Command Performance

by Nora Roberts

  forward and, with the compassion natural to him, took Chris’s hand.

  “The surgeon is still with her. They’ll be bringing her to recovery very soon. You have a strong sister, Miss Hamilton. She doesn’t choose to give in.”

  “She’s all right?” Chris’s hand gripped the doctor’s like a vise.

  “She came through the surgery better than anyone could have expected. As I explained, Dr. Thorette is the best in his field. The operation was tricky because the bullet was lodged very near her spine.”

  “She’s not …” Alexander felt his father’s hand on his arm and made himself say it. “She won’t be paralyzed?”

  “It’s too early for guarantees, Your Highness. But Dr. Thorette feels there is no permanent damage. I agree with him.”

  “Your judgment has always been excellent,” Armand told him. His voice was rough from cigarettes and relief. “I don’t have to tell you that Eve will continue to get the very best care available.”

  “No, Your Highness, you don’t. Alexander.” He used the first name, taking the privilege of an old family friend, one he had taken rarely in over thirty years. “She is young, healthy, strong. I give you my word that I can see no reason she won’t recover fully. Still, there is only so much we can do. The rest is up to her.”

  “When can we see her?”

  “I’ll check recovery and let you know. It’s unlikely she’ll wake until morning. No, there is no need to argue,” he continued, holding up his hand. “I don’t intend to tell you that you can’t sit with her. I believe it will only help her recovery if you’re there when she awakes. I’ll go to her now.”

  * * *

  There was a low light on as he kept his vigil. Franco had had a tray of food sent up, but Alexander had only toyed with it and pushed it aside.

  She lay so still.

  He’d been told she would, that the sedation had been heavy, but he watched her for a movement, for a flicker.

  She lay so quietly.

  An IV fed into her wrist; the white bandage holding the needle in place stood out in the dark. A line of machines kept up a steady click and beep as they monitored her. From time to time he stared at the fluorescent green lights. But almost always he stared at her.

  Sometimes he spoke, holding her hand in his as he talked of walking together on the beach, of taking her to the family retreat in Zurich or sitting in the gardens. Other times he would simply sit, watching her face, waiting.

  He thought how much she would dislike the dull hospital gown they had put her in. And he thought of the lace and silk she had worn the last time they had made love. Only one night ago. He pressed her hand against his cheek as his breathing grew jerky and painful. The touch helped soothe.

  “Don’t let go,” he murmured. “Stay with me, Eve. I need you, and the chance to show you how much. Don’t let go.”

  He sat through the hours of the night fully awake. Just as the slats in the window shade let in the first slivers of light, she stirred.

  “Eve.” He gripped her hand in both of his. The safety bar on the side of the bed was down so that he could lean toward her. “Eve, you’re all right. I’m here with you. Please, open your eyes. Can you hear me? Open your eyes, Eve.”

  She heard him, though his voice sounded hollow and distant. Something was wrong. She felt as though she had been floating, and the dreams … Her eyelids fluttered, came up. She saw only gray, then blinking, began to make out form.

  “I’m here with you,” Alexander repeated. “You’re going to be fine. Can you hear me?”

  “Alex?” She saw his face. It was very close, but she couldn’t seem to reach up and touch. It was shadowed with beard. It made her smile a little. “You haven’t shaved.”

  Then she went under again.

  Though it seemed like hours to him, it was only minutes later when she stirred again. He was sitting on the bed beside her. This time her eyes focused long enough for understanding to come into them.

  “You’re not hurt?” Her voice was weak and wavery.

  “No, no.”

  “Russ …”

  Involuntarily his fingers tightened on hers. “He’s been taken care of. You’re not to worry.”

  But she’d turned her head, seen the machine, realized the rest of it. “Not the hospital.” At the panic in her voice he brought her hand to his lips.

  “Just for a little while, ma belle. Just until you’re well.”

  “I don’t want to stay here.”

  “I’ll stay with you.”

  “You won’t go?”

  “No.”

  “Alex, you won’t lie to me?”

