Script of the Heart

by Robin D. Owens

  She put her identical plate down but remained standing beside her chair. He glanced up to find her scrutinizing him. "What's wrong?"

  "You're an actor."

  He forestalled his reactions, any change of expression. "That's right," he replied mildly.

  "And you're as much an actor as I am a Healer. You define yourself by your profession."

  "Also true."

  She frowned and he understood that she'd nearly forgotten his career since he hadn't acted around her and she'd been crazy busy and they, as a couple, had seemed to move in a a romantic bubble. But whether she thought so or not, whether she valued the knowledge or not, she knew Johns, his hopes and fears, the risks and the demands of his career. Understood the life of an actor, even if she disdained it. All he had to do was convince her not to disdain him. That actors could be honorable, that he was honorable.

  Now that felt like an uphill battle.

  She sat and began eating, though he didn't think she tasted her food.

  "Yes, I'm an actor. My run in Firewalker ends the last day of this month, in about a week and a half. I'm concerned, but hopeful, and primarily have been trying to find Amberose's script. I called her yesterday."

  That distracted Giniana from her thoughts. "What did she say?"

  "She didn't know about the thefts, the missing script, or that Wattle stopped representing her."

  Giniana winced. "He's abandoned that career, but didn't do his client the courtesy of informing her?"

  "That's right."

  Giniana's face stiffened. Johns pointed a piece of toast at her. "Don't think that kind of unethical behavior happens only in theatrical circles. There are stups in every profession." He paused. "Including the exalted one of Healers."

  "I didn't say Healers are exalted," Giniana muttered, but began eating again.

  "You didn't, I did," Johns informed her. He forked eggs on his toast, glanced up and met her startled eyes. "And I believe that. You're wonderful and most Healers I've met have been good, compassionate people."

  She ate a bite, then said, "Unlike actors."

  Johns dipped his head. "We may have many more narcissistic and egotistic and downright rude people in our profession. It can be a strength as well as a flaw, the focus on self and the flexibility of molding self into a new role. I will give you that." Now he raised his eyes and locked gazes with her amber one. "But I don't think of myself as overly self-absorbed. I have a code of honor, like many men in every walk of life. I am passionate about my career, like other men from GreatLords to City Maintenance." He paused. "It's true, I do put up with people I dislike so I can advance in my career—also a practice not only of actors." He raised his forefinger. "But I associate with people of like minds and like hearts and like characters. Those are my friends." Though most of his friends were actors.

  Giniana let her gaze roam over Klay, his bent head as he ate his food with relish, his broad shoulders, and the link between them that revealed no shadow of insincerity. She blinked as she focused on the hominess of her cottage instead of an internal bond running between her and Klay, and questions buzzed in her brain. Didn't her parents have a bond, and didn't they check it? And weren't they sad when it showed deceit? Maybe they were accustomed to shadiness in their bonds, not only in any links between the two of them, but in their connections with other lovers and friends.

  She didn't think either parent kept good bonds with any friend. How odd and sad.

  Klay wouldn't be like that. He spoke of his friends with affection, and approved of their honor like his own. So he would have such bonds. She hadn't met any of his friends, the time they'd spent together lately had been meals and sex, or sex and meals. Though she vaguely recalled him being polite to people he met in the Thespian Club, he certainly hadn't lingered for any conversation.

  He'd put her first…well, perhaps. He'd put sex first, at least.

  Glancing up, he met her eyes and smiled. "I've also been busy," he said.

  And though she'd continued to work as much as she could, she'd been aware that he practiced his craft, too, starred in matinees and evening performances of Firewalker. He'd spoken more of volunteering at Moores House and refurbishing his yard. So he'd kept busy with his own life.

  But, as he'd stated at the beginning of their association, he'd made sure she'd eaten a meal a day with him, usually breakfast, and while they'd dined, they'd talked. She realized she enjoyed their discussions. If she hadn't been so preoccupied with surface conclusions about him, if she analyzed their time together more, she would know him more deeply.

