Wedding in Venice

Chapter Nine

This time there were no comfortable cabbages to break her fall, but Justine managed to land on her feet at the bottom of the barge, steadying herself by seizing hold of Riccardo. He swiftly put his arms about her.

"Signora," he protested, "you cannot go on hurling yourself into my boat whenever the mood takes you. People will talk."

"If you'd waited I wouldn't have had to throw myself at you," she pointed out with impeccable logic. She was feeling light-headed and in good spirits. The crazy impulse had improved her mood.

The barge swerved and with one hand he hastily seized the tiller, which he'd abandoned to clasp her. But he kept his other arm about her.

He did not ask why she had done such a thing, nor did she explain. She would have found it hard to do that, even to herself.

Although it was late, there were still lights on the banks of the Grand Canal. Their reflections glowed in the black water, shivering and dancing as the last boats went home.

"Are you cold?" he asked, looking down at her bare shoulders.

"Not at all."

The night air was growing cool, but she was pervaded by warmth.

Down the long curve from the Rialto Bridge to St. Mark's Square they glided until at last Riccardo pointed upward to a building with an ornate front, and the words Hotel Busoni in neon.

"Mine," he said proudly. "At least, it will be when I've paid off the bank."

"Shouldn't it be the Hotel Gardini?" she asked.

I'll change the name when I feel a little more confident of success."

That touch of diffidence surprised her. Riccardo had seemed confident enough for anything.

He swung left into a tiny canal and tied the boat up at the landing stage. When he had climbed out with one box, she lifted the next one up to him.

"You can't help me with this," he protested.

"Yes, I can," she said firmly, hoisting up another box.

There was a trolley by the landing stage. He piled the boxes onto it and led her down a narrow corridor to the hotel's rear entrance.

It was late and only a few staff were about. The kitchen was empty. By now it was no surprise to Justine when he put on a large white apron and began unpacking the boxes.

"This is something else that you do yourself?" she asked.

"Night staff is expensive. When the last shift has gone home I finish up whatever there is to do."

"You have to work late here every night, all alone?"

"Yes, but I wouldn't have it any other way. This is my best time, when I feel this place is most completely mine."

She found another large apron and put it over her dress. He did not protest this time, but gave her a smile that was different from any smile he had given her before. It was no longer the "come-on" look of the pirate, but the secret signal of a conspirator.

It welcomed her into his world. And she was beginning to feel as if that was where she wanted to be.

While he emptied the washing-up machine of the load that had finished, she scraped plates and handed them to him to fill it up again.

"There's still plenty left to do," she said, "so we'd better do them by hand."

She got busy at the sink, working vigorously, until she looked up and found him regarding her strangely; not with a smile this time, but with a look that was half rueful, half wistful.

"What?" she asked.

"This is not how I planned our first evening alone together to be," he said.

"But you told me yourself, you plan too much," she reminded him. "Sometimes it's better when things just happen."

He nodded. "You are wise."

Still he stood there, eyes fixed on her, until she said gently, "Would you hand me that plate, please?"

"What plate?" He sounded dazed.

"The one just next to you."

He gave it to her. Justine turned back to the sink and got to work, but only half her mind was on what she was doing. The skin at the back of her neck and halfway down her spine seemed to have come alive with the awareness of him behind her.

He was going to kiss her just there, she knew it. The hairs were standing up on her neck with the sense of him moving toward her.

But nothing happened, and when she looked around, he was gone.