Armand passed a smooth white rock from hand to hand as he spoke. “The embassy?”
“The security’s been upgraded there, of course. But it’s my feeling that unless you’re in Paris, there’ll be no trouble there.”
Armand accepted this with a slight inclination of his head. He knew he had been the target in Paris, and was still living, always would, with the knowledge that another man had died in his place. “And?”