you’re terrific Diana. Smart thinking. Thanks a lot.’
‘It was rather gallant of you, sending for your dinner jacket for my little celebration. But Cheska’s right, it wasn’t necessary. I’d intended to ring all of my friends tonight, to tell them not to dress after all.’
‘So Francesca explained earlier. But I didn’t want to be the one to spoil your elegant evening. After all, you’ve been planning it for weeks apparently, and part of the fun on these special occasions is getting all gussied up, isn’t it?’ He smiled wryly. ‘If the men don’t wear their tuxedos, then you girls won’t be able to show off your pretty gowns, now will you?’
‘No, we won’t, that’s true. How sweet of you to be so considerate.’ Diana beamed at him, picked up a silver knife and cut a large chocolate layer cake topped with a mountain of thick whipped cream and decorated with cherries. ‘Do try this, it’s absolutely scrumptious.’
‘I’ll bet it is,’ he said with a grin, and then grimaced. ‘And it’s undoubtedly very fattening. I’ve got to stay trim for the picture. But okay, why not. Make it a small piece though, please.’ After a short pause, he remarked, ‘Can you give me the dope on the Jenner? What kind of a downhill run is it? And what are our skiing plans for tomorrow?’
Diana filled him in about the Jenner in detail, and the two of them were soon embarked on a long discussion about the skiing they would do the following morning. Francesca sat back, sipping her tea, not paying much attention to their conversation. She was regarding Victor from under her lashes, her mind turning things over. How ridiculous and extravagant, she thought. Only a Hollywood film star would do such a crazy thing … Imagine, having his dinner jacket flown in just for a party, just for one evening. Such a flagrant waste of money, so alien to her nature and her upbringing, appalled her, and unexpectedly she experienced a tiny flash of irritation. But it dissipated almost at once, and she felt mean for having spoken so sharply to him a moment ago. If any other man had made such a grand gesture, she would have pronounced him a show-off and pretentious, but in all honesty she could not pin these labels on Victor. Instinctively she knew he had not given the merest thought to what it would cost, or the impression he would make. He never did, it seemed. He had simply wanted to please … please Diana, and perhaps even her. And it was gallant, she admitted, thinking of Diana’s words.
Francesca moved her position on the sofa, but continued to sneak furtive glances at him. He fascinated her more than ever. There were so many different sides to him. She wondered if she would ever truly know him, this complex and baffling man who resembled a small boy at times. She thought then of the gentleness that he had displayed with the dogs, and this made her smile inside, filled her with additional warmth towards him. She remembered something her father had once said, about gaining insight into a person’s character by watching their behaviour with dogs. Her father had gone on, ‘Better still, study the dog and the way it reacts towards a human, and you’ll get an even better picture of the person. Dogs know character.’ Yes, they do, she mused. It’s instinct, and it never fails.
Now her eyes were glued to Victor, and if he was aware of her intense appraisal, he was not permitting it to show. He was still talking about skiing, with great authority, and Francesca could not help noticing that Diana, a crack skier of championship standards, was hanging onto his every word. Francesca blinked, suddenly seeing Victor Mason through objective eyes, as Diana herself was undoubtedly seeing him at this very moment. He was extraordinarily handsome with his tanned, virile face, black wavy hair and expressive eyes. He exuded vitality and energy and sex appeal, his shoulders massive, his body powerfully built and showing to advantage in the black cashmere sweater. He was dressed entirely in black, and this dramatized his dark good looks. True glamour, she thought, that’s what he possesses in such abundance. He was lolling on the sofa, draped across it in his usual fashion, one arm flung along its back, the other wrapped around Tutzi, his long legs crossed, his whole frame relaxed, and he was laughing as he spoke animatedly to Diana. More than ever conscious of him, Francesca shivered, remembering his kisses, his intimate caresses in the gazebo, his promise and its implications. She dropped her eyes, and poured herself another cup of tea, aware that her deepest feelings were bound to be showing in her face. She wasn’t very clever about masking what she felt, and most especially with him.
‘I do hope there’s some tea left.’
Christian’s vibrant voice penetrated Francesca’s reverie, and she swung her head, smiling at her cousin, who was poised in the doorway. ‘Hello, darling,’ she cried, relieved to see him. ‘And yes, there’s masses.’
As Christian wheeled himself up to the fireplace to join them, Victor added, ‘Plus a very lethal chocolate cake.’ His smile was jovial, but his eyes clouded over. He recognized that he and Francesca were really trapped now. They would not be able to retreat upstairs quite as quickly as he had planned, because of Christian’s arrival. Victor lit a cigarette and racked his brains for a way to escape with grace – and speed.
Victor took the stairs two at a time, sped along the corridor and stopped at the door of Francesca’s room. He opened it and went inside swiftly. He closed it firmly behind him and leaned against it, staring at her, a look of incredulity on his face. ‘Your timing is about as good as mine, kid! I couldn’t believe it when you asked Christian to show me the gun collection.’
‘Neither could I,’ she laughed a little nervously, her embarrassment of earlier returning. She gave him an apologetic grin, and went on, ‘It just popped out, before I could stop myself actually, and then you were stuck. And you looked so aghast, and furious with me, I had to flee. Sorry.’
‘You should be sorry. Jesus, I spent the last half hour trying to concentrate on what he was telling me about those lousy guns, and my mind was up here with you,’ he spluttered, merely feigning exasperation now.
‘You’re lucky you’ve escaped so quickly. My dear cousin generally takes an hour, sometimes even two, once he gets going on the history of that particular collection. He’s very thorough.’
‘I’ll say he is,’ Victor laughed, realizing she was teasing him, just as he was teasing her. He did not move, but remained near the door, looking at her intently. She was seated on the sofa near the fire, still wearing her yellow ski outfit. The room was filled with dusky shadows, for only one small reading lamp had been turned on, but a fire burned brightly, was casting a warm glow around her, bringing her into focus. In the flickering light from the flames she resembled a delicate statue sculpted from pure gold. Her hair was combed loose, was shot through with dancing lights, and it fell in shimmering swatches around her face. Her skin seemed to have been polished to a golden sheen, was iridescent, and her large hazel eyes were the colour of tawny topazes, clear and bright.
There was the suggestion of a smile on her lips, and in her expression he saw anticipation, and yes, just a hint of apprehension reflected there as well. But both were fleeting emotions instantly overshadowed by the desire which was flooding her eyes. A thrill ran through him as her gaze remained riveted on him, telling him so much, as before expressing everything he was feeling within himself. He wanted her, God, how he wanted her. He was filled with impatience, beside himself in reality, and he turned with suddenness and locked the door.
Victor was across the floor in a few quick strides, opening his arms to her, not speaking, his face tense. She rose from the sofa and flew to him, and they clung together, their hearts racing, their excitement running quick.
Their mouths met, and Victor savoured her sweet lips, her sweet breath, and then he parted those lips and found her tongue. His own lingered on