  “No.” He pressed kisses to her wrist, comforting himself with the feel of her pulse.

  “Am I going to die?”

  “No.” Now he put a hand to her face and bent closer. “No, you’re not going to die. Dr. Franco says you’re”—he remembered Eve’s own phrase—“healthy as a horse.”

  “I don’t think he put it that way.”

  “That’s what he meant.”

  She smiled, but he saw the quick wince.

  “You have pain.”

  “It feels like—I don’t know. My back, under the shoulder.”

  Where the bullet had been. It had lodged there instead of in his heart. He kissed her cheek and rose. “I’ll call the nurse.”

  “Alex, don’t leave.”

  “Just to call the nurse. I promise.” But he found Franco coming down the hall. “She’s awake. She’s having some pain.”

  “All of it can’t be avoided, Your Highness. Let me examine her, then we can give her something.” He signaled to a nurse.

  “She’s afraid to be here.”

  “I understand she has a phobia about hospitals. I’m afraid we can’t have her moved just yet.”

  “Then I’ll stay with her.”

  “I can’t permit that, Your Highness.”

  Even without sleep, with fatigue and worry dragging at him, Alexander was royal. “I beg your pardon?”

  “I can’t permit you to remain twenty-four hours a day. I will, however, permit you to take shifts with Miss Hamilton’s sister or anyone else who gives her comfort. Now I must examine my patient.”

  Alexander watched him walk into Eve’s room, then he sank down on a chair outside the door. God, he needed to be alone for just a few minutes, to find some dark, quiet room where he could finally let go of the rage, the pain, the fear.

  She’d spoken to him. She’d looked at him. Her fingers had moved in his. He had that now. Leaning back against the wall, he closed his eyes for the first time in more than twenty-four hours.

  He opened them again the moment Franco stepped into the hall.

  “You can go in, Your Highness. I’ve explained to Eve about her condition. I’ve also assured her that she can have someone with her as long as she likes. I’m going to call her sister now. When Miss Hamilton arrives, I insist you go home, eat a decent meal and sleep. If not, I will bar you from her room.”

  Alexander passed a hand over the back of his neck. “Dr. Franco, if I didn’t know that you had Eve’s welfare in mind, I’d simply ignore you.”

  “It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve gone head to head with a member of your family, Your Highness.”

  “I’m well aware of that, too. Tell me how she is this morning.”

  “Weak, of course. But her vital signs are good. She feels her legs and can move them.”

  “Then there’s no—”

  “No paralysis. She needs, rest, care and support. I hope to have her out of the ICU by tomorrow, but Dr. Thorette will want to examine her first.”

  “Dr. Franco, I don’t have the words to tell you how grateful I am.”

  “Your Highness. I’ve always considered it an honor to treat members of the royal family.”

  Alexander looked back at Eve’s door. The ring box made the slightest of weights in his pocket. “You’ve always been perceptive.”

  “Thank you, Your Highness. And I
have your word that you will leave soon after Miss Hamilton arrives?”

  “You have it.”

  Alexander went back into the room and found Eve awake and staring at the ceiling.

  “I thought you’d gone.”

  “I promised I wouldn’t. Chris will be coming. I’ll have to leave then for a little while.” He sat beside her again, taking her hand. “But I’ll be back. You won’t be alone.”

  “I feel like such a fool—like a little girl, afraid of the dark.”

  “I’m only relieved to learn you’re afraid of something.”

  “Alex, the guard who was shot. Is he—”

  “He’s still alive. Everything that can be done is being done to keep him that way. I intend to look in on him when I leave you.”

  “He might have saved my life,” she murmured. “And yours. I don’t know his name.”

  “Craden.”

  She nodded, wanting to remember it. “And Jermaine?”

  He hadn’t known how good it would feel to smile again. “Recovered, except for his pride.”

  “There’s no reason for him to be ashamed. I didn’t earn my black belt by batting my eyes.”

