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He looked at her. ‘It’s fine, don’t get upset. I know you never expected me to reappear.’

      He turned to the doctor and asked a question.

      ‘He said that explains your nausea and dizziness. You can still dance and rehearse...’

      But that was not her concern right now.

      ‘Roman,’ Anya said, ‘tell him that I cannot be six weeks pregnant. You only came back four weeks ago.’

      Roman spoke with the doctor again.

      ‘He says that conception would have been four weeks ago. On a usual cycle, it is calculated from the date of your last period.’

      Anya lay back stunned and silent and nodded her thanks as the doctor and nurse left them alone.

      ‘He says you can dance tomorrow night and in the future. You are an athlete...’ Then he smiled. ‘A pregnant firebird, though?’

      ‘Maybe not for long,’ Anya said, and she looked at the ring that belonged on her finger and she told him the truth. ‘There’s been no one since you.’

      ‘Anya, I know about you and Mika...’

      She remembered him gritting his jaw at the stage entrance and the hell it must have been for him, watching them dance while thinking that she and Mika were an item, and she knew now just how much Roman loved her.

      ‘No,’ Anya said. ‘That is just a rumour. I mean it. When I couldn’t have you, I gave all I had to my dance.’

      And soon they would let the world in. He would tell his twin that he was going to be a father and men who had come so far would congratulate him on the wonderful news, but for now he spoke with the love of his life.

      ‘I will spend the rest of my life making up for the lost years,’ Roman said.

      ‘Not lost,’ Anya told him. ‘Found.’

EPILOGUE

      ‘SHE’S STILL ASLEEP,’ Anya said when she came back onto the balcony, and she could not help but smile at Libby’s impatience to meet her new niece.

      Daniil, Libby and little Nadia had arrived in Paris early that morning and had been waiting for more than an hour but she was still asleep.

      ‘She was up a few times last night,’ Anya explained.

      She took a seat and watched as Nadia toddled on little fat legs towards the man she thought was her father, jealous because he was holding a baby. Nadia held out her hands to be picked up then let out a little shocked gasp.

      ‘Wrong one.’ Roman smiled at her.

      As Nadia toddled off to her real father, Roman looked down at the son he held in his arms.

      Dominik.

      He was three months old and as Anya looked over she remembered seeing Daniil holding Nadia as a small baby and thinking that this might never happen for them.

      It had.

      Anya had had to block out the criticism from the press that she was too thin for a woman who was pregnant. And then she’d had the last laugh when she’d given birth to a long-limbed, huge, bonny boy.

      Actually, she hadn’t laughed at the time, it had hurt an awful lot, but she’d had Roman beside her, telling her she could do it.

      And with him beside her, she had.

      Seeing Roman hold his newborn in strong arms, the magnitude of that moment would reside in her heart forever.

      Oh, he hadn’t teared up, this was Roman after all, but, watching him kiss his son and explore his little hands and feet, she’d seen a different side again to a very complex man.

      And their dreams had come true in more ways than she had dared hope for.

      She was on leave from the dance company but they would be back in Russia in three months’ time. They moved between Paris and there with ease, loving both countries and deeply in love.

      They had gone to New York and seen in the new year and had had the most wonderful time. All had agreed it would be an annual event.

      Yet Roman and Anya had been holding onto a very special secret.

      At new year, they had been on their way for their second visit with a little girl who they hoped would one day be their daughter.

      Roman’s comment about adoption had set their minds thinking and when they’d returned to Russia after Firebird had finished to look for a home there, wandering through a magnificent building they had commented about the number of bedrooms and that had led to asking how many babies they wanted.

      ‘If you want more than one, they have to be close,’ Anya had said in her own direct way.

      She would continue to dance.

      Perhaps fewer performances a year but, oh, she would be performing!

      ‘How close?’ Roman said. ‘It’s a shame you’re not having twins.’

      ‘I know,’ Anya sighed. ‘That would have been perfect, two for one...’

      And they had stared at each other, neither wanting to be the first to voice it, in case it sounded completely mad.

      But they did want more than one child. What they had said before they’d found out that Anya was pregnant had almost felt like a promise to a baby somewhere. The orphanage in Russia where Roman had been raised was gone now but there were many children who needed a home. Anya had felt Roman’s tension as they’d stepped inside the detsky dom, but it had soon gone.

      The sound of laughter had met them and they had glanced inside the dining room.

      It had been very different indeed.

      And a little the same.

      Children had been chatting and there had been jugs of water on the table and some had been lining up for their meals.

      The carers here were wonderful and did all they could to make childhood special. Of course, there were problems, yet there was happiness to be found too.

      And they had discreetly watched some children playing, unsure how they could possibly choose.

      Did they ask about the least wanted one, as Roman had been?

      But then she had thought of Daniil, Nikolai, Sev and Roman and how could they ever choose?

      You didn’t, Anya found out.

      Love found you.

      She had been three years of age and had very fine blond hair that had stuck up at odd angles. They’d both seen her at the same time, twirling in the playroom and laughing as she did so.

      ‘Tell us about that little one.’

      ‘Tantsivat...’ The carer had explained that she loved to dance and thought that she was a princess; she fully believed that she was, in fact.

      Anya had turned and looked at Roman, who had smiled.

      Did they realise that she had Down’s syndrome? the carer had checked. ‘Most would consider her unsuitable...’

      Yes, they did realise she had Down’s syndrome, and yet she was so much more than that.

      ‘What is her name?’ Roman asked.

      ‘Monica.’

      She had been born to be theirs, both knew.

      Monica had been the happiest, brightest little girl, she’d just had no family of her own.

      Until that moment.

      Monica had looked over and had seen the strangers watching and she’d seen that her dancing made the lady smile and so she’d danced a little

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