Theywere quick, but not quite fast enough.Laurie interrupted Sasha'sefficient knotting of his tie with a stifled gasp: there was oneperson other than Stefan Petrica he wasn't equipped to handle.Aslender little figure, dark-haired as himself, trotting round theoutside of the church...“I don't believe it.That'sClara.”
“What?”
Laurie put a hand to the top of Sasha's skull and pressed himdown.They hadn't got as far as the tie in Sasha's case, not by along chalk.“Baby sister.Clothes.”
“Oh.Sorry.”
Theyadjusted one another as efficiently as possible in their lair,Laurie watching nervously through the long grass.Clara's mission,whatever it was, had carried her out of sight around the corner,and once Laurie had dusted most traces of moss and pollen fromSasha's clothing and his own, they emerged cautiously, hand inhand.Sasha pulled ahead, but Laurie restrained him.“Hang on asecond,” he whispered.“Look.”
A neatlittle hat and a pair of white gloves were lying on the grass, asif flung there in irritation.A couple of yards further on, twosatin high-heeled shoes had been discarded, their owner's impatientdeparture from them clear in their position on the path.Around thecorner, a small upright girl was poised by a gravestone, one handresting on it—the token support of the barre, Laurie realised,smiling.He drew Sasha back into the shadows beside him.
Clarawent barefoot through her first five positions.Laurie couldn'timagine the nineteenth-century gentleman whose grave she had chosenhaving any problem with the press of those delicate feet upon histurf.Then, having stretched herself thoroughly, she let go of thegravestone and proceeded across the lawn in a silent, strangeroutine.
It wasn't theNutcracker,that was for sure.Laurie tried to analyse it.Anidea came to him, and he crushed Sasha's hand in an effort not tolaugh.Three steps sideways, then a leap in the oppositedirection—five short syncopated skips, silk skirt flying, solemnlittle face dead serious in spite of the absurd dance.She broughta grace to it if anyone could, but it was still...
Laurie stepped out of his cover.“Clara Fitzroy,” he saidsternly, and watched in satisfaction while she whipped round toface him, mouth open, eyes wide.“Are you dancingGangnamstyle?”
She cameto a dancer's perfect halt and regarded him seriously.“Yes.No.What if I was?”
“Good answer.”
“My legs got cramped on the plane.And in the cab.And I'mbored to death with Prokofiev.”She broke into a broad smile.“Hello.”
Lauriecaught her in mid-air.He squeezed her, unable to speak: he'dmissed her, this little scrap of his own flesh, and her scent andher weight reminded him of all the childhood years when she'd beeneverything to him, his responsibility and sole friend.He handedher over to Sasha when she held out her arms, and stood back.Sheand Sash had been instant allies, co-conspirators in the case ofthe secret prince.Sasha's foreign courtliness had suited herold-fashioned little soul down to the ground.There were few keenerpleasures in life for Laurie than to see them together.
Laurie’stwo birds, fair game to be hit with one stone.He folded his armsacross his chest, glanced nervously behind him.What the hell wasthe kid doing here?He hadn't thought about her, hadn't factoredher into his new contingency plans because she'd already been safeon the far side of the Atlantic.He watched Sasha set her down andoffer her a deep, graceful bow.“I'm honoured, my lady.”Shedropped him a curtsey in return, all the way down, her skirtsspreading wide on the turf.Sasha made an absurd mime of wincing ashe straightened up, putting a hand to his back.“There's a littlemore of you than the last time we met, Your Ladyship.”
“All muscle and height,” she informed him tartly.“I only getan apple for lunch.Every other day.”
Laurielooked her over.She was thin, but he thought it was only her ownwell exercised build.She seemed to be glowing with health.“ShouldI intervene?”he asked, smiling uneasily.He'd handed her over intothe care of the London Youth Ballet and thought no more about her,not in terms of health.“Are you getting anorexia, or any other ina range of dance-related illnesses?”
Shesnorted.“Due to the pressure on my fragile pre-teen nerves?Fatchance.The dragon won't allow artistic temperaments.She saysthey're a nuisance and a bore.”
Laurie,who'd met his share and had to live with his own, couldn't help butagree.“Who is the dragon?Clara, what are you doing here?Ithought you were in New Orleans, touring the southernstates.”
“I was.But—”
Thenorth door swung wide, making Sasha and Clara jump and Laurie gostill in the heart-stopping new way that stripped a fresh layer offhis sanity each time.A small, elegant woman stepped into thelight.Her hair was scraped into a bun at the back of her neck, andshe walked with a burned-out dancer's weary, graceful air.She wasbuttoned up to the chin in a jacket more suited to a militaryfuneral than a housekeeper's wedding.Her dark eyes burnedunfathomably.“I am the dragon,” she announced, coming to attentionon the step.“Elena Dracinsky, Miss Fitzroy's escort, appointed bythe LYB.Miss Fitzroy eats three nutritionally balanced meals perday.Miss Fitzroy is on a special leave of seventy two hours onlyto attend this wedding, because—”
“Because I wanted to surprise Mrs G.And I wouldn't bestopped.”Clara beamed, and the woman's stern mask twitchedunwillingly in response.
“And she wouldn't be stopped.This is day two.Day one was forflying, and tomorrow the same.We leave from Heathrow atdawn.”
Good.Laurie managed not to say it.Abrief, surprise visit was fine, and he could breathe easier forknowing this dragon was at his sister's side.“Pleased to meet you.I'm Laurie Fitzroy, Clara's brother, and this is my partner, SashaPetrica.”
She accorded both of them a businesslike nod.“I have heardmuch about both of you.A tedious amount, if I may say so.MissFitzroy will kindly refrain from sneaking off all alone to danceGangnam style in churchyards.This develops the wrong muscles.Andbarefoot!This undoes all our work onpointe.Put your shoes on, please,Miss Fitzroy.I hear voices from inside.”
Sheturned smartly away.Clara, pink with repressed laughter, pushedone hand into Laurie's and the other into Sasha's, and proceededbetween them into the church.In the doorway she stopped.“Wait asec,” she whispered.“Laurie, you've got ivy in yourhair.”
“I'm the lord of the greenwood.It's okay.”
“No, there's a leaf, just...”She let go his hand to brush itaway.“Oh, and there's a tiny grass stain just here, and...Sasha,your shirt is out at the back, just here.”Suddenly her eyes wentwide.She clapped her hands to her mouth in scandalised joy.“Oh,my God.You didnot.In achurchyard.You didn't!”
Lauriesteered her firmly up the aisle towards the group of new arrivals.He shot Sasha an appalled glance over her head.“You're right.Wedidn't—nothing you need know about for the next twenty years or so,anyway.Pull yourself together.There's the bride.”
ToLaurie's relief, her focus shifted.“Gibson,” she yelled, makingthe church echo and Dracinsky wince in disapproval.“Gibson!Gibson!Charlie!”
Mrs Gturned with difficulty, hampered by yards of flowery tulle.Herfirst marriage had been a brief, sad wartime one, and Laurie waspleased that she'd thrown caution to the winds today.She caughtsight of Clara and dropped to her knees, silk dress and all.“Clara!My girl!”Clara shot like an arrow into her outstretchedarms.
