A Venetian Affair: A Venetian Passion / In the Venetian's Bed / A Family For Keeps

‘Are there many such bridesmaids?’

‘Three besides me. Fen’s teenage nieces, you probably know one of them—Francesca Forli.’

‘I do, yes, but at this moment I am interested only in you,’ said Domenico firmly. ‘Tell me what you will wear, Laura, so I can picture you in my mind.’

‘Better still, I’ll send you a photograph—if you like.’

‘I would like that very much.’ He eyed her closely. ‘And now that you look better, Laura, let us talk of where you would like to dine tonight.’

She hesitated. ‘Domenico—could we possibly stay in and eat something here?’

‘You may do anything you wish,’ he assured her.

‘Do they do takeaways in Venice? If not, a sandwich will do.’

‘I can give you something better than a tramezzino!’

‘You’re going to cook?’

‘You cannot imagine such a thing?’ he teased, and brandished his mobile phone. ‘I shall persuade one of the chefs at the hotel to send us a cold meal of some kind.’

‘Wonderful!’

‘Can you eat shellfish?’

‘Any kind you like.’

‘Then I shall ring Sandro to see what he can do.’ Domenico looked down at her as he got up. ‘You feel better now, cara?’

‘Much better. But, Domenico, if you prefer to go out—’

‘I do not,’ he said with emphasis. ‘We shall sit on the little balcony outside the dining room while we wait for our dinner, and watch the boats on the Canalazzo.’

‘Canalazzo?’ Laura queried.

‘You foreigners call it the Grand Canal!’ he said, laughing.

The minute the door closed behind him Laura went to the window to gaze at the baroque splendour of the Salute church across the lagoon. She heaved a sigh. She had been here only a short time, yet she would miss Venice when she was back in London. She would miss Domenico a whole lot more—but she wasn’t going to think about that.

It was some time before he rejoined her. ‘You should be resting,’ he accused.

‘My headache has vanished completely,’ she assured him, and smiled. ‘You know I can’t resist this view.’

He smiled indulgently. ‘Then let us go outside to see more of it.’

Domenico’s balcony was narrow, with only room for a table and four chairs, but the view from it was spectacular. Laura leaned against the rail, watching the assorted water traffic, and wished she could paint as she watched a gondola trail a glittering wake on the water below.

‘The passengers are tourists, of course,’ said Domenico, leaning beside her. ‘The only time Venetians travel by gondola is on their wedding day.’

‘So you were going to make an exception for me the other night, then!’

He slanted a smile at her. ‘I was determined to impress you.’

‘You would have succeeded!’ She leaned farther to watch the gondola out of sight. ‘I’m disappointed, Domenico. I hoped he would serenade his passengers.’

He laughed. ‘This does not happen. The only melodies uttered by gondoliere are the warning calls heard on our canals for centuries.’

‘Another illusion shattered!’

‘Let me console you with wine.’

‘I’d better stick to water just yet, please.’

Left alone again, Laura gazed in concentration at the view from the balcony, so she would remember every detail of it when life resumed normal service back in London. She turned with a smile as Domenico came back with a loaded tray.

‘Allora, we have wine, San Pellegrino, fresh fruit juice and ice,’ he announced. ‘I thought you might like a taste of peach and orange in your mineral water, Laura.’

‘I would indeed,’ she agreed. ‘You’re very good to me, Domenico.’

He shot a narrowed, gleaming look at her. ‘When you smile at me like so it is not easy to be very good.’

‘Then I won’t.’

‘Which would be a pity.’

Their eyes held for a moment, then Domenico turned away to toss ice in a glass. He added a mixture of fruit juice and mineral water, topped it off with lemon slices and handed the drink to her with a bow. ‘Perhaps the signorina will give me her verdict.’

Laura eyed him in admiration. ‘You speak such wonderful English, Domenico.’

‘Grazie. I learned in school, of course, and then later I—I did a more intensive language course and became more fluent. It is necessary in my line of work.’ He gestured towards her glass. ‘Taste, cara.’

Laura took a sip and smiled at him. ‘Delicious.’

He poured a glass of wine and took the chair beside her. ‘Salute.’

She raised her glass to him. ‘To you, Domenico, for making my holiday so special.’

‘It is not so hard a thing to do,’ he assured her, and leaned back in his chair, utterly relaxed.

Laura’s eyes were thoughtful as she studied the clear-cut profile etched against the fiery light.

‘That is a strange look, Laura,’ he said, intercepting it.

She shrugged, smiling. ‘It suddenly occurred to me that this time last week we didn’t know each other existed.’

‘It is hard to believe,’ he agreed soberly. ‘There is so much I wish to learn about you, cara. Tell me more about your family; describe them to me.’

‘My mother is small and fair like me, and very attractive—’