Charlotte perused the cocktail menu while Nico made sure her grandmother was seated comfortably. Heavens, but there were a lot to choose from. She’d never even heard of a Moscow Mule or a Planters Punch. Both her grandmother’s favourites were there, though, so all she really needed to choose between was a Singapore Sling or a Gin Fizz.
Nico came back to the bar as she ordered a Gin Fizz. When he was only a step or two away the train gave a sudden and rather dramatic lurch. A cry rippled through the carriage as people spilt their drinks but the pianist didn’t miss a beat of the Viennese waltz he was playing. And Nico’s arm was right there to steady Charlotte as she lost her balance.
It was the first time he’d touched her since that almost kiss when they’d been interrupted earlier and it seemed to ignite a peculiar magic. How else could Charlotte explain the fact that a steadying touch morphed into an embrace that moved in time to the music?
They were dancing?
Yes. On a minuscule patch of blue carpet, in the space between the bar and the piano, Nico was very competently leading her through a confined version of a Viennese waltz. Charlotte could have laughed out loud. Except that this was giving her the same kind of feeling that she’d had when she’d woken from that deep sleep in Nico’s arms, and she wanted to recapture that bliss for just a few seconds.
So, instead of holding her head in the correct position for a waltz as she’d been trained to do in those lessons Gran had insisted on when she’d been a teenager, Charlotte let herself droop enough to put her head on Nico’s shoulder. And he tilted his head so that it rested against hers. It was no waltz now. Just a slow, close dance.
To anyone watching, and no doubt that included Lady Geraldine and her friend, they must look like a couple madly in love. Nobody, meaning Nico, needed to know that it was actually genuine on her part now.
And maybe that was a good thing. Maybe…just a very small maybe…this didn’t have to end when they got off the train in London tomorrow.
No. That tiny, unbidden seed of hope died away as Charlotte remembered Nico saying he never wanted marriage or children. That she was safe because she was so completely not his type of woman.
Oh, well…at least if Gran lived long enough for her to have to confess that the relationship wasn’t going to work long term, she wouldn’t have to pretend to be heartbroken, would she?
Oh, God…she really was in trouble now.
Released from Nico’s arms to a round of applause from the crowded carriage, Charlotte headed back to the bar. She was going to order one of those potent-sounding cocktails for herself because she needed something strong if she was going to cope with the rest of this journey. She needed some bottled courage. Or stamina.
Moving towards Lady Geraldine’s seat to wait for the bartender to bring the drinks, Charlotte found that introductions were being made. Winsome’s grandson Connor was with a young woman called Kelsie, who was now sitting beside Lady Geraldine. They were discussing seating arrangements.
‘Winsome and I have arranged a table for ourselves,’ Lady Geraldine said. ‘We don’t want to bore you young things with our gossip.’
The implications were immediately obvious. Nico and Connor exchanged a glance as if they were measuring each other up and considering the prospect of a foursome for dinner. Kelsie was watching the older women as if she knew there was more coming. And there was.
‘So, instead, we have three tables,’ Lady Geraldine smiled. ‘One for each couple.’
Charlotte almost groaned aloud. ‘I don’t think you’re allowed to change arrangements like that, are you, Gran?’
Lady Geraldine merely tapped the side of her nose. ‘Wait and see where the maître d’ puts us all,’ she murmured. And then she winked at Winsome. ‘Being old doesn’t entirely deprive us of our ability to charm men into doing what we want, does it, Winnie?’
‘Not at all, dear. As you say, age is only an attitude.’
Charlotte caught Connor’s gaze and his expression said it all. This was a done deal and there was absolutely no point trying to make changes now. She was now faced with the prospect of being alone with Nico for a dinner that might go on for hours. An intimate, romantic kind of dinner. Her heart sank. One strong cocktail was not going to be enough.
Nico had to admire the persuasive powers of older women. Tables had to be at a premium on the train, even if there was more than one sitting for dinner, but here they were at a table that could seat four people and it was only set for two.
It was beautifully set with crisp, white linen, sparkling silverware and immaculate crystal that caught the soft light of the Tiffany lamp on the window side of the table. The carriage might be crowded with other diners but it felt like he and Charlotte were enclosed in a bubble of their own. He was glad that she hadn’t had a different dress to wear because this silver sheath was gorgeous and so very appropriate for the season. It made her eyes look like a dark shade of silver instead of grey. Or was that because they were catching such a warm glow from the light?
Or perhaps it was the champagne he had ordered. She certainly seemed to be enjoying the Moët, even if she wasn’t clearing her plate with each delicious course that arrived. He had polished off the entrée and then demolished the main course of traditional roast turkey with chestnut stuffing.
Conversation had proved easier than he’d expected, having been deprived of Jendi’s company. They’d started out with the practical matter of sleeping arrangements for the night.
‘I’ll stay in the bar for a while,’ Nico had told Charlotte. ‘And then I’ll come back to the cabin and sleep on the seat. You can close the connecting door when you go to bed.’
