Blackwell pressed on her elbow and she turned toward him. “Come,” he rumbled. “Let’s get to our next appointment.”
Harry asked as they turned to leave, “Donna, can I call you when we get back to Miami?”
Her ears rang. Seriously? Had Harry just asked that? She whipped around and stared at him as her heart skipped a beat. Was he jealous of Blackwell? “I don’t know when that will be—Blackwell and I have a few plans.” She lifted her chin as she refused to ever be the other woman. “Besides, you and Tiffany were ring shopping already and I don’t want to interfere with true love.”
Harry put his hands in his pockets and looked down. “Tiffany and I broke up before my trip. She knew I wasn’t over you. I’m sorry for what happened.”
The words replayed in her mind. It was what she’d wanted to hear, but nothing stirred in her heart. She wasn’t happy or angry. She felt nothing for Harry. But when she stepped close to Blackwell? Her skin warmed and her heart felt softer. She brushed her hand next to his and held Harry’s gaze. “That was the past. Bye, Harry.”
Blackwell took her hand and they walked further down the boardwalk next to the water. Once they were away Blackwell squeezed her fingers and quietly said, “If you want to go with Harry now, I won’t stand in your way.”
Her body went cold at the thought. No. If Harry could dump her like that she couldn’t ever go back to him. It must not have been love if she could get over what happened so fast. She turned toward him and liked sharing Blackwell’s warm breath in the fall air. “I didn’t expect an apology from him, but honestly, I can’t imagine being with Harry—it’s over. Let’s go to the Gallerie dell'Accademia and then get lunch before we drive to Florence. We shouldn’t run into him there so we can forget this.”
Her mind instantly swirled the truth that it wasn’t Florence she wanted to visit anymore. There was a hint of something else but she couldn’t put her finger on it.
Blackwell stopped walking and stepped in front of her. “I can forget him easily, Donna. Can you?”
Her gaze narrowed as he took both of her hands and stared at her while the gentle waves of the Grand Canal echoed behind her. “What are you asking?”
He pressed his forehead on hers and she could feel that his heart was beating fast. “Are you ready for a new relationship if we decide to become more serious?”
Her adrenalin raced as she held his sexy, brown eyes. “Are you ready to be serious with me Blackwell? Truly?”
He tugged her closer and put her hand on his chest. “I’d marry you now if I thought you’d accept.”
Marry? She wasn’t made to be a duchess. She was way too simple and she’d be a complete disaster in a palace or great hall. “You can’t be serious. This has to be more flirting.”
He let go of one hand and reached into his pocket. She watched him with apprehension as he pulled out a ring box, opening it to reveal a diamond, and tears formed in her eyes. This was too much. She hadn’t done anything to find her backbone. She couldn’t even tell Harry to get lost just a few minutes ago. This was way too soon.
He was everything she wanted and everything she didn’t all rolled into one. He was so handsome and her cheeks were wet while he went down on one knee. “I’ve been carrying this ring in my back pocket waiting for the right time to ask you.”
People stopped and watched them. She wiped her face but accepted the ring to take a closer look as she pulled him to his feet. “I can’t get married. You’re tempting me… You make me believe in true love and anything being possible, but we don’t have anything in common. Blackwell, you must see we don’t fit for eternity. I said yes to a few days of just us.”
They were in a busy section of Venice, with tourists watching in fascination. Oh goodness, this should have been in their room, not outside.
He adjusted his shirt and she instantly met his gaze while he took her free hand in his. “I must marry Donna. I want it to be with you.”
Say yes! Blackwell was the best man she’d ever find, but they had nothing in common. What happened when the lust ended and they were left to just talk? She couldn’t trust his motives, even if part of her heart begged her to change her mind. She clutched the ring in her hand. “Can I think about this?”
