Читать книгу Wedding Promises - Sophie Pembroke - Страница 17

CHAPTER SEVEN

MELISSA DRILLED THEM in their dance for far longer than Eloise thought was strictly necessary—she wasn’t that bad, she was sure. Eventually, though, Melissa had to let Eloise go, once she pointed out that if she didn’t there would be no one to check that everything was ready for the Frost Fair.

Noah took the opportunity to escape too, which Eloise was grateful for. It had felt too good, dancing in his arms. And the connection between them—even if it was born entirely out of mocking Melissa—seemed a little too easy. She wasn’t an idiot; she knew Noah was just playing with her. What she didn’t understand was why he was still bothering. She’d made her position on the subject of having flings with actors painfully clear the night before.

Maybe that was it—the challenge. She could see Noah as the kind of guy who grew tired of always getting everything he wanted handed to him on a plate. Some people were happy to carry on that way, enjoying the ease that sort of life gave them. But Noah... She got the impression he liked to work for things a little more. Hadn’t he said something last night about a new role in a film, something more challenging? Yes, that had to be it. She was a different sort of challenge; that was all. The moment she gave in, all the fun would be gone for him.

She had to remember that.

Dressed again in her navy work dress and chocolate leather boots, Eloise hurried down to the riverbank, her coat wrapped warmly around her. The preparations for the afternoon’s Frost Fair were well underway—which was just as well, as Laurel would be bringing the guests down from the hotel within the hour.

Wooden stalls were laid out all along the riverbank, a temporary street of tempting offerings to eat, drink or enjoy. The river that ran beside the hotel rarely froze and, even if it had, it would have been a health and safety impossibility to hold the fair actually on the ice, like people would have done at the Frost Fairs of old. But, with the rustic stalls, the lute music drifting through the icy air as the musicians warmed up and the smell of the hog roast cooking, it almost felt authentic.

Authentic enough for Hollywood, anyway, Eloise figured.

Pulling out her clipboard, she did the rounds, checking in with every stallholder, every caterer, every entertainer, from jugglers to ice carvers. Everything was looking good until she reached the small stage set up at the far end of the fair, ready for the acting troupe Laurel had hired to entertain the masses with excerpts from Shakespeare’s plays.

‘How’s it going?’ she asked a dour-looking man unloading period costumes and props onto a rack.

Hang on. No, he wasn’t unloading. He was taking the costumes off the rack and putting them back into the suitcase.

‘Not great,’ he said, reaching for another doublet. ‘The troupe minibus gave up the ghost halfway down the M4. The guy they sent out to fix it said it’s dead as a doornail. I’d come on ahead with the costumes and props, but I’m only the stage manager-slash-accompanist. You want period sound effects or music? I’m your man.’ He shook his head. ‘Not a lot of use without the actors, though. Figured I might as well pack up again.’

‘Wait. Don’t... Stop packing up. Please. Just stop it.’ The man held up his hands and stepped back as Eloise reached for her phone.

‘Your call, love, but I don’t see what good they’ll do you.’

‘I just need to make a phone call...’ Turning away, Eloise stabbed at her phone until it rang Laurel, holding it tight to her ear and praying that the wedding planner would have an idea.

Click. ‘You have reached the voicemail of Laurel Sommers, wedding planner.’

Of course, to be any help at all she’d have to actually pick up the phone. Eloise hung up and tried again.

After she got put through to voicemail for the fifth time, Eloise gave up.

‘Okay, look, we’ll sort this out,’ she said, turning back to the man with the props. Except now he wasn’t alone.

‘Alas, poor Yorick!’ Noah held a skull at arm’s length as he quoted the line from Hamlet, looking utterly in his element.

Hadn’t he said he’d been a Shakespearean actor once? Maybe he could be again...

Spotting her, Noah put down the skull and walked towards her. Eloise pasted on her brightest, most winning smile and hoped he still wanted to keep playing their little game. Because she needed a big favour.

* * *

The Frost Fair, Noah had to admit, was quite the set-up. It looked like something from some high fantasy epic movie, rather than a historical. Stallholders were wandering around in that pseudo-period costume that seemed to work for peasants of all eras, mostly in shades of brown and green with the odd berry-red hat for a spot of colour. The river rushed past beside the stalls, flowing over rocks and under bare trees. The spot must be beautiful in the summer, he realised. No wonder Melissa had wanted to come back here.

When he came across the stage, he couldn’t resist—especially when he saw the box of props waiting there, just asking to be used. It might be a cliché, but in his experience it was a rare actor who could resist a bit of Hamlet.

