At Bill’s insistence, she took them out to Murano, where she did much of her work. They went to the island by vaporetto, a water taxi that took only seven minutes to get there.
Bill and Frank both wanted to see her designs, and so they visited the ancient glass foundry where her glass pieces were handblown. Both men were impressed by her stunning designs, her talent and creativity, and they realized she was a true artist.
That evening, at her request, they escorted her to a cocktail party given by an old friend of hers from her student days, who owned a palazzo on the Grand Canal situated diagonally across from the Gritti Palace. They needed a gondola to get there.
The two newsmen found the slightly ram-shackle palace an amazing place, and were fas-cinated by its many treasures. Carlo Metzanno, their host, was an interior designer, and he had given the massive, centuries-old palace a great deal of style and elegance. As he showed them around, he explained the provenance of many of the art objects, paintings, and antiques.
Prominently displayed were several extraordinary pieces by
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Vanessa. These were fluid, sinuous, and impress-ive.
The three of them stayed at the cocktail party for an hour, mixing with a colorful group of people including a couple of local artists, a famous French movie star, a playwright from London, and an American architect.
When they left the palazzo, the same gondola that they had hired for the evening took them to the Giudecca, the narrow sliver of an island across the Canale della Giudecca. Vanessa had invited them to dinner, and she had booked a table at Harry’s Dolci, the charming and intimate “little sister” of Harry’s Bar. After their meal they strolled over to the Hotel Cipriani for es-pressos and stregas before going back to Venice in the gondola. “We’ve become the three mus-keteers,” Frank said as they took their seats, settling back to enjoy the ride to the Gritti Palace. “We’re now old pals.” Bill and Vanessa laughed, and Bill said, “I think that’s swell.”
Bill had planned what he termed “an adventure” for Saturday night. Once again, a gondola was hired for the evening, and this carried them down the narrow winding backwaters of Venice until they arrived at an old house that looked like a hole in the wall. It
76 / Barbara Taylor Bradford turned out to be a marvelous family restaurant, one Bill knew well, which was a popular eating place favored by Venetians in the know.
It was a gay evening filled with bonhommie.
They laughed and joked, exchanging a lot of amusing banter. A considerable amount of genuine affection flowed between them. The two men had grown quite close to Vanessa, and she to them.
“Here’s a toast, then,” Frank said as the dinner drew to a close. “To dear friends—old and new.” He clinked his glass of red wine to Bill’s glass and then Vanessa’s. Smiling at her genially, he added, “You’re a good sport, kid, the way you’ve put up with us. Especially me, with all my questions. I’ve enjoyed being with you for the last couple of days. You’ve been like…a breath of fresh air.”
Vanessa colored slightly, the flush rising from her neck to touch her face. Frank had teased her a lot, and now she was touched by his compliments, his unexpected courtliness.
“What a nice thing to say, Frank, thanks, and I’ve enjoyed your company.”
“I’m going to miss you both,” Frank went on, looking from Vanessa to Bill. “Most especially you, William Patrick. Battlefields are not the same without you.”
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“I know,” Bill replied, his eyes focused on his best friend. “I’ll miss you, too, but who knows, we may well be covering the same story in the next few months.”
“Could be,” Frank said. “I hope so.”
As they left the restaurant a short while later, Vanessa shivered and moved nearer to Bill, who put his arm around her protectively and drew her close against him.
Venice in winter, and especially in the evening, was mysterious, even frightening. The gondola glided down many dark waterways, heading for the Gritti Palace. Mist rose up from the murky canals, and there was no noise except for the slap of the oars as they hit the water.
Everything was shadowy, eerie in the dim light.
On either side of the narrow waterways, buildings loomed up like strange inchoate monsters under the threatening sky. At times the mist was more like fog, thick and almost impenetrable. The dampness clung to them, seemed to penetrate their clothes.
The three friends stayed huddled in the gondola, shivering, fighting the cold, talking quietly until they reached the hotel.
“I’m glad we’re back,” Vanessa said with another shiver as Bill helped her to alight at
78 / Barbara Taylor Bradford the small dock in front of the Gritti Palace.
“There are times when Venice at night frightens me, fills me with foreboding—” She cut herself off, feeling suddenly foolish. After all, she had two men to protect her, not to mention the muscular gondolier who looked like a prizefight-er.
Since they each had their rooms on different floors, they said good night in the lobby.
Frank, who was leaving the following morning for Milan and then a direct flight to New York, kissed Vanessa on both cheeks. He gave Bill one of their customary bear hugs.
“See you, William,” he said nonchalantly, walking to the elevator. Suddenly, he paused, turned around, and looked at them both for a split second, the expression on his face unexpectedly serious.
“Take care of each other,” he said and disappeared behind the sliding doors of the elevator.
Bill and Vanessa remained standing in the lobby, staring at each other.
Vanessa’s eyes were full of questions as she
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murmured, “What an odd thing for him to say—” She stopped, her gaze still riveted on Bill.
“Not really,” Bill answered quickly. Then, after the merest hesitation, he went on, “You see, he knows how I feel about you.”
