The Prince’s Outback Bride

CHAPTER EIGHT

THE village might be tiny, but it catered for money.

‘Monaco’s within easy driving distance and we have amazing summers,’ Max said. He was playing tourist guide, his smooth, informative chat proving the safest of conversations. ‘So we have Europe’s wealthy summering here, driving between here and the casinos.’ He pulled into a parking lot in front of a dozen quaint shops. ‘Daniella’s your best choice. The dress shop on the corner.’

‘You’d know that, how?’

‘Beatrice told me,’ he said, looking wounded.

Pippa even managed a laugh. ‘Okay. Daniella’s it is. How much do I have to spend?’

‘As much as you like.’ He climbed out of the car and came round to open her door. ‘The royal fortune is entailed. That means it’s been kept safe and there’s more than enough to pay for you to wear what you like. Diamond-studded knickers if that’s what takes your fancy.’

She choked. ‘It doesn’t.’

‘How did I know you’d say that?’ He grinned. ‘Let’s go.’

‘You’re not shopping with me.’ She was too close to him, she thought. Damn him for his good manners. She wanted him back on the other side of the car.

‘Of course I’m coming.’

‘Of course nothing. I’m having no man saying, “Nope, that’s not suitable,” or “That color makes you look consumptive,” or, “Gee, I like that one, it gives you great bazookers.”’

‘Bazookers?’

‘See, you don’t even know the language. How do I pay?’

He hesitated, but her chin was tilting in a gesture he was starting to know.

‘Fine,’ he said, conceding defeat. Maybe she was right. They needed to keep their distance. He produced an embossed card. ‘You need a couple of dinner dresses, one over-the-top evening dress and anything else that catches your eye. I’ll be drinking coffee in Vlados, over the road.’

‘Fine,’ she repeated, and looked at the card. ‘You sure this’ll work?’

‘I’m sure. Daniella will recognise it. She’ll probably have heard about you. She’ll certainly have heard about the children. Pippa…’

‘Yes?’

She was standing in the late-afternoon sunshine, chin tilted, dredging up courage. David against Goliath.

It was important to maintain distance.

He couldn’t. It was too much for any man. It was too much for him.

‘Good luck in your hunting,’ he said softly. His fingers caught her under the chin and tilted her chin just a tiny bit more. He kissed her. Softly, fleetingly, withdrawing before she had time to react.

‘Go to it, my David,’ he told her and he smiled and turned away to find his coffee shop.

Max bought a newspaper. He settled in at Vlados and ordered a coffee. He drank half a cup; there was a commotion in the entrance and there was Pippa.

She was in the midst of a group of uniformed men. Subdued. In her simple jeans and her T-shirt and sandals, she looked absurdly defenseless. David defeated?

He was on his feet and moving towards her before she saw him.

‘Pippa?’

She turned, relief washing over her face. She broke away from the men and met him halfway across the restaurant. She was not only defeated, he thought. She was furious. Her eyes were sparking daggers and spots of high colour suffused each cheek.

She tossed down the card on the nearest table. With force. ‘Great idea, Your Highness.’

‘What?’

‘I don’t look royal.’

‘You look pretty good to me,’ he said and smiled, and then he stopped smiling as she looked around as if she was searching for something to brain him with. ‘Hey, I’m not the bad guy here. At least,’ he said cautiously, ‘I don’t think I am.’

‘You’re not,’ she said, glaring at the group of men she’d just left. ‘But you gave me the stupid card.’

‘The card was a problem?’

‘The whole idea was a problem.’

‘Are you going to t-’

It seemed she was going to tell. ‘I’d barely set foot over the threshold,’ she told him. ‘Before Daniella herself-all coiffure and glitter-came snaking out from behind the counter and wondered if I was in the right shop. I said I needed three formal dresses and if she had formal dresses then I was in the right shop.’

He was baffled. She looked really close to tears, he thought. He badly wanted to hold her but if he did…she’d back off, he thought, and he made a huge effort to make his voice noncommittal. ‘So?’

