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‘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.
