She tried not to make it mean more than it did. He did care. She’d felt it in the way he’d held her when he’d reached the grove. Maybe, just maybe, he even loved her a little. But she couldn’t push him, or herself. It was best to deal with other things.

She toyed with her potatoes. “But I really do feel fine now, Alex. There’s no need for you to go to the trouble of disconnecting the phones.”

“It’s already done.” He took a bottle of wine from a bucket and poured two glasses. “There won’t be any need for you to speak with anyone outside the palace tomorrow. Brie and her family are moving in temporarily. I’m sure the children can entertain you.”

“Alex, be reasonable. I have to talk to my people. They must be frantic. You have no idea how overblown theater people can make things. And getting my office back into shape is going to take days.”

“I want you to go back to Houston.”

Slowly she set her knife and fork on the tray. “What?”

“I want you to take your troupe back to America. I’m canceling the performances.”

She hadn’t realized she had the energy for anger. “You try that and I’ll sue your royal tail off.”

“Eve, this is no time for ego. What happened today—”

“Had nothing to do with the theater and little to do with me. We both know that. If it did, I’d be no safer in Houston than here.”

He was through with logic. In this, with her, there were only feelings. “I don’t want you here.”

The quick slice of pain hit its mark. She let it pass, then picked up her knife and fork again. “It won’t do any good to try to hurt me, Alexander. I won’t go, and neither will the troupe, not until all four performances are finished. We have a contract.”

His French was harsher and a great deal more explicit than his English. He rolled into it as he rose to pace the room. She’d learned enough in her Swiss boarding school, particularly in the dorms, to understand him perfectly.

“Nanny mentioned that you had a filthy temper,” she said, and continued to eat. The fact that she’d finally seen it loose pleased her. He wasn’t so controlled now, she thought. So she would be. “The wine is excellent, Alexander. Why don’t you sit down and enjoy it?”

“Merde!” He swung back to her, resisting the urge to fling her tray and its contents on the floor. “This is not a game. Do you know what I went through when I thought you might be dead? That you might have been in that room when the bomb went off?”