The Vernaks would inherit his title and all his entailed wealth if he did not marry by the age of thirty. Of course, they’d want to know if he was interested in marrying Donna. His heart pounded at the idea, but he stayed focused on his mother. “About?”
She took a business envelope from her side pocket. “The name of your true match from the Royal IT Department.”
Blackwell opened his bedroom door and waved her to follow him inside. “Mother, I know I have to marry but I don’t want to think about it today.”
“You promised.” She held out the small, thick envelope.
He had. Blackwell went to his closet and deposited the blue velvet jacket for dry cleaning and unbuttoned his shirt. “I’m tired from last night.”
“The Vernaks came for breakfast. I swear they were counting the silverware instead of enjoying the quiche.”
His t-shirt was still on when he returned to his bedroom and asked, “You’re not going to stop until I hear the name and resume, are you?”
She shrugged, not caring that he’d called her out. “That was the plan.”
He went to the sitting area of his bedroom which overlooked the green lawn leading to his stables and a koi pond with a marble fountain. He parked himself in the chair and let his head fall against the cushioned back. “Okay, if I can rest my eyes, I’ll listen while you read.”
She took the next seat and he heard the delicate tear of the envelope. Then her movements as she riffled through the papers. Slowly she said, “Her name is Donna Smith. From Miami.”
Had he dreamed those words? He sat straight and stared at his mother. She adjusted her glasses and continued to read the page to herself. He folded his hands in front of him. “Repeat that.”
She scanned the sheet. “Donna Smith. She’s a librarian.”
The computer had figured out his perfect match—but he’d known, hadn’t he? He never should have let her go. His heart stilled like he had his answer that stared him in the face the entire time. He reached for the papers. “Can I read her resume?”
Mother took her glasses off and handed him the papers. “I’m glad you’re taking this more seriously, Blackwell.”
Donna’s picture assured him that she was the same woman. Sweet smile, chestnut hair and black layers. She lived in Miami and her parents were gone. She hadn’t said it was a car accident on the highway, but he’d not asked. His heart sped up as his face felt hot. “Mother, Donna Smith was my date last night.”
A huge grin grew on her slightly lined face. “That’s wonderful. You know her.”
And they both planned to never see each other again. The pounding in his veins that he’d made a mistake caught his attention. “No, you don’t understand—she’s gone.”
Her eyes widened behind her silver frames. “Gone where?”
Off to see Europe and not return to him—she’d seemed serious about keeping what happened one night only. A tingling sensation that he’d lost flushed his face. “Venice.”
“Pfft.” She shrugged. “So go find her. That’s only a few hours away.”
It seemed his mother grew angel wings in that moment. Of course. He jumped out of his chair. “Mother, I don’t… okay, I will grab a fast shower and drive.”
She stood and fixed her black dress. “How did she go?”
“The train.” He wished he’d asked more about her trip. He knew that she’d never been to Venice so he’d start with the tourist spots.
His mother walked toward the door. “Good luck! I’m so excited to meet this Donna. She must be special.”
She was. He’d known it when she’d bravely swallowed the beer she didn’t like in the bar. If he married Donna, then perhaps the feeling of being trapped would ease. He held onto the chair and stared out the window. “Mother, I screwed this up already, but if it’s possible, I’d marry her.”
His mother clapped. “Good to hear. I’ll move my things to the dower house and have the duchess quarters set up while you’re gone.”
So practical, as always. The moment his bedroom door closed, he raced to his bathroom. The train made a lot of stops along the way. He’d drive straight to Venice. With luck, he’d arrive within the hour she did. The shower revived him as did the idea of Donna being his duchess.
A few minutes later, he raced down the stairs in a fresh pair of jeans and a blue t-shirt. She was American and would understand his preference for comfort. He’d packed a button-down Oxford for something dressier while he prayed her past hurts didn’t interfere with them, in the here and now.
