by Nora Roberts
“I should have protected her. I should have kept her safe.” He closed his eyes but could still see that horrifying moment she had swung herself in front of him. Throwing her arms around his body as a shield. “It was me he wanted.”
“You or any of us.” She put a hand on his knee. “If there’s guilt we share it equally. Alex, through the worst days of my life, you were there for me and I wouldn’t let you help. Let me help now.”
His hand covered hers. It was all he could give.
Reeve came back into the waiting room. He looked at his wife, touched her briefly on the shoulder, then went to Armand, by the window. Armand only nodded, then went back to his silent vigil. He, too, knew how to pray.
Unable to sit any longer, Chris rose and walked to the corridor, then back again. There were tears she hadn’t been able to stem drying on her cheeks. She felt Gabriella’s arm go around her, and leaned against it.
“We can’t lose her.”
“No.” Gabriella kept her hold tight. “We won’t lose her.” Gently she drew Chris back toward a chair. “Do you remember when we were in school together, the stories you would tell me about Eve? I had wondered what it was like to have a sister.”
“Yes, I remember.” Chris took a deep breath and tried to make the effort. “You thought having one would be delightful.”
“It seemed I was always surrounded by men and boys.” Gabriella smiled and, with Chris’s hand in hers, looked around at her family. “You showed me a picture of Eve. She was twelve, thirteen, I think, and beautiful, even as a child. I loved the idea of having someone like that to share things with.”
“And I told you how I’d found her in my room with all my makeup lined up on the vanity, experimenting with my best eye shadow. Her eyes looked like garage doors.” Chris ran her fingertips under her eyes to dry them. “She thought she looked gorgeous.”
Chris sniffed and took the tissue Gabriella handed her. “She hated being sent away to school.” Her breath was shaky as she let it out and drew more in. “Dad thought it best, and he was right, really, but she hated it so. We all thought Eve was a lovely girl, a sweet girl, but not too bright. Lord, did she prove us wrong. She just refused to waste her time doing things that held no interest, so she wasted it with magazines or the latest CDs, instead.”
“She used to write you those funny letters. You’d read them to me sometimes.”
“The ones where she described the girls in the dorm or her history teacher. We should have seen then that she had a knack for the theater. Oh, God, Brie, how much longer?”
“Just a little while,” she murmured. “We used to think that she and Bennett … They seemed to suit so well.” She looked over at Alexander as he stared down at his own hands. “Isn’t it odd that the people we care for should have come together?”
“She loves him so much.” Chris, too, looked at Alexander, and her heart rose into her throat. “I wanted her to come back to Houston with me. She couldn’t leave him. It was almost as if she knew the time would come when she would protect him.” Her voice broke, and she shook her head before going on. “She said it didn’t matter how he felt, she only wanted whatever time with him she could have.”
Brie sighed. “Alexander closes himself in, so often even from himself. But I don’t think there can be any doubt now about his feelings. He blames himself. Not circumstances, not Deboque or fate, but himself totally.”
“Eve wouldn’t.”
“No, she wouldn’t.”
Understanding, Chris rubbed her hands over her eyes and rose. It wasn’t easy to cross the room to him. There was resentment. She couldn’t avoid it. There was blame and an anger wedged in her heart that had found no room for escape. The step she took was for Eve. When she sat beside him, he didn’t reach out to her, but looked over with eyes that were shadowed and red from the scrubbing of his own hands.
“You must hate me.” He said it in a voice that was both quiet and dull. “It is small comfort to know that you can’t hate me as much as I hate myself.”
She wanted to take his hand for Eve’s sake, but couldn’t. “That doesn’t do Eve any good. She needs us to pull together now.”
“I could have found a way to make her leave, to make her go.”
“Do you think so?” It made her smile just a little. “I can’t imagine that. Since she got out of school Eve hasn’t allowed anyone to make her do anything.”
“I didn’t protect her.” He covered his face with his hands again, fighting the pressing need to break down. “She matters more than anything in my life and I didn’t protect her.”
Chris found her hand groping for his, for Eve, yes, but also for herself and for Alexander. “She stepped in front of you.” The pain shot into his eyes again. As her own rose to meet it, their fingers linked. “If you have to blame yourself, Alex, blame yourself for being the man she loves. We have to believe she’s going to be all right. I need you to believe that with me, or I don’t think I can handle any more.”
They sat and waited. Coffee was brought and grew cold. Ashtrays overflowed. The scent of hospital—antiseptic, detergent and nerves—grew familiar. They no longer noticed the guards posted in the corridors.
When Dr. Franco entered the room, they all got to their feet. His surgical cap was soaked with sweat, as was the front of his pale green scrubs. He came forward and, with the compassion natural to him, took Chris’s hand.
“The surgeon is still with her. They’ll be bringing her to recovery very soon. You have a strong sister, Miss Hamilton. She doesn’t choose to give in.”
“She’s all right?” Chris’s hand gripped the doctor’s like a vise.
“She came through the surgery better than anyone could have expected. As I explained, Dr. Thorette is the best in his field. The operation was tricky because the bullet was lodged very near her spine.”