  “No, chérie, it’s obvious you didn’t. When you’re better, you can explain that to Jermaine.” He brushed at her hair, just needing to touch. “What kind of flowers shall I bring you? Something from the garden? I’ve never asked what your favorite is.”

  Tears welled up in her eyes and began to spill over.

  “Don’t.” He kissed her fingers, one by one. “Don’t cry, my love.”

  “I brought him here.” She closed her eyes, but the tears squeezed through. “I brought Russ to Cordina, to you.”

  “No.” He kept his fingers gentle as he stroked her tears away. “Deboque brought him. We can’t prove it, but we know it. You have to know it.”

  “How could he have deceived me so completely? I auditioned him. Alex, I’d seen his work onstage. I’d talked to people who’d worked with him. I don’t understand.”

  “He was a professional. An excellent actor, Eve, who used that to cover his real vocation. He killed for money. Not for passion, not for a cause, but for money. Even our security check showed nothing. Reeve’s working with Interpol right now, hoping to learn more.”

  “It all happened so fast it doesn’t even seem real.”

  “You aren’t to think of it now. It’s over.”

  “Where is he?”

  He debated only a moment, then decided she deserved the truth. “He’s dead. Jermaine shot him only seconds after …” But he wasn’t quite ready to speak of the way her body had jerked and crumpled against his. “He regained consciousness briefly, long enough for Reeve to get some information. We can talk of all of this later, when you’re stronger.”

  “I thought he would kill you.” The new medication was taking effect. Her eyes drooped.

  “You saw that he didn’t. How should I repay you for saving my life?”

  Drifting under, she smiled. “I like bluebells. Bluebells are my favorite.”

  * * *

  He brought them every day. When she was permitted to leave the hospital in the care of a private nurse, he brought them to her room. As the first week passed, she began to fret about her troupe. When she did, the little ball of fear that had remained lodged inside him loosened. She was getting well.

  The press hailed her as a heroine. Bennett brought the articles up and read them to her, rolling his eyes at the praise and calling her a glory hound.

  Eve insisted that the first play open, then worried that something would go wrong without her being there to fix it.

  She read the reviews, dissecting each word. It thrilled her that the play was well received, relieved her that Russ’s understudy had turned in a sterling performance. It depressed her that she hadn’t seen for herself.

  She submitted to the examinations with less and less grace as they went on.

  “Dr. Franco, when is all this poking and prodding and fussing going to stop? I feel fine.”

  She was lying on her stomach while he changed the dressing on her wound. The sutures had come out the day before and the healing was clean.

  “I’m told you’re not sleeping well at night.”

  “It’s because I’m bored to death. A walk in the garden becomes an event. I want to go to the theater, Doctor. I’ve missed the first production altogether. Damn it, I don’t want to miss the opening of the second one.”

  “Mmmm-hmmm. I’m told you’ve been refusing your medication.”

  “I don’t need it.” She pillowed her head on her hands and scowled. “I told you I feel fine.”

  “I’ve always considered grumpiness a sign of recovery,” he said mildly as he helped her to turn over.

  “I’m sorry if I’m not behaving very well.” She drew together the bed jacket her father had brought her.

  “No, I don’t believe you are.”

  She had to smile. “Maybe not, but with everyone hovering around me. Dr. Franco, you can’t imagine what it’s like to be scrutinized. If Chris hadn’t convinced my father to go back to Houston, I’d have gone crazy. He was wonderful, of course. Everyone has been. The children have been drawing me pictures. Dorian smuggled in a kitten. You’re not supposed to know about that.”

  “I will consider it privileged information.”

  “Prince Armand has come in every day. He brought me this music box.” She reached over to touch the small hammered silver case on her nightstand. “It was his wife’s. He gave it to her when Alex was born, and he said she would want me to have it.”

  “Because each of you gave him his son.”

  “Dr. Franco, I don’t feel like a hero.” The tears started up again, as they had so often in the past few days. She hated them, hated being so prone to them. “I feel like a mess. I need to get on with my life, let other people get on with theirs. I have too much time to think lying here.”

