They call her Dana (58 page)

"You, sir, are no gentleman," I said.

"I've never pretended to be. Gentlemen are boring as hell. I'm not one of your overbred southern aristocrats with prissy manners and blue blood and a fancy lineage going back to God. I'm a—I guess I'm a rough-and-tumble rogue with no breeding at all, but I happen to love you and—if you weren't so dense you'd know I'm telling the truth."

"You want to sleep with me," I accused.

"Of course I want to sleep with you. That's part of it."

I gave him another disdainful look and let go of the chair and started toward the door. My knees buckled. He scurried around the table and caught me before I fell. He held me in his arms and looked down at me with those lovely gray-flecked green eyes and I seemed to melt, seemed to dissolve, was completely incapable of standing without his support. I made a throaty noise that was very like a purr and raised my arms and curled them around his neck and rested my cheek against his shoulder, the satin of his robe cool and silky against my skin. He smelled delicious. His arms were holding me tight. He was extremely strong.

"I want a bonbon," I murmured.

"We haven't any. We've got gateaux—Jesus, you're smashed."

"I'm not. I'm just relaxed. I've been so very lonely, you see. I have wonderful friends and I love the theater and I—I'm so lucky, if it weren't for Laura I'd probably be selling gloves in St. Louis, but—there's no one to hold me, no one to—"

"I'm holding you."

"You're a cad, taking advantage of me like this."

"I'm a cad," he agreed.

"But glorious. Did anyone ever tell you you're glorious? I for one happen to like that crooked nose and those crazy-slanting

eyebrows and that mouth that is much too wide and—I'm beginning to feel a little dizzy."

"We'd better sit down."

He led me over to the couch and sat down and pulled me down with him, his arms still wrapped around me. My skirts rustled. I placed my palms against his chest and pushed, moving back.

"You didn't notice my gown," I said.

"I noticed your gown. Believe me, I noticed."

"You did?"

"I wanted to gnash my teeth and hurl you down on the floor and ravish you right there in the lobby."

"Really?"

"It took superhuman control not to."

"It might have been rather interesting," I observed. I stood up again. "The dress comes off quite easily. You'll have to help me with the tiny hooks in back, though."

"You've no idea what you're doing, no idea what you're saying."

"Yes," I said, "I do."

I did. Jason looked shaken. He gripped the edge of the couch and hoisted himself to his feet, the heavy folds of his satin robe bunching up and then sliding back down his legs. He stood there in front of me, his eyes questioning. He saw the answer in my own eyes, but he still wasn't sure. He finally shook his head, resolute.

"For eight months I've been trying to—uh—I've wanted you, but I'll be damned if I'm going to—you're drunk, you'd hate me in the morning. I'm not a complete cad. I don't take advantage of ladies who've drunk themselves into oblivion. I mean, I have some integrity."

"I'm not that drunk, Jason."

"No?"

I shook my head. I touched his cheek, rubbing my fingertips lightly over his skin, finally slipping my hand around and entwining my fingers in his dark hair. It was soft, slipping through my fingers like heavy black silk. He was still hesitant, looking worried and uncomfortable, and I smiled, once again reminded of a little boy. This great big gorgeous man was as skittish as a colt and looked like he wanted to turn and run for his life. The smile still curving on my lips, I stood up on tiptoes and kissed

him lightly on the mouth, and then I moved back, very pleased with myself.

"Jesus!" he muttered. "I'm the one who's supposed to be doing the seducing."

"So you did plan to seduce me?"

"I—well, I thought maybe—I hoped perhaps—and when I saw you in that red gown—look, Dana, uh—"

"I don't want to be lonely any longer," I whispered.

Still he hesitated and then, finally, he pulled me into his arms and held me loosely, tenderly. He was rowdy and bossy and volatile, but he was tender, too, comforting me now. That wasn't what I wanted. I moved my hands over his broad back, over the smooth satin, feeling the strong musculature beneath, and I rested my palms on his shoulders and tilted my head back and Jason kissed me tenderly and then urgently, and I wasn't drunk at all now, I knew exactly what I was doing as I clung to him, demanding more. He kissed me for a long, long time and finally raised his head, peering down into my eyes, his own questioning again.

"You're sure?" he asked.