‘So she became very formal. She showed me a dress which looked okay, even if it did look like it was at the bottom of the range she carried. I said could I try it and she said, for security, could she see some form of identification as well as my credit card. I was getting pretty peeved, but I need a damned dress so I gave her my passport and your dumb royal card.’

‘I see,’ he said, really cautiously. He didn’t see.

‘So instead of helping me change into the dress she showed me into a cubicle. Then while I was wrangling zips she rang Levout. Who said I had no authority to charge anything to the castle and I must have stolen the card and he’d send the police straight away.’

‘You are kidding,’ he said slowly, but he knew already that she wasn’t. Uh-oh.

‘So I came out of the change room looking the ants pants in a little black number that would have knocked your socks off and I was met by six policemen. Six! And they wanted to haul me away in all my finery. Only then Daniella set up a screech about her dress, which she said costs a fortune, which, by the way, I was never going to buy because it was scratchy, and she made me take it off. Then and there. She made me change without going into the cubicle. She told the men to face the street but she wouldn’t let me go back into the change room. She watched every step of the way in case I hurt her precious frock. I was humiliated to my socks and she watched me change like I was a criminal and even though I was wearing the most respectable knickers in the world all the time I was getting so…so…’

Hell. His hands were clenched into his palms so hard they hurt.

‘Anyway, I got back in my own gear,’ she muttered, as if she was trying hard to move on. ‘Then the police said I was under arrest, and I saw red. I said I hadn’t stolen your stupid card and that you were here and you’d sent me to buy a dress and you’re in charge of their stupid police force and you’ll sack the lot of them and if they didn’t check with you first you’ll have their necks on the guillotine first thing in the morning.’

‘Hey,’ he said, almost startled out of anger. ‘Guillotine?’

‘Well, maybe I didn’t say quite that,’ she muttered, glowering. ‘But it’s what I meant. Daniella’s horrible coiffure would look great in a bucket, and I’d knit and watch like anything. Anyway, then they thought they’d check with you. So they frog-marched me over here-well, why wouldn’t they when Levout assured them I was nothing to do with you? Now they’ve seen you and they’re really nervous. But they’re waiting on your command right now, to take me out and shoot me at dawn.’

There were six burly police officers in the doorway, muttering fiercely among themselves. Looking uncomfortable. As well they might.

‘They seem to know you,’ she said, anger becoming calmer now. ‘Not me, though. I’m a provincial.’

‘I’ll go talk to them.’

‘Good. I’ll go steal a beer from the bar.’

‘Maybe a coffee would be better. Vlados will fetch one for you.’

‘Why not live up to my reputation?’

‘Pippa?’

‘Yes.’

‘Have a coffee.’

By the time he reached them, the policemen were pretty sure they were in the wrong. Pippa’s anger must have been obvious, as was the conciliatory hand Max put on her shoulder as he left her.

‘Did she have rights to use the card?’ the officer with the most stripes asked before he said a word.

‘Yes,’ Max said, dangerously calm. ‘You saw our photographs taken the day we arrived? Did you recognise her?’

‘Yes, but she isn’t royal. We’re sorry if we’ve made a mistake, though. We were acting on Levout’s orders.’

‘You have made a mistake. And what possible authority does Levout have over you?’

‘He assured us the card was stolen.’

‘You haven’t answered my question. Was it his suggestion that made you force Miss Donohue to strip in the centre of the shop?’

‘I…no. That was Miss Daniella’s idea. She was concerned about her clothing.’

‘And you agreed? You stood by while someone was forced to strip in public?’

‘I…’

‘There’ll be changes,’ Max said wearily. ‘Starting from the top.’

‘If you mean dismissal…’ the man said unhappily.

‘I’m not talking about dismissal. And, much as my friend over there would like an even more gory fate to befall you, I’m not interested in that either. I want names and ranks, written here.’ He motioned to the waiter. ‘This man will do it for me. There’ll be repercussions, but meanwhile all I have to say is that Levout has no authority to act on my behalf in any capacity whatsoever. Is that clear?’

