Command Performance (8 page)

“Too late for cold feet,” Chris said briskly. She brushed dark feathered bangs back from her forehead.
“Besides, the Hamilton Company of Players is an American theater group, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but—”

“And you’ll be performing American plays, right?”

“Right. Still—”

“No stills, no buts.” A trio of rings glinted on Chris’s hand as she waved Eve’s words away. “You
are
representing American theater. And you’re going to be fantastic.”

“See.” Eve leaned over the suitcase to kiss Chris’s cheek. “That’s why I need you.”

“I’ll do my best to work my schedule so I can be there for the first performance. Even though I know you’ll be too busy to do more than blink at me.”

“I promise to do more than that. Hopefully after the first performance, I’ll settle down.” She folded a pair of slacks by the pleats, then smoothed them carefully into the case. “It’s the preparation and paperwork that has me edgy.”

“You’ve Daddy’s knack for handling details, a fact that constantly amazes me.” Still, Chris had to restrain herself from asking Eve if she had her passport. “I don’t doubt you’re going to pull this thing off without a hitch.”

Had she packed the red suit? Eve started to check one more time, then forced herself to stop. She’d packed it. She’d packed everything. “I wish you were going with me so you could tell me that at regular intervals.”

“The Bissets trust you. This wouldn’t be happening otherwise. I might not be there for the next few weeks, but you’ll have Brie behind you, and Alex and Bennett.”

Eve zipped her case closed in one long move. “I don’t think I like the idea of having Alexander behind me.”

“Still rub you the wrong way?”

“At least. I never get the urge to curtsy and stick out my tongue with Brie or Ben. With him—”

“With him I wouldn’t advise it,” Chris said with a laugh. “He takes his position too seriously. He has to.”

“I suppose.”

“Eve, you can’t understand what it’s like to be the first-born. I can sympathize in a way. The Hamiltons
don’t have a country, but as far as Daddy’s concerned, we have an empire.” She sighed a bit, knowing her own choices had never quite satisfied him. “Since there was no son to pass the business on to, the pressure fell to me to learn it. When the message finally got across that that wasn’t going to work, the pressure changed to my marrying someone who could take over the business. Maybe that’s why I’ve never done either.”

“I guess I’ve never really understood.”

“Why should you? It was different for you.”

“I know. No pressure here.” With a sigh, Eve leaned back against her dresser, taking a last look at the room she wouldn’t see for months. “Of course I had to go to school and perform well, and it was expected that I’d restrain myself from doing anything to disgrace the family, but if I’d wanted to sit by the pool for the rest of my life and read magazines, it would have been fine.”

“Well, you hid the fact that you had a brain very well.”

“I did, didn’t I?” She could smile at it now. “From myself, too. In any case, by the time it was discovered, the Hamilton Company of Players was too well established for Daddy to expect me to come into the business. So you’re right. I don’t really know what it is to be the heir and have little say in my own destiny. Even knowing that, it’s difficult for me to feel sorry for Alexander.”

“Oh, I don’t know if you should. He’s meant to rule as much by personality as by circumstances of birth. I just wish the two of you got along better.” She took a small white daisy out of a vase on Eve’s dresser, broke the stem short, then slipped it into her sister’s buttonhole. “You’re going to be working closely with him and it isn’t going to help if one of you is always making the other snarl.”

Eve took the rest of the flowers out of the vase, wrapped the dripping stems in a tissue and handed them to Chris. “I don’t think we’ll be working that closely.”

“Isn’t Alex president of the center?”

“Presidents delegate,” she said, and opened her purse to make sure the airline tickets were in place. “Believe me, His Highness doesn’t want to work shoulder to shoulder with me any more than I do with him.” She closed her purse with a snap. “Probably less.”

“Did something happen when you were out there before?” Chris rose and put a hand on Eve’s hands to keep them still. “You seemed very unnerved when you came back, but I put it down to the project. Now I wonder.”

“You wonder too much,” Eve told her lightly. “The only thing that happened was that I reaffirmed my belief that Alexander is a pompous, arrogant boor. If this project wasn’t so important I’d toss it back in his face and let him sink with it. Just thinking of him makes me angry.”