“How is that?”
“I’m very… drawn to you, Vanessa.”
She was staring up at him; she nodded. “I guess he knows I feel the same way.”
“You do?”
“Oh, yes, Bill.”
Bill inclined his head slightly. “So, Frankie was right. He sensed it from the beginning. He was quite positive he knew exactly how we both were feeling.”
“He’s very astute.” She spoke in the softest of voices.
“He is. Do you want a nightcap? Or something hot, maybe? Hot lemon tea?”
“Not here, though,” Vanessa said.
“Your room or mine?”
“Oh yours, please,” Vanessa answered with a small, shy smile. “You have a suite, mine is nothing so grand.”
Putting an arm around her shoulder, Bill led her to the other elevator at the far end of the lobby. The minute the door closed, he did
80 / Barbara Taylor Bradford what he had been wanting to do for the past three days. He took her in his arms and kissed her.
Vanessa kissed him back, and with such intensity he was momentarily startled. When the elevator came to a halt, they quickly pulled apart. As they stepped out, he noticed her flushed face. She was usually so pale.
Drawing a finger down one side of her cheek, he leaned into her and whispered, “You’re burning up. Hot to the touch.”
She looked at him swiftly but said nothing.
With their arms wrapped around each other, they walked along the corridor to his suite. After letting them in, Bill closed the door with his foot. Shooting the bolt with one hand, he pulled her into his arms with the other. Once more they clung together, kissing with growing fervor.
Suddenly Bill held her away from him and said, “Let’s take off our coats.” So saying, he helped her out of hers, struggled to shrug off his trench coat, and threw both on a nearby chair.
Silently Bill took hold of her hand tightly, led her into the adjoining bedroom and over to the bed. Vanessa seated herself on the edge
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of it, all the time watching him as he bent down and took off her shoes, first one and then the other.
After kissing each foot, he slid his hand under her wide, flared skirt, stroking her leg, moving up until his fingers caressed her inner thigh.
“Bill?”
“Yes?”
“Let’s get undressed.”
A half smile touched his mouth. With swift-ness he rose, took her hands in his and pulled her to her feet, so that they were facing each other. Vanessa moved closer, placed her arms around his neck, kissed him on the mouth passionately. As she did so, he reached behind her and unzipped her wool skirt.
The skirt fell to the floor, lay in a swirl of purple at her feet. She stepped away from it, then swung back to him, her eyes focused on him with intensity.
Bill looked at her closely. What he saw surprised and pleased him. Her face was flushed, full of desire, and her silvery eyes brimmed with longing. For him.
Roughly Bill pulled her to him, bent his face to hers, and kissed her deeply. He slid his tongue into her mouth, let it graze hers,
82 / Barbara Taylor Bradford and she did the same, exciting him more than ever with her fervor and unabashed desire. He felt the blood rush to his face; he was aroused as he had not been aroused for years. He wanted her so much, had wanted her for days, and now he felt as though he would explode.
He had an enormous erection. He pressed himself against her; she bent to his will, letting her whole body flow against his.
Leaning away from her slightly, he looked down at her breast, touched it gently. How taut it was under the thin silk blouse. Fumbling, he undid the first few buttons, put his hand inside her blouse. He kissed her breast, then sucked on the hardening nipple.
“Please, let’s lie down, Bill.”
Clinging to each other they staggered to the bed. She began to take off her blouse, but he stopped her.
“Let me do it,” he said in a low voice. “I want to undress you. Please, darling.”
She nodded. Her eyes never left his face as he opened her blouse. After slipping it over her shoulders, he began to kiss her neck, her arms, and brought his mouth back to her breast. As his tongue tantalized the nipple, he undid her bra. At last both of her small, rounded
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breasts were free and he buried his head between them.
Bill could feel Vanessa’s strong hands in his hair, smoothing and stroking, massaging his neck and shoulders. He heard her soft moans as he moved from one breast to the other, tenderly kissing and touching them, inflaming himself as well as her.
After a moment he sat up, looked down at her stretched out on the bed. How exciting she was to him, so vulnerable in her delicate beauty.
She wore a lacy, black garter belt and sheer, black stockings. Carefully he undid the suspend-ers and rolled down each stocking, took off one, then the other. His eyes ravished her body, so trim and lean, yet shapely. Unfastening the garter belt, he slipped it off.
She stared up at him, her eyes wide and un-blinking. “I want you,” she said in a husky voice.
He nodded, stood up, threw off his clothes haphazardly, lay down next to her. Taking her in his arms, he kissed her eyes, her lips, her ears. “I want to kiss every part of you,” he whispered against her hair.
“I’d like that,” she murmured.
He slid down the bed, brought his mouth to the core of her. She responded wildly, crying
84 / Barbara Taylor Bradford his name. Her body suddenly convulsed in a spasm, and she grasped his shoulders hard, gasping as she did so.
Before he could stop himself, Bill was astride her, lying on top of her. Both his hands reached up into her dark curls, and he covered her mouth with his, touching his tongue to hers.
