Phoenix Falling (35 page)

Then the crew broke into applause. It was the kind of spontaneous tribute that did an actor's soul good—but not this time. Wearily Kenzie leaned against the pole, then slid down to the carpet and buried his face in his hands.

Crucified by the Muse.

Chapter 27

Today, karmic justice would be visited on Rainey. It was almost time to play the big love scene with Kenzie in front of a relentless camera. Rainey paced around her shabby studio dressing room, the long skirt of her Victorian day dress picking up a dust bunny or two along the hem.

"In the interests of distraction," Val said from her desk in the comer, "shall I summarize some of your mail?"

"Anything exciting there?'

"Not really. Your paternity investigator's weekly report says he may have a line on the studio executive Clementine was involved with, and it appears to have been more than a casual fling."

"A studio executive?' Rainey wrinkled her nose. "The drug dealer is starting to look better. What else have you got?'

"An e-mail note from your grandfather. Apparently he's becoming an Internet addict on that get-well computer you gave him." Val glanced at the printed-out note. "The suggestion you made about connecting with some of his old army buddies has borne fruit. He found some and they chat back and forth daily. Your grandparents have booked tickets to his outfit's reunion in Florida next winter."

"That's very good news." Gradually, at long distance, the relationship with her grandparents was improving. It was an unexpected benefit of her grandfather's accident. She actually looked forward to her next visit with them, after
The Centurion
finished shooting, though she knew better than to expect too much. There could be friendship and respect between her and them. For warmth, she would look elsewhere, as she always had.

Deb, the makeup artist, entered the dressing room. "Time to touch you up before this next scene."

Obediently Rainey sat in a straight chair. With a third person present, Val put away the personal messages and returned to transcribing Rainey's scrawled notes from the previous evening's viewing of the dailies.

Rainey's thoughts returned obsessively to the upcoming scene with Kenzie. Maybe it would have been worse to direct Jane Stackpole in bed with him—but probably not. Being there in that bed herself, with his familiar touch and the haunted eyes that were as much Kenzie as John Randall—she shuddered at the prospect.

"Don't twitch," Deb ordered.

"Sorry." Rainey needed cosmetic magic to make her over thirty face look ten years younger. Mentally she rehearsed her lines while Deb fine-tuned Sarah's dewy English complexion.

Then it could be avoided no longer. She left her dressing room and picked her way across the vast, darkened sound stage, avoiding cables and equipment. Kenzie was already on the brightly lit bedroom set, fingers drumming on a tall carved bedpost.

The scenes with Sharif had reduced him to monosyllables and zero eye contact. She studied him critically, glad that filming was almost over. Both of them were looking haggard and had lost weight. Luckily, that suited the scenes they were shooting. The stress of moviemaking coincided with the stress of their fictional characters.

This scene directly followed the one on the cliff where Sarah had coaxed Randall back from suicidal despair. He'd stammered out enough for her to understand how profoundly he'd been wounded.

Though Sarah was uncertain of exactly what had been done to him, she had recognized the depth of his emotional pain. Loving her husband, she was determined not to allow his nightmares and shattered self-esteem to drive her away.

The cliff scene had ended with their returning to the house across the fields, Randall moving like an old man, his arm around his wife's shoulders. This take would start with them, windblown from the cliffs, entering his bedchamber. Rainey scanned the set, automatically checking that the details were right before looking at Kenzie. "Ready?"

He nodded and crossed to stand in the doorway. She joined him, saying in a low tone, "You won't be able to do this scene without looking at me a time or two."

Mouth tightening, he met her gaze, the torments of the damned visible in his eyes. She swallowed hard, wishing she could believe that he was merely in character, but surely that much of that bleakness was Kenzie.

To match his intensity, she reached deep inside to release sorrow from the well of pain at her core. The emotion centered her in Sarah, who was frightened and out of her depth, but would not give up. When tension shimmered between the two characters, Rainey gave the signal to start.

The camera began to roll. Clinging to each other, they entered the room. Then Randall pulled away, unsteady but determined to stand on his own feet.

Rainey said, "Rest now, my dear. You'll feel better then."

"You don't understand," he said harshly. "A night's sleep won't cure the past. Nothing will." When she reached for him, he caught her hand, keeping her away. "Which is why you must leave me before it's too late."

His touch sizzled through her. Though a virgin, Sarah knew there was a powerful attraction between them. "Then we won't look to the past. Only now and the future."

"Sarah, we have no future." He released her hand and stepped back. "Since we are not truly married, it will be possible to separate legally. Perhaps an annulment, which will free you in the eyes of society."

"You are the one who doesn't understand, John." Her fear of losing him was laced with anger. "You might not have meant the vows you took, but I did. Before God, you are my husband. I will have no other while you live."

He looked at her as if she were a distant, cherished memory. "You are so fine. So pure. I thought of you as my bright angel when I was imprisoned."

Her anger erupted, making her reckless. "I cannot live on the pedestal where you've placed me, John. Though I know little of the world, I know enough to be your wife. Or is it impossible for you to... to desire me?"

The flick of his eyes down her body betrayed him, though he said stiffly, "You should not speak of such things."

