A Midsummer Night's Fling (Stage Kiss Series Book 1) (45 page)

He motioned Lachlan over. "Puck, go you and find your mistress. Bring her here to me. I would have conference with my wayward wife." That sounded suitably Shakespearean, right?

Lachlan bowed at the waist, and stole one of his later lines for an ad-lib, "'Fear not, my lord, your servant shall do so.'" He dashed offstage and Max stood on tiptoe to watch Lachlan plunge into the wings in search of the missing Allie.
 

Lachlan returned almost at once, shuffling forward, a shocked expression on his face.
 

Max restrained his impatience.
Did he see Allie's boobs backstage or something?

Lachlan shook himself to get into character. "My lord, I have . . . found her. Um . . . " Lachlan stepped back, making a sweeping flourish, bowing at the waist toward Titania.

Toward
Nicola
.

Max's breath left him in a small puff of air as she glided toward him.
 

"'What, jealous Oberon!'" she drawled, stepping right up to him. In the real blocking, she was supposed to turn at this point and start walking off. Instead she stayed put and half-turned over her shoulder to address her handmaidens. "'Fairies, skip hence: I have forsworn his bed and company.'"
Max caught her by the upper arms, terrified she
would
turn and leave the stage. In fact, he was scared she wasn't even real and this was a sign of his impending psychotic break. But her skin was silk under his fingers, and when he dipped his head to kiss her, her lips were soft, her mouth sweet and perfect.
 

She threw her arms around his neck and bent her body into him, twining her tongue with his. They weren't Oberon and Titania anymore, or Romeo and Juliet, and who would even want to be when they could be Max and Nicola?

She came back
. He pulled away and stared at her, wondering, grateful, and so, so happy.
 

"Ah, my lord?" Lachlan said, nudging him with his toe, basically saying to Max,
What about the play?

Max grinned at Nicola. "'Tarry, rash wanton: am not I thy lord?'"

Nicola gave a happy, delighted laugh which broke in the middle with a sob. "'Then I must be thy lady!'" She beamed at him, her eyes brimming with joyous tears. She lifted her hand up, her
left
hand, where his opal glinted on her ring finger.
Yes
, she mouthed to him.
Yes, Max
.

Max didn't even know it was possible to feel this happy. He thought his chest might break from the ecstatic beating of his heart. "
Nicci
," he murmured against her lips and kissed her.
 

"Ah-
hem
," Lachlan said, desperation leaching into his voice.
Please, guys
.
 

Nicola ended the kiss and pressed her forehead against Max's. "I love you," she whispered so only he would hear.

"I love you," he murmured.

She drew a long, deep breath then pushed him out at arm's length, the Titania character snapping into place, "'But I know when thou hast stolen away from fairy land . . . '"

Out of pity for the rest of the actors onstage they finished that scene without any more ad-libbing or extra kisses. But it was one of the hardest things Max had ever done not to catch Nicola in his arms and whirl her around in elation.
 

And then, Shakespeare and fate being cruel masters, she exited the scene but he was still stuck onstage. Then, as soon as
he
could exit,
she
had to go onstage and fall asleep to do her Bottom scenes. She was onstage asleep, out of reach for the next two full scenes and then,
again
, as soon as she had exited, he had to go on as Oberon. He'd never noticed before how much they kept missing each other in the damn, stupid play. Fate, Shakespeare, and the blocking cruelly conspiring to keep them apart.
Nicola. I want Nicola
.
Damn Shakespeare
.

Finally,
finally
, Nicola was offstage waiting, and Max was about to be. "'But, notwithstanding, haste; make no delay,'" he said to Lachlan. "'We may effect this business yet ere day.'"
 

Max ran offstage, and Nicola threw herself into his arms, kissing him furiously. He was the director; he should worry about screwing up her make-up, her hair, her costume.
 

He
really
didn't.
 

"You came back. You came back," he whispered again and again, grateful, kissing every inch of her he could lay lips too, her hair, her cheek, her ear, her throat. She cupped his face and swept her tongue into his mouth, kissing him like they hadn't seen each other in years.
 

"I'm never leaving," she whispered, and kissed him again. "Never."
Kiss
. "Never."
Kiss
. "Never."

He cupped her head, holding her in place while he ravished her mouth.
 

"Titania!" someone whispered.
 

Max let her go, his cheeks hurting from all the smiling.
 

"You two seem to be getting along," Lachlan murmured.
 

"Yeah." Max sighed as he watched Nicola cavort around with Gil and her fairy handmaidens. "How many pages are left of this fucking play?"

Lachlan laughed.

***

Nicola had never realized before how long the damn play was. All she wanted was to get away, to be alone with Max, but people kept talking to her, she had to keep doing scenes, acting. Ridiculous.
 

But finally,
finally
, Lachlan was onstage doing 'If we shadows have offended' and Nicola was standing beside Max in the wings, gripping his hand. "We did it, Max. And it was
good
."

"I knew all that extra kissing practice would pay off."

She laughed and engaged in a little more "practice" real quick before they did bows.

