again.’
When he’d held her in his arms, she’d been warm enough. It was only when they’d reached the village that a chill had started creeping through her veins. It was the chill of anticipated loss of Luc when they parted, rather than anything she could blame on the weather. Though snow had started falling again, she noted with concern.
‘Weather conditions will impact everything,’ she observed. ‘Where possible, I’ve accounted for every eventuality.’
‘And where it’s not possible?’ he probed.
‘I’m still worried about getting people up the mountain for your torchlit descent and the firework display.’
‘Leave that to me.’
‘Really?’
‘I have an idea.’
‘Let me know as soon as you can.’
‘I will,’ he promised, holding her gaze. ‘And you let me know as soon as you can.’
‘Of course.’ Her heart lifted as she realised Luc hadn’t forgotten anything. ‘If we can get this right your guests will be talking about this party for the rest of their lives.’
‘And you?’ he pressed with a keen stare. ‘What will you be talking about, Stacey?’
‘Happy times.’ She pressed her lips flat as her eyes smiled. ‘I won’t let you down,’ she promised.
‘Okay?’
‘Not sure.’ The strangest feeling had just swept over her. It was the same not-alone-in-her-body feeling she’d had before. First stop: a bathroom.
‘I’m relying on you to get this right,’ Lucas said, draining his cup.
She nodded, half in business mode, half planning to dash off right away to see the doctor at the drop-in clinic. ‘I won’t let you down. It’s going to be the event of the year.’ The event of her life if she was pregnant.
‘What would you like to eat?’
‘No time to eat. The bathroom?’ she reminded him. ‘Coffee’s fine.’
‘Soup,’ he said. ‘You must eat something.’
‘Okay, soup,’ she agreed. ‘But this one’s on me.’
Luc had relaxed a little over a bowl of soup, and now she was on her way to one of the last briefings with her team before the big event with a pregnancy test stuffed in her pocket.
As they’d parted, he’d said, ‘Thank you for bringing me up to speed regarding the party, and now I must speak with my people.’
There’d been no mention of seeing each other again, but she’d taken that for granted, she supposed. Luc would obviously want to know the result of the test.
‘Your global empire calling?’ she’d teased.
‘Well, I’m more concerned about the party right now,’ he’d admitted, ‘as it’s only a couple of days away, but, yes, the global empire is always waiting in the wings. I never know from one day to the next when I’ll be called away at a moment’s notice.’
A cold wind had brushed her cheek when he’d said that but, keeping her promise to herself that she wouldn’t become a clinging vine, she’d simply nodded her head in agreement.
They’d done a lot of reminiscing over lunch, leaving out details like how it felt to make love after wanting and caring and needing for so long. Or how safe she’d felt when Luc had steered her down the mountain. They hadn’t mentioned taste, touch, or sensation, but it had been there all the time in their eyes—the glance that had lasted a beat too long, the small shrug of resignation that things couldn’t be different between them, because of who they were, and the very different paths they trod. Luc’s first memory of Stacey at the farm had been waking up in the morning to discover she’d squirted shaving cream into his hand while he was asleep, so the minute he raked his hair, he was covered in the stuff. ‘I remember your roar of fury,’ she’d told him with relish.
He’d looked like a great angry bear when he’d stomped out of his room in search of the bathroom with foam all over his face. She’d suspected at the time that no one treated Lucas Da Silva with such scant regard for his position in life, for, though his parents had been impoverished, they’d been aristocrats with a lineage stretching back through the mists of time. ‘And the chilli in my ice cream,’ he’d reminded her.
‘It was strawberry, so I thought you wouldn’t notice. Clever, huh?’ she’d said with a mischievous look over the rim of her coffee cup.
‘Deadly,’ he’d agreed, and then they’d laughed together before falling silent again.
Would she never lose this yearning for Lucas? The more she saw of him, the more she liked him. She couldn’t help herself.
And what was wrong with that?
Everything, Stacey concluded as she entered the hotel where the team was waiting. She was setting herself up to be hurt.
WHAT WAS SHE doing now? What was the result of the test? What was the doctor’s view?
These were his thoughts as his jet soared into the sky, leaving the mountains and Stacey behind. An emergency call to return to London had necessitated an immediate change of plan. He’d ring her when he landed. No panic. She’d be busy with last-minute arrangements and he’d see her at the party. If anyone could cope, it was Stacey. He’d tried to call her several times, but her phone was always engaged. She occupied his thoughts in ways that left no room for anything else—not for business, for the all-important annual party to thank his best customers and staff, nor even his siblings and the fellow members of the Da Silva polo team.
What could be more important to him than the fact that he and Stacey might be expecting a child?
On that thought, he called her again.
Her phone rang out.
She would be busy, he reassured himself. He’d called in at the hotel where mammoth structures for his party were already being created, but no one had been able to find her. He’d guessed she was at the drop-in clinic. Her plans to delight and amaze his guests had exceeded even his jaundiced expectations, but now, instead of seeing towering structures mimicking an ice kingdom, or animatronic dragons breathing fire on demand over a banqueting hall of unsurpassed splendour, his mind was full of Stacey, and how beautiful she’d looked when they’d skied down the mountain. Cheeks flushed, eyes bright with excitement, snowflakes frosting soft auburn tendrils framing her face, she’d appeared lovelier to him than he’d ever seen her.
If he had a different life and could shake the guilt that haunted him, and Stacey weren’t welded to her career, they might be planning a very