‘That’s clear,’ he was told unhappily, and he left them writing their names while he returned to Pippa.

‘This is a symptom of the mess we need to deal with,’ he told her grimly. ‘People with friends in high places can order the police force at whim. If you agree that Marc can stay here then I can fix this.’

‘Oh, great,’ she muttered. ‘More blackmail.’

‘I’m not blackmailing.’

‘Just holding a gun to my head.’

‘There are guns to both our heads. You tell me what to do. Brand my mother a liar in public? And surely you don’t want to go back to the farm?’

‘No, I-’

‘And you wouldn’t leave the kids here without you.’

She hesitated. Just for a moment she hesitated. ‘No,’ she said finally. ‘Of course I wouldn’t. And you know that. Toe-rag.’

‘You’re calling me a toe-rag?’

‘Yes,’ she said bluntly. ‘I am. You’re saying you’ll fix this but from a distance? From back in Paris while you build your buildings? I can’t take on a proxy role and neither can Marc. If this country is such a mess-’

‘I’m doing all I can. Hell, Pippa, until five weeks ago I was a carpenter.’

‘And I was a dairy maid,’ she said, trying for a smile but not succeeding. Her shoulders sagged. He wanted to…he wanted…

He couldn’t. At least he couldn’t without speaking to his mother. Hell.

The police were filing out. ‘Did you threaten something really messy?’ she asked, without much hope.

‘No.’

‘Just as well,’ she said, and tried again to smile. ‘I’m not worth it.’

‘You are worth it. Pippa, I’m so sorry. You’re being sent from humiliation to humiliation. At Tanbarook, and now here.’

‘I’m fine.’

‘If you stay we have to figure out a role.’ Even if he sorted things with his mother-even if he accepted what was starting to seem inevitable-she had to have a place here.

But she was shaking her head. ‘Kids’ guardian is the only role I want. Me and Dolores can sit in the sun for the rest of our lives. Where’s the problem in that?’

‘I-’

‘Look, let’s just organise this damned photo,’ she said. ‘If it really has to be taken. But I’d rather walk on nails than go back to Daniella’s.’

‘She’s the only decent dress shop in the village.’

‘What’s that over there?’

She gestured towards the window. People were wandering into what looked like a dilapidated village hall. ‘It looks like some sort of repertory company,’ she said. ‘There are billboards all over the front, and ladies have been going in with dresses.’

‘So?’

‘So if it’s anything like any repertory company I’ve ever been involved with-’

‘You’re involved with repertory?’

‘I’ve been Katisha in a Gilbert and Sullivan hospital Christmas pageant.’

The dragon lady in The Mikado? ‘I don’t believe it,’ he said faintly.

‘Want to hear an excerpt?’

‘No!’ Dammit, he wanted to hug her. He hated the bruised look behind her eyes. He wanted…

He couldn’t. Hell, he needed to talk to his mother.

She was moving on.

‘If this is a repertory company like any I’ve been involved with they’ll have a room full of used costumes out the back. If you get to wear a dress sword, surely I can find something suitable to match.’

The repertory players were fascinated. ‘Go right ahead,’ they said, laughing among themselves at the thought of the props of their pageantry being used for such an occasion. ‘We have costumes here a hundred years old.’

‘Excellent,’ Pippa said, notably brightening. ‘A can-can dancer? Maybe not.’

‘We don’t usually lend them,’ the wardrobe mistress told them. ‘We use them over and over again. But for an occasion like this and if it saves you from paying money to that Daniella…’

‘She’s not popular?’ Max queried.

‘She’s the only business in this town to make money,’ the woman said darkly. ‘The rest of us live hand to mouth but Daniella is a friend to the palace.’

That was said with such disdain that both Pippa and Max paused in their search and stared.

‘I didn’t mean you,’ the woman said, flushing a little. ‘We have such hopes, Your Highness,’ she told Max. ‘With you and your family settled in the palace…’

‘Just family,’ Pippa said. ‘Not him.’

‘Pippa, leave it,’ Max said shortly. ‘We came to find you a dress.’