“Yes, I can see that,” Chris murmured, and decided to write Gabriella the first chance she had. “Well, if you’re lucky, you won’t have to deal with him personally.”

“I’m counting on it,” Eve said with such vehemence that Chris thought it wiser to phone Gabriella the moment her sister was airborne. “It looks like I’m packed. Do I still get that ride to the airport?”

“Absolutely. All we need are three strong men and a pack horse to get your luggage down to the car.”

* * *

Alexander was used to the photographers and reporters, just as he was used to the bodyguards. They had all been a part of his life from birth. Though he’d forced himself not to pace in front of the observation window, he watched the plane land with a vague sense of relief. It had been twenty minutes late and his nerves had begun to stretch.

He hadn’t spoken to Eve in weeks. Whatever correspondence had been necessary, whatever details had to be handled, had been seen to through her secretary to his secretary, through his assistant to her assistant. They’d had no contact at all for nearly three months, yet he remembered their few turbulent moments in Gabriella’s barn as though they had happened yesterday. If he awoke in the middle of the night, it was the memory of her scent that woke him. If he caught himself daydreaming in the middle of the afternoon, it was her face that had formed in his mind.

He shouldn’t think of her at all; yet it was impossible not to. How could he forget the passion and the power
that had run through him when he had finally held her? How could he ignore the needs and longings that had burst through him when his mouth had been on hers? He couldn’t dismiss her from his mind when, after months had passed, the sensation of her hair tangled in his fingers was so vivid and real.

Work hadn’t helped, though he’d heaped it on himself in defense. Worry hadn’t helped, though it was there constantly. His father had returned to Cordina. Seward had been buried. Those responsible remained unknown—or unproved. His father’s life, his country’s well-being, were very much in jeopardy, but he’d yet to erase one woman from his mind. A woman he had no right to desire.

But he did, and desire flared only more strongly when he saw her.

She looked a bit tired, a bit frazzled and very much in charge. Her hair had been braided and clipped on top of her head and she wore large, light-framed sunglasses. As she walked, she talked to several people around her while slipping on an oversized red jacket. The rich hue gave her a look of confidence and energy. Alexander realized she’d chosen it for exactly that purpose. She had a briefcase in one hand, a flight bag over her shoulder. In the ten, perhaps fifteen seconds since she had walked into the terminal, he’d noticed every detail.

Her lipstick had worn off, but there was a slight hint of color in her cheeks. The red jacket had gold buttons. A tendril of hair had escaped and curled in front of her left ear. There was a white daisy, a little droopy, in the buttonhole nearest her heart. It made him wonder who had given it to her, who had watched her plane leave, as he’d watched it land.

When she saw him, the slight hint of color disappeared and her shoulders tensed.

She hadn’t expected him to be there. She knew, of course, that they were to be met officially, but she hadn’t thought it would be Alexander. In her mind she’d planned out the first meeting. She would be rested, refreshed after a long soak in the tub at the hotel. She would have changed into the long, glittery evening gown she’d bought precisely for that purpose. And she would treat him with mild but unmistakable coolness.

Now all she could think was that he was here, looking wonderful. He was so tall, so sturdy. His eyes were so dark, so secretive, they made her want to discover what he hid from everyone else. She wanted to smile, to throw out both hands to him and tell him how good it was to see him. Pride had her sinking into a formal curtsy.

“Your Highness.”

He didn’t notice the spree of flashbulbs or the crowd of reporters. He was focused on her, on the pout of her lips, on the eyes that met his more in challenge than in greeting.

“Miss Hamilton.” He offered his hand. When she hesitated,
because
she hesitated, he brought it deliberately to his lips. Only he was close enough to hear her hiss of breath. “We welcome you and your troupe to Cordina.”

Her hand squirmed in his and was held firm. “Thank you, Your Highness.”

“Your luggage and transportation are being seen to.” He smiled at her, really smiled, with an enjoyment he hadn’t felt since she’d left. “Two members of my staff will accompany your troupe to their hotel and see them settled.”

Her nails dug into the palms of his hand. “You’re very kind.”