His mom waited for him at the bottom step. “I don’t know how long I’ll be gone,” he said as he flew past. “I don’t have her phone number.”
His mother snapped her fingers and he stopped on his heels. “I can help. She talked to someone named Beth Conners from Miami. I’ll call her first, and see if she’ll talk or I’ll hire investigators. I’ll call you when I get any useful information.”
“Sounds good.” His mother had a way of making things happen.
He opened the door as she said, “And buy a ring. Women like to be proposed to with a ring.”
Right. The buzz in the back of his mind said Donna might not agree, so it was good to go in with a plan to get her to say yes. He nodded. “I will. Goodbye.”
“You’ll knock her socks off.” His mom was trying to sound as American as their neighbors had once been and it made him chuckle.
He hopped into his red Ferrari convertible and the engine sang to life as he sped out of his estate and onto the highway.
Donna’s smile was all the fuel his body needed. As he passed the welcome sign for Italy, he picked up his cell phone and called his secretary. On the second ring, Piers said, “Hello.”
Blackwell didn’t start with the niceties. Instead he launched into what he needed while driving fast on the highway. “Piers, please call all the hotels you know in Venice. Make me a reservation at the usual but also find out where a Miss Donna Smith, American, is staying.”
Piers, efficient as ever, said, “I’m on it, sir. As you are driving to Venice right now? Shall I cancel your appointment with the Earl of Sky?”
Riding horses could be postponed. He nodded though no one could see him. “Yes, reschedule our ride and tell Remington I’ll call him; never mind—he’s calling now. I’ll handle it.” His phone beeped and he glanced at the screen, then switched lines. “Remington. I’m driving to Venice—we’ll have to reschedule.”
His friend had also grown up in America but on the beaches of California instead of the mountains of Colorado. “What’s in Venice? I thought you were determined to stay in Woodbridge Hall for the next six months to finally get used to the place.”
True, that had been the plan. It still was, once Donna agreed to return with him but if anyone knew what the rush was for, it was Remington. He had even less time to find a wife. “My mother asked the Royal IT Department for the name of the woman who matches my personality. She’s American, and visiting Europe—specifically Venice.”
“But you asked the Earl of Paston for Chelsea Bright’s hand—which left her unavailable for my offer, by the way.”
“They haven’t accepted my offer. It’s a business deal. Are you in love with Chelsea?”
“I’m in a time crunch as you know, and she seemed nice enough. I sent an offer which is how I know about yours.”
When he came back from Venice, he’d rescind the offer straight away. “Maybe they’ll accept yours—give me a few days.”
Remington sighed. “I suppose I need to call the palace, too. I’m closer to thirty than you.”
“By twenty-three days.” Blackwell never dreamed that his old barb might mean a ticking clock now. He quickly changed the topic. “So, I take it Lucinda is not going to be your Countess?”
Remington cursed softly. “We won’t suit long term. I think growing up in the United States affected both of us in different ways. Neither of us had a chance to find love in college.”
In the movies, finding
the right wife came off as an adventure, but in his world marriage came with a stopwatch saying that they must marry within a certain time frame, followed by old world whispers that love was for dreamers and fools.
The picture of Donna, sweet smile, dressed in black, brought him back to the present. Hopefully he’d get both. If she was a physical and mental match, then it allowed his heart to admit that this rush might be about love. He shook his head and refused to share those sentiments with his friend. “You are smart to realize that before the vows. I took Donna to Prince Aussa’s wedding last night, and I have to say I’m surprised in a good way that her name was on the print out. Now I have to convince her that this is a good idea.”
Remington’s deep voice boomed from the speaker. “Convince her? Nice twist. Well, good luck Blackwell. You always outshine your competitors. I look forward to meeting her.”
They said goodbye and Blackwell ended the call. No one was going to stop him from finding her again. Donna Smith was a perfect choice to be his wife and with her, maybe he could also find love. Anything was possible.
