Wedding in Venice

Chapter Twelve

Riccardo's words made Justine feel as if he could see right into her. She couldn't bear that scrutiny, and closed her eyes. Understanding everything in that gesture, he rose sharply to his feet and moved away from her.

"This is not how it must be between us," he insisted.

"Why do you have to analyze everything?" she cried. "Leave the inside of my head alone. What happens in there is nothing to you."

"If you were just a brief fling that might be true. But you matter. I want to make love to you more than I've ever wanted anything in my life, but it has to be all of you, your heart and your mind, as well as your body."

"Maybe I don't have all that to give. Why can't you be satisfied with what there is?"

"Because you're worth so much more," he said simply.

He went to the trapdoor and held out his hand to her. "Come."

"Where?"

"I'm taking you home."

There was nothing to do but agree. The night was suddenly dead. On the way down he collected one of his jackets, and slipped it about her shoulders.

"Where are we going?" she asked, for he didn't turn toward the landing stage.

"It's only a short walk. The boat brought us almost in a circle, and now the palazzo is just a few streets away."

"How quiet everything is," she said, listening to their feet echoing on the flagstones.

"This is the best time," he said, "when the people have gone in, and the ghosts come out."

"Ghosts?"

"Venice is full of ghosts. They haunt the corners and the little alleyways in the twilight. But don't be afraid. They're friendly ghosts. In Venice they have known love, and been happy, and now they cannot bear to leave it."

She tried to be sensible. It would be easy to become drunk with the words of this charming dreamer. But being sensible didn't really seem very important any more.

What was important was to stroll through these narrow alleys, letting him weave magic spells around her. There would be time for common sense later.

After a while he fell silent, but the magic continued in the unearthly quiet of a city where there were no cars.

His arm was around her shoulders, drawing her close so that she was intimately aware of the warmth of his body. The stress of the evening fell away, and a blessed calm fell over her. Desire had passed into tenderness, giving her a space that she badly needed.

"Here we are," he said at last.

"Where?"

"The Palazzo Calvani. This is a side door. You must ring the bell, but not just yet."

He stroked her face with gentle fingers.

"When the weddings are over, promise me that you will not leave without seeing me again."

"I promise," she whispered contentedly.

After the evening's stormy, unfulfilled passion, he now kissed her like a boy on his first date, lips caressing hers almost uncertainly, if such a word could be associated with this man.

She relaxed into the warmth and tenderness that he offered, not wanting it to end.

It was he who drew back. "Good night," he murmured.

"Good night," Justine whispered back – with just a hint of wistfulness.

He rang a bell by the door.

"The porter will let you in. Good night."

He moved away swiftly and was out of sight before the porter admitted her. Justine hurried up to her room.

At the turn in the stairs there was a half-open window that looked out over the street where they had said goodbye. She could see the place where they had stood together, and wondered where he was now.

Then she saw something that might have been a shadow, standing by the corner. She blinked, and the shadow vanished, only to reappear. Surely it was her imagination? For a moment she had thought the shadow was familiar, and that he was gazing directly up at the window, as though reluctant to leave her. But when she looked again, he was gone, as elusive as a ghost.