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      CONTENTS

      PROLOGUE

      CHAPTER ONE

      CHAPTER TWO

      CHAPTER THREE

      CHAPTER FOUR

      CHAPTER FIVE

      CHAPTER SIX

      CHAPTER SEVEN

      CHAPTER EIGHT

      CHAPTER NINE

      CHAPTER TEN

      EPILOGUE

      PROLOGUE

      THE overheated ballroom was heady with the scent of hot house lilies. The party had got to the stage of slow dancing. In clouds of figured satin the bride was circling in the arms of the most glamorous man in the room.

      A photographer, indistinguishable in his dinner jacket from the elegant guests, pointed his camera at the couple.

      ‘Bride and Count Nikolai Ivanov,’ he murmured to his assistant.

      ‘Exposure ninety-eight: Ivanov,’ she wrote down obediently.

      She peered over the top of her notebook.

      Count Nikolai Ivanov was well over six feet, with midnight-dark hair, broad shoulders and an unambiguous self-confidence that hit you between the eyes. Add to that the haughty profile of an Aztec prince, and eyes at once intense and alert with sophisticated amusement, and it was no wonder that the bride was gazing up at him, mesmerised. When he swung her into the air with an easy strength, the assistant sighed.

      ‘Wow,’ she said, appreciative and envious. ‘Now why haven’t I seen him before?’

      ‘Wouldn’t have done you any good if you had.’ The photographer continued to rake the room with his lens. ‘Most eligible bachelor in Europe and he spends half his time in the jungle. Terrible waste. Not your style at all.’

      ‘Oh, I could stretch a point in this case,’ said the assistant with feeling. ‘He’s gorgeous.’

      Her boss looked at her cynically. ‘He’s also a heartbreaker. And the last of his line since his brother died.’

      ‘I wasn’t thinking of trying to marry the man,’ protested the girl, laughing.

      ‘Just as well. The Ivanovs can trace their line further than the Romanovs, I’m told. Count Nikolai won’t be marrying anyone unless she has at least three coats of arms and a title in the family.’ He raised his camera again. ‘Ah, there’s the mother of the bride with our hostess. Exposure ninety-nine: Madame Repiquet and Countess Ivanova.’

      ‘Grandmère is looking tired,’ Nikolai murmured in his grandfather’s ear. ‘Shall I take her away?’

      ‘You can try,’ said his grandfather humorously.

      Véronique Repiquet was lucky to be allowed to hold her wedding reception in this exquisite French château. The revels, as everyone knew, would go on all night. So it had been arranged that the old Count and Countess would spend the night at Nikolai’s small villa on the estate.

      His grandson chuckled. ‘I shall take a firm line,’ he said confidently. ‘Women always respond to that.’

      His grandfather cast his eyes to the magnificent gilded ceiling.

      ‘You think you know so much about women, don’t you?’

      ‘I’m an animal behaviourist,’ said Nikolai with a twinkle. ‘I’ve been trained to know about women.’

      His grandfather smiled. But he looked perturbed as well.

      ‘Do you never have any doubts, Nicki?’

      Nikolai looked startled. ‘All the time. Every expedition, every paper I write, every lecture I give. If I didn’t have any doubts there wouldn’t be anything interesting left to research.’

      ‘I didn’t mean about your work,’ snapped his grandfather, suddenly annoyed. ‘I meant about women.’

      Nikolai looked at him in concern. The loss of temper was out of character for his gentle grandfather. He slipped his arm round the older man’s shoulders.

      ‘What is it, Pauli? Regretting lending the château for this junket?’

      The older man shook his head. ‘No,’ he said on a half-sigh. ‘No. But your grandmother was saying—it should have been Vladi’s wedding.’

      For a moment Nikolai’s expression was stark. Pauli cursed himself for his clumsiness. Vladi had been killed a year ago, but sometimes he wondered whether Nikolai was over his brother’s death even yet.

      He said hurriedly, ‘Still, it’s good to see her enjoying herself again. I thought a big party might be too much for her. But she said it would be good practice for your wedding.’

      ‘Ouch,’ said Nikolai. His expression was half-rueful, half-sad.

      His grandfather did not pretend to misunderstand him.

      ‘Why are you so set against marriage, Nicki?’

      Nikolai looked round at the crowded room. The music had started again, louder and heavier now that the older guests