Authors: Sorcha MacMurrough
“But I couldn’t give you up
either, I loved you so much as well.
The pain was more than I could bear, and I was sick at the thought of
telling you tonight that I was leaving you,” Brad murmured hotly against her
skin.
He pushed her onto the bed, and
with a couple of deft movements, stripped her bare, and feasted his eyes on her
hungrily.
Zaira thrilled at the
feel of him pressed against her naked flesh, and began to unbutton his shirt
with fumbling fingers.
“If you hadn’t worn those earrings
tonight, I might have done something we would have both regretted.
I almost ran away back to LA, I was so
frightened.”
“Frightened of what, Brad?” Zaira
murmured, kissing him tenderly.
“Frightened of hurting the three
of us.
But now I know it’s just
you, and I am going to get my revenge for all the hell you put me through,
thinking I was in love for the first time in my life, but with two women.
You’ve driven me insane for the past
week, and now I’m going to do the same to you.”
Zaira’s eyes widened in fear as he
eased himself off the bed and stripped naked.
“Brad!
I’m
sorry!
Please don’t be angry!” she
pleaded as he laid hands on her.
Brad chuckled.
“I’m not angry, but the game is mine
now, and I still haven’t had the truth.
Well, I am going to drive you out of your mind until you tell me.”
“Tell you what?” she gasped in
alarm, terrified that he might know something about the situation with Jonathan
and think she was party to it.
He placed a trail of molten kisses
down her neck and breasts, and parted her thighs to cover her pulsating centre
with his mouth.
Zaira arched her back wildly, and
thought she would tumble over the brink.
But Brad lifted his head, and said throatily, “Not so fast. You still
haven’t told me, and I won’t stop, nay, I won’t let you out of this bed, until
you do.”
“What do you want me to say?”
Zaira gasped, as he resumed his intimate kiss. His fingers toyed with her
innermost centre until she writhed in ecstasy.
His mouth moved up until he stroked with her breasts,
running his tongue over them expertly.
Zaira pressed down against his
hand, seeking release, which was again denied.
“That’s cheating, my dear, you
still haven’t paid the price,” he said, withdrawing from her.
For a moment she panicked,
thinking that he would get out of the bed entirely.
Her whole body was on fire; she would die if she didn’t
become his.
“What is it you want?” Zaira
ground out in frustration, and rubbed her hand over her brows to block out the
sight of his incredible green eyes.
She gasped as he lay fully on top of her, his maleness probing her
intimately.
He pulled her hand away from her
face to look straight at her, naked desire flaming in the green pools.
“Tell me you love me as much as I
love you, or I’ll keep you here until I force you to say it,” Brad rasped out.
His mouth came down on hers in a crushing kiss before he pulled way, barely
able to control his longing for her.
Zaira was stunned, but reached out
for him and wrapped herself around his broad back and showered him with kisses.
“Well, my darling, “ Zaira
whispered, “actions speak louder than words, but if you want to hear it, I'll
be happy to tell you the whole truth now.
I love you beyond anything else in the world, Brad, and I’ll never let
you leave me.”
Brad moved to embrace her, but she
forced him to roll over and pressed him back down onto the soft bed. “You
obviously have a short memory, so I’ll have to show you all over again just how
much I do love you.”
She smothered him with kisses, and
tried to remember all the thing she had done to him the day before in her
passionate abandon in the theatre.
“Zaira, don’t!
I can’t!” he cried.
She quickly slid down the full
length of him, as his body rose up into hers with an urgency which matched her
own.
“I love you!” Zaira gasped as his
passion erupted, and she felt herself hurled into oblivion.
Her shudders left her completely
breathless and exhausted, and she lay on Brad and marveled at the warmth and
joy she felt.
Much later she felt him turn over
on his side and withdraw from her slightly.
She felt the covers pulled over her, and her hair gentled
back from her face, before
his
arms locked even more tightly around her.
Zaira opened her eyes briefly, and
saw him gaze down at her with such tenderness, that she moved her mouth up to
his for a kiss, her tongue caressing his lips sensually.
“I love you, Brad,” Zaira sighed,
snuggling into him drowsily.
As she drifted off to sleep, she felt him kiss her.
“And I love you, Zaira, always.”
The rest of the week flew past in
a whirl of happiness.
Zaira knew
true love for the first time, and she and Brad were inseparable.
Now that there were no longer any
secrets between them, they grew closer and closer with each passing day.
The only time they were apart was when
they had to give their lectures.
Otherwise, they shared everything, romantic candlelit dinners,
excursions around the city, and most importantly, their rehearsals for
Hamlet.
Zaira and Brad worked on their
production tirelessly, rehearsing as many hours as they could manage until they
were satisfied that they couldn’t get any better.
Zaira did not have any serious hopes of winning the Drama
Festival awards, but she would be satisfied with an honorable mention.
At any rate, she was planning on having
a wonderful time at the cast party after the performance, when she and Brad
could relax, unwind, and have a bit of pressure taken off them for a change.
Not that the pressure would be
taken off Zaira—once she was finished with Ophelia, she was going to have to
start rehearsing for “The Dark Lady,” for Brad was insistent that they should
go into production as soon as possible in the winter.