He took a deep breath and she waited for his words. He smelled like oak and was just as strong—he’d be a great husband and father. Her heart raced in the silence, but he kept her hand. Finally, he took a step to go beside her and motioned with his head to continue walking. “Yes. Of course. Let’s go. Giovanni Bellini is my favorite artist in this next museum on the list.”
The museum wasn’t what she wanted anymore. She squeezed the ring in the palm of her hand. Her heart still screamed she needed to say yes, but she walked into the building with him as if the scene minutes before hadn’t happened. “I want to see Leonardo da Vinci’s Vitruvian Man.” She swallowed as he bought them tickets. What she really wanted to do was figure out if they’d fit well together so could accept his proposal. But for now, she said, “Thank you, Blackwell.”
He walked her inside and toward the rather small and unassuming portrait of a man in motion that Leonardo had created centuries before. Perhaps it was her mood, but she wasn’t that impressed.
As they walked away from the portrait, Blackwell said, “If you want to stay in Venice and drive in the morning, it’s fine. This trip is entirely your choice.”
Her heart skipped again as she still held the ring. She was tempted to put it on and forget her fears racing through her mind. “My choice?”
“Absolutely.” They walked into a room filled with Bellini portraits.
She understood why Blackwell said he was a favorite. The artist caught human expressions in a way that brought them to life, but she ignored the images and stared at Blackwell’s profile. He’d be a perfect muscled gladiator or a medieval knight with that shiny dark hair, dark eyes and strong emotions or even that cowboy on the range if he wore the right hat. He’d grown up in Colorado and his sense of independence was instilled in his every breath.
She held the ring to her heart, inhaled and said quietly so only he heard, “I’d like to see your home and then possibly fly to Paris. It’s hard to think about saying yes when I don’t know where you live or what your life is like.”
Twin dimples appeared as he winked at her. “Always thinking. It’s part of your charm.”
He thought her charming? A thrill raced through her body, lighting up every cell. She wanted him, but pointed toward a picture of a couple not looking at each other. “I can see why you like Bellini.”
“He’s good at human expressions.” He blocked her from moving on. “My car is fueled and ready to go, whenever you are.”
A huge smile grew when she let her heart believe she might say yes. “Good. Oh, and ask me with this ring again when we’re in Paris, perhaps in Versailles.” She handed it back to him and closed his fingers around the ring. “I’ve always thought the palace must be so romantic.”
He kissed her cheek and put the ring back in his pocket. “Done. I’m yours.”
She laughed and joy grew in her heart. Perhaps she’d found true love this trip. Who knew? For now, she gripped his hands. “Irresistible. It’s part of your charm.”
Neither moved and his lips lowered to meet hers, not caring that they were in the middle of the crowd. His hand traced her arm. “Let’s head back to our room before we check out, Donna. Then we’ll work up our appetite for dinner.”
She wanted him too. She closed her eyes and lifted her face and lips though she said, “We did leave early this morning. I’m game. Lead the way.”
Then his mouth covered hers and she forgot about anything else except the two of them.
11
Blackwell could breathe after having Donna again. He thought nothing could alleviate how empty he felt when she’d turned him down. However she hadn’t run away after their romantic interlude and a nap, which gave him hope.
Now he thought of this as a challen
ge. He needed to show her that being his duchess would be the best thing she’d ever do in her life. He had to marry someone, and unlike the nothingness he normally felt, Donna lit something inside his heart.
They left the hotel and he put her single bag in the trunk of his Ferrari. “Donna, I don’t want to pressure you. I know you can marry or not marry anyone you choose, anytime you choose. I don’t have that option.”
“You could walk away from your family money and choose your own life,” she said.
Not really, but how could she, as an American, understand? “You’ll meet my mother when we go home. I had to give up my life when my father died and all his responsibilities as the Duke of Oakley are now mine.”
“So you’re stuck.”
“I need to ensure the people under my care are provided for and if that means I marry a stranger, I will do whatever I can to keep them safe. But I’d rather marry you.”
