‘Ask Angel,’ he said bitterly, and turned and spat over the cliff.

‘Angel?’

‘The mother.’ The farmer poked the adult alpaca with a gentle nudge that spoke of exasperated affection. ‘Angel had one baby and was only a little interested. Maybe I could have encouraged her to take it. But then she had the second and she turned away as if it was all too much trouble. I’ve tried and tried to get her to suckle but to no effect. And I’ve promised my wife that we can go down to Cieste to stay with our daughter, who’s due to have a baby herself. Now we have these two to care for. Angel won’t feed them. I won’t be here to hand-raise them and I can’t afford anyone to do it for me. So I’ll sell them.’

‘And what about Angel?’ Jess sounded confused.

‘I’ve brought her with me so the babies will walk behind,’ the man said. ‘I can’t carry them down to the market and I can no longer afford to keep a truck. They follow Angel. But I won’t sell Angel. She’ll come home with me and we’ll try again.’ He brightened a little. ‘She’s young. Maybe another year’s maturity will see her become a mother. And her fleece is wonderful.’

‘So the babies will be sold alone.’

‘Yes.’

‘If you sell them…they’ll be separated?’

‘Probably,’ the man told her.

‘And to walk to market…’ She stared down at the small animals in dismay. ‘It’s another two miles. They’re too little to walk that far.’

Uh-oh.

Raoul could see where this conversation was going. Raoul saw Jess look from the tiny, wobbly crias to the van and thought: Yep, definitely uh-oh.

And then he cheered up. It was a very good thing he was driving the gardener’s van rather than his really nice Lamborghini, he decided. He couldn’t see alpacas in a Lamborghini-but he just bet that Jess could.

Sure enough, she was turning from the van to him, looking up at him with eyes that were damn near as cute as the alpaca babies’. Maybe even cuter?

‘We can take them with us, can’t we, Raoul?’

‘They won’t all fit,’ Raoul told her. No way. Angel was taller than he was, and how did you get a dopey alpaca to duck its head? ‘We won’t get monsieur and his three alpacas in the van at once.’

‘But we need only take the twins.’

‘And come back for monsieur?’ If he sounded confused it was because he was confused.

‘No,’ she told him. ‘There’s no need.’ She turned back to the farmer. ‘Monsieur, if I buy your babies you won’t need to go to market.’

Silence.

‘You’re going to buy the alpaca babies?’ Raoul said cautiously.

‘Yes.’

‘Um…Jess, you’re going back to Australia.’

‘Yes, but these are the perfect gift for Edouard,’ she told him, obviously exasperated at his lack of instant comprehension. ‘Edouard doesn’t need a nursery full of stuffed boa constrictors. He needs friends. Alpacas are the nicest friends a little boy could have. If he bottle-feeds these two and you help him care for them, they’ll be his friends for life. And I’ll buy the fleece from him every year. It’s just the most wonderful solution for everyone.’

Yeah. Right.

There was only one problem. What had she said?

If you help him care for them…

‘We don’t want alpacas,’ Raoul said bluntly, and she eyed him in astonishment.

‘Why ever not?’

Why not? Hell, think of something. There were emotional chasms yawning all over the place.

‘Where would we keep them?’ OK, so it wasn’t a great try but it was the best he could do.

It didn’t cut the ice with Jess. She grinned. ‘Oh, now you’re being ridiculous. You’re living in that grand palace. You have stables, and pastures and servants…’

‘We don’t have servants.’

‘For now because of that horrid man’s threats. But you will as soon as it’s known we’re married,’ she told him in English, beginning to sound exasperated. ‘Raoul, what are you saying? That Edouard can’t have these babies? You know how much he needs them.’

No, but I don’t, Raoul thought as he stared down at the roadside and watched this woman who was now his wife stroking the baby alpacas. Or I don’t want…

He didn’t know what he didn’t want.

Somalia was much less complicated than this, he decided. His head was starting to spin. Give him medicine and life-and-death drama any day.

The farmer had been watching the pair of them in increasing bemusement. The fear he’d shown as he’d first discovered Raoul’s identity had faded. He was obviously confused-but there was one important fact starting to emerge that he didn’t intend to lose sight of.

‘The lady wants to buy my twins?’ he asked, and Jess moved into action.

‘The lady definitely wants to buy your twins,’ she told him ‘How much?’

‘These are very rare. Very rare twins.’

‘Yes. How much?’

The man paused. He looked at Raoul to Jess and back again.

And he named a sum that made Raoul blink.