‘So we did. Or I did. But I don’t need you to help me choose.’

‘I’d like to help.’

‘Yes, but I don’t want you to,’ she said, brightness fading. ‘I need to get used to working this thing out on my own. Go watch a play rehearsal.’

She emerged a half hour later carrying a really big parcel. She looked pleased, but as she emerged and saw Max waiting for her in the late-afternoon sunshine her smile died.

Why did she stop smiling when she saw him? He didn’t like it. ‘What did you find?’

‘Wait and see.’

Okay. He deserved this. He unfolded his long frame from the stone wall where he’d been sitting. They walked half a block to their car-and Daniella herself came bustling out of her shop to intercept them.

‘Your Highness,’ she called, and Max paused.

‘Get in the car, Pippa.’

‘Are you kidding?’ She summoned a smile. ‘I want to punch her lights out.’

‘You’re not allowed to punch anyone’s lights out.’

‘Really?’ she said, quasi hopeful.

‘Just because you walloped me doesn’t mean you can get used to it.’

‘No?’ She bit her lip, her entrancing twinkle back. ‘But I’m really sorry I walloped you.’

‘That’s fine. It was an entirely justifiable wallop.’

‘And walloping Daniella isn’t?’

‘Not if we don’t want a law suit.’

She signed theatrically, but she pinned on a smile as she turned to face the approaching Daniella.

Daniella was in her mid fifties, pencil slim, platinum blonde, dressed in sleek, expensive black. She was clicking hurriedly toward them on six-inch heels.

‘I need to apologise,’ she said, breathless and passionate, but she spoke only to Max. ‘If I’d realised she really had authority-’

‘She?’

Daniella motioned to Pippa. ‘This woman. You need to get an identification system for authorised servants, Your Highness. The old prince let us know clearly who could buy things on his behalf.’

‘Pippa is the guardian of the Crown Prince. She has the royal card.’

‘Yes, but she has no money on her own behalf,’ the woman said. ‘And the little prince is too small to have her in charge. I didn’t know what her credit limit was. Let me know and I’ll accommodate her.’

‘Hello? I’m right here,’ Pippa said, but she was ignored.

‘Pippa has authority to spend as much as she pleases,’ Max snapped.

‘The old prince never gave carte blanche to any of his servants.’

‘Pippa is not a servant,’ he roared, in a voice that startled them all. A toddler, being pushed in a stroller nearby, started to cry.

‘What is she, then?’ Daniella asked, looking at Pippa as if she were pond scum. Well, she had seen her in her bargain-basement knickers, Pippa conceded. She just knew Daniella wore kinky lace. But she couldn’t get a word in edgeways.

‘She’s Pippa,’ Max said through gritted teeth. ‘She’s part of the new order of things, so you’d better get used to it.’

They were building an audience. The players from the hall emerged as well. They’d obviously watched them leave and the sound of Max’s roar had been just too enticing. They were crowding onto the pavement to watch.

‘Pippa needs a tiara if she’s going to be part of the royal family,’ the wardrobe mistress called. ‘Come back and I’ll find you one.’

‘No, thanks,’ Pippa called. ‘It wouldn’t be seemly.’

‘Why wouldn’t it be seemly?’ Max demanded. ‘Why can’t you have a tiara?’

Pippa blinked, thrown off stride. ‘I’d look ridiculous.’

‘I’ll buy you a tiara.’

‘You do that,’ the wardrobe mistress called. ‘She should have a real tiara. Everyone says she loves the new little prince to bits.’

‘But she’s not part of the royal family,’ Daniella snapped.

‘Your part of the royal family is dead and gone,’ one of the players called. ‘The Levouts’ time is finished.’ Then, as Max and Pippa looked confused, he explained. ‘She’s Carver Levout’s mistress. She thinks she’s royal herself.’

Suddenly the atmosphere was nasty.

‘Can we get out of here?’ Pippa asked and Max nodded and held the car door open.

‘We need to go,’ he called. ‘Thanks for your help with the dress.’

