He lifted another timber off the stack and for the hundredth time questioned exactly why he was here.
And for the hundredth time, the answer followed in an instant.
Keeping Delilah safe.
Again.
His task completed, satisfied sweat dripping down the sides of his face and the hollow of his spine, he rejoined the men, none of whom had shifted an inch in the last half hour. Life in a theater company moved at a different pace than what Sebastian was accustomed to.
“More than full of himself, that one,” muttered Bran, just loud enough for the group to hear as an actor passed by. The man did possess a rather haughty angle to his dimpled chin.
The men, to a one, nodded their agreement.
Actors.A favorite subject of mild disdain amongst the men who kept the company running, if not in a smooth gallop, then at a serviceable limp, at least.
“And that Bliss…” began Fix-All.
Groans sounded around.
“If she summons me to her bunk again, like she’s Queen Anne, I’ll have to tell her what’s what.”
“And what’s that?” asked Mattie, flashing a grin.
“It ain’t the bed that got lumps in it, but her arse!”
This provoked more than a few guffaws.
Bran shrugged a shoulder. “I happen to like an arse with a few lumps in it. More cushion for the—”
“High of spirits, them actors,” continued Fix-All, not one to be put off a subject. “Still, when Bliss did that scene as Lady Jane up there, it did bring an old bead of moisture to the eye.”
Sebastian suspected Fix-All would be finding himself in Bliss’s bunk tonight, after all.
Though a divide existed between the actors and the working men, each harbored a respect and admiration for one another’s place in their special world. Neither could exist without the other.
A figure clambered up onto the stage, a sheaf of papers in her hand.Tall… willowy… cropped blonde curls…
Lilah.
Quiet descended as the men watched her pace the boards, her brow furrowed in concentration, her mouth moving silently as she went over her lines.
“And her?” Sebastian found himself asking.
Bran nodded. “That one’s all right.”
“Lovely as a sunrise, she is,” offered Mattie.
“But not puffed up with it,” added Soppitt.
Fix-All nodded pensively and tapped a forefinger to his chin in the pose of a philosopher. “A looker like that usually demands the lead. But not this one. She knows her place in the pecking order and respects it.”
“I reckon she won’t be happy with the bit parts for long,” said Soppitt. “She’s too…” he trailed into silence.
She’s too…
That summed up Delilah perfectly.
She was tooeverything.