  "Giniana, you said you only have to work your regular jobs for now? Has anything changed?" And he turned the conversation back to her and her issues, his face showing true concern. Ready to support her as he'd done all along.

  "D'Willow asked me to come by and meet her staff," Giniana muttered, knowing reluctance dragged through their emotional bond.

  He raised a brow. "You haven't refused her offer to become the Willow Family Healer?"

  "I want to keep my options open," she muttered.

  "Completely understandable," he said, munched some thick toast, swallowed, looked at her, but now she didn't connect with his gaze. She didn't want to talk about herself anymore.

  Klay's scry pebble went off in his trous pocket. As he reached to silence it, Giniana smiled and said, "Go ahead, take it."

  His lips quirked. "Speaking of friends, this is the tune I assign to actor friends." His eyelids lowered and he smoldered at her … also sincere, since she felt the heat of sexual tension through their link. "Not at all like the seductive music I assigned to you."

  She laughed. "Answer the scry, Klay." Since they'd both finished, she rose with her plate, then moved behind him to pick up his, just as he flicked his thumb on the small glass oval.

  "Greetyou, Johns!" an actor warbled. Giniana paused, she knew this woman, or had known her in their childhoods.

  Trillia Juniper, always a cheerful person, smiled at Klay. "I heard that Firewalker's closing at the end of the month." Her face folded into sad lines. "I hate when that happens! But thought I should tell you that one of the actors in my play here in Gael City is quitting to study for his MasterLevel in Toono Town."

  Quick fear spurted through Giniana, trailing pangs of hurt at anticipated loss.

  "Yeah, what part?" Klay asked. Though he kept everything—manner, voice, expression—casual, Giniana felt the perk of his increased interest. "The Captain's role?"

  "Ah, sorry, no. It's the villain's. But you could do it, for sure," Trillia enthused.

  "Don't they usually play him ... spindly?" Klay shifted. Watching his muscular body, Giniana absolutely agreed that 'spindly' could never apply to this man.

  "Yes, but think of the challenge!"

  "Playing a thin, manic villain a half-decade younger than me would be a challenge, all right," Klay said.

  "Oh, Johns." Trillia puffed out a breath. "I just wanted to help."

  "I know."

  Trillia narrowed her violet eyes from under dark brows—her natural blond hair obviously tinted—and demanded, "Who's that behind you, Johns? Who? She looks familiar—" Then a high-pitched squeal. "It's GINIANA! Giniana Filix." The actress began jumping up and down, waving. "I haven't seen Giniana since grovestudy. HI, Giniana! Have you hooked back into the theatrical world after turning your back on us to be a Healer? That's so great. I'm so glad!" A close-up of Trillia's face as she peered in her scry pebble to study them. "What, what? That body language—you're lovers! Giniana is lovers with Johns!" Trillia pulled back and clapped, angled more toward Johns and winked. "Good job, Johns."

  To Giniana's surprise a dull, red flush began showing on Klay's skin, from his cheeks all the way down his jaw to his neck. Interesting, and she wondered how much lower it went …

  She sensed a push of deep discomfort from him, then it struck her that Klay and Trillia must have been lovers at some time, and that she'd been clued into that fact by his manner, something that wouldn't h
ave happened with a good actor. Did the man not act around her at all?

  "Greetyou, Gee!" Trillia ... trilled.

  "Greetyou, Trillia," Giniana replied, twitching her lips up in a smile. She felt stupid and stiff.

  Klay caught on, of course, slid from his chair to stand behind her, and her spine straightened even more and now she flushed.

  "I'm very happy in my relationship with Giniana," he said, though the words didn't fall as smoothly as she'd have expected.

  "Wonderful!" Trillia's dimples flashed, then faded as she scrutinized Giniana. "Oh. You must be new lovers. Well, Johns didn't bring any woman to T'Spindle's party ten days ago and didn't mention anyone the last time our group breakfasted together." She wet her lips, lifted her chin. "A good and solid relationship, I hope, Johns?"