‘Who helped with the dress?’ Daniella demanded, white-faced. Maybe she was realising she was missing out on a commission she just might need in the future.

‘We did,’ the wardrobe mistress called. ‘Ooh, it’s lovely. She’s going to look really royal.’

‘Especially beside him,’ one of the players added. ‘What a hunk.’

‘They make a lovely couple,’ the wardrobe mistress said mistily. ‘A real royal couple.’

‘We’re leaving,’ Max said, revolted, and slipped into the driver’s seat beside her. He gunned his little car into life, but they were surrounded by players, smiling and laughing and edging Daniella out of the picture.

‘We’re so glad you’re here,’ was the general message, though it came in many shapes and forms.

Max nosed the car forward.

‘A real family,’ the wardrobe mistress sighed.

‘Levout’s day is over,’ someone else called. ‘As of next Friday,’ they yelled. ‘We’re aching to see Levout’s face when those documents are finally signed.’

They drove in silence. Pippa stared straight ahead, her face expressionless.

Max was feeling ill.

What was happening here? Why was it such a mess?

He had to get back to Paris.

It had taken him twenty hard years to get where he was now, he thought dully. Some said he’d been lucky, and that was true. His former boss had been a fantastic craftsman and his skills, combined with Max’s business acumen, had been a winning combination. But Max had earned his luck. He worked seven days a week, always obliging, always learning, desperate to achieve a fortune in his own right. A fortune that wasn’t tainted by royalty.

He’d achieved his aim. He and his former boss had created one of the biggest construction firms in Europe. His mother had one of the finest apartments in Paris and the best of medical care.

None of it was paid for by royal money.

To abandon his career and come back here because of guilt.

No and no and no.

Marc would make a fine prince, he told himself. He and the twins would be happy here.

Only because Pippa would stay with them. Because he was forcing Pippa to stay. He was giving her no choice.

And he had a choice. He’d rejected becoming Crown Prince, but if it would take that look off Pippa’s face…

But would she go back to the farm? Would her sense of honour let her stay here?

‘What’s happening next Friday?’ Pippa asked, cutting across his thoughts. ‘What documents are being signed?’

He grimaced. He’d meant Pippa to be happily settled in the castle, determined never to revert to poverty, before he set this before her. Why was it suddenly so complicated?

He loved her?

The thought was so incredible that he took his foot off the accelerator for fear of doing something dumb.

Love?

Impossible. He didn’t do love.

‘Tell me about Friday,’ she demanded in a small, cold voice and he forced himself to focus.

Friday.

‘The succession has to be decided by next Friday.’ Somehow he made his voice free of inflexion. ‘The incumbent to the throne has to accept that position within sixty days of Bernard’s death.’

‘The incumbent. You mean Marc.’

‘I guess so. Though you’ll have to sign in his stead.’

‘Because you won’t?’

‘I can’t sign for him.’

‘I mean you won’t be Crown Prince.’ She brushed her arm across her eyes in a gesture of weariness. ‘No. Of course you can’t.’

‘Pippa, this will be a wonderful life for you.’

‘It will,’ she said dully. ‘I can see that.’

He swore and shoved his foot on the brake. The car stopped dead, right in the middle of the road.

‘I hate doing this to you.’

‘Sure.’

‘No, really.’

‘Just leave it, Max.’

‘I can’t,’ he said miserably. ‘Hell, Pippa, to drag my mother through such a mess…’

‘I can’t see that’s necessary.’

‘I mean figuratively.’

‘Oh,’ she said flatly. ‘Figuratively. I see.’

‘You don’t see,’ he said and he reached out and took her shoulders, turning her so she was forced to meet his gaze. ‘My mother was a teenage bride-seduced by my father’s looks and money. He got her pregnant. The only reason he married her was that he was in the midst of a row with his own father at the time. Louis wanted him to marry an heiress and he married my mother out of spite.’

‘You don’t need to tell me this.’

‘I need you to understand.’

‘I do understand.’

‘Pippa, you’re gorgeous.’