Lachlan finished the speech and the audience erupted in applause, startling her so she jumped away from Max. He closed his eyes and squeezed her hand, drinking it all in. "We did it, Nic." He looked at her, his eyes warm. "The first of many opening nights together, yes?"

She cupped his jaw, her engagement ring glinting in the stage lights. "Damn straight."

When the two of them walked out together to take their bows, the crowd shot to their feet, the house shook with the sound of applause. (Of course, Lachlan got a bigger standing ovation than either of them, but you can't have everything.)

As they walked into the wings after curtain call, Max slid to a sudden halt, and Nicola bumped into him.
 

"What?" she asked.

Max swallowed. "Isabelle."

"So?"

He grimaced and whirled toward her. "Isabelle is going to be pissed about you quitting."

Huh?
Nicola frowned, confused. "I didn't quit."

"What? But you said you were doing the tour."

"I meant in July. You really thought I'd quit opening weekend?"

"You missed call time. And curtain."

"Traffic sucked and you distracted me so I lost track of time. Wow, I guess I understand now why Allie was in my costume."
 

Max tilted his head to the side, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "How
did
you get into your Titania costume so fast?

Nicola dropped her gaze down, her cheeks burning. "Um . . . I kind of tackled Allie backstage and stripped her out of my costume. Actually. Um."

Max let out a crack of laughter.
 

Nicola elbowed him in the gut. "Not funny."

He pulled her forward. Toward Isabelle. "Come on. We'll face her together."

"I like the sound of that." And she did. She really,
really
did.
 

Without preamble, Isabelle leveled a withering glare at Nicola. "And why was it you missed call time, miss?
Hmmm?
"

But even as Isabelle said this, Nicola caught a hidden glint of humor in the other woman's eyes. And she didn't miss the quick darting look Isabelle gave her engagement ring.

Nicola tipped her head to the side and said, matter-of-factly, "Shall I get down on my knees and beg forgiveness for my tardiness, Isabelle?"

Isabelle's mouth worked as she restrained a grin. She raised one eyebrow then sighed. "Please don't. You'll ruin the dress and then Tierney will kill me." Isabelle ran her gaze up and down Nicola then said, with that fierce, rich diction of hers, "
Well
, now you
are
here, I think the RSF should make good use of your talents, don't you? I certainly don't want to lose you to that
Anything Goes
tour in July."

Max squeezed her hand. Nicola caught her breath with excitement. "Does that mean I can come back for next season?"

"Until that
Anything Goes
lapse in judgment you worked hard for the company," Isabelle said. "And you accepted all that B.S. from Judith without batting an eyelash. I've been impressed with you so far, Nicola."

Nicola couldn't believe she was hearing this. But, hey, if Isabelle was in such a good mood, maybe she should push? Just a little? "If you guys are still doing
Henry V
," she said. "I think I'd make a good Princess Katharine."

Isabelle's mouth quirked. "I had a different part in mind for you."

"Oh. I see." Nicola fought not to wilt too visibly. An extra? A page? One of the princess' handmaidens?

"Henry V," Isabelle said.

"Oh." Nicola blinked. "Wait. What?"

Isabelle's mouth curled in a smirk. "I had the idea after you performed at the school program. I think you'll make a wonderful Henry. Oh, and I'm pretty sure you'll get along with the director." Isabelle winked, slid Max a sly look, then wandered away to congratulate other members of the cast.

"Who's the director?" Nicola asked, feeling pole-axed.

"Me," Max said.

She wheeled toward him, gaping. He nodded, and his eyes were shining.
 

"Max!"
 

He caught her in his arms and spun with her, the two of them shrieking like idiots. "This is fantastic, Nicci. I had all these ideas about how we could do
Henry V
with a female lead after the school program."

"Me too."

"It actually fits pretty well."

"Totally!" They started offstage together, hand in hand toward the dressing rooms, talking all the way, giddy. "You wouldn't do medieval costumes for a production like this," she said.
 

"No, we should do Elizabethan stuff," he replied. "All the way, all out. Style the female-Henry to echo Queen Elizabeth I as closely as possible."

"Yes!" she said, bouncing on her feet and hanging on his arm.
 

Oh, it sounded cool. It would be difficult, no question. What to do about the scenes with the French princess, for instance? But the challenges were another fun mental puzzle, not a deterrent to doing the production. And a bold concept like this would draw all kinds of attention to the RSF. It would be a great vehicle for Nicola. People who might skip a more traditional presentation of
Henry V
would still come to see this just for the curiosity. And it would be great for Max's directing career. Establishing him as an innovator. Imaginative. Bold.
 

And the two of them would be together through it all. Brainstorming. Working. Living together. Loving.
 

She bit her lip and stopped, wheeling to face him. He paused too and turned, raising his eyebrows in question.
 

"Max," she said. "Are you still going to moon me backstage now that you're a fancy director?"
 

"When the occasion calls for it."

She kissed him. "
Good
."

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• If you're a fan of romantic fantasy, you might want to check out my fantasy releases, writing as E.D. Walker, available now:

•      
The Beauty's Beast
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Heir to the Underworld
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Love's Last Call