I nodded. "I'm sure, but—I'm afraid. Don't—don't hurt me. I don't want to be hurt again."

"Hurt you? I love you. Didn't I mention that?"

It doesn't matter, I said silently. You're merely a bonbon. I'm not going to let myself care. I'm not going to be hurt again. Jason kissed me again and then he led me into the adjoining bedroom and he was passionate and strong and greedy yet tender and gentle and caring and it was wonderful, wonderful beyond belief, and afterward he kissed me and cradled me to him and I reveled in his warmth, his smell, his strength, his beauty there in the moonlight. Laura was right, I thought, nestling in his arms, his thigh covering mine. When the bonbon is right there beside your plate, why pass it up?

Chapter Nineteen

THE TOMATOES AND ROTTEN EGGS CAME FLYING aCFOSS the footlights, pelting the backdrop, ruining my gown, and I stood there in stark terror as the audience shouted and jeered. Stem-faced ladies carrying placards came marching down the aisles, chanting, "Stop this play! Stop this play!" and then the audience rose en masse, fists waving, feet stamping. There was a mighty roar as they charged the stage, intending to tear me limb from limb. I was frozen, totally unable to move, and I desperately tried to scream. The scream was trapped in my diroat. I tensed as great hulking men and flinty-eyed women scrambled up onto the stage, shouting, "Scandal! Disgrace! Outrage!'' My heart was pounding, pounding, and finally I threw back my head and released the scream and opened my eyes and Jason snorted, his body jerking violently, his own eyes flying open.

"Jesus!" he cried. "What th' hell was that?''

"Nothing," I said calmly. "Go back to sleep, Jason."

"Did you hear something?"

"Not a thing," I told him. "You must have been having a nightmare."

"What time is it?"

"I've no idea. I just woke up myself."

Jason groaned miserably and grabbed the pillow in a lethal hold and flopped and twisted around until he was in the desired position, then snorted again. He managed to pull the bedcovers completely ofi" me, twining them cocoonlike around his lower limbs. It was just as well. He always slept in the nude. I climbed out of bed, the skirt of my thin white cotton nightgown fluttering. The carpetless floor was cool to my bare feet. The windows

were all open, the pale yellow curtains billowing gently in an early morning breeze. The thin rays of sunlight streaming lazily into the room were still weak. It couldn't be much later than six-thirty.

Our final dress rehearsal last night had dragged on until after one o'clock this morning. No wonder I felt so groggy. Jason had been an absolute beast. No wonder I had such a nightmare. I wearily pulled on the thin white and yellow striped robe that went with my nightgown, the skirt aflutter with ruffles. As I tied the sash at my waist, Jason flopped around again, wrapping the sheets tighter around his legs. He groaned, wrestled with the pillow and finally lifted his head, peering at me with one slightly open eye. I remembered that I was furious with him. That wasn't unusual. Ever since we had started rehearsals here in Atlanta hardly a day had gone by that I wasn't furious with him.

"Do—uh—do you—uh—think you might—uh—bring me a cup of coffee?" he croaked.

"I'm furious with you," I reminded him.

"Jesus, Dana, don't start in on me. Okay? Just—uh—please don't start in on me. I feel wretched."

"Good," I said cheerily.

"'Please bring me some coffee. Pretty please."

"Fetch it yourself," I said.

He sat up abruptly, both eyes open now, both blazing.

"Sometimes you can be an absolute bitchV he thundered.

Damp, unruly locks of black hair tumbled wildly over his head and his lower body was tightly encased in twisted sheets and he looked so comical and so utterly endearing that I had to smile. He scowled dangerously.

"What th' hell are you smiling at!"

"You, darling," I said lightly.

I stepped over to the bed and rested my hand on his cheek and smoothed that wild mmble of hair from his brow and he became a little boy again, wounded, thoroughly misunderstood. I leaned down and kissed him on the lips, my heart ftill of affection for this exasperating man whom, when I didn't want to murder him, I wanted to pamper and please and coddle. He reached up and grabbed my wrist in a tight grip and pulled me back down onto the bed, his eyelids drooping seductively now, his mouth parting for a longer, more meaningful kiss. I struggled free, getting off the bed, smiling still.

''Go back to sleep,'' I told him. "I may bring you some coffee later on."

"You really can be a bitch, Dana," he complained woefully.