‘Oh, right,’ she said and tried to pull away. ‘Cut it out.’

‘I mean it. Hell, Pippa, all I’m thinking about is you. I’m trying to sort out the succession, the politics, the way the country needs to be structured and all I can think about is you.’

‘Then stop thinking about me,’ she said angrily. ‘You’ remaking me miserable, and I can’t be miserable. I’m going back to the palace to be chirpy like I always am. I’m going back to singing.’

‘Like you were in the dairy. To block things out.’

‘You’re blocking the road.’

‘Pippa-’

‘You’re blocking the road.’

‘Dammit, I’m the Prince Regent of Alp d’Estella,’ he growled. ‘I’m at least the Prince Regent. If I want to block a road then I damn well can.’ He glared at her for all of a minute, daring her to gainsay him.

She didn’t gainsay him.

‘You just sit there looking at me…’ he growled.

‘What am I supposed to do?’

He knew what he was supposed to do. His path was suddenly crystal-clear.

He kissed her.

He kissed her, and suddenly confusion fell away. Whatever else was wrong in this crazy world, this was right.

She tasted…like Pippa.

Nothing more. Nothing less. He wanted nothing else.

Pippa.

His hands grasped her shoulders so he could pinion her lips right where he wanted them. His mouth claimed hers. For a fraction of a moment she held herself rigid, as if she might pull away-as if she might react with horror, slap him once more?-but it was the sensation of a moment. Nothing more. He felt her resistance slump out of her. He felt her lips open under his.

Pippa.

She was perfection. His hands lowered to her waist and he gathered her close. Dammit, the gear stick was in the way. Why the hell did he have such a tiny car? He was hauling her close, closer and still the damned gear stick was between.

He’d break the thing if he could.

He couldn’t. There was no room on her side of the car for him, or his side for her. Outside there was bare bitumen.

He had to make do with what he had. Which was Pippa, kissing him as he was kissing her. Opening her lips and letting him taste her as deeply as he wanted. Letting his hands hold the curves of her, slip under her T-shirt to feel the silken smooth curve of her bare skin.

He wanted her. He wanted her as he’d never wanted a woman. He wanted her in his bed, and more.

Her hands were in his hair, making him crazy. Of all the erotic sensations…She was deepening the kiss all by herself. Wonderful woman, he thought, amazed by the cleverness of her gesture. Wonderful, wonderful sprite. A red-headed minx who had the knowledge that if she pulled him tighter the kiss couldn’t be broken…

He was nuts. He was granting her intellect for one simple gesture. The idea made him smile from within, a great, warming, inward sigh of pure wonder.

Any woman might have done the same, he thought, but there was only one Pippa.

The kiss was endless. Neither of them was willing to break the moment. Maybe if this had been another time, another place, with just a fraction more privacy, without the awful impediment of a gear stick, then they would have taken this further, tumbling into glorious passion.

But they couldn’t. They were in the middle of a one-way cliffside road.

Someone was watching.

Max had closed his eyes, savouring the moment. Suddenly some extra sense made him open one eye.

Cautiously.

There were three men and a woman right beside their open sports car. Their audience was watching with every evidence of enjoyment.

‘Don’t mind us, M’sier,’ one of the men said, and he recognised one of the players from the village. ‘Our director tells us to study real life. Romain thought we should sound the horn so you could move your vehicle, but, no, I said, one is only young once and maybe we have forgotten. It does no harm to remind ourselves.’ He gave a rueful smile. ‘The play we are performing, you see,’ He said, apologetic but still smiling. ‘I play a young man with a young man’s passion. Like yourself. But I’m fifty-three years old and I should not be cast as a young man. No matter. All our young have left to try and find work in Italy or France so we are left to do what we can. But it does the heart good to see such reminders.’

Max’s eyes were wide open now. As were Pippa’s. She was still in his arms but she’d burrowed her head into his shoulder. She choked.

‘You laugh and I’ll have to kill you,’ he whispered.

‘Or kiss me again?’ she whispered back and he fought to maintain a straight face. Kiss her again? Mmm.