“Thanks for letting me think about this and explaining.” She stayed beside him and he closed the trunk and went to open the passenger door. She squeezed his upper arm and then slid into the black leather seat of his car. “Even if there is only a possibility, I’m okay. I want to see where you live and what your life is like at home.”
Blackwell got into the driver’s seat, started the car and heard the powerful vhrrm of the engine. He clutched the wheel, but turned toward her. “I don’t feel like Woodbridge Hall is my real home—I’ve spent more time in my apartment in Paris.”
He pressed a button and the top came down. Donna smiled when they left the parking lot and headed toward the highway. She stared out the window, tendrils of chestnut hair flying over her cheeks. Once they were on the road and she grew comfortable with the Italian countryside, she turned and stared at his profile. He kept quiet, letting her look her fill. “I’m curious about you.”
He winked at her. “I’m an open book.”
She held the handle on the passenger side door as they went past a curve. “Do you often drive this fast?”
His brow lowered and he checked the odometer. He was driving the American speed limit, though Italians and Avceans often drove this road even faster. He reached over and patted her leg. “I’m going slow to impress you.”
She gave an audible sigh as she let her hair flap in the wind, but released her hold on the handle. “Ohh. Well I’m not used to riding in a convertible.”
He took his hand back to keep both hands on the wheel so he didn’t scare her. Blackwell turned on American rock music. “Tie your hair up.”
She laughed but put her hair in a ponytail. “You learned this trick from what woman?”
His mind went blank at the question and he shrugged. “I don’t remember. No one was as memorable as you.”
He handed her an extra pair of sunglasses from his console and adjusted his favorite Ray-Bans. Her excited laughter was all he needed to speed up so she could feel the wind hit her face.
They drove, singing and laughing, toward Woodbridge Hall and his skin grew more electric. He didn’t have a lot of time left to convince Donna to marry him, so he needed to formulate an action-packed, no-fail plan. He considered what he knew Donna liked and how he could play up his strengths.
She stared ahead of them and raised her eyebrow quizzically. “The royal palace is all lit up and it’s almost midday.”
Thankfully he wasn’t that royal. He could have a simple backyard wedding with no fuss, which was what he’d prefer. “For the week after a royal wedding, there are activities to celebrate. If you wish to go there is probably a ball tonight.”
She shook her head fast. “No thanks. Tomorrow maybe. Tonight, I want to see what your life is like.”
He drove toward his house and in the far distance knew some servant watched for his car and opened the black gate for them without being asked. She went quiet so he said, “If you marry me, we can keep the ceremony simple and invite no one, a few people or as many as you want.”
She took off his too big sunglasses, looked at him and he swore he saw a hunger in the reflection of his glasses, but he couldn’t be sure. She shrugged. “Good to know.”
A few minutes later, he drove through those black gates without seeing one person to thank. He pointed with his nose ahead of them. “Here we are.”
She held her breath, leaned forward and didn’t say a word about the white house in the distance that shone as the centerpiece of some old world design. She turned toward her door and stared at the manicured garden of lawn, tulips, and rose bushes. “The gardens are gorgeous. Where does that path go?”
He glanced past her to see which path she pointed at then answered, “Toward the pond or the horse stables depending on your turn. Do you ride?”
She let out a small, nervous laugh. “I’ve never ridden a horse in my life.”
He knew many people from Florida who rode horses—Wellington had a large polo and equestrian community, but perhaps she never had the opportunity. Blackwell parked near the front door, knowing a servant would take his car to the temperature controlled garage. He left the key in the ignition. “I ride often. I will teach you, if you’d like.”
She opened her own door and hopped out of the Ferrari. She stretched her long, denim-clad legs and met him behind the car, expecting him to get her bag. Normally a servant would but he popped the trunk and took it himself. When he’d first moved here, he’d carried his own bag to spite his father’s insistence they were nobles again. Donna wouldn’t be so strict as his father and he wanted her to be comfortable.