Then he saw Eloise, lowering her phone from her ear, her red hair the brightest thing in the whole fair. Even her sensible brown knee boots and knitted navy dress made him want to reach out and touch her.

And when she smiled...his heart contracted in his chest.

Then his eyes narrowed. That was not the smile of a woman planning a seduction. That was the smile of a woman who wanted something. Well, he wasn’t above giving—as long as he got something in return.

In all honesty, if it was Eloise asking, he’d probably do it for free. Just to see some more of that smile.

‘What do you need?’ he asked as she approached.

Her smile faltered for a moment, then came back stronger than ever. ‘The troupe of actors we’d hired to perform today can’t make it. Their minibus broke down about a hundred miles away.’

‘That’s a shame.’ Noah was pretty sure he could guess now what she wanted, but he was going to make her ask, all the same. Given how incapable of saying no to her he felt right now, it was only fair.

‘I don’t suppose you’re feeling in the mood to reprise some of your more famous Shakespearian roles, are you?’

‘Fancying some Romeo at last, huh?’

‘Or Hamlet, or Benedick, or Puck...I’m not fussed, as long as there’s someone up on that stage performing when our guests arrive.’

‘Aren’t I one of those guests?’

Eloise shook her head. ‘You’re the best man. That means pitching in and fixing whatever goes wrong with the wedding.’

‘I suppose it does,’ Noah said slowly, an idea forming in his mind. ‘And I guess as maid of honour you have to do the same, right?’

Her eyes widened. ‘Well, in principle...but you’re the actor here. This really seems like a job for you.’

‘Ah, but it would be so much better with two, wouldn’t it?’ Noah said. ‘Monologues are so boring. But a good bit of dialogue...that’ll get people watching. So, how’s your Shakespeare?’

‘Rusty. Very, very rusty. I mean, I used to help my mum learn her lines, and she did a few of Shakespeare’s, but that was years ago. As was my A-level English Lit course, for that matter.’

‘Your mum?’ Noah frowned. ‘She was an actress?’ Did that explain Eloise’s strange prejudice against actors? Had one messed her mother around? Or was her dad an actor?

For someone he knew so little about, he felt strangely invested in her past. And in her immediate future, come to that.

‘Of a sort. Look, it doesn’t matter now. The point is, I don’t know the lines. Any lines. For any play.’

‘You don’t need to,’ Noah told her, pushing aside his questions about her parents for a time when Eloise was less stressed. So, some time next year, probably. The woman had been stress incarnate since he’d met her. Strange—that wasn’t something he’d ever found attractive before. ‘We’ll do readings rather than acting out the scenes. It’ll work fine and you don’t need to worry about remembering anything.’

Eloise frowned. ‘I suppose. But...’

Now they were getting to it. ‘So, what’s the real reason you don’t want to do it? Worried I’ll show you up? Trust me, I wouldn’t. It’s a long time since I’ve done Shakespeare too.’

She pulled a face. ‘That’s not it. Well, yes, partly, I suppose. You’re an actual actor. I’m someone who’s just read the plays a few times.’

‘I’m an actor who mostly beats people up in films these days,’ he reminded her. ‘But, actually, I’m looking to get into some different roles, so maybe a change of pace will be good for me. And I think fooling around on stage with me will be good for you too. We can just do the comedies, if you like. It’ll be fun.’

‘Fun? Standing up there with the famous and the beautiful watching me make a fool of myself? Not my idea of a good time.’

‘That’s what you’re worried about? Them?’ Noah shook his head. He knew from personal experience that nobody attending this wedding thought too much about anyone except themselves. ‘I really wouldn’t.’

‘Easy for you to say. I don’t...’ She swallowed and met his gaze. ‘I told you. I really don’t like being the centre of attention.’

So that was it. ‘That’s why you didn’t want to do the dance either,’ he said, remembering how she’d shrunk away, almost disappearing into the wall, when she’d been watching him and Melissa dance that morning. ‘And why you wear such boring clothes.’

‘Leave my clothes out of it,’ she grumbled. ‘Not everyone has to be a peacock like Melissa.’

‘Or a show-off like me,’ he finished for her. ‘But it doesn’t matter. That’s the joy of acting. You’re not the centre of attention at all—your character is. You can be someone else for a while. It’s fantastically freeing.’

‘Really?’ Eloise didn’t look entirely convinced.

‘Sure. Why do you think so many actors are screwed up as human beings? It’s not the job that does it. It’s the reason they choose the job in the first place. Who else would pick a career that lets them escape from themselves?’