He had made himself vulnerable by revealing the shame that scarred his spirit. If they were to be husband and wife, Sarah must make herself equally vulnerable, and the only way she could imagine was by offering herself sexually. In passion, he would be stronger and more experienced than she.

"Words are not helping. You have always been a man of action. It is time for us to act. Together." Fingers shaking, she began to unfasten the pearl buttons that ran down the front of her bodice.

He caught his breath as the dress fell open to reveal her lace-trimmed undergarment and pale, virginal skin. "This... this isn't fitting, Sarah."

"What could be more fitting than intimacy between husband and wife?" Seeing his glance go to the door, she turned the key in the lock, then dropped it into a vase of roses that stood on his dresser.

He'd revealed that he desired her. Now she must remind him of the vows they had taken. She began unfastening her cuffs. "I, Sarah, take thee, John, to be my wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward. For better. For worse. For
always
. You swore an oath to me, John. I shall not release you from it." She peeled off her tucked and lacy blouse.

Gaze riveted, he whispered, "With my body... I thee worship."

The skirt tied back with a sash at her waist. She tugged the bow loose, then pushed the skirt to the floor, leaving her in lace-edged chemise and petticoats. Though almost every inch of her was covered, the fact that she was in her undergarments charged the air with eroticism. Voice husky, she said, "You must unlace me."

He swallowed hard as she turned, presenting her back to him. As he unfastened her laces, she struggled to control her fear of the unknown, for she knew in her bones that this was the right course. She must put herself in his power to remind him that he possessed power.

Reverently he caressed her, sending liquid heat curling deep inside. The corset fell away, leaving her body unbound and tingling with sensation. As she arched her back, he bent to kiss her neck, his breath warm against her nape. She gasped, frightened now not only of what he might do, but of herself, and the body that no longer seemed fully her own. Rather desperately, she groped for her identity as Rainey. "Cut."

Behind her, Kenzie's breathing was rough as her own. Not daring to look at him, she asked, "Did that look good, Greg?"

Voice a little thick, the cameraman said, "I thought the lens might melt, but it didn't, so I'd say this should be printed."

Kenzie had retreated across the room and was showing great interest in the ivory-backed toiletry articles on the dresser. She hoped he found this as harrowing as she did.

Though she'd give a year's income not to do this scene again, she couldn't risk going with a single take this close to the end. "Okay. One more time for safety's sake."

The rest of the day was taken up with the love scene and the impressionistic closeup images that would keep the movie romantic and PG-13 rather than graphic and R-rated. It was one of the strangest acting experiences of Rainey's life, a false intimacy with a man where the intimacy had once been real and profound.

They filmed silken garments sliding to the floor with a luxurious whisper. Stroking hands, tentative when they belonged to Sarah, taut with barely controlled desire for Randall.

Her anxiety spiked with pain, then dissolving into wonder. Awed tenderness as Randall discovered the magic of his bride's unstinting love. She was the Maiden, powerful in her conviction, while he was the wounded Warrior regaining his strength as he remembered what it was that men fought to protect.

After they wrapped for the day, Rainey went to her dressing room, sprawled on her sofa, and slept like the dead.

* * *

Rainey awoke stiff and aching, uncertain where she was until Val asked quietly, "Back among the living?"

"Barely." She sat up, glad she'd taken the damned corset off while they were shooting. "What time is it?"

"About nine in the evening." Val looked up from the chipped, wobbly table in the comer where she'd been working. '1 figured that if you were that tired, you should rest."

"So you stood guard and kept the world at bay. Thanks." Lurching a little, Rainey went to the dressing table and removed her smeared makeup.

Val had placed a banana, a packet of peanuts, and a container of milk on the table, so Rainey wolfed them down. Preferring to shower at the immaculate hotel rather than the shabby dressing room, she changed into her own clothes. "Ready to escape?"

"With pleasure." Val slid her paperwork into her briefcase and stood.

"What did Kenzie do after we finished shooting?"

"Changed and lit out of here like his tail feathers were on fire." Val joined Rainey as they left the dressing room. "Thank God shooting ends tomorrow, before one or both of you have nervous breakdowns." Her voice echoed through the empty studio.

Rainey thought of the climactic scenes that would be shot the next day. They would grind away whatever reserves she had left. Only then could she could fly home to her little house in the canyon. "You've called the charter company about my flight back to L.A.?"

"Your private jet shall await your pleasure after Charles Winfield's memorial service."

"Want to fly back with me? It's no problem to drop you off in Baltimore."

"Thanks, but I want to take advantage of being in the British Isles. This morning Laurie and I decided to go to Ireland for a week's vacation."

"She's fun. You'll have a good time." Rainey glanced at her friend. "I've really enjoyed having you on this job, Val. I... I don't know if I could have made it through without you."

"You've helped me pick up the pieces of my fractured love life half a dozen times. I'm glad I was able to help you for once."

Outside the studio door their car waited patiently. Rainey climbed inside and sank into the seat as they began the trip back to central London. "If I offered you a permanent job, would you take it?"

"No." Val gazed out the window, her brow furrowed. "This has been a great experience, and it's motivated me to go home and make some changes. But not California, and not the entertainment business."