[Montacroix Royal Family Series 02] - The Prince & the Showgirl (9 page)

She left the stage and was halfway down the center aisle, headed toward the towering doors at the back of the theater, when a lone figure rose from one of the lush red chairs on the aisle.

"Oh!" The exclamation escaped her lips on a quick, surprised rush of breath.

"I seem to have an unfortunate knack of startling you," Burke said as his gaze skimmed over her.

The first time he'd seen Sabrina Darling, she'd reminded him of a gypsy. Today she was wearing a black-and-white striped T-shirt, short black skirt, and black beret tilted over her blond hair that brought to mind an Apache dancer.

"I hope you don't think I have a habit of lurking in the darkness like a phantom to frighten women, Mademoiselle Sabrina."

"Of course not. Your Highness." She used his title as protocol demanded. But refusing to give him the upper hand, she dispensed with the accompanying curtsy that Dixie's ubiquitous tour book had stated was appropriate behavior. "But, you did surprise me. I didn't know you were in the theater."

"I finished a qualifying run and decided to come listen to your rehearsal."

He'd found her performance spellbinding.

Sabrina waited for Burke to say something about their rehearsal. When he didn't, she forced down her disappointment and said, "How did you finish?"

Her lips were a natural dusty rose. Once again he found himself fantasizing about their taste. "Finish?"

"You said you'd just finished a qualifying run. So how did you do?"

"Oh, that." He shrugged, his mind not at all on the race. Instead he pictured making love with this woman on the teak deck of the royal yacht while the craft bobbed gently on the sparkling waters of Lake Losange. "I finished first."

His tone was matter-of-fact, but his eyes were unnervingly intimate, making Sabrina feel off balance. It was not a feeling she cared for.

"Congratulations."

"Thank you."

The formally polite conversation came to another lingering halt as they stood there, inches apart, studying each other.

Finally Sabrina couldn't take Burke's silent scrutiny another moment. She folded her arms over the front of her striped shirt and said, "Well?"

"Well?" Burke repeated.

Her palms were damp with nerves. Such weakness irritated Sabrina. Pushing an impatient hand through her thick fall of wheat blond hair, she said, "Well, will we do?"

Lord, she had beautiful hands, Burke considered.

A vision of her slim fingers with those daring red fingernails slowly unfastening the buttons of his shirt, then pressing provocatively against his bare chest flashed seductively through his mind.

Burke slid his hands into the pockets of his jeans and frowned.

Protocol and impeccable manners befitting royalty had been drilled into him by first his father, then a series of strict German nuns, and, finally, the harsh headmaster of the British boys' military academy he'd attended before reading law and banking at Oxford. His mind never wandered, even during the most excruciatingly dull conversations and never, in all his thirty-six years, had his body responded so mutinously to the mere proximity of any woman. In truth, when a man was wealthy, unattached and reasonably good-looking, women were in steady supply. That being the case, Burke had always taken members of the opposite sex somewhat for granted.

But dammit, he wanted Sabrina. He had wanted her from that first blinding moment their eyes had met across the palace dining room, and although he'd steadfastly avoided the impossibly sexy woman for three entire days, all he'd managed to do was increase his craving for her.

"You will more than
do
, mademoiselle. You and your equally lovely sisters will set the standard."

"That's very kind of you to say."

Her warm, throaty voice curled around Burke like smoke.

The absolute truth was that he was having more and more trouble remembering what they were talking about. "I am extremely grateful that you have agreed to perform for my coronation ceremonies."

Once again Sabrina felt herself succumbing to dual feelings of both discomfort and curiosity. For the first time in her life, she finally understood why that proverbial moth was drawn to the deadly flame of the funeral pyre.

"Well, we're certainly grateful for the opportunity." She brushed her hair behind her shoulder with a quick, absent flick. "And we're definitely looking forward to performing for you."

Her words amused him, although he managed to keep the humor from showing on his face. She was a liar. But such a lovely one, he couldn't resist baiting her. Just a little.

"That's not exactly what I heard." His eyebrows rose only a fraction, but enough to register his disbelief.

Sabrina felt the warm color rise in her cheeks and was grateful for the subdued lighting. "If I was at all hesitant, when Princess Chantal first requested we perform, it was because I didn't believe that our music was in keeping with the solemnity of the occasion."

Good
. Her voice was cool and calm and belied her embarrassment that the prince had been told of her initial reluctance.

She had, of course, been outvoted. Both Ariel and Raven, not to mention Dixie, had jumped at what they considered a golden opportunity. Which it had turned out to be, Sabrina was forced to admit.

As soon as Mary Hart had announced the news of their upcoming Montacroix concert on
Entertainment Tonight
, the remaining three months of their nine-month tour immediately sold out. In fact, the promoter was considering adding second shows in Dallas, Los Angeles, and a third in Las Vegas.

He arched a dark brow. "You expected me to prefer Mozart? Or Bach?"

"Something along those lines." Sabrina remembered what Chantal had said about Prince Eduard's preference for chamber music.

"Mozart will be performed at the actual coronation. But the family wanted something contemporary for the public celebration."

"Chantal assured us that we were exactly what the coronation committee was looking for."

Actually, she'd said something about shaking up a few old fogies, but Sabrina decided, for the sake of discretion, not to reveal that little bit of information.

"Chantal can be quite persuasive when she puts her mind to something."

"So I've heard."

Sabrina recalled reading an interview in
Vanity Fair
where Montacroix's quintessential princess stated that she'd known right away that the dashing secret service man was destined to be her life mate. It had, Chantal had admitted blithely, taken a bit longer for Caine to accept that idea.