He needed to take her to him. Now. Without further delay. Bracing his hands on either side of her he raised himself up, stared down into her eyes.
“Yes,” she cried. “Oh, yes, Bill.”
His hands left her hair, moved on to fondle those taut breasts with their erect nipples. He pushed his hands under her back, then her buttocks, lifting her closer to him, fitting her body to his. He was harder than ever and slid inside her easily.
And she welcomed him with her warm and pliant body, cleaving to him, thrusting up to him. She became welded to him. She moved her legs, threw them around his back, as high as they would go, so that he could shaft deeper and deeper into the warm, soft core of her. And they found their own rhythm, moving faster and faster until they were frenzied.
Bill thought his heart was going to burst.
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He sank deeper and deeper into her until he was entirely enveloped by her. “Vanessa,” he gasped. “Vanessa.”
“Yes, Bill!” she cried. “Don’t stop.”
He brought his mouth to hers again, and holding her tightly in his arms, they came to a climax together, sharing their ecstasy. And their joy in each other was unparalleled.
CHAPTER
SIX
That was all too quick,” Bill said, encircling her with his arms, pulling her closer to him.
“I’m afraid I was overanxious.”
“No, you were wonderful.”
“I’ve wanted us to be together like this since the other afternoon, when I almost knocked you over.”
“So have I.”
“Really and truly, Vanessa?”
“Yes, honestly.”
He felt her smile against his chest. Before he could stop himself, Bill asked, “Who’s Giovanni?”
She swiveled her eyes to look up at him.
“How do you know his name?”
“I heard you greet him the other afternoon, just after I’d chased your hat.”
90 / Barbara Taylor Bradford
“I see. He’s an old friend…we met when I was doing my graduate course here. We became close, he helped me in lots of ways.”
“Are you lovers?”
“No.” Vanessa hesitated, then added, “Giovanni lives with someone, has for several years…another man.”
“Oh.” Bill cleared his throat, and after a moment he said, “We asked you lots of questions, Frankie and I, but we didn’t ask your age, being the gentlemen that we are. But how old are you, actually?”
“Twenty-seven. Soon to be twenty-eight. And you’re about thirty-five, aren’t you?”
He laughed. “Thanks a lot! And no, I’m thirty-three,” he replied and kissed the top of her head. “You said you were staying another four days. That means you’re leaving on Wednesday. Correct?”
“Yes, I have to work at the glass foundry on Monday and Tuesday.”
“Can I see you in the evenings? Can we be together until you leave?”
“Of course, I want that too, Bill.”
“Listen, I’m coming to New York in December. For the Christmas holidays, in fact. Are you going to be around?”
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“Yes.” There was a small pause before she continued, “Bill, there’s something I must tell you.”
He heard an edge in her voice all of a sudden and he frowned. “Go ahead.”
Vanessa took a deep breath and plunged.
“I’m married.”
For a moment Bill did not respond, and then he moved up on the pillows.
Vanessa struggled free of his embrace, turned to face him.
They stared at each other intently.
Vanessa saw surprise mingled with hurt on his face.
“Don’t be angry with me. Don’t look at me like that,” she cried.
“How do you expect me to look, for God’s sake? I’m disappointed, Vanessa. You lied to me.”
“No I didn’t, we never mentioned my marital status.”
“You lied by omission.”
“What about your private life, Bill? Is there a woman in your life? You don’t need a piece of paper to make a commitment to someone.
Making it legal doesn’t necessaril
y make the bonds any stronger, the attachment greater. Do you live with a woman?”
92 / Barbara Taylor Bradford
“No.”
She sighed.
He said, “Do you live with him?”
“Sort of…”
“What does that mean?”
“He’s away a lot. And I go to my studio in the Hamptons a great deal of the time. I have a barn and a cottage in Southampton. So we’re not together often.”
“And when you are? Is it a proper marriage?”
She shrugged.
“Do you sleep with him?” he pressed.
Vanessa did not respond.
“Your silence is golden…it means that you do.”
“It’s not a good marriage—”
His hard laugh stopped her short. “Ah, the misunderstood married woman!” he exclaimed.
“No, it’s not like that!” She leapt off the bed, ran into the bathroom, and came back a moment later wrapped in a terry cloth robe. Seating herself on the edge of the bed, she took hold of his hand.
Bill looked at her, his face taut. He was trying to come to grips with his emotions. After making such passionate love he had been euphoric, a feeling he had long forgotten
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existed. And he had felt at ease with this young woman who had come so unexpectedly into his life. He knew he wanted to get to know her better, to spend time with her. Her announce-ment that she was not free had been a bomb-shell.
Vanessa exclaimed, “Please, Bill, don’t be angry. Let me explain.”
“I’m not angry, and go ahead, be my guest.
Explain,” he said and there was a sarcastic note in his voice.
Ignoring this, Vanessa said, “Peter’s a lawyer, a show-business lawyer and very successful.
He’s away a lot, mostly in Hollywood. It wasn’t like that at first, but his business has grown.
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