[Montacroix Royal Family Series 02] - The Prince & the Showgirl (6 page)

"Actually, it was Westport, Connecticut, not Broadway. But I
was
playing Maggie. Unfortunately I had to leave in order to do the tour with my sisters."

So this singing tour wasn't her first choice. Not that he was surprised, given her acting talent. Burke wondered why a successful actress would have given up a role in which she'd received acclaim in order to suffer the rigors of life on the entertainment road.

He made a mental note to ask Chantal more about the three Darling sisters—particularly the enticing Sabrina. "I remember reading that you'd received rave reviews for that role, too." The role of Maggie suited her, Burke considered, lecturing himself for picturing her in some hot and steamy southern climate, clad only in a sexy silk slip. Even discounting her vaguely feline eyes, she radiated an almost electric sexual quality that nearly obscured the deeper vulnerability necessary for that role.

Sabrina shrugged as she took a bite of a sweet, dark red strawberry. The floaty dress slipped completely off her shoulder, revealing an intriguing bit of creamy flesh.

"Tennessee Williams wrote a powerful story. And, of course Maggie the Cat is one of those wonderful scenery-eating parts that any actress would murder for. Although I have to admit that it wasn't easy reinventing a woman from the 1950s in today's postfeminist world."

"Are you saying that Maggie couldn't exist today?"

She put down her spoon and gave Burke her full attention. "Maggie was doing her best, in her own way. She was fighting hard, with all the weapons she possessed at the time. I think that if the play were written today, that as frightening as the prospect of being alone might be, Maggie would look around and see that she had other options."

"I truly believe," she continued, "that with all her ambition and guts, she'd ultimately stop looking to her husband for her own happiness. And eventually she'd escape that cage she and Brick had somehow gotten themselves locked into."

As
she
had done. Albeit belatedly, Sabrina admitted it reluctantly. If only she'd followed her instincts and left that first year, when she had come to the unhappy realization that a handsome prince could ultimately turn out to be a frog. And a long-coveted palace could become a prison.

Burke watched the myriad of emotions come and go in her eyes. Regret, anger, determination. "Isn't it difficult to project so much raw emotion each evening?" he asked, curious as to how she managed to keep her emotional compass steady.

"Sometimes. But it's also cathartic. After all, how many people get to act out their deepest, darkest, most dangerous emotions?"

She'd never been a woman to guide her emotions, but allowed herself to be guided by them. And while she knew that many might consider such behavior foolhardy, on balance, even considering her disastrous marriage, her twenty-eight years were filled with more pleasurable memories than unhappy ones.

"And do you possess such dark and dangerous emotions?"

"Don't we all?" Her brows lifted and her chin angled slightly, as if daring him to argue.

"Touché." Since his own emotions were none too steady at the moment, Burke decided to steer the conversation back to her career. "So, is that how you choose a role? By its emotional impact on the audience?"

"Right now, I'm not exactly in the position to be choosy."

Unfortunately, as so often happens in divorces, former friends and associates had ended up taking sides. Since Arthur Longstreet's name translated into a fortune in ticket sales, and since the incestuous theater world revolved around money a great deal more than it would ever admit, Sabrina had found herself out in the cold.

"I just want to take on different and challenging parts and have the freedom to choose. Freedom," she said with a burst of feeling, "is the greatest luxury in life."

"
Rassurez-wus
, Mademoiselle Sabrina," Burke said. "I am certain that an actress of your caliber will be able to select any role you wish for as long as you continue performing."

The man was definitely smooth
. No wonder he had such a reputation with the glamorous women of the Concorde Set.

"Actors come and go," she answered with the old bromide. "Only agents last forever. But I do appreciate your vote of confidence." She returned his smile with a cool, polite one of her own.

At that moment, Chantal captured everyone's attention by ringing the edge of her sterling dessert spoon against the crystal rim of her water goblet.

"I have an announcement to make." When her vermilion lips tilted upward in a faint, self-satisfied smile that vaguely reminded Sabrina of the
Mona Lisa
, Caine left his seat across the table and came to stand beside his wife.

"You and Caine are returning to Montacroix," Prince Eduard guessed, crossing his arms over his broad chest with obvious satisfaction. "It's about time."

"Now,
Papa
," Chantal chided, "you know that Caine's business is in Washington."

"There is more than enough work to keep your husband occupied right here," Eduard insisted gruffly. From the resigned expressions on the faces of the other members of the Giraudeau family, Sabrina got the impression that this was not a new argument. "Especially now, with—"

"Why don't you let Chantal make her announcement," Burke interrupted mildly. He was smiling, but Sabrina thought she detected a silent warning in his dark eyes.

"A man wants his children around him when he is entering old age," Eduard grumbled.

"You're not anywhere near approaching old age, darling," Jessica soothed expertly. "Why, anyone can see that you're in your prime."

"A man in his prime should have grandchildren. Some prodigy to continue the line. Rainier has grandchildren, Philip of England has grandchildren—"

"
Papa
," Noel broke in mildly, "if you don't allow Chantal to speak, it will be breakfast before we learn her news."

"I was merely pointing out that you are all breaking your mother's heart. Women need grandchildren to spoil," Eduard insisted. "It's their nurturing nature."

"And people dare to accuse you of being a chauvinist," Noel murmured. The daughterly love in her smile took the sting out of her words. "Wherever do they get such an outlandish idea?" She turned to her sister. "Go ahead, Chantal. We're all ears."

"Actually,
Papa
, you're right." Chantal gave her father a warm and loving smile. "A man in his prime should have grandchildren."

A sudden silence descended on the room like a curtain.