6
Donna Smith’s nape still tingled where Blackwell had kissed her last night and unzipped her dress. His touch had transported her into a world of sensuality—taste and touch—making it tough to leave this morning. It had been difficult, but the right decision. If she’d drawn out a morning with him, she might have had her hopes crushed like all her other dreams had been.
After a few delays, the train finally reached Venice, where she stepped off and stretched her legs. Hit immediately by the scent of water and old world buildings, she cautiously sniffed the air and followed the crush of people toward the luggage already on deck. Donna wheeled her bag behind her, ready to see Venice. Beth had told her to try Italian ice cream so that was on the agenda.
Perhaps something sweet would make her forget Blackwell—though she highly doubted anything could do that. Their one night would be burned in her mind forever as the starting point to figuring herself out.
She followed her phone app to find a small but affordable inn away from the Grand Canal. Her app had her go through a narrow alley, but it seemed clean and there was even a store on the corner.
Her luggage became harder to manage over uneven cobblestones but she made it to the hotel and went inside, overcome by the smell of cigarettes. She held her nose and filled out the forms at the front desk.
The clerk was pleasant through the process, but at the end said, “Your room won’t be ready till three. We can keep your luggage for you and put it in your room at that time.”
It was nearly two. Hopefully her room didn’t smell like the lobby, but she kept her mouth shut and pointed to the door. “Sounds great. Which way to the Grand Canal?”
The woman smiled at her and waved. “Follow the water, Miss. You can’t miss it.”
She let out a small sigh and asked, “And the Rialto Bridge?”
The woman nodded. “To the right.”
She’d worn flats knowing she’d want to walk the city and maneuvering through the streets was much easier without dragging her bag.
The street near the canal was busy and curved, but it was nice to be amongst so many people from so many places. At home, she often went to the beach but had her nose in a book, not caring about the couples or families around her.
Venice was the first step in seeing the world and actually doing things on her own, without hiding who she was anymore. She passed a busy ice cream parlor and remembered Beth’s suggestion. Donna went inside and spoke to the young man in English. “Can I have an ice cream cone? For now let’s stick to vanilla.”
“Certainly, signorina.” He scooped the ice cream she pointed toward behind a sheer pane of plexi-glass.
He handed it to her and she paid, glad that he didn’t object to her American cash. “Thank you.”
The taste in her mouth was sweeter than any dessert she’d ever had. There had to be more sugar in this than the legal limits of ice cream in America but then how were Italians so healthy looking? For now, she indulged herself in decadence. She licked her lips to ensure she didn’t miss a drop as she walked. The only thing tastier had been Blackwell’s kisses last night.
Perhaps she should have tried to switch her ticket to the noon train, and stayed to have breakfast with him. But that was a fleeting thought. The last thing she needed was to involve herself with a guy, any guy. She was here to ensure her spirit was strong. As she made her way to the canal and stared at the old bridge, she sighed and let the scene take her breath away.
The Rialto Bridge almost had a shine to it as the sun set and with the reflection on the water, she couldn’t remember seeing anything more grand. Around her couples kissed, but she was all alone though her lips still tingled from last night’s kiss. For right now, she closed her eyes and indulged her wish for just a second that she was ready for a relationship, again, then said to herself, “Wow. I wish Blackwell was here to see this with me.”
A baritone voice behind her then sent a thrill up her spine. “Donna-”
She spun around in surprise, eyes wide. He’d come for her? Her heart beat grew faster as she shook her head. He came closer so she knew he was absolutely real and not her imagination. “Blackwell? What are you doing here?”
“I couldn’t leave things as they were.” He took her hand in his.
Part of her hoped he’d kiss her, but her face heated and she looked down at her ice cream. She knew better than to trust her feelings which had led her down the wrong path before. “I’d already paid for the hotel room and the train ticket. I didn’t think I could rearrange things at the last minute.”
