‘Ivo…’ She stopped herself from begging him to come to the airport with her. ‘I’ll be passing through Hong Kong on my way home. If you happened to find you had some business there, maybe we could take a few days…’
He made no comment-he never made promises he could not keep-but simply kissed her cheek, helped her into the car, repeating his directive to ‘take care’ before closing the door. She turned as the car pulled away, but he was already striding up the steps to the house, wanting to get back to work.
The chauffeur stopped at the airport drop-off point, loaded her bag on to a trolley, wished her good luck, and then she was alone. Not alone, as a woman with a loving husband waiting at home might feel.
Just…alone.
CHAPTER ONE
‘…SO THAT’S it for Day Nine of the Great Cycling Adventure. Tomorrow I’m told it’s going to be “a gentle, undulating rise”…’ Belle Davenport wiped away a trickle of sweat on her sleeve and smiled into the camera. ‘These guys really have a sense of humour. If seeing me sweating and in pain in a good cause is making you feel good, feel bad, feel anything, please remember any donation you make, no matter how small, will make a real difference…’
Belle Davenport wrapped up for the camera, hit send and, as soon as she’d got a reply confirming it had been safely received, unplugged her satellite phone. It was only then that she realised that what she had thought was sweat was, in fact, blood.
‘You do know that he brought you down quite deliberately.’ Claire Mayfield, an American sharing her tent, as well as her pain, was outraged.
‘He helped me up again,’ Belle pointed out.
‘Only after he’d taken pictures. You should make a complaint to the organisers. You could have been seriously hurt.’
‘No whining allowed,’ she said, then winced as Simone Gray-the third member of their group-having cleaned up the graze on her forehead, started to work on her grazed thigh.