Donna smiled at him with trust. “You have a small, gentle horse for me?”
Red Devil came to mind, a mare the opposite of her name, and Gaia, a retired show horse, fit the bill. “I’m sure I do.”
He carried the bag up the three steps and she stopped to put her sunglasses back in the car. Once she returned, she glanced higher and said, “This reminds me of the lawn at the White House.”
Blackwell waved her inside. “Let me show you the house. I’m sure my mother will be around to impress you with our wealth.”
The butler who opened the door immediately reached for her bag and Blackwell handed it to him.
Donna unfastened her ponytail and ran her hands through her silky chestnut hair. “Why?”
His mother cared about him, which was why he’d follow the rules. “She knows I need to marry but hopes I’ll find a woman to love too. She’s formal, but my parents were very much in love. I’m the only child because when she had me, she almost died and my father couldn’t handle it if she left him.” He guided Donna to the right and toward a living area. The couch was pretentious with the gold gilding but his mother said it was a family heirloom. The rest of the room was simpler. He opened the door and showed her the sitting area that he used as a living room, complete with a view of the gardens.
Her hands went to her heart and she smiled. “That’s sweet. What happened to your father?”
His father had been larger than life and smarter than anyone else he’d ever met. “He died ten months ago. My mother is technically still in mourning…” The footsteps outside the door perked his ears and he knew it was his mother, here to meet Donna. He spoke loud enough for her to hear. “Speak of the devil herself. Here she comes.”
Donna rubbed her arms. “My parents died when I was fifteen. My grandfather died when I was twenty-one and graduating college and my grandma died last year. Mourning is always hard.”
They took their seats in the sitting room, when the side doors flew opened and at first revealed a portrait of his grandfather. When they’d lived in Colorado that portrait had come with them and hung in their living room. It was comforting to see his image still with the family, in a place of honor.
His mother breezed through the door and had both her hands in the air, like she was joining a dance and not a conversation. She came over and kissed both his cheeks. “I was setting up to have a nice lunch on the patio in the dower house, when I heard your arrival. May I join my son and his bride for lun
ch?”
No. His heart stilled. He’d need to speak to his mother, alone, so she didn’t pressure Donna. He widened his stance and said, “Mother, Donna’s not my fiancée. She wants to get to know our lifestyle first, but please join us for lunch. The patio does sound nice. Would you like to dine al fresco, Donna?”
Donna nodded, stilled and lowered her head. “Sounds lovely, if you introduce us, Blackwell.”
Right. He straightened his shoulders and placed his hand on Donna’s lower back to keep her next to him. “Mother, this is Miss Donna Smith. Donna this is my mother. Martina Oberlin, the soon to be Dowager Duchess of Oakley.”
“Please call me Martina.” His mother came forward and hugged Donna. Then she kissed both of Donna’s cheeks, as this was customary. “I’ll happily be Dowager if I know my boy is happy.”
Donna hugged her back, but didn’t kiss. “It’s nice to meet you.”
His mother took her hands. “You, too. I’m so glad I told my son to go after you and not settle.”
Donna’s gaze narrowed and she stared at him with a blank expression for a second. She then gazed at his mother and tilted her head, “You did? Why? We never met.”
His mother met his stare. He prayed she didn’t ruin his chances. She started but then bit her lip and finished, “I… I saw how happy my son was when he came home the day he met you and asked you to the wedding. I knew you must be special. I can see now I was right.”
Good. She hadn’t said anything that Donna didn’t already know.
Donna folded her hands in front of her. “Is being a duchess hard?”
His mother waved off the question in her usual fashion. “It’s a job, like most people have. I’d happily show you how to do it if that’s one of your worries.”
The answer seemed to calm Donna. “Actually, it was and if you’re here then it’s one less thing to worry about. After lunch, can we see this huge place? I’m afraid I’ll get lost without guidance.”
Forbidden Duke (Princes of Avce Book 4) Page 7