His hand brushed against her arm and shoulder. “Everything is negotiable. I feel terrible that I slept in a room you paid for.”
“It was my room and you were my guest last night. Actually, the night was wonderful.” Had he followed her out of male pride? She wished instead that he’d come just to see her though she knew she shouldn’t. It wasn’t fair as she’d understood it was a mutual agreement of one night. He pressed his hand against her lower back and urged her closer to him. “I agree. I was hoping we could have more nights.”
Her lips tingled and she automatically closed her eyes and lifted her face to his. One night wasn’t eternity and he smelled like fresh mountain air.
The moment his lips met hers again she knew without a doubt he tasted better than the silly cone melting in her hand.
He ended the kiss and she licked her fingers to stop the mess. “So you came to join me on vacation for a few days?”
His gaze on her lips made her ache. “I want more than a few days, Donna.”
She wanted more too, but she wasn’t ready to give up on her quest either. She let out a breath and tried to sound reasonable. “Well, I have a list of things I need to do. If you’re here in Venice, I would love for us to see things together.”
A gondola pulled up and let out its passengers below. The couple climbed the steps and passed them.
Blackwell nodded at the conductor and then motioned for her. “Is a canal ride on your list?”
“Yes.” Her heart skipped a beat. He was here and this was easily the second best date she’d ever had, with last night still winning. Harry hadn’t done anything half as grand as Blackwell.
He placed his hand on her back to help her down the narrow steps. “Then let’s go. Your gondola awaits.”
Halfway down the steps she glanced at the rules posted on the wall and she saw the no food warning. She held her cone higher, looking for a trash can. “Blackwell, wait.”
“Yes?” His deep voice made her knees weak as it had done last night.
She looped her free hand around his waist but ate as much as she could. On the platform, she swallowed and said, “I’m glad you’re here. I liked your company.”
He winked and went to talk to the driver. “Good, because I intend to keep you, for the rest of my life if you agree.”
Blackwell had to be exaggerating forever but he
sounded romantic. She ignored the twist in her heart and held his hand so he didn’t go. “We can get the next one. I should finish my ice cream.”
He glanced down at her hand. “It’s melting.”
“I get hot near you.” She laughed and took another full bite.
He stopped and leaned closer. “Donna, don’t say things like that unless you mean it.”
Fire grew within her, and her face heated. She said whatever came to her mind near him, which never happened before—she’d been too shy. She stepped aside to let another couple get on the gondola.
He spoke to the conductor or whatever she was supposed to call the gondola driver.
And she ate through her cone as fast as she could.
Blackwell turned toward her and held out his arms. “Come. I’ll pay extra so no one says a word about your ice cream.”
She trashed the last of it and took out a napkin from her pocket to clean her hands and face. Done, she held out both hands and hoped her face was clean. “You don’t have to. I’m finished.”
“You should have brought it on.” He helped her into the boat.
She took a seat so she could look forward when they moved. He took the seat next to her and she offered her hand. “It was delicious but I’d had plenty. I want to go on this with you.”
He squeezed her hand. “Good, because I want to ask you something important.”
No. If this was about some job or some other hand out, she wasn’t interested. She shouldn’t have told him that she’d lost her job. This trip was about her figuring out what she wanted and who she wanted to be for the rest of her life. She shook her head. “Important sounds serious. I’m not ready for that.”
He made a face like she’d slapped him, but a moment later, it disappeared. “While we’re in Venice, together, I’m hoping you’ll stay with me.”
Last night hadn’t been enough for her either. She nodded. “Oh, a weekend with you sounds lovely.”
The waters of the Grand Canal were around them, but all she cared about was handsome Blackwell, who’d come for her. He took her breath away with those dark eyes of his though the setting sun still gave the magical glow on the waters as Venice floated around them in the distance. She cuddled closer to Blackwell, glad he was at her side.
Forbidden Duke (Princes of Avce Book 4) Page 4
