Maisie was lucky. Alexandre, of all people, was on gate duty tonight – thank God! He had his feet up and was reading the paper and he got a shock when she knocked on the sentry box window to be let inside.

“Maisie?” He dropped the paper immediately. “I thought you were at the auction?”

Maisie’s heart was still pounding from the run. “Alexandre, please? May I come in?”

Alexandre frowned. “You shouldn’t be here, Maisie, not now … They will be coming for him soon.”

Alexandre tried to resist but he could see the quiver of Maisie’s bottom lip and the tear stains on her cheeks. He gave a sigh and reached beneath the desk of the sentry box, pressed the button, and the automatic doors swung open.

“If the guards come, you make yourself invisible, yes?” Alexandre looked hard at her, making his point clear. “You are not here.”

“I am not here,” Maisie agreed. “I am a shadow.”

“That’s my girl,” Alexandre said. And then, with a wave of his hand, “Hurry now! A shadow moves quickly! Go to him!”

Maisie slipped briskly through the gates and across the courtyard, dashing between the clipped hedges and fountains to reach the stable block, sticking close to the walls where the security lights did not reach. She tiptoed across the cobblestones, creaked through the doors until, at last, she had made her way to Claude’s stall.

“Claude?” Maisie spoke his name as she pulled the bolt and opened the door. Part of her was afraid at that moment that they would have sneaked in and come for him and he’d already be gone. But no. He was there. He nickered softly at the sight of her, and she met his dark, soulful eyes. The very same eyes she had recreated in the painting being auctioned right now at Lucie’s.

Oh, but in real life he was so much more handsome! Of all the many beautiful and noble-blooded stallions who lived here in the stables of the Célestins, he was the most breathtaking. Jet-black with four white socks on his legs and a star on his forehead. A classic Selle Français, he had always turned heads when he was ridden on parade. That first day that Maisie had seen him, he had stood out above all the rest and she knew he was special – as indeed he had proved to be.

“Hello, my brave boy.” Maisie spoke softly, and the stallion raised up his elegant crest to nicker to her. Then, exhaustion and pain overcame him and he let his mighty head fall between his forelegs like a dying swan in a ballet.

“Claude,” Maisie knelt beside him and, using all her strength, she helped to lift his head, cradling him in her arms.