  "Yes."

  Trillia shot Giniana a winning smile. "Not like that week of fun we had when we met in our late teens."

  "No," Klay spit out the word.

  Shooting a finger at Giniana, Trillia said, "Don't be a stup about this, Gee." Then she beamed another smile. "I can see why you don't want to leave Druida City right now, Johns, but I'll keep my ears open about any parts down here in Gael City or even openings in the traveling troupes."

  "Thanks," Klay said dryly.

  Now Trillia shook her finger at Klay. "You're a snob, Klay, wanting a career only in Druida City."

  "As you were, two weeks ago. As most of our friends are. And you have a major role as Fern Bountry, Captain Lady of the starship Nuada's Sword."

  "This is true." Trillia preened. "A prime part and I am being very well paid. Later, Johns! Later, Gee!" And Trillia blew them kisses before Klay cut the connection. Then he stepped back, circled Giniana to take their plates from her hands, and put them in the cleanser. "So you know Trillia."

  "Yes." Warmth flushed through her. "We went to the same grovestudy group for children of actors. Trillia dropped out of grovestudy to become apprenticed to the Eyebright acting Family." Giniana had thought at the time that Trillia might have fallen in love with the old actor, particularly since there had been a lot of infidelity going on in her own home with her mother and father. Both had had lovers.

  Looking back, Giniana thought she might have misjudged the girl.

  She didn't like that the thought of Klay having sex with Trillia, even so long ago, still irked. It did play to Giniana's prejudice against actors, and that irritated, too. She managed to keep her lips closed over questions regarding his previous love life. Not her business. And she disliked herself for feeling such petty jealousy. Just being around Klay, as an actor, stirred up negative thoughts. And poor character traits in herself that she hadn't dealt with before. Aspects she hadn't realized were a part of her.

  Klay moved away from her and Giniana wondered if he sensed those negative thoughts spinning through her mind. He walked across the small dining area through the front mainspace room and opened the door to the natural landscape beyond her cottage. She watched his chest expand as he drew in the flower-and-woods scented air.

  Then he glanced over. "As you stated earlier, I, too, am trying to do keep my options open." He grimaced. "Though my agent hasn't called and I haven't heard of any upcoming good roles." With a sharp gesture, he dismissed the offer from Trillia. "But if an acceptable project does appear, I'll have to weigh that with regard to prospects regarding the staging of Amberose's new play. Someone bought it, though I haven't discovered who that might be." He frowned. "I don't think a producer did, because Amberose still wants creative control." He shrugged. "There's an outside possibility a producer might buy it, with or without her conditions."

  His blue-gray gaze met Giniana's eyes. "And, yes, I brought the conversation back to me since you didn't want to talk of yourself. I am an actor. A good actor and I hope to be a great and famous one."

  She noted his body tensed, as if for a blow, saw a large swallow, then he said, "We've spoken mostly of me today, and my life—and Trillia and the fact of my affair with her a decade ago—interrupted our discussion and I believe you reacted poorly to that. If you can't accept me and my career, we should not continue to see each other." He slammed shut their link.

  Sudden tears backed behind her eyes, her breath strangled in her throat, horrifying her. No! She depended on him—and how had that happened? She needed his stalwart friendship.

  Perhaps.

  His mouth thinned as if he'd surprised himself, too. He angled back to face more outdoors—outside her home and cottage, the world beyond T'Spindle estate. But before he turned his head, she'd noted his gaze, steely and distant.

  His words hung between them, the atmosphere thrummed with the ultimatum, with the demand for an answer from her, the press of a decision needing to be made.

  No, she hadn't expected this. The absence of the bond between them was downright painful. Her throat dried with that stuck breath and she couldn't swallow as he had. Couldn't swallow any kind of notion that they'd break up at all. That he would really leave her, but she knew his words to be true.

  "You're different than other actors," she murmured, and he looked back, staring.

  He opened his mouth, shut it.