"Darling," Jessica said, "are you saying—"

"Caine and I are going to have a baby." Chantal linked her beringed fingers with her husband's. When Caine lifted his wife's hand to his lips, Sabrina felt a prick of uncharacteristic envy at their obvious mutual devotion. "You,
Papa
dear, are going to be a grandfather."

For once in his life the prince was struck absolutely speechless. The entire room—Dixie, Raven, Ariel and Sabrina included—burst into delighted laughter at the sight of the stunned, red-faced patriarch.

"Well," he blustered finally, "it's high time you did your duty, Caine." He turned to the butler, who, Sabrina noticed, was grinning as widely as the rest of the family. "Joseph, this calls for champagne. Another Giraudeau is on the way!"

"Another O'Bannion," Caine corrected with a calm but steady smile.

"That, too," Eduard agreed benevolently.

After the toasts were made and the congratulations offered, Eduard turned toward his only son. "So, Burke, when are you going to follow your sister and brother-in-law's excellent example?"

Burke arched a dark brow. "You want me to father a child?"

"I want you to get married," Eduard bellowed. "Obviously the child will come after the ceremony."

"Of course," Burke murmured. "Why didn't I think of that?"

"This is no joking matter. After the coronation, your duty will no longer be to yourself, but to your country. And your first responsibility to the citizens of Montacroix is to provide the principality with an heir."

Sabrina heard Burke's slight sigh when the prince began listing suitable candidates—all, she noted, from various European nobility. It might be permissible for one of the Giraudeau princesses to marry a commoner, but obviously such independent behavior was inappropriate for the man who, in a few short days, would become regent.

"Eduard," Jessica finally broke in when the prince paused to take a breath, "we've discussed this before. You must allow our son to find his own wife. As you did," she said significantly.

"And,
grandpere
," Chantal tacked on. She turned to the Darlings, "Have you ever heard the story of our grandfather?" When Dixie stated that they hadn't, she smiled and said, "It's a wonderfully romantic story. You see, once upon a time, in a faraway kingdom called Montacroix, there was a handsome prince named Phillipe. After his graduation from Cambridge, Phillipe went to Aries on holiday. The trip was a gift from his father, Prince Leon."

"Our great-grandfather," Noel clarified.

"That's right," Chantal agreed. "Anyway, during his holiday, he happened into a cantina that featured authentic gypsy dancing."

"And it was in this cantina," Burke picked up the story, "where he first viewed the beautiful Katia, who just happened to be one of the country's most famous flamenco dancers." Burke's eyes caught Sabrina's and held for just a moment too long. "He instantly fell, as you Americans say, like a ton of bricks."

"Unfortunately," Chantal said, "Prince Leon did not feel that a foreign flamenco dancer was an appropriate wife for the future regent of Montacroix."

"But Phillipe, who had inherited the strong Giraudeau independent streak, married Katia anyway," Noel divulged. "Without great-grandfather Leon's blessing."

"Of course Leon was furious," Chantal continued.

"You see, Leon had inherited the infamous Giraudeau temper," Burke said, slanting a significant glance his father's way.

"He threatened to disinherit Phillipe," Noel said. "Which of course, he couldn't do."

"Because of the male line of ascendancy," Burke said. "Phillipe was Leon's only son. If he failed to provide a male heir, the country would return to French rule."

"But in the end, it all turned out for the best," Chantal said. "Once our father was born, great-grandfather Leon welcomed the couple back with open arms."

"So, Montacroix's future was assured, and Leon stepped down, allowing Phillipe to take his rightful place on the throne," Burke concluded.

"That's a real romantic story," Dixie said. "It sounds just like one of Sonny's ballads."

"It does, doesn't it?" Chantal agreed. "And if you think that story is romantic, you should hear how our father scandalized all of Europe when he fell madly in love with our mother."

"All right," Eduard interrupted, throwing up his hands. "I surrender. Burke, you will be permitted to select your own bride."

"Why, thank you, Father," the younger prince said with smiling formality. "That's very benevolent of you. So tell me, baby sister," he said, turning his attention to Chantal in a not-very-subtle attempt to change the subject, "what names are you and Caine considering?"

Three hours later, Sabrina was standing at the window, looking out at the star-strewed sky. You never saw stars like this in Manhattan, she mused. Nor in Nashville. Although she feared she could be guilty of romanticizing again, the sparkling pinpoints of light reminded her of diamonds scattered across lush black velvet.

Along with the starlight, a half moon slanted silvery light over the royal gardens beneath her window. In the distance, she could see the yellow glow of incandescent lights coming from some building, mute proof that she was not the only one finding sleep an elusive target.

The jet lag that had made her tired before dinner, now had her feeling wired. Her inner clock was definitely off, and Sabrina knew from experience that forcing herself to remain in bed, staring up at the ceiling while her thoughts were whirling, would only make matters worse. Eventually she'd adjust. She just had to give it time.

Worried that her continued pacing would only wake up Ariel, who was asleep in the adjoining room, Sabrina pulled on a pair of jeans and a cotton sweater and slipped out the bedroom door.

Burke put away the wrench, wiped his grimy hands on an equally grimy rag and grinned his satisfaction. Although he'd hired the best mechanic in Grand Prix racing, he'd always enjoyed working with engines himself.

Fortunately, as Sabrina had so succinctly stated earlier, rank did indeed have its privileges. And if the Prince of Montacroix chose to tinker with his car's engine, who was going to stop him? Of course it helped that he was very, very good at what he did.

Burke's mechanical skills were a great deal like his lovemaking talents. He took his time, absolutely refused to rush, and paid extraordinary attention to detail. The satisfaction he felt when he listened to the throaty purr of a well-tuned Ferrari engine was the same pleasure he received when he brought a woman to an earth-shattering orgasm.