From Venice With Love

by Alison Roberts

  The confidence was still there but it was only professional. Cold. That’s what had hit him this morning—that lack of sparkle for want of a better word. It was only when he had pushed himself beyond any acceptably professional boundaries that he’d seen a hint of a woman capable of real emotion. That buttoned-up outward appearance was like a suit of armour around the old Charlotte.

  Whatever had happened had killed her personal confidence. Her hopes for a future outside her work ambitions. Had she been brutally dismissed by a man she’d been deeply in love with?

  How could the man have been such an idiot to pass up a woman like Charlotte?

  And why did the thought of her being passionately in love with another man stir up a nasty sensation in his gut that he couldn’t identify? Was it jealousy? No. That was absurd. He had never felt jealous in his life.

  ‘I saw her out with that man,’ he told Jendi. ‘At a very exclusive London club. I think we were even introduced. Was he a prince?’

  Lady Geraldine made a dismissive sound. ‘That’s what he called himself. He was a long way down the tree of some obscure European royal family. He was certainly a very charming young man. And very sure of himself.’

  ‘So what happened?’

  ‘Charlotte will never talk about it. I didn’t see her for a few weeks. She said she had flu and didn’t want to pass it on. And then she always had an excuse of being too busy at work to come to see me and when she finally did I was…shocked.’

  ‘Why?’ Nico leaned forward, unconsciously holding his breath.

  ‘She looked…ill. So thin. And…’ Lady Geraldine shook her head very slowly and when she raised her gaze to Nico’s he could see tears in her eyes. ‘You hit the nail right on the head, my dear. Her sparkle had gone. It was like it had been when she first arrived in my care as an orphaned child. When she was so lost and unhappy that she wouldn’t even speak. For months.’

  ‘She wouldn’t speak to you?’

  ‘Oh, no. She wasn’t a tiny child any more. She would talk but only if we didn’t talk about him. Siegfried. All she would say was that the relationship was over and it wasn’t important. The only thing that mattered was her work.’

  Lady Geraldine looked away. ‘I thought if I gave her enough space that she would eventually talk to me about it, but it’s been nearly six years and after the first attempt or two I had to give up. It’s the one thing that’s never discussed but is always there. The elephant in the room, you know?’

  ‘The elephant?’ How many odd English phrases were going to test him today?

  ‘The huge thing. You can’t ignore it because you always have to walk around it to get anywhere. But you’re not allowed to mention it because, if you do, the door gets slammed shut and you can’t get anywhere at all.’

  ‘Hmm…’ Nico was digesting the information. He was silent for a long time and when he spoke, his voice was uncharacteristically grim. ‘He hurt her,’ he said softly. ‘He hurt Charlotte badly, this Siegfried.’

  ‘Yes.’ Lady Geraldine dabbed at the corner of her eyes with her napkin.

  ‘Physically?’

  The gasp was shocked. ‘Oh, no… If he’d done that, she would have gone to the police, surely?’

  ‘But you said she looked unwell.’

  ‘She’d had flu. There was a very bad flu going around that year. One of those bird varieties, I think.’

  Nico wasn’t listening. How could anyone have wanted to hurt Charlotte? She had been so beautiful. A girl testing the wings of womanhood. In love and totally trusting. What kind of bastard had he been and what had he done to her? Nico didn’t believe the ‘flu’ excuse for a moment. And something was telling him that the pain of the broken relationship had not been simply emotional.

  ‘I need to talk to Charlotte,’ he said, his chair scraping on the stone-flagged floor as he pushed it back.

  Lady Geraldine caught his arm as he turned to leave. Her age and state of health disappeared from Nico’s awareness as he read her expression. It was the look of a mother as well as a grandmother. Ageless. She needed to protect her child and she wasn’t sure if she should have spoken about her concerns. There was a plea in her eyes that Nico could read only too well.

  ‘I’m not going to hurt her.’ The words came out like a vow and Nico meant every one of them. ‘I never would. That I can promise you.’

  Charlotte was freezing.