It didn’t make Jess blink. ‘I’ll pay it,’ Jess said, and she beamed and opened her handbag. ‘Oh, and I’ll give you my cell-phone number in case Angel changes her mind. I’ve heard of alpacas who finally decide they’re mothers after they’ve been separated. If that happens I don’t mind bringing them back and seeing if we can reunite them.’

‘Hey, wait a minute.’ Raoul thought about it and frowned. First there was the cost. Then there were other considerations. Lots of considerations.

He’d focus on the cost first. ‘Surely a couple of straggly little alpacas on bandy legs can’t be worth this much?’ he asked and got a derisive look from his new wife for his pains.

‘I’m not asking you to pay for them,’ she told him. ‘Though ten minutes ago you were telling me I could have an income for life. Just as well I didn’t take you up on it, eh? I might have discovered your ideas of income and mine are miles apart.’ She flicked through the contents of her bag and produced a cheque-book and pen. ‘And don’t cast aspersions on my babies,’ she told him as she wrote. ‘Bandy legs? Hmmph.’ She smiled back at the farmer. ‘Who do I make this out to?’

The farmer told her. His impatience was gone and he was beaming as happily as Jess was.

The only one not deeply satisfied with this arrangement was Raoul.

‘Australian cheques won’t work here,’ he said weakly-for want of anything else to say-and Jess gave him a look of pure pity.

‘I’m here on a buying expedition. If you think I’d come on a buying trip without local currency you’re not thinking straight.’ She smiled up at the farmer. ‘I’m sorry about my husband,’ she told him. ‘He’s being obtuse.’

‘Your…husband?’ the man said. He took the cheque Jess was proffering and he gazed at it in astonishment. But his face cleared as he read her name. ‘No. This is not the royal name,’ he said. He glanced across to Raoul, man to man, dealing with the vagaries of womenfolk. ‘She’s made a mistake, no?’

‘About the alpacas?’ Raoul told him. ‘Yes. She definitely has made a mistake.’

‘I have not made a mistake about the alpacas,’ Jess said, indignant, but the man wasn’t listening.

‘About you being her husband?’

‘I…no.’ Hell, what else was he to say?

‘You’re married?’ The farmer’s face was a montage of emotion, changing minute by minute. ‘This woman is your wife?’

‘Yes, but…’

‘But your fiancée died.’ The farmer’s thoughts were obviously racing as he tried to work things out. ‘All was lost. This is the Australian woman who was in the accident, no?’

‘Yes.’

‘And this woman says you are her husband?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then you’re married to this woman?’ he said, insisting on getting this point clear.

Jess was no longer listening. She’d moved on. She was lifting the littlest alpaca across into the van. Put it in the back, Raoul thought, but no, of course she wouldn’t do anything so logical. She was opening the passenger door and popping it onto her seat.

‘Yes,’ said Raoul, distracted. ‘For my sins, I’ve married her. Jess, for God’s sake, don’t put them on the upholstery.’

‘I’ll cuddle them,’ she said. ‘They’re too little to stay in the back. They’ll slide everywhere and they’ll fall over. Look at their wobbly legs.’

‘I bet they’re not housetrained.’

She grinned. ‘Just lucky the van isn’t a house, then.’ She returned and stooped to lift up the next cria. ‘What am I going to call you?’ she demanded of the second baby-a tiny chocolate alpaca with a face like Mickey Rooney’s.

‘Balthazar,’ Raoul said weakly-and he knew he was lost right then.

‘Balthazar.’ She paused and gazed up at him in astonishment. ‘Why Balthazar?’

‘After…after an alpaca I once knew.’ An alpaca who looked like Mickey Rooney.

‘You’ve known an alpaca?’

‘Lisle…’

Her face changed, just like that. Crumpled. Her eyes creased into distress. ‘Lisle. Oh, Raoul, of course. What have I done? If you really don’t want them…’

She understood. He stared down at her as she knelt, gathering the second cria into her arms and looking up at him in distress, and he thought, She understands.

He didn’t do emotion. He didn’t need this empathy bit. And he didn’t want her to look at him like this.

The last thing he wanted from this woman was sympathy. It did something to him, something he wasn’t sure he could handle.

Or maybe he was sure he couldn’t handle it.

‘I’ll buy them now, but I’ll find someone else who can keep them,’ she was saying, immeasurably distressed. ‘If they’re going to cause you sadness then of course you won’t want them up at the castle. There are weavers down in the valley who’d love to take these on. I can pay for their keep. I won’t-’

‘Just put them in the van, Jess,’ he said, trying for dryness, but her look of distress intensified.

‘Look, if you don’t want to do even that much I’ll understand. I can call a taxi.’