  “Your thoughts trouble you?”

  “Some of them. I need to be busy again.”

  “Why don’t we try an experiment?”

  “As long as it doesn’t involve another needle.”

  “No. You will sleep this afternoon.”

  “Doctor—”

  “Ah, wait until you hear the bargain before you complain. You will sleep this afternoon,” he repeated. “Then this evening, you will get up and put on your most elegant dress. I suggest a high back for a little while yet. You will go to the theater—” He paused as the light came into her eyes. “As an observer only. You will come directly back to the palace after the play. Perhaps we could allow a light supper. Then, like Cinderella, you will be back in bed by midnight.”

  “Deal.” She stuck out her hand. As they sealed the bargain, she promised herself she would be back to work before the week was out.

  * * *

  Both Chris and Gabriella helped her dress. Eve conducted her own experiment and asked herself if the process tired her. It didn’t. She felt exhilarated. After studying the result with the white tube dress and beaded jacket, she decided she looked better than she had before the incident. She was rested, her color was up, her eyes were clear. She drew her hair back with silver combs, added a cloud of scent and felt like a woman again.

  “You’re beautiful.” Alexander took both of her hands as he came to lead her downstairs. He was dressed in formal black and carried a small spray of bluebells.

  “I wanted you to think so.” With a smile she took the flowers and drew in the scent. Whenever she did so in the future, she knew she would think of him. “This is the first time in days you haven’t looked at me as though I were under a microscope. No, don’t say anything. I feel like a prisoner making good her escape.”

  “Then you should make it in style.”

  He drew her hand through his arm and led her downstairs. There was a limo waiting outside, its motor already purring. Eve shot Alexander a brilliant smile as she stepped in.

  Champagne was chilling. Beethoven was play
ing softly.

  “The perfect getaway car,” she murmured as he released the cork from the bottle.

  “I intend for everything to be perfect tonight.”

  She touched her glass against his, then her lips against his. “It doesn’t get any better than this.”

  “We’ll see.” He reached in a small compartment and drew out a long, slender box. “I wanted to wait until you were recovered to give you this.”

  “Alex, I don’t need presents.”

  “I need to give you one.” He opened her hand and placed the box in it. “Don’t disappoint me.”

  How could she refuse him? Eve opened the lid and stared down at the necklace of diamonds and sapphires. They seemed to hang on threads of silver and dripped down in two layers of teardrops. It was something for a princess, a queen, not an ordinary woman, she thought. Unable to resist, she lifted it up, and the gems glistened in her fingers. Lights from streetlamps rushed over them and caught fire.

  “Oh, Alex, it’s wonderful. It takes my breath away.”

  “You’ve often had that effect on me. Will you wear it tonight?”

  “I—” It almost frightened her, the sheer beauty of it, the elegance. But he’d asked almost as if he’d expected her to refuse. “I’d love to. Help me?”

  He unclasped the gold filigree collar she wore and replaced it with his gift. Instinctively Eve brought a hand up to touch the necklace as he draped her neck. It was cool, but already drawing on the warmth of her flesh.

  “I’m probably going to pay more attention to this than the play.” She leaned over to kiss him, a kiss he returned with a surprising delicacy. “Thank you, Alexander.”

  “Thank me only when the evening is finished.”

  She was nervous when she entered the theater. Then she was stunned when she entered the royal box and the crowd below rose to its feet to cheer her.

  She found her hand caught in Alexander’s. There was a smile in his eyes as he bent over and kissed it. Though she felt the emotion swirling, she managed to smile in return, and taking his lead, acknowledged the crowd with a curtsy.

  Alexander held her chair with great satisfaction. She had yet to realize it, but she had just completed her first official duty.

  “It has to be good.” She tried not to squirm as she waited for the curtain to rise. “I wish I could slip backstage for just a minute and see—”

  “I have the doctor’s orders, chérie.”

  “I know, but—Oh, God, here goes.”

  She held his hand tightly throughout the first act. Felt her stomach churn