‘I suppose,’ Eloise allowed. ‘But that doesn’t change the fact that it would be me up there on the stage. Making a fool of myself.’

‘I won’t let you do that.’ He reached out a hand to take hers. ‘Come on. It’ll be fun. I promise.’ It would be, he was certain. And fun was definitely something Eloise needed more of in her life.

She sucked in a deep breath, so deep he could see her chest move. ‘Okay,’ she said at last. ‘Let’s do this.’

* * *

If women in Shakespeare’s time really wore dresses as uncomfortable as the one Noah picked out for her, suddenly Eloise understood why they always looked so miserable in paintings. She’d almost rather be wearing the hideous bridesmaid’s dress. Almost.

‘Perfect,’ Noah said as she stepped out from the Portaloo she’d used as a changing room. Apparently stardom wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.

‘I feel like an idiot.’

‘But you look like a star,’ Noah promised.

Eloise glanced down at the corseted bodice, the intricate lacing and embroidery and the full skirt. The deep winter green of the fabric suited her, she knew, and the golden stitching added something special to the dress. But it wasn’t until she met Noah’s gaze and saw the warmth and approval in his eyes that she truly believed she looked okay.

More than okay, if the way Noah’s gaze travelled her body was anything to go by. She almost wished there was a full-length mirror around so she could see for herself.

But she knew that the prettiest costume couldn’t hide her from the reality of what she was about to do.

Why had she agreed to this? How had she let him convince her? He hadn’t even really had to try—he’d just smiled at her and told her it would be fun, and she’d fallen for it.

This was why she needed to stay away from Noah Cross. Something that would be a lot easier if they weren’t both in the wedding party from hell.

‘Are you ready?’ Noah asked as they stood at the side of the stage.

‘No.’

Noah smiled, and handed her the first reading they’d decided on—one of her favourite exchanges between Beatrice and Benedick from Much Ado About Nothing.

‘You can do this,’ he whispered. Then he took her hand and led her out onto the stage.

It had been so many years since she’d done this, Eloise had thought she must have forgotten how. But as she stood there, script in shaking hand, it all came flooding back. The tiny local theatre in her home town, just a few miles away from where she stood now. The scruffy red velvet seats in the audience. The way the wood of the stage smelt. The heavy curtains that rose and fell on their shows.

Eloise, twelve years old, standing in the chorus line of their latest musical, watching her mother fall in love with her leading man, rehearsal after rehearsal. And her father in the wings, humiliated again. And knowing, even then, that this affair wouldn’t last either. That everyone would talk—in whispers, if her dad was around, and openly if he wasn’t—and predict when they might make it official. Whether this time Letitia would leave, find a man who could be equal to her instead of staying with her boring, grey old husband.

And every time she would threaten to walk out, there’d be scenes—on stage and off. And every time, as the last night ended, Eloise would know it would all be over soon. That her mother would never really leave, never really chase the perfect happiness and true love she claimed she wanted.

Because if she was happy, where would the drama be? Letitia lived for the drama, not the love.

She’d even chosen drama over her own daughter when she’d seduced Derek away from her. Eloise was under no illusions about what mattered most to her mother—or to actors in general.

Noah gave her a look and she took a breath, smiled and began the act. She’d taken all the drama classes, played her parts in the society beside her parents, so she knew what she was doing.

But she would never be an actress. Not when she’d already seen how much happiness it could destroy.

It was easy to lose herself in the lines, the humour, the characters. Noah had been right about that, at least. Up there on the stage, she could almost believe she was another person and that made it a lot easier.

They hadn’t planned a full performance, as such, so there was no start time and no audience waiting patiently for them to start. Instead, they began the scene as the guests started to mill around the Frost Fair, and waited to be discovered. By the time Eloise looked out from the stage after the third scene she and Noah had chosen, she was amazed to find that they had drawn quite a crowd.

As they applauded, Noah took the script from her and gave her the next one. Eloise frowned as she looked at the highlighted passage. This wasn’t one she’d agreed to. They’d said comedies only, and Romeo and Juliet was most certainly not a comedy.

‘Ready?’ Noah whispered and, before she could answer, said his opening line.

It was the scene at the masked ball, Eloise realised as she responded. That short, incredibly flirtatious and sexy scene where they dance and talk and...

‘Then move not while my prayer’s effect I take.’

She barely had a moment to register Noah’s words before his hands were at her waist, tugging her close. He kissed her lightly, just a brief press of his lips against hers. But it was enough. Enough to send sparks through her whole body, to leave her aching and desperate for more.