  An evening dress was entirely inadequate for a winter’s night in Venice but she couldn’t go back inside. She could see that the evening was winding up now and people were leaving.

  Good. If she waited a little longer, there would be no audience for when she had to go back in and face her grandmother after Nico had explained why he couldn’t accompany them on the Orient Express.

  She could see them through the tall, arched window. Their body language was intense as they leaned towards each other, oblivious to anyone else in the room. The fairy lights made the room seem like another world and Charlotte could see the Christmas images still scrolling against the far wall. Snowmen and sleighs. Christmas trees and prettily wrapped parcels. Happy people. Families. Parents with excited children.

  Parents who had once been lovers. Engaged couples.

  Charlotte was twisting the ring on her finger without realising it. She gave it a tug. Good grief…it was a tight fit. She was going to need soap to get it off. Maybe she should go into the bathroom and find some.

  But then she saw Nico get to his feet abruptly and she saw the way her grandmother caught his arm. For a moment that seemed suspended in time she saw the way they looked at each other and the light was enough for her to see the expression on Nico’s face. Such a kind expression. Loving. Intense. The kind of look someone might have if they were making a promise they intended to keep.

  Or maybe he’d been apologising. Was he coming out to tell her it was safe to go back in now?

  Charlotte’s heart picked up as Nico came out onto the balcony. He moved with such grace, this man. A calm assurance that he could command his environment and protect anyone within it. Powerful but not intimidating because there was a softness about him. That slow, easy smile. The glint in those dark eyes that advertised the ability to find joy in life. To play.

  That’s what they’d been doing tonight and Charlotte couldn’t deny that, for a while, it had been…fun. No. Fun wasn’t the word. What had drawn her in had been the illusion. The need to taste something that was so seductive it was irresistible. The illusion of being in love.

  With Nico.

  She had to turn her head and stop staring at him as if the charade was still continuing.

  ‘Did you talk to Gran?’

  ‘I did.’ Nico was close to her now.

  ‘Did you tell her the truth? Does she understand why you can’t come on the train with us?’ Charlotte couldn’t repress a shiver. Was it the cold or the disappointment of failure?

  ‘Not exactly.’ Nico was shrugging off his jacket. He stepped closer and draped it over Charlotte’s shoulders.

  Her first instinct was to shrug the garment off with a dismissive shake. She wasn’t a child who needed someone to take care of her. She could look after herself, thanks very much.

  But the gesture had been unexpectedly thoughtful.

  Caring.

  And the warmth was astonishingly comforting. Charlotte could feel her fingers creeping to the edges of the jacket to pull it closer around her. The warmth was the warmth of Nico’s body. The slide of the silk lining against the bare skin of her arms and shoulders made it feel as though he was touching her.

  It was disturbingly intimate now. Charlotte could even catch a whiff of a scent that was pure male. Pure Nico? She had to close her eyes for a heartbeat as she tried to stop herself inhaling deeply.

  ‘Your grandmother loves you very much,’ Nico said quietly. ‘She does not want you to be hurt…again.’

  Again? Her eyes snapped open. Oh, my God…what had they been talking about in there? But Gran didn’t know th
e truth so she couldn’t have told Nico. She was safe.

  So why didn’t she feel safe?

  ‘W-what did you say?’

  Nico looked more serious than she’d seen him look all day. Even when he’d been arriving at a potentially fatal incident. The subdued look didn’t sit well on a face that was made for laughter. Her heart skipped another beat.

  ‘I told her that I would never hurt you.’

  ‘So she still thinks that we’re…we’re engaged?’

  Nico’s mouth twitched. ‘I’m afraid so. I couldn’t bring myself to cause her pain.’

  It shouldn’t be such a relief. Not when Charlotte couldn’t see any way out of this.

  ‘And the train?’

  Nico shrugged. ‘I have a free day. I have to get back to London. Why not?’

  ‘Because…it’s impossible. How could we keep this up for thirty hours?’ Charlotte had another try at tugging the ring off her finger, looking away from him as she did so.