Zaira protested,
“But what about my university
commitments?”
“If we do as much of the
preparation as we can now, we’d be able to run through the whole film smoothly
in a matter of only a few weeks, over Christmas, when you get several weeks off
anyway,” Brad insisted.
Zaira became more alarmed as he
bandied about big Hollywood names for the two male leads.
Even though they had never heard of
her, most aspiring young actors would have given anything to be in a Clarke
film, and the diehard Hollywood stars weren’t far behind in trying to wangle an
audition.
Brad put them all off as
diplomatically as possible, however, for it was obvious he was reluctant to
make a journey back to California if it meant leaving Zaira alone.
“Really, Brad, you ought to go,
I’ll be fine,” Zaira said for the hundredth time, as yet another phone call
came through about the two parts.
“I'm happy here, with what I'm
doing at the university and with you. I don’t fancy getting caught up in all
the Hollywood swirl again just at the minute.
We will finish the
Hamlet
, then have a bit of a rest.
I refuse to jump at Wyman’s beck and
call, and go running back to LA.
He can handle it all until I'm ready to go back.
It is, after all, what we pay him for.”
“If that’s what you want,
fine.
But maybe you really should
go.
I would never try to hold you
back from your career, darling,” Zaira sought to reassure him, uneasy at the
thought of Jonathan handling all the Studio’s important business while Cormac
was away in England.
“I know that, and I certainly
could never accuse you of holding me back!
In fact, you've made me what I am now, thanks to your book
and your love.
If it hadn’t been
for you, none of this would be happening now.
This is going to be the biggest boost my career has ever
had, and I have you to thank for that,” Brad murmured, before kissing her passionately
as they walked to the theatre on their way to their performance.
“And you've made this
Hamlet
possible,” Zaira sighed.
“God, I hope nothing goes wrong.”
“It’ll be wonderful.
It has a fantastic director, so I
hear,” Brad teased.
“I wish I could be as confident as
you are,” Zaira laughed, squeezing his hand.
“When I’m standing next to you, I
feel I could take on the world,” Brad vowed, and kissed her once more before
disappearing into the changing rooms.
The other plays in the competition
had already been seen by the judges, and Zaira had a sinking feeling that being
the last production in the Festival was actually going to put them at a
disadvantage.
They would be judged
more harshly for having had more rehearsal time, and surely it could not have
gone unnoticed that the world-famous director Brad Clarke was involved in the
play.
Many judges would probably
reckon it wasn’t an amateur production at all, but Zaira for one didn’t care.
She knew they were all good, and even
if they didn’t win, it had been a fabulous experience for everyone.
Zaira felt her competitive streak
grow as the woman playing Gertrude the Queen was openly flirting with Brad
backstage.
Her nerves were already
at fever pitch, but seeing the man she loved being caressed by another
predatory female was more than she could stand.
She issued last minute instructions with a voice that could
have cut glass, and her grey eyes glittered like stones.
She took a deep breath to steady
herself, and then the curtain rose.
The performance went like
clockwork.
Everyone was
word-perfect, and the costumes, make-up, and lighting were as professional as
anything she had seen on Broadway.
The desire and longing crackled
between Zaira and Brad in their scenes together, and Zaira was the picture of
despair as the mad Ophelia, pining away for the man she loved.
But worse than having to perform
on stage was being forced to sit in the wings, issuing last minute instructions
and advice, and praying all would go smoothly.
Zaira could barely take her eyes off Brad, and her heart
turned over every time he spoke.
His deep voice thrilled her, and the sight of him in the duel scene was
enough to set her quivering with barely suppressed desire.
Zaira loved Brad body and
soul.
He possessed her life so completely,
she could scarcely remember what her life had been like without him.
She felt the urge to pinch herself, to
convince herself it was all real, not just a dream.
The tears welled up in her eyes as Brad played his death
scene for all it was worth, and suddenly the play was over.
Zaira blinked with the tears
shimmering in her eyes, and the house lights were coming on full, as the
audience broke into rapturous applause and calls of "Bravo!" Brad
came backstage for her, and led her by the hand to take her curtain calls as
both Ophelia and director.
Zaira was stunned with the volume
and length of the applause, and the roar that went up when she was made to take
a bow by herself.
Then Brad and the others came back
on stage, and Brad shouted to her above the din, “I think we’ve done it.”
Zaira shook her head, and said,
“Impossible,” but Brad merely smiled and said, “I’ll bet you anything.”
The standing ovation continued for
several minutes more, until Zaira was convinced she was going to melt under the
spotlights.
Finally they were able to get off
stage, but only briefly, for several photographers arrived to take individual
shots, and some of the whole group.
Zaira lost sight of Brad in the throng, and went backstage on her own to
change into her midnight blue cocktail dress.
She gratefully removed the wig and
shook out her hair, and then carefully removed her greasepaint.
In a way Zaira wished that she and
Brad could just disappear, be alone together somewhere, but it wouldn’t be fair
on the others.
They would all have
to go up to the university club to await the announcement of the winners, and
congratulate and commiserate after that.
Zaira resigned herself to an evening of polite conversation, and
disappointment not untinged with pride.
They had been damned good, if even if she did say so herself.