But his audience was waiting for a response. ‘I was just comforting Miss-’

‘Oh, yes,’ the only woman in the group said, understandingly. ‘It’s very nice that our Prince Regent comforts the guardian of our new Crown Prince. It’s a very satisfactory thing to happen. You and this lady? Yes and yes and yes.’

‘Levout said at the end of one month you intend to go back to Paris,’ the first player told him, settling in for a mid-road chat. ‘We asked how is that possible-when the country needs a ruler as much as we do? But of course it’s nonsense. Miss will never leave the children. And you…the rumour is that the lady, your mother, was not exactly truthful with your father. All the servants are whispering. Before when we don’t see you we accept that she play-how you say-fast and loose. But you…you are a de Gauiter. Yes and yes and yes. So now…This is good.’ He grinned. ‘This miss will need much comfort. And not in Paris.’

‘Hey, I do not need much comfort,’ Pippa squeaked, tugging herself away. As much as she could. Which wasn’t very far, as Max’s arms still held her.

‘Miss, if you need to deal with the likes of Levout and his compatriots you will need help,’ the woman said. ‘He is like an octopus. His tentacles are everywhere. His people will wish you nothing but evil.’

‘That’s nonsense,’ Max said, but he felt suddenly uneasy. Or more uneasy. These people were verbalising what he already suspected.

And her words were heard and understood by Pippa. ‘Let’s go home,’ she said, no longer laughing. ‘Marc-’

‘He’s fine.’

‘Yes, but I want to go home. Please, Max.’

‘Sure,’ he said and he let her go.

‘You keep them all safe,’ the woman said.

‘This is a wonderful family,’ another added. ‘We wish you joy.’

‘We wish us all joy,’ the woman added. ‘And maybe it comes true. Maybe it comes true for all of us.’

They drove for the next few minutes in silence. Max stared straight ahead, his mind whirling.

What they’d said was right. He couldn’t leave her.

But his mother…His construction company…How could he let them go? And how could he stay here? He’d stay here for what? To keep Pippa safe? And spend the rest of his life in the goldfish bowl as well?

He wanted to pick them all up and take them back to Paris. Be done with the whole sordid mess.

Hell.

‘If you grip the steering wheel any harder you’ll break it,’ Pippa said conversationally, and he eased his grip. A little. With enormous difficulty.

‘It’s not a great choice, is it?’ she said softly.

‘No.’

‘By Friday next week, you say?’

‘Yes.’

‘There’s a lot of thinking for both of us,’ she whispered. ‘Meanwhile…Max, please don’t kiss me any more. It clouds the issues and we badly don’t need clouds.’

The vague sense of unease they’d felt at the player’s mention of evil was unfounded. They arrived back as the last of the day’s sun played tangerine light on the massive stone walls and turrets, turning the place into more of a fairy-tale setting than it already was. Pascal-Marie, the butler, met them sedately, and Beatrice was close behind. All was well.

‘The children have gone to sleep,’ Beatrice told them. ‘They were too excited to have an afternoon nap. Because the formal photograph session is set for eight tonight, we fed them early and put them to bed. I thought we could wake them at seven.’

‘I’ll check them,’ Pippa said, crossing to the stairway.

‘Pippa?’ Max called after her and she paused, three stairs up.

‘Yes?’

Pippa.

He couldn’t think of a thing to say.

‘Oh, there is a problem with your dog,’ Beatrice added and Pippa stilled. Maybe all wasn’t well.

‘With Dolores?’

‘She’s asleep by the fire in the front sitting room,’ Beatrice said. ‘She romped with the children in the fountain this afternoon. Like a great puppy. We dried her off, and she went to sleep in the sun. It’s probably laziness but when the children went up to bed they couldn’t persuade her to join them.’

She was through to the sitting room in an instant. Max followed.

The old dog was still sleeping. This room faced south west, with windows all round. Dolores would have had direct sunlight, with the fire adding a little top-up warmth if necessary. The rugs here were inches thick. Why would an old dog move? Max thought appreciatively.