  She could see past Nico to where the final guests for the evening were leaving. Only her grandmother remained and the maître d’ was looking concerned, helping the elderly woman to her feet. Lady Geraldine was pointing towards the balcony. And now she was walking towards the door.

  ‘Nothing is impossible,’ Nico was saying.

  ‘She’s coming. She’ll guess. She’s not stupid.’

  ‘She won’t guess if you stop trying to remove that ring.’ Nico caught her hands. ‘If we…’

  His hands moved, pulling hers up to his neck before he let them go. His hands kept moving, though, burying themselves in her hair. Cupping the back of her head and tilting it as he leaned in to cover her mouth with his own.

  He was kissing her.

  Just for show. To cover an awkward moment when Gran might have picked up on the tension between them.

  Except…it didn’t feel like a pretend kiss.

  Or maybe it did, for that first, startled moment as their lips made contact, but then Nico’s lips moved with a kind of question that Charlotte couldn’t help responding to on some deep, instinctive level that totally overruled any conscious thought. Her lips parted beneath his and when she felt the touch of his tongue against hers all ability to control her thoughts vanished.

  A fleeting hope that her grandmother would see them and stay well away to give them a private moment evaporated, along with any awareness of what was around them. Charlotte was completely lost in this kiss. Transported to a place she’d never been. A place where passion and tenderness combined to create an all-consuming fuel that could burn away anything and everything and leave only peace and fulfilment in its wake.

  A kiss that promised everything. So much more than this touch of lips and tongues.

  More…

  And that was when Charlotte stopped being lost. She couldn’t do more. If she tried, Nico would find out and he would know what was so wrong with her.

  That she could go so far and no further. Because she was not a real woman. Real women liked going further. They weren’t…frigid.

  That did it. Just the tiniest echo of that hateful word was enough. Charlotte wrenched herself back from Nico’s touch. His jacket slid from her shoulders and puddled on the stone terrace. She could turn to see what had happened, scoop up the jacket and try to collect herself before acknowledging her grandmother standing in the restaurant doorway.

  ‘Oh…Gran…I’m so sorry. I…lost track of time.’

  ‘So I see.’ Lady Geraldine’s smile warmed the winter’s night.

  Nico was rubbing his lips slowly with his forefinger, staring at Charlotte, but now he also turned towards the door.

  ‘You must be tired, Jendi. Let me see you both back to your hotel.’

  ‘That would be lovely, Nico. Thank you. We have an early start tomorrow. I think we have to be at the Santa Lucia station by nine a.m. to catch the train.’

  It was Charlotte’s turn to stare at Nico but he didn’t meet her gaze. Instead, he put an arm around her waist as they began moving.

  ‘No problem,’ he told her grandmother. ‘I’m an early riser.’

  CHAPTER SIX

  ‘WHERE IS HE?’

  ‘I don’t know, Gran.’ Charlotte allowed a small seed of hope to blossom that Nico might fail to show up in time. Or maybe that odd squeeze in her chest was disappointment?

  Yep. There was definitely an internal struggle going on here. The safest thing was to never see Nico Moretti again and that’s what she should want. And, yes, she could try and convince herself that she only wanted him around, continuing this pretence of a relationship, because it was such a joy to see her grandmother so happy, but there was no way of hiding the real truth. Part of her—a big, rebellious part of her—simply wanted to be close to him again.

  ‘Maybe something came up.’ Like a bout of common sense? ‘He doesn’t have our phone numbers so he might not have been able to let us know.’

  The train was already here at the station, the sleek, dark blue carriages with the gold trim, the coat of arms featuring two rampant lions and the lettering announcing that this was, indeed, the Venice Simplon Orient Express. As if anyone could mistake it! Among the ordinary modern European trains in the station, this one stood out like a beacon. So did the attendants. The gold-trimmed blue uniforms looked positively military and the pillbox hats the stewards were wearing made them look ready for a fancy-dress party.