“She’s not …” Alexander felt his father’s hand on his arm and made himself say it. “She won’t be paralyzed?”
“It’s too early for guarantees, Your Highness. But Dr. Thorette feels there is no permanent damage. I agree with him.”
“Your judgment has always been excellent,” Armand told him. His voice was rough from cigarettes and relief. “I don’t have to tell you that Eve will continue to get the very best care available.”
“No, Your Highness, you don’t. Alexander.” He used the first name, taking the privilege of an old family friend, one he had taken rarely in over thirty years. “She is young, healthy, strong. I give you my word that I can see no reason she won’t recover fully. Still, there is only so much we can do. The rest is up to her.”
“When can we see her?”
“I’ll check recovery and let you know. It’s unlikely she’ll wake until morning. No, there is no need to argue,” he continued, holding up his hand. “I don’t intend to tell you that you can’t sit with her. I believe it will only help her recovery if you’re there when she awakes. I’ll go to her now.”
* * *
There was a low light on as he kept his vigil. Franco had had a tray of food sent up, but Alexander had only toyed with it and pushed it aside.
She lay so still.
He’d been told she would, that the sedation had been heavy, but he watched her for a movement, for a flicker.
She lay so quietly.
An IV fed into her wrist; the white bandage holding the needle in place stood out in the dark. A line of machines kept up a steady click and beep as they monitored her. From time to time he stared at the fluorescent green lights. But almost always he stared at her.
Sometimes he spoke, holding her hand in his as he talked of walking together on the beach, of taking her to the family retreat in Zurich or sitting in the gardens. Other times he would simply sit, watching her face, waiting.
He thought how much she would dislike the dull hospital gown they had put her in. And he thought of the lace and silk she had worn the last time they had made love. Only one night ago. He pressed her hand against his cheek
as his breathing grew jerky and painful. The touch helped soothe.
“Don’t let go,” he murmured. “Stay with me, Eve. I need you, and the chance to show you how much. Don’t let go.”
He sat through the hours of the night fully awake. Just as the slats in the window shade let in the first slivers of light, she stirred.
“Eve.” He gripped her hand in both of his. The safety bar on the side of the bed was down so that he could lean toward her. “Eve, you’re all right. I’m here with you. Please, open your eyes. Can you hear me? Open your eyes, Eve.”
She heard him, though his voice sounded hollow and distant. Something was wrong. She felt as though she had been floating, and the dreams … Her eyelids fluttered, came up. She saw only gray, then blinking, began to make out form.
“I’m here with you,” Alexander repeated. “You’re going to be fine. Can you hear me?”
“Alex?” She saw his face. It was very close, but she couldn’t seem to reach up and touch. It was shadowed with beard. It made her smile a little. “You haven’t shaved.”
Then she went under again.
Though it seemed like hours to him, it was only minutes later when she stirred again. He was sitting on the bed beside her. This time her eyes focused long enough for understanding to come into them.
“You’re not hurt?” Her voice was weak and wavery.
“No, no.”
“Russ …”
Involuntarily his fingers tightened on hers. “He’s been taken care of. You’re not to worry.”
But she’d turned her head, seen the machine, realized the rest of it. “Not the hospital.” At the panic in her voice he brought her hand to his lips.
“Just for a little while, ma belle. Just until you’re well.”
“I don’t want to stay here.”
“I’ll stay with you.”
“You won’t go?”
“No.”
“Alex, you won’t lie to me?”
“No.” He pressed kisses to her wrist, comforting himself with the feel of her pulse.
“Am I going to die?”
“No.” Now he put a hand to her face and bent closer. “No, you’re not going to die. Dr. Franco says you’re”—he remembered Eve’s own phrase—“healthy as a horse.”
“I don’t think he put it that way.”
“That’s what he meant.”
She smiled, but he saw the quick wince.
“You have pain.”
“It feels like—I don’t know. My back, under the shoulder.”
Where the bullet had been. It had lodged there instead of in his heart. He kissed her cheek and rose. “I’ll call the nurse.”
“Alex, don’t leave.”
“Just to call the nurse. I promise.” But he found Franco coming down the hall. “She’s awake. She’s having some pain.”
“All of it can’t be avoided, Your Highness. Let me examine her, then we can give her something.” He signaled to a nurse.
“She’s afraid to be here.”
“I understand she has a phobia about hospitals. I’m afraid we can’t have her moved just yet.”
“Then I’ll stay with her.”
“I can’t permit that, Your Highness.”
Even without sleep, with fatigue and worry dragging at him, Alexander was royal. “I beg your pardon?”
“I can’t permit you to remain twenty-four hours a day. I will, however, permit you to take shifts with Miss Hamilton’s sister or anyone else who gives her comfort. Now I must examine my patient.”
Alexander watched him walk into Eve’s room, then he sank down on a chair outside the door. God, he needed to be alone for just a few minutes, to find some dark, quiet room where he could finally let go of the rage, the pain, the fear.
She’d spoken to him. She’d looked at him. Her fingers had moved in his. He had that now. Leaning back against the wall, he closed his eyes for the first time in more than twenty-four hours.
