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Authors: Nora Roberts
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lost.
He’d nearly been lost, Alexander thought. Lost in her, lost to her. What right did she have to make him ache and want and need? She was standing there now, silent, her eyes dark and huge. How could a woman look so innocent when she’d nearly destroyed a man’s soul?
“You change allegiance easily, Eve.”
Her lips parted, first in confusion, then in surprise. The hurt came quickly, but before it could make herweak, she let in the fury. Her hand swept out and came hard against his face. The slap echoed, then silence remained.
“I’m sure you can have me deported for that at the very least.” There was no hitch in her voice because she fought it down. There was only ice. “Just remember, if you decide to have me dragged away in irons, Your Highness, you deserved that. That and one hell of a lot more.”
Fighting the need to run away, she turned and walked out of the barn as regally as one born to it.
He didn’t go after her. His temper pushed him to, to go for her, to punish her somehow in some way. Not for the slap—that had been a small thing. But her words, the look in her eyes had carried more sting. What right did she have to make him feel remorse, to make him feel guilt, when it was she who had turned from one brother to the next without a qualm?
But he wanted her. He wanted his brother’s woman with a desperation that was slowly eating him alive.
He’d always wanted her, Alexander admitted as he rammed the side of his fist into the wall. The horses whinnied nervously, then settled. He’d always fought it. He ran a hand over his face, fighting to recapture the composure that was an essential part of his position.
He would fight it still, he promised himself. Love for his brother left him no choice. But he could damn the woman, he thought grimly as he strode out of the barn. And he did.
Chapter 4
“You come and go so much these days I never get to see you.”
Eve folded her oldest and most serviceable sweats in her suitcase before she glanced at her sister. “Things have been crazy. They’re going to get crazier.”
“You’ve been back from Cordina for two months, and I’ve talked to your phone machine more than I have to you.” Chris dropped on the edge of the bed and studied the sapphire-colored silk blouse Eve packed beside the sweats. She started to suggest tissue paper, then reminded herself that baby sister had grown up.
Both sisters had dark, thick hair, but Eve’s was pulled back in a braid, while Chris wore her hair chin-length and swingy. The family resemblance was there, in the shadowy cheekbones, the milky skin. It wasn’t age that separated them so much as style. Chris had a polish that had come from years of dealing with the art world and those wealthy enough to indulge themselves with art. Eve had a sensuality that she wore as casually as another woman wore scent. Once it had given the elder sister a great deal of worry. Now Chris could simply marvel at it.
“Now you’re going off again. I guess if I want to see my sister, I’ll have to do it in Cordina.”
“I was hoping you would.” Eve tucked a small leather cosmetic case in the side of her Pullman. “I hate to admit it, but I’m going to need all the moral support I can drum up.”
“Nervous?” Chris circled her knee with linked hands. “You?”
“Nervous. Me. I’ve never taken on anything this big. Four plays.” She checked the contents of her briefcase for the third time. “Hauling actors, technicians, assistants, seamstresses to the Mediterranean, dumping them in front of an international audience and claiming that we represent the American theater.” She pulled out a notebook, flipped through it, then stuck it back in her briefcase. “That’s a hell of a boast.”
“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
He’d nearly been lost, Alexander thought. Lost in her, lost to her. What right did she have to make him ache and want and need? She was standing there now, silent, her eyes dark and huge. How could a woman look so innocent when she’d nearly destroyed a man’s soul?
“You change allegiance easily, Eve.”
Her lips parted, first in confusion, then in surprise. The hurt came quickly, but before it could make herweak, she let in the fury. Her hand swept out and came hard against his face. The slap echoed, then silence remained.
“I’m sure you can have me deported for that at the very least.” There was no hitch in her voice because she fought it down. There was only ice. “Just remember, if you decide to have me dragged away in irons, Your Highness, you deserved that. That and one hell of a lot more.”
Fighting the need to run away, she turned and walked out of the barn as regally as one born to it.
He didn’t go after her. His temper pushed him to, to go for her, to punish her somehow in some way. Not for the slap—that had been a small thing. But her words, the look in her eyes had carried more sting. What right did she have to make him feel remorse, to make him feel guilt, when it was she who had turned from one brother to the next without a qualm?
But he wanted her. He wanted his brother’s woman with a desperation that was slowly eating him alive.
He’d always wanted her, Alexander admitted as he rammed the side of his fist into the wall. The horses whinnied nervously, then settled. He’d always fought it. He ran a hand over his face, fighting to recapture the composure that was an essential part of his position.
He would fight it still, he promised himself. Love for his brother left him no choice. But he could damn the woman, he thought grimly as he strode out of the barn. And he did.
Chapter 4
“You come and go so much these days I never get to see you.”
Eve folded her oldest and most serviceable sweats in her suitcase before she glanced at her sister. “Things have been crazy. They’re going to get crazier.”
“You’ve been back from Cordina for two months, and I’ve talked to your phone machine more than I have to you.” Chris dropped on the edge of the bed and studied the sapphire-colored silk blouse Eve packed beside the sweats. She started to suggest tissue paper, then reminded herself that baby sister had grown up.
Both sisters had dark, thick hair, but Eve’s was pulled back in a braid, while Chris wore her hair chin-length and swingy. The family resemblance was there, in the shadowy cheekbones, the milky skin. It wasn’t age that separated them so much as style. Chris had a polish that had come from years of dealing with the art world and those wealthy enough to indulge themselves with art. Eve had a sensuality that she wore as casually as another woman wore scent. Once it had given the elder sister a great deal of worry. Now Chris could simply marvel at it.
“Now you’re going off again. I guess if I want to see my sister, I’ll have to do it in Cordina.”
“I was hoping you would.” Eve tucked a small leather cosmetic case in the side of her Pullman. “I hate to admit it, but I’m going to need all the moral support I can drum up.”
“Nervous?” Chris circled her knee with linked hands. “You?”
“Nervous. Me. I’ve never taken on anything this big. Four plays.” She checked the contents of her briefcase for the third time. “Hauling actors, technicians, assistants, seamstresses to the Mediterranean, dumping them in front of an international audience and claiming that we represent the American theater.” She pulled out a notebook, flipped through it, then stuck it back in her briefcase. “That’s a hell of a boast.”
“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
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