"I've had to leam to be, darling—for my own protection. If I weren't a bitch now and then, you'd run all over me."

"I resent that! I'm the gendest, most amiable—"

I left the room, blowing him a kiss at the door, and it was not until I had gone halfway down the hall that I remembered that I had nothing whatsoever to be so cheerful about. They were going to crucify us tonight. My nightmare would undoubtedly come true. The whole city was in an uproar about The Quadroon ^ and I wouldn't be at all surprised if someone actually planted a bomb in the theater to prevent its opening. Oh well, I thought, moving down the staircase, we will have given it our best, and if they run us out of town, they run us out of town. We can always reprise Lord Roderick's Revenge in Do than, Alabama. As I reached the bottom of the stairs, the front door opened and Bartholomew entered, leading a complacent-looking Theodore on a leash. Our silver-haired, rosy-cheeked character man looked as distinguished and dignified as ever in a handsome blue frock coat and pearl-gray ascot.

"Dana, my dear," he said in those familiar dulcet tones. "You're up early this morning."

"Apparently not as eariy as you."

"When you reach my advanced years, child, you find yourself getting up with the birds. Besides, Theodore likes to be out and at his business while the dew is still on the grass."

"You look very elegant this morning."

"One tries to keep up the facade," he said, sighing with theatrical resignation. "One tries."

"You were marvelous last night," I told him. "Thank God someone is sane and unflappable. It was a disaster, wasn't it?"

"Final dress rehearsals are always a disaster. Everyone is always keyed-up and on edge. Our esteemed playwright-director did rather try himself, but we're used to that, aren't we?"

"Aren't we ever. He was a beast."

"But he gets excellent results, my dear. He's pushed us hard, but we have all surpassed ourselves. None of us has ever been better. Young Billy is amazing. I never thought I'd see the day he would give such a performance. His Travis is perfection."

'' Billy's wonderful," I agreed.

"And your Janine is going to make theatrical history. Jason may have bullied you unmercifully, but under his direction youVe created a luminous character no one is likely to forget."

' 'If anyone ever sees it," I retorted.' 'Do—do you think they'll actually let us open?"

"The city fathers have read the play. They've given their approval."

"But-"

' 'Oh, don't bother yourself over all this flapdoodle and hoopla, child. The protests, the public demonstrations, the articles in the papers have just helped sell tickets. We're completely sold out for weeks in advance. The League of Decency ladies and the ministers condemning us from their pulpits are acmally doing us a very good mm."

"I'm still terriiied something will happen."

"There might be a small ruckus, but I've no doubt sanity will prevail. The majority of folks here in Atlanta pride themselves on their tolerance, open-mindedness and sophistication. They'll not allow the radical fringe to besmirch the civic image."

"I hope you're right."

"I am, child. Relax. Come along, Theodore. Your kind old master has some particularly tasty doggy treats waiting for you in our room. I'll see you later, Dana."

I could smell coffee brewing as I moved down the lower hallway to the kitchen in back. Someone else was up early, too, it seemed. It was lovely, all of us living together in this huge old rented house near downtown, only a few short blocks from the theater. With the largess so lavishly provided by the mysterious Mr. Robert Courtland, whom no one but Jason and Jackson had met, we could have stayed in Atlanta's grandest hotel, but there wasn't a hotel in the whole of the South that would take Corey and Adam and the boys. The rest of us had elected to stay here so that our new cast members could be with us. Even so, there had been problems. The man who had rented Jason the house refused to have "niggers" staying inside the house, insisted they stay in the quarters over the carriage house in back. Ever the peacemaker, Corey claimed this suited them nicely as she and Adam liked privacy and they'd acmally be more comfortable where they could keep an eye on the boys.

The coffee had finished perking as I entered the roomy old kitchen with its red-brown tile floor and huge oak cabinets. Corey

herself was bending over the stove, taking out a pan of heavenly smelling cinnamon rolls. She smiled a greeting at me, carefully set the pan on the drainboard and began to pour thick white icing over the rolls. Corey was a magnificent cook. She loved to cook, and she spent most of her spare time in the kitchen, an unexpected bonus for the rest of us. She and I frequently made meals for the entire company, with extremely inept help from Laura who meant well but couldn't tell a skillet from a baking pan if her life depended on it.