  The check-in desk stood out on the grey concrete of the platform in equally startling contrast. A red carpet, of all things, with brass posts holding tasselled ropes to create an oasis of luxury amidst the mundane. Even the people milling around looked different. Like that young woman in a long coat that belonged to another era, its fur collar turned up around her neck. The people were generally better dressed, certainly, but that wasn’t the only difference. There was an air of excitement that encased this part of the station and separated it from the rest. From the real world.

  ‘I knew we should have offered to let him share our water taxi.’

  ‘It would have been a bit of a squeeze with all your luggage, Gran.’

  It had, in fact, taken an impressive tip to get the water taxi driver to leave his boat tied up and carry Gran’s bags up the daunting flight of stairs leading into the train station from the road beside the canal. ‘You did know you’re only supposed to have one cabin bag and one piece of luggage to be checked in, didn’t you?’

  Her grandmother sniffed. ‘If you’re going to do the Orient Express, it must be done in style. Everybody knows that. Goodness knows how you get away with nothing more than an oversized handbag.’

  Cabin luggage hadn’t been all Charlotte had been carrying on her way to Venice, of course. She’d had her laptop bag to contend with as well. An accessory that was now lying on the bottom of a Venetian canal. She could remember the expression on Nico’s face as he’d realised what had happened. So apologetic, even though it hadn’t exactly been his fault. The willingness to do whatever he could to put things right.

  He was a kind man. And a generous one. The tailored suit jacket Charlotte was wearing again today suddenly felt tight. Scratchy, almost, as her senses replayed the sensation of the silk lining of Nico’s jacket against her bare skin. A sensation that morphed almost seamlessly into remembering that kiss.

  How kind was he? Kind enough not to reveal astonishment…disgust…when he found out what Charlotte was lacking?

  And then there was that very tiny seed of what was definitely hope because that kiss had made her feel things that no other kiss ever had—even Siegfried’s. And if just a kiss felt that different, maybe other things would feel different too and maybe…just maybe…she’d be able to—

  Oh, help… Wasn’t it enough that her memory of that little scene had kept her awake virtually all night? She couldn’t allow it to keep distracting her like this. Charlotte balanced her cabin bag on top of Gran’s biggest suitcase and grabbed the handle of the other with her free hand. With a determined shove she began moving the l
uggage towards a check-in desk that looked suspiciously like an antique mahogany piece. Lady Geraldine pulled the handle of her smaller bag as she followed.

  ‘You’re going to have to wear the same dress for dinner tonight that you had on last night, aren’t you?’

  ‘What was wrong with my dress?’ It had been the first time Charlotte had worn the slinky, silver number but she’d been delighted with how it had looked when she’d put it on. How good it had made her feel.

  ‘It’s a lovely dress, dear. You just need more than one of them.’

  It was a lovely dress. And if Charlotte was honest, she’d felt way more than simply ‘good’ in it. The way Nico had run his eyes over it more than once, as though the experience was a pleasure all in itself. Yes…that dress had made her feel beautiful. An odd experience for a woman who did virtually nothing to enhance her appearance in order to attract the attention of the opposite sex.

  ‘Nobody’s going to know I’m wearing it two nights in a row.’ Charlotte smiled at the woman behind the desk and handed over the tickets.

  ‘Apart from your fiancé.’

  The woman behind the desk was smiling. ‘You must be Lady Geraldine. We got your message. We’re delighted to be able to welcome Dr Moretti on board to accompany you and your granddaughter.’

  ‘Um…there could be a small problem…’ Charlotte began. But the woman wasn’t listening. She wasn’t even looking at her and the expression on her face suggested that she was looking at something far more interesting.

  A tall and extremely attractive man, perhaps?

  ‘Cara…’ The endearment was a caress. ‘I’m so sorry I’m late.’ Nico pulled Charlotte into his arms and then bent to brush her lips in a perfectly acceptable kiss for a public place. Except it lingered for just a heartbeat too long. And his eyes lingered on hers even longer. Charlotte dragged in a breath. The part of her that wanted to be close to Nico was winning. Doing a happy dance inside her chest that made her heart thump and send extra blood up to warm her cheeks. The wash of relief was unmistakeable and hot on its heels was something she hadn’t felt in years.