  And her mind clicked back to his reaction to Trillia's scry. He hadn't been acting at all during that scry or with Giniana. He hadn't shielded his embarrassment from her. And she sensed that he'd never acted when he'd been with her. Not in or out of bed, not during any of their conversations and interactions.

  She set her hands in her hair, pressed fingertips against her head. "The reason we haven't spoken more about me is that I don't know what to do, I change my mind about what I should do from septhour to septhour."

  He stood stiff by the door, her plea not softening him. He'd given more than she, so if she wanted this relationship to continue, she must give more. Tears continued to pool within her, ready to rise and push those already in her eyes down her cheeks.

  She couldn't match Trillia in optimism, in her delight for being a part of the theater, but Giniana could match and surpass the woman's friendship with Klay that trailed memories of hot sex.

  More often than not, Klay had made the first moves of loving, sweeping her into his arms and onto the bed, stroking her. Definitely her turn, now.

  So she went to him, reached for his hand and drew him into her home. He came readily, stood before her, didn't flinch when the door shut behind him, blocking the whole world out. In fact, as usual, he focused on her though he didn't open their link.

  She placed her hand over his heart, felt the rapid beat of it, and a trickle of relief at that. This close to him, she smelled the slight perspiration on his skin, believed if she glanced down, she'd see him erect, another positive sign.

  On her part, she opened her side of their bond very wide, let her emotional waves lap against his block.

  Then she traced his jaw, curved her hands around his face, felt the prickliness of his morning beard against her palms, cherishing even this small intimacy. Trillia might have shared pleasure with the boy, but Giniana knew the man. And she absolutely refused to think about Klay's other lovers. Re-fused. Allowed herself this one last moment to be disgusted with her jealousy, she was human after all, but better to concentrate on her relationship with Klay. Their very real bond.

  "I don't want this to end." She drew in a ragged breath of the air of home, tinged with Klay's scent, and that seemed to also mean "home," or, at least, support. Stroking his face, she met his eyes. "I care for you more than I thought. And I value you." She forced the next words out. "And valuing you, I must value your passion for your career, as an actor."

  Rising to the balls of her feet, she kissed him, sliding her tongue along his lips, closing her eyes to truly savor his taste, sending her desire for him, the physicality of that—her weakening knees, her melting core—to him.

  Their bond blasted open with his passion, his need, swamping her. Only sensuality mattered. She tugged on him, swaying the few steps to the couch, trying to pull him down.

&
nbsp; "No," he groaned roughly. "Your bed. Your bed."

  "Of course." Her lashes sprang open. Whipping around, she took his damp hand and rushed them into the bedroom, tore back the covers and yanked on his hand.

  He laughed, gloriously, tone deep but joyfully light, stirring all sorts of incredible feelings within her, happiness and tenderness and sheer delight that this incredible man was her bedmate.

  With a quick gesture of her fingers, she whisked away his clothes, disrobed herself, then pounced on him, fitting herself to him in a delightful slide that sizzled through her.

  Joy filled her, he filled her, and she let thought go, all doubts melt away. She met his eyes, kept her gaze locked with his as ecstasy drove them to the edge of climax and over.

  She lay against him, head below his chin, she said, "Don't give up on me."

  His hand cradled her skull, stroked. "I won't."

  "And don't leave me." She wanted him to promise forever, but she wasn't willing to do the same, hardly looked ahead beyond the time experiment, the end of the week. Didn't want to spend needful energy visualizing what her life might be after that. Especially if she lost Thrisca.

  "I won't leave you, this morning or ever, without talking to you," he replied easily. She sensed a slight wariness through their link from him that hadn't been there before, she also believed his words, this man who dealt in words, so she drifted into sleep.

  Chapter 22

  Johns awoke later to find Giniana sleeping, and he pulled his arm from under her neck, rolled away. He let out a disappointed sigh that she had this day free and he would work that night. Twelve more days to go in the run of the play, ending the last night of the month, the night before the dark twinmoons that signified the beginning of next month, that of Ivy. In thirteen days he'd be out of work and living on his savings.