He’d asked if she knew what would happen tomorrow.
‘We get to Paris around dawn,’ she’d told him. ‘When we get to the end of the French line for the Orient Express, we have to get off and there are special buses that we stay on for the channel crossing. The English branch of the train takes us into Victoria Station. I think we get in at about five p.m.’
As the plates for the main course were taken away, Charlotte allowed her champagne glass to be refilled. Did her smile look a little forced as she held it up to Nico in a toast?
‘What will you do?’ she asked brightly. ‘When we’ve arrived back in London? For Christmas Eve, I mean.’
Nico shrugged. ‘I expect I’ll go to work and catch up on any inpatients. I’m covering a big area for the next few days. I like to give my colleagues as much time as possible to be with their families over Christmas. And you? What will you be doing?’
Charlotte turned her head to look out the window, although there was nothing to see in the darkness.
‘I’ll go out to Gran’s. Her estate is a good hour out of London. I’ll stay with her for Christmas Day, of course, and then it’ll be time to face up to what needs facing up to.’
Jendi’s cancer. Dio…but it was going to be a difficult time ahead for Charlotte. Nico wanted to reach across the table and catch her hands. To offer to be there for her as a friend in the weeks or months ahead.
But this faux relationship wasn’t supposed to continue, was it? Charlotte wouldn’t want it to. Having her in a committed relationship with a potential family in the future might be at the top of her grandmother’s bucket list but Nico could still hear the vehemence in Charlotte’s voice when she’d declared that it was never going to happen.
So he said nothing. Instead, he followed Charlotte’s example and stared out of the window. There were sparkles of light swirling outside in a mesmerising kaleidoscope.
‘Look at that,’ he exclaimed. ‘It’s snowing. It’ll be a white Christmas for some people.’
‘I love a white Christmas,’ Charlotte said softly. ‘It makes you feel like you’re living inside a Christmas card. I think the best Christmas I ever had was one where Gran and I got completely snowed in and the electricity went off. We ended up cooking the chipolatas that were supposed to go in with the turkey on sticks on the open fire. I was only a
bout nine but I was so impressed that Gran knew how to do stuff like get the fire going and cook sausages.’
‘Sounds special.’
‘What’s the best Christmas you remember, Nico? Was it white?’
‘No. It never snowed in our part of Italy.’ Funny that to remember his best Christmas he automatically wiped out any year after he’d been whisked off to Ireland. ‘It would get cold, though. I think the best Christmas I can remember was outside. We had a terrace with a long wooden table that was under grapevines. In the summer it was leafy and cool and in the winter there was an open fireplace big enough to roast an ox. For some reason we had Christmas dinner outside that year. Possibly because so many family members had gathered. There were aunts and uncles and cousins I never knew I had.’
‘How old were you?’
‘About six.’
‘Did you have turkey?’
Nico shook his head. ‘That wasn’t traditional. We have the feast of the seven fishes on Christmas Eve and then on Christmas Day we have lots of pasta and then roast meat like chicken or beef. And potatoes.’ He frowned. The food hadn’t been what had made that Christmas memorable.
‘There was music,’ he continued softly. ‘My father was at the head of the table and he was so happy. Between courses he would drag my mother away from the kitchen and dance with her in front of the fire. There were so many people. So much laughter. So much love…’
‘Family.’ The word was a whisper and Charlotte’s eyes were as bright as he’d ever seen them when Nico turned from the view of the snow. ‘It’s what Christmas is all about, isn’t it?’
‘It was once…’ Nico had to clear his throat. The memory of that particular Christmas was disturbing because it evoked a yearning he’d thought he’d put behind him many, many years ago. Part of the heartbreak he would never want to inflict on a child. Or a woman. Or have inflicted on himself ever again.
Dessert of a classic plum duff with crème anglaise and brandy butter came and went with a noticeably more sombre mood at their table. It was a relief when a steward came to tell him that Lady Geraldine was ready to be escorted back to her cabin whenever it was convenient for him.
‘Or I can arrange another escort?’ The steward tilted his head to include Charlotte. ‘If you and your fiancé wish to stay longer?’
‘No.’ It was Charlotte who spoke up quickly. ‘We can finish now.’ She didn’t meet Nico’s eyes. ‘If that’s all right with you, Nico?’
‘Sì. Of course it is.
The last thing Charlotte expected when she returned to her suite after helping her grandmother get undressed and settled into her bunk for the night was to find Nico still there.
She had thought he would be long gone. Having a nightcap in the bar and ready to wait until he thought she was safely asleep before coming back to get what rest he could on the seat in this compartment. Not that she expected to get much sleep herself but it would have been a relief to shut the connecting door and have a space entirely to herself for a good few hours. No chance of losing control and making a fool of herself that way.
Now she was distinctly unsettled. Not only was Nico here but he’d taken off his dinner jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt. His bow-tie was undone as well, hanging down beside the undone top buttons of his shirt. His hair was rumpled, as if he’d thrust his fingers through it more than once, and it was long enough since he’d shaved to give his jaw a dark shadow. He looked ever so slightly disreputable lounging on the padded upholstery of the seat.
