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      MILLS & BOON

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      CONTENTS

      CHAPTER ONE

      CHAPTER TWO

      CHAPTER THREE

      CHAPTER FOUR

      CHAPTER FIVE

      CHAPTER SIX

      CHAPTER SEVEN

      CHAPTER EIGHT

      CHAPTER NINE

      CHAPTER TEN

      CHAPTER ONE

      “UNCLE TRIS? Grand-pere just called. He’ll be out front in a minute to drive you to the train station.”

      “I’m almost ready. How about you? Is your bag packed?”

      Alain nodded. “It’s in the foyer. Wish I were going with you,” he muttered.

      Tris didn’t like the situation, either. When his blond, twelve-year-old nephew was upset, his blue eyes grew soulful and he looked so much like Tris’s deceased elder brother, Bernard, it twisted something painful inside Tris.

      “I’ll only be gone two weeks. You’re going to have a great holiday with the grandparents at Lake Como,” he said, trying to sound upbeat.

      Alain didn’t respond to the remark. His nephew had grown so morose this past week, it worried him.

      “By the time I’m back, we’ll still have half the summer left to go camping and fishing. Enjoy this vacation. There’ll be a lot of guys your age to hang around with. I’ve arranged for Luc’s parents to let him join you for part of the time.”

      “I know.”

      Nothing Tris said made a difference. The two of them had been inseparable for the last year. Tris had hoped his nephew’s initial depression was a thing of the past. But knowing his uncle would be away for two weeks had changed the climate. Tris feared this separation was going to undo a lot of the progress Alain had made.

      Since Tris had taken over the guardianship of his nephew who’d lost his parents in a car accident a year ago, the love he’d always felt for Alain had caused him to slip into the fatherly role without realizing it.

      After the funeral, Alain had gone home to live with Tris at his house in Caux, a small mountain village high above Lake Geneva. The grandparents lived below them in the town of Montreux, Switzerland, where the headquarters of their company, the Monbrisson Hotel Corporation was located.

      This was the first time since the funeral they would be apart for more than one night. Alain wasn’t the only one feeling the wrench.

      “I’m going to miss you, too, mon gars.”

      His nephew’s face closed up. “Do you have to go?”

      Tris hated to see him this fragile again.

      “It’s that, or jail.”

      “They wouldn’t really arrest you, would they?”

      “I’m afraid so. Not even a Monbrisson can escape. When you turn twenty, it’s every Swiss man’s duty. Remember, we don’t have an army, we are an army.”

      “Do you hate it?”

      “No. I’m looking forward to seeing a couple of my old friends from school.”

      “I think it’s stupid. We’re never in a war. What do you do while you’re there?”

      “We get to blow things up for fun.”

      He’d hoped his comment would produce a smile, but Alain was too sad to see the joy in anything. The boy looked up at him through cloudy eyes. “Do you want me to find your suitcase?”

      “Actually I’m taking my backpack.”

      “I’ll get it.”

      “Thanks. You’ll find it in the big storage cupboard in the hall.”

      “Okay.” Alain left the bedroom. When he came back, he was holding two packs.

      Tris glanced at the old, dark green one in surprise. “I haven’t seen that thing in years.”

      Alain tested the weight. “It’s heavy.”

      While Tris started putting clothes in his military pack, he watched Alain out of the corner of his eye. His nephew began opening the pockets of the other pack.

      “Hey—your hockey skates, and a puck! It’s signed by Wayne Gretzky! I didn’t know you’d met him.”

      “Neither did I,” Tris murmured in surprise.

      “There’s a lot of junk in here.” It was the first sound of excitement he’d heard in Alain’s voice all week.

      “You know what they say about one man’s junk being another man’s treasure.”

      “Can I keep it?”

      The request didn’t surprise Tris. His nephew was crazy about hockey though his parents had never allowed him to play it. “If you want it, it’s yours.”

      “Thanks. Did you know you have a whole slug of tags collected from the various cantons?”

      “That’s not surprising. I hauled everything around in that bag during my hockey years. For some reason I thought it had been tossed out a long time ago.”

      Alain dumped the rest of the contents in the middle of the bed. “You’ve got a bunch of American and Canadian money in here. How come?”

      “According

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