He opened them again the moment Franco stepped into the hall.
“You can go in, Your Highness. I’ve explained to Eve about her condition. I’ve also assured her that she can have someone with her as long as she likes. I’m going to call her sister now. When Miss Hamilton arrives, I insist you go home, eat a decent meal and sleep. If not, I will bar you from her room.”
Alexander passed a hand over the back of his neck. “Dr. Franco, if I didn’t know that you had Eve’s welfare in mind, I’d simply ignore you.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve gone head to head with a member of your family, Your Highness.”
“I’m well aware of that, too. Tell me how she is this morning.”
“Weak, of course. But her vital signs are good. She feels her legs and can move them.”
“Then there’s no—”
“No paralysis. She needs, rest, care and support. I hope to have her out of the ICU by tomorrow, but Dr. Thorette will want to examine her first.”
“Dr. Franco, I don’t have the words to tell you how grateful I am.”
“Your Highness. I’ve always considered it an honor to treat members of the royal family.”
Alexander looked back at Eve’s door. The ring box made the slightest of weights in his pocket. “You’ve always been perceptive.”
“Thank you, Your Highness. And I have your word that you will leave soon after Miss Hamilton arrives?”
“You have it.”
Alexander went back into the room and found Eve awake and staring at the ceiling.
“I thought you’d gone.”
“I promised I wouldn’t. Chris will be coming. I’ll have to leave then for a little while.” He sat beside her again, taking her hand. “But I’ll be back. You won’t be alone.”
“I feel like such a fool—like a little girl, afraid of the dark.”
“I’m only relieved to learn you’re afraid of something.”
“Alex, the guard who was shot. Is he—”
“He’s still alive. Everything that can be done is being done to keep him that way. I intend to look in on him when I leave you.”
“He might have saved my life,” she murmured. “And yours. I don’t know his name.”
“Craden.”
She nodded, wanting to remember it. “And Jermaine?”
He hadn’t known how good it would feel to smile again. “Recovered, except for his pride.”
“There’s no reason for him to be ashamed. I didn’t earn my black belt by batting my eyes.”
“No, chérie, it’s obvious you didn’t. When you’re better, you can explain that to Jermaine.” He brushed at her hair, just needing to touch. “What kind of flowers shall I bring you? Something from the garden? I’ve never asked what your favorite is.”
Tears welled up in her eyes and began to spill over.
“Don’t.” He kissed her fingers, one by one. “Don’t cry, my love.”
“I brought him here.” She closed her eyes, but the tears squeezed through. “I brought Russ to Cordina, to you.”
“No.” He kept his fingers gentle as he stroked her tears away. “Deboque brought him. We can’t prove it, but we know it. You have to know it.”
“How could he have deceived me so completely? I auditioned him. Alex, I’d seen his work onstage. I’d talked to people who’d worked with him. I don’t understand.”
“He was a professional. An excellent actor, Eve, who used that to cover his real vocation. He killed for money. Not for passion, not for a cause, but for money. Even our security check showed nothing. Reeve’s working with Interpol right now, hoping to learn more.”
“It all happened so fast it doesn’t even seem real.”
“You aren’t to think of it now. It’s over.”
“Where is he?”
He debated only a moment, then decided she deserved the truth. “He’s dead. Jermaine shot him only seconds after …” But he wasn’t quite ready to speak of the way her body had jerked and crumpled against his. “He regained conscious
ness briefly, long enough for Reeve to get some information. We can talk of all of this later, when you’re stronger.”
“I thought he would kill you.” The new medication was taking effect. Her eyes drooped.
“You saw that he didn’t. How should I repay you for saving my life?”
Drifting under, she smiled. “I like bluebells. Bluebells are my favorite.”
* * *
He brought them every day. When she was permitted to leave the hospital in the care of a private nurse, he brought them to her room. As the first week passed, she began to fret about her troupe. When she did, the little ball of fear that had remained lodged inside him loosened. She was getting well.
The press hailed her as a heroine. Bennett brought the articles up and read them to her, rolling his eyes at the praise and calling her a glory hound.
Eve insisted that the first play open, then worried that something would go wrong without her being there to fix it.
She read the reviews, dissecting each word. It thrilled her that the play was well received, relieved her that Russ’s understudy had turned in a sterling performance. It depressed her that she hadn’t seen for herself.
She submitted to the examinations with less and less grace as they went on.
“Dr. Franco, when is all this poking and prodding and fussing going to stop? I feel fine.”
She was lying on her stomach while he changed the dressing on her wound. The sutures had come out the day before and the healing was clean.
“I’m told you’re not sleeping well at night.”
“It’s because I’m bored to death. A walk in the garden becomes an event. I want to go to the theater, Doctor. I’ve missed the first production altogether. Damn it, I don’t want to miss the opening of the second one.”
“Mmmm-hmmm. I’m told you’ve been refusing your medication.”
“I don’t need it.” She pillowed her head on her hands and scowled. “I told you I feel fine.”
“I’ve always considered grumpiness a sign of recovery,” he said mildly as he helped her to turn over.