He wondered that no one else heard the quiet insult behind the words. “It is our wish to make your stay here comfortable. If you will come with me.” As the reporters closed in, he brushed them off. “Miss Hamilton will answer all your questions at tomorrow’s press conference. Now she needs to rest after the long flight.”

A few more persistent newsmen pursued them. Alexander simply took Eve’s arm and drew her away.

“Your Highness, it might be best if I stay with the troupe.”

“You have an assistant?”

“Yes, of course.” She was forced to increase her pace to keep up with him.

“That’s what assistants are for.” There were muscles in the arm under the jacket, taut and sculpted. He wondered what they would feel like when they were tensed and ready to receive him. “You’d be wiser to get to the palace quickly and avoid being run over by the press.”

“I can handle the press,” she began, then stopped. “I’m going to the hotel. The dinner at the palace isn’t for hours yet.”

“You’ve no reason to go to the hotel.” They were out the side entrance of the terminal as arranged by security and moving toward the waiting limo. “Your assistant and the members of my staff will see to the needs of your troupe.”

“That’s all very well and good,” she began as she was forced to climb into the limo. “But I’d like to unpack myself, freshen up. I’m sure whatever we have to discuss can wait a few hours.”

“Of course.” He settled back and signaled to the driver.

“There’s no reason for you to go out of your way to take me to the hotel when I could go with the rest.”

“You aren’t staying at the hotel. You stay at the palace. It’s been arranged.”

“Then unarrange it.” The formality, as well as the brief moment of weakness, was gone. “I’m staying at the hotel with my people.”

“It serves neither you nor me for you to stay at the hotel.” Calmly he pushed a button. A compact bar slid out. “Would you like a drink?”

“No, I wouldn’t like a drink, I’d like an explanation of why I’m being kidnapped.”

He’d forgotten she could amuse him. After pouring himself a glass of mineral water, he smiled at her. “Strong words, Eve. My father would be interested that you find our invitation to the palace tantamount to kidnapping.”

“This has nothing to do with your father.”

“It is at his request that you stay with us. The security at the hotel has, of course, been strengthened.”

“Why?”

“These are uneasy times.”

There was a ripple of anxiety, but it was for him, not her, not her company. “So your sister said to me a few months ago. Your Highness, if you or your father feels there’s danger, I want to be with my people.”

“I understand.” He set down his glass. “The hotel is very secure, Eve, and we don’t feel your troupe is in any danger. My father feels, and I agree, that you, because of your personal connection with our family, are another matter. We would prefer it if you’d stay in the palace if for no other reason than to avoid the reporters who will clog the hotel lobby for the next few weeks. Or you can simply accept the invitation because my father is fond of you.”

“You put it so that if I do what I choose I’m ungracious.”

“Yes.” He smiled again and picked up his glass.

“Very well, I accept your invitation. And I’ll have some diet soda—something with caffeine. A lot of caffeine.”

“You’re tired from the flight.”

“From the flight,” she agreed as he added ice to a glass. “From the weeks before the flight. I think I’ve been averaging about five hours a night between preproduction meetings, auditions, dry rehearsing and paperwork. I didn’t realize all my people would have to go through the security clearances.” Absently she fiddled with the daisy. He watched her fingers stroke the white petals. “Then when I hired two more, we had to rush them through. I hope it’s worth it.” She sipped and waited for the caffeine to jolt her system back to life.

“Do you doubt it?”

“Only several times a day.” Her feet had eased out of the toes of her shoes without her being conscious of it. Her shoulders were relaxed. Heavy, her eyes drooped down to sensuous slits. “I am pleased with the new people. She’s an ingenue, straight out of college, with a lot of potential. I’m going to have her understudy the second lead in the Neil Simon play. And Russ Talbot’s a real pro. He’s done a lot of little theater and off-off-Broadway stuff. We’re lucky to have him. He’s cast as Brick for
Cat on a Hot Tin Roof
. That’s going to be our first production.”

She drank again and hoped she wasn’t making a mistake there. It was such a steamy play, such a passionate one. For weeks she’d toyed with doing a comedy first, to give both the audience and the troupe a running start. Instinct had her opting for Tennessee Williams as an opener.