The door behind them opened with a blinding flash of summer sunlight that turned Sabrina's hair to molten gold. The electrician Noel had summoned entered the theater with a self-confident swagger, tool belt swung low on his hips like a gunfighter.

"Well, glory be, if it isn't the answer to all our prayers," Ariel called out on that same husky Southern voice daytime television viewers had come to know so well. It was, Sabrina thought with an inner smile, the voice of a woman interested in a man.

Since Sonny's death, Dixie had become even more vocal in her desire for a grandchild. Perhaps, Sabrina considered, Ariel might be the one to get their mother off their collective backs.

After collapsing onstage during the second act of
Private Performances
, Sabrina had undergone an emergency operation that had left her unable to ever have children. At the time, Arthur had assured her that it didn't matter. They had, after all, agreed that they didn't want children.

Afterward, when she had escaped her husband's controlling attitude and had begun to think for herself, Sabrina had realized that it had been Arthur who had never wanted a child. And, like everything else in their marriage, Sabrina, eager to please, desperate to be loved and accepted, had simply gone along.

Faced with the knowledge that she would never be a mother, Sabrina had experienced a deep sense of loss. But then she'd gotten the plum role of Maggie and was too busy with work to dwell on her loss. But there was still not a day that went by that Sabrina didn't feel a fleeting pang of regret.

"The lights will probably be back on soon," she said, thinking that the electrician would undoubtedly work at triple speed to impress her sister. Then again, he might be reluctant to rush the job, which would require him to leave. Sabrina had seen it happen before— grown men practically falling all over themselves to earn so much as a glance from Ariel Darling. Having been absolutely faithful and sheltered during her ill-fated marriage, what Sabrina had failed to see—and what her controlling husband had known too well— was that most males behaved in much the same manner around her.

"I think Bernard wants very much to impress your sister," Burke agreed, dragging his gaze from Sabrina to watch the man practically preening like a cock out to impress a hen.

"It happens all the time. Ariel's the beauty of the family," Sabrina said without rancor. "She takes after Dixie."

Burke sensed that Sabrina was genuinely unaware of being the true beauty in the Darling family. He found himself wishing that the coronation ball was tonight. It would give him an excuse to dance with her. Burke had the feeling that Sabrina Darling was the type of woman who'd fit superbly into a man's arms. And his bed.

The look he was giving her made her blood hum, her heart beat faster and her knees turn weak and rubbery. Sabrina felt as if she'd just run a marathon.

She let out a shaky breath. "Well, as much as I've enjoyed our little chat, I wanted to get some exercise in before we resume rehearsing. Your chef is so wonderful, if I don't watch out, I'll end up looking like the Pillsbury Doughboy."

"I find that highly unlikely."

"Well, since I can't afford to outgrow all those costumes Dixie bought for the next few months, I thought I'd take a walk along the lakefront."

"An excellent idea." Burke backed away, allowing her to pass. "Enjoy your stroll."

She could feel his gaze as she made her way up the aisle. She swore not to look back, but of course she did. Her eyes met his and although the sky outside the theater was a clear, alpine blue, Sabrina could have sworn she heard the dap of thunder.

Furious at herself for allowing him to get under her skin this way, she tossed her head with a flare of annoyance.

Burke nodded, accepting her unspoken challenge.

Unsure whether she was running from him or her own dangerous fantasies, Sabrina spun around and marched quickly out of the theater, slamming the enormous door behind her.

Immersed in her own nervousness, she failed to notice that the moment she left the building, she acquired a silent, shadowy escort.

Up on the stage, Ariel and Raven, who'd been watching the encounter with unabashed interest, exchanged a look. And then a smile.

"Is it me, or did the temperature in here take a sudden rise?" Ariel murmured, fanning herself dramatically with her sheet music.

Dixie, who'd been sitting in the front row, had also not missed the exchange between her stepdaughter and the prince.

"Sabrina deserves a fantasy romance," she declared. "After all that low-down snake of a husband put her through."

"Sabrina and a prince," Ariel said on a long, drawn-out sigh. "It would be like a fairy tale."

Raven, the sole pragmatist in the colorfully theatrical Darling family, looked worried. "It could also be a disaster," she warned. "Sabrina's been through a rough time, which makes her extremely vulnerable right now. And everyone knows the prince's reputation with women."

As he approached the stage, Burke couldn't help overhearing snippets of their conversation.

Having been born into the royal family, he'd lived his entire life in the glare of the international spotlight. Exaggerated reports of his exploits with the opposite sex had never disturbed him. He had, with his innately pragmatic view of life, merely considered the source.

He'd also noticed, with some amusement, that whenever he appeared on the cover of one of those gossip magazines, tourism—his country's lifeblood— increased. It was a private Giraudeau joke; there had been many times when he'd complained that although escorting the world's beauties was difficult work, he would make the sacrifice, for family and country.

He had an urge to reassure Sabrina's family that he was not the rogue Raven, at least, perceived him to be. With a self-discipline that had always served him well, Burke resisted that urge.

As he gave his compliments to Sabrina's talented sisters, Burke kept thinking about that heated challenge he'd, seen in Sabrina's silver eyes.

There had been nothing subtle about that look. Indeed, she might as well have taken a gauntlet and slapped him across the cheek.

An expert fencer, Burke had never been one to back away from a challenge. This was going to be, he decided with a slow, inward smile, a most enjoyable duel.

5

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