‘Dolores,’ Pippa whispered and dropped to her knees. The dog opened her eyes, gave her tail a feeble wag and closed her eyes again.

Pippa lifted the old head and cradled it on her lap, running her hand over her flank, letting her fingers lie on her chest. ‘Dolores?’

‘Is she okay?’ Max asked, feeling he was intruding on something personal.

‘She’s okay,’ Pippa whispered, laying her cheek on the old dog’s head. ‘She’s just really, really old, and it’ll have been exciting with the children today. The vet told us that this would be her last winter.’ She looked up at Max and her eyes glimmered with unshed tears. ‘But thanks to you she’s had a summer instead of a winter. She has sunbeams and log fires.’

But still that sheen of tears. ‘Hey…’

‘Could you carry her upstairs for me?’

‘To the children’s bedroom?’

‘I might stay in a room by myself tonight,’ she murmured, stroking the dog’s soft ears. ‘The beds are big but not so big to hold three kids, me and Dolores. The kids are feeling safe and happy now, so Dolores and me will sleep next door with the door open.’

Dolores and me. She was sleeping with a dog. Dolores nuzzled against her cheek and he found it within himself to be jealous of a disreputable, ancient Labrador-something.

‘Fine,’ he managed, neutrally, and he stooped to lift her.

Pippa rose with him, her hands still on the big dog’s head.

Dolores’ eyes stayed closed.

‘She trusts you,’ Pippa whispered. ‘She knows people, does Dolores. She’s never been wrong yet.’

She was too close. The hint of tears in her eyes was damn near his undoing.

Dolores gave a gentle snore, breaking the moment.

‘You’re sure you want to sleep with her?’

‘What’s a little snoring between friends?’

What indeed?

He was gazing at Pippa. She was stroking Dolores’ ears.

‘Let’s go,’ she said, and he thought, Right, let’s go.

He so badly wanted to gather her into his arms. How could he do that with an armful of dog?

It was just as well he couldn’t, he thought. What he wanted wasn’t…sensible.

So he carried her dog upstairs. Pippa hurried up before him, and by the time he reached the bedroom beside the children’s she was spreading a feather-down quilt she’d tugged out of the blanket box.

‘That’s probably an heirloom,’ he said and she put her hands on her hips.

‘Well?’

‘Nothing,’ he said meekly, and set Dolores down.

Dolores opened one eye and her tail gave an infinitesimal wag.

‘I’ll light the fire,’ He said. It was already set in the grate. The room hardly needed heating yet he knew she’d want the dog warm. Besides, it gave him a reason to stay an extra few moments.

‘We’ll be right,’ Pippa said, and walked to the door and held it wide, waiting for him to go. ‘Thank you, Max.’

He was being dismissed. She needed a rest, he thought. Or she needed to be alone with her dog.

‘Photographs at eight?’

‘I’ll be there.’

‘What about dinner?’

‘I’ll ask Beatrice to bring something up. I need a nap if I’m going to be beautiful for photos.’

He didn’t want to go. She looked so alone. But she was waiting for him to go, glancing sideways at her dog, holding the door wide.

‘If there’s anything I can do…’ He said uselessly and she nodded.

‘Thank you. But there isn’t. Please, Max, just go.’

Max returned to his bedroom. He paced.

Then he went down to the sitting room Dolores had just vacated. The fire was still burning in the grate. The room was in darkness but he didn’t turn the light on.

He paced some more.

‘Will you be dressing for dinner, sir?’ Blake sounded apologetic, as if he knew he was interrupting serious thought.

‘No.’ He dragged himself back to the here and now. Blake was standing in the doorway looking worried. ‘I’ll skip dinner.’

‘Cook has prepared roast duck,’ he said reproachfully. ‘Miss Pippa has said she’s not hungry. I believe Cook will be hurt if no one eats her duck.’

Max closed his eyes. Obligations everywhere. Pippa’s obligations. His obligations. An obligation to duck.

This one at least he could fulfil.

‘Fine. I’ll dress and then I’ll eat Cook’s duck.’