Wait. He’d just said something. Which meant she had another line.

Somewhere, from the recesses of her memory and an abiding love for the movie version, she found it.

‘Then have my lips the sin that they have took.’

Noah grinned, still holding her against him.

‘Sin from my lips?’ he said. ‘O trespass sweetly urged. Give me my sin again.’

Again? Eloise’s eyes widened but he just kept smiling at her—before dipping her deeply over his arm and lowering his lips to hers.

There was nothing brief about this kiss. Nothing perfunctory. And nothing about it felt like an act.

Her hands tightened on the fabric of Noah’s doublet as he deepened the kiss, teasing her mouth open and driving her wild. Her whole body reacted to the sensation of his lips on hers, tightening and tensing with the need to take things further. If they hadn’t been in public...

A whoop went up from the crowd and reality came crashing in on her. They weren’t just in public. She was on a stage, in front of the Hollywood elite, some of her staff and probably her teenage nemesis. Making out with a famous actor like some girl with a crush.

She tried to pull away but, since Noah was the only thing holding her up, she didn’t get too far. Fortunately, he seemed to sense the change of mood and slowly raised her back to a standing position, only ending the kiss at the last possible moment.

The audience cheered, clapping and whistling, and Eloise knew her face had to be the same colour as her hair.

‘Okay?’ Noah whispered, too soft to be heard over the crowd.

But Eloise couldn’t answer. The only words she could find were Juliet’s.

‘You kiss by the book,’ she declared, and the crowd laughed.

She was glad someone found it funny. Because, as far as Eloise was concerned, that kiss meant only one thing.

She was in big trouble.

* * *

‘You kiss by the book.’

Eloise sounded suitably stunned, but the way she projected the line into the crowd left Noah uncertain. Was she still acting? Or had the kiss affected her the same way it had him?

Because he definitely hadn’t been acting.

Oh, the first kiss, sure. That had just been a joke, almost. He’d slipped the short Romeo and Juliet exchange in while Eloise had been getting changed, partly because it was one of his favourites and partly because it gave him an excuse to kiss her. He’d purposefully kept that first kiss light and relaxed, giving her the freedom to pull back any time she liked, even if it was only an act.

But from the moment his lips had met hers he’d known that wouldn’t be enough. The electricity between them, the way her touch sparked through his body, heating him to boiling point even in the freezing English air...that couldn’t all be pretend, could it? And then, of course, he’d had to know for sure.

So he’d kissed her. Properly.

And his whole world had tilted.

The audience were applauding again, and Noah realised he’d almost forgotten they were there. He hadn’t been playing to the crowd for once, or thinking about how his moves would look on the big screen. The only thing that had been on his mind was the woman in his arms.

Never mind Tessa and her admonitions to behave. Never mind his reputation. Even the role of Marcus hadn’t mattered for the long moments where he’d held Eloise.

He blinked and the spell was broken, and the real world surged back in.

Her final line spoken, Eloise tried to make a dash for the edge of the makeshift stage but he grabbed her hand to keep her with him, his mind churning. When she glared at him, he explained softly, ‘We have to take a bow.’

Her glare didn’t lessen, but she gave a sharp nod and took her place beside him. Hand in hand, they bowed to the assembled audience, who whooped and cheered even louder.

‘What were they serving at those drinks stands?’ Noah asked. Because he was good, he knew that, and Eloise had been fabulous, but this level of enthusiasm still seemed a little over the top. Unless they’d seen the truth behind the kiss—but he doubted that too. This crowd wouldn’t know truth if it kissed them.

‘Spiced apple cider.’ Eloise didn’t look at him as she answered, smiling out at the crowd as they took their second bow.

‘Alcoholic.’

‘Apparently very.’

‘Encore!’ someone in the crowd yelled but Eloise shook her head and, before Noah could stop her, she was across the stage and descending the steps, ready to disappear back into the mass of people filling the Frost Fair. Suddenly Noah was alone on the stage, wondering if her reaction to the kiss meant she was more or less likely to let him do it again.

Because one thing he was very sure of. He wanted to kiss Eloise Miller in a way he hadn’t wanted to kiss anyone for years.

In fact, he wanted to do a lot more than kiss her. Discreetly, of course. But that kiss had proved that Eloise was worth taking the risk.

And, after the way she’d responded to him, she was going to have to come up with a better excuse than I don’t date actors to convince him that she didn’t want exactly the same thing.