Score!

cheekbones shone like mother-of-pearl as the tears slid over them. Then, suddenly roused from shock, he noticed her bare feet and how little she was wearing.

‘You mustn’t catch cold.’ Whipping off his coat, he wrapped it round her. Breathing in the tang of Eau Sauvage on the dark blue collar, fighting the temptation to fall into his arms, Lucy collapsed instead on to a leather sofa.

‘I didn’t wake you?’ asked Tristan.

‘No, I was watching the Academias. Lily in the Valley won everything. You got Best Director.’

‘I did?’

‘You don’t sound very excited. It’s a huge honour.’

‘Other things matter more.’

‘How’s Don Carlos?’ Anyone would think she was at one of Helen’s drinks parties.

‘People seem to like it. Everyone loves your make-up, and have bet you get Oscar.’

Soothed by Lucy’s stroking, James had collapsed on the floor, but kept one eye open — after all, his future was at stake. All round the walls hung photographs of beautiful, happy, rehomed dogs, cheek to cheek with adoring but often extremely plain owners. Maybe, thought Lucy hopefully through a haze of white wine, one didn’t need to be beautiful to be loved. Then she made the mistake of asking how Tab was.

‘Blissful,’ said Tristan happily. ‘Rupert’s revving up for a massive wedding at Penscombe in April.’

How lunatic she’d been to hope. Smoothing the feathers on James’s legs, Lucy felt the tears starting again.

‘That’s great.’ Desperately she tried to keep the conversation light. ‘I can be godmother to your first child.’

‘I’d much rather you were its mother,’ muttered Tristan.

But Lucy wasn’t concentrating, only noticing that he seemed to be edging across the room towards her, like James trying to get on to her mother’s double bed when they stayed in Cumbria.

‘Lucy darling, please stop crying,’ begged Tristan, ‘I can’t bear it. Listen to me. Hortense die last week.’

‘Oh, no, I’m so sorry.’ Lucy looked up in horror. ‘She was such a darling.’

‘She love you too, and eef you hadn’t sought her out, I would never have known I was Laurent’s son. That parcel was most wonderful present I ever have. I can never thank you too much.’

‘But it’s me who should thank you. You saved my life, you brought James back. We’ll have to settle abroad,’ said Lucy, in a worried voice. ‘He’d never cope with quarantine, nor would I.’

Tristan was so close now, she could again breathe in the familiar heady cocktail of Eau Sauvage, peppermint chewing-gum and Gauloise, and her heart started to hammer as his knees brushed against hers.

‘James and I had long conversation on the plane coming over.’

Was she imagining it or had his hand just stroked her hair?

‘James detest crate I have to put him into,’ continued Tristan. ‘He didn’t believe I was taking him to you. He was so depressed and nervous I had to sit in the hold and hold his paw. It was very uncomfortable for both of us. There were two parrots with us, who both learn to say “I love Lucy” by end of flight.’

Still unable to take in what he was saying, Lucy gave a shaky laugh.

‘James want to live in France,’ insisted Tristan.

‘We don’t know anyone in France,’ said Lucy, in a choked voice.

‘You know me.’ Crouching down beside her, Tristan put one hand over her mouth, ‘Tais- toi, my darling, for just one second. Since you go away nothing in my life has been so dreadful. I suffer over Claudine, but nothing to the purgatory of life without you. Those months of filming, you bring such sunshine into my life.’

With the other hand he was now stroking her forehead, fingering her feathery eyelashes, wiping away a fresh supply of tears, running his finger down her nose in wonder. ‘You are really real,’ he whispered. ‘I have nightmares every night that you are dead.’

‘Oh, so do I,’ breathed Lucy, appalled to find she couldn’t stop kissing his fingers.

‘Hush, I talk. First, I kid myself you are sweet little sister I never had. When you take care of me after Rannaldini tell me about Maxim, I kid myself you are mother I never had. But then you come back from France looking so beautiful in that pink dress, and I sack you because I am so white-hot jealous you’re having affaire with Wolfie, I suddenly realize you are true grand passion I never have. When you nearly died, I died with worry, but when you went away, I died worser.’ Tristan removed his hand from her mouth and waited. ‘Lucy, Lucy. Please look at me and say something.’

But she was so stunned by the wonder of his words, she could only stare down and ask herself how the hell Peter Rabbit could stuff his face with carrot at a time like this.

Tristan picked up one of her bunches. ‘You look so sexy with blonde hair.’ Then a horrible possibility dawned on him. ‘There is not someone else?’

‘Someone else?’ squeaked Lucy incredulously. ‘Of course not. I’ve never loved anyone but you since that moment I saw you with snow in your hair. The Prince with the heavy heart.’ Then she remembered the occasion and cried out despairingly, ‘But what about Tab and the wedding?’

‘What’s she got to do with it?’ asked Tristan in amazement. ‘Tab’s marrying Wolfie. Oh, my God, did you think it was still Tab and me? Oh, my poor angel.’ Kneeling up, he pulled her against him, feeling the frantic pounding of her heart, as she in turn felt the exquisite pain of being crushed against the hardness of his big gold blazer buttons.

‘That’s wonderful for Wolfie,’ gasped Lucy, ‘but weren’t you heartbroken?’

‘Not in the least. They will have pretty blond babies.’

‘And Wolfie’ll look after her so well, he adores her so much.’

‘Not as much as I shall adore and look after you.’ For a second Tristan sounded almost beady. ‘And you and I will have lots of babies with dark curly hair, who will be even prettier. I know how you love kids.’ He picked up Lucy’s hand and kissed each finger. ‘As Maxim’s son, I couldn’t give them to you so I back off. By the time I open parcel and learnt the truth you had gone. Why did you run away? It broke my heart.’

‘I couldn’t bear the pain.’ Tentatively Lucy’s hand crept up to the dark stubble along his jaw. ‘I thought you were in love with Claudine or, at least, Tab — that’s stiff competition — and Rozzy…’ Her voice trailed off in embarrassment.

‘Rozzy what?’ demanded Tristan, forcing her face upwards.

‘She, well, she said I was too plain, ugly and common, and your family would be furious. Ouch!’ Lucy screamed, as Tristan’s hand clenched on her chin, then gasped in alarm because his eyes had become black whirlpools of hatred.

‘Eef that evil monster weren’t in security prison,’ he spat, ‘I break in and tear her to pieces. How dare the beetch! You have sweetest face in the world. And my family will love you. Whether you will love them is different matter. My brothers are very pompous. And it’s me they are furious with at the moment because Aunt Hortense leave me so much money, and’, Tristan smiled suddenly, ‘they don’t quite know how to handle Griselda. I adore your face.’ Very gently he covered it in kisses. ‘And now it will grow as familiar as the paintings on my bedroom wall.’

But Lucy wasn’t ready for certainty. ‘What about Claudine? I read the Mail.’

Tristan scrambled to his feet, pulling Lucy up against him. Despite his thinness, his chest was still broad, and his arms incredibly strong as they closed round her.

‘I should have level with you,’ he muttered, ‘my love for her die, the night Rannaldini die. I drive to Wales and find I am chasing dream.’

‘Did you see her in Edinburgh?’

‘No, I run away. I call her from airport. She was furious. “Are you sick?” she shout. “No,” I say, “I am seeking.”’

Running his hands deep into Lucy’s hair, he gazed down at her. ‘You have no need of Oscar’s lighting.’

Then, breathing in faint traces of Bluebell, he knew spring had at last returned. As he kissed her Lucy could feel his wonderful big bruised lower lip crushing hers, and his tongue caressing her tongue. Just for a second her