And ultimately desirable.
Maybe that was why Charlotte’s words came out more sharply than she’d intended. ‘I thought you were going to the bar.’
Nico raised an eyebrow. ‘It occurred to me it might be a good idea to wait until Jendi was asleep. What if she wanted to go to the bathroom and saw me abandoning my beautiful fiancée?’
Oh, God…this was getting way beyond a joke. Charlotte had had enough.
‘It’s not funny, Nico.’
‘No…it’s not.’ Nico got to his feet. ‘Shall I tell you the real reason I haven’t gone to the bar?’
He took a step closer and Charlotte was pinned by the heat in his gaze. She still had a hand on the door to help her keep her balance as the train rocked, and Nico was swaying on his feet but his gaze didn’t waver in the slightest.
She couldn’t respond to the question but it didn’t seem to matter. Nico was going to tell her anyway.
‘I didn’t want to,’ he growled.
Charlotte didn’t have to ask why not. She could see the see the answer in his face. Could feel the flicker of heat spiral deep in her belly. The words forced themselves out anyway, though, as she tried to buy enough time to process what was happening. ‘W-why not?’
‘Because I wanted this instead.’ Nico closed the gap between them. He steadied himself with one hand over Charlotte’s against the door but he slid the fingers of his other hand behind her neck and then up into her hair as he cradled her head and dipped his own so that their lips could touch.
His mouth felt familiar now. Safe. Charlotte knew that the touch of his tongue against hers would provide a pleasure so intense it was almost pain but her lips parted eagerly and her tongue met his halfway to begin the dance. And this time the give and take of the kiss changed into more than an exploration and taste of pleasure. This time it had an urgency that demanded more.
And that was enough to make Charlotte pull away. To snatch a gasp of breath and then shake her head.
‘I…I don’t understand…’
‘Yes, you do, cara,’ Nico said very softly. ‘I want you.’
She shook her head again, more insistently. ‘But…why?’
Nico leaned against the door. He still had a hand cradling her head and she felt his fingers move in a caress. ‘Why wouldn’t I?’
‘Because I’m…not your type. You said so.’
Nico smiled that smile. The slow, lazy one. Except that this time it seemed to be gentle. Reassuring? ‘I say stupid things sometimes.’
Charlotte had to drop her gaze. Dammit. The train seemed to have picked up speed and the way it was rocking made her more acutely aware of the proximity of Nico’s body. Of how it would take nothing for her to fall just a little closer and mould her own body against his.
‘This can’t go any further,’ she said.
‘Why not?’ The words were a whisper. A question, not an accusation. If she said the word Nico would stop but he genuinely didn’t understand, and why would he? He must have seen her own desire for him. He had to be well used to reading those kinds of signals from women.
‘Because…’ Charlotte couldn’t look up. She couldn’t stop herself continuing either. Good grief…far from giving her the stamina to maintain control in a difficult situation, the amount of champagne she’d knocked back this evening was having the opposite effect. Her control had slipped so far she’d lost the handle for the door behind which she kept her secret so well shut away. She hadn’t been completely honest with Nico earlier, had she? He had been with her. Guilt bubbled up inside her and something snapped.
‘I can’t do it,’ she whispered. ‘I…can’t have sex. I’m…’ No. There was no way she could utter that horrible word. A shudder went right through her entire body.
Nico’s hand slipped out from her hair and he let go of the door. This was it. He was going to excuse himself and go to the bar for a stiff drink, and who could blame him?
But, instead, he gathered Charlotte into his arms and held her close to him. His mouth was close to her ear and he spoke softly.
‘You’ve been hurt, cara,’ he said. ‘I know that. You’ve been raped, haven’t you?’
Charlotte’s gasp was shocked. ‘No…it…wasn’t rape. How could it have been? He was my…my boyfriend. I had chosen to be with him. I’d chosen to go to his apartment. It might have been my first time but I knew what was going to happen.’
For a long moment Nico simply held her in silence. Then he spoke gent
ly. ‘But it didn’t happen the way you wanted it to, did it?’
‘N-no.’ Unbelievably, the tears were gathering again. After not having cried for so many years, she was certainly making up for it now.
‘And when you wanted him to stop, he wouldn’t, would he?’
‘H-he said it wasn’t his fault if I was frigid. He wasn’t going to have his evening ruined by a—a tease.’ There. The word had come out all by itself. ‘And—and he was right. I hated it and…and when I tried again, more than a year later, with someone else…I couldn’t do it…so he—’
‘Was a stupid, arrogant bastard,’ Nico whispered vehemently. ‘Who had no idea what he was talking about and didn’t deserve to be in the company of any woman, let alone someone like you.’
Charlotte felt his lips press against the top of her head. And then she felt Nico’s hand under her chin and a pressure that made her raise her face to meet his gaze.
‘It’s not true,’ he told her. ‘You are a beautiful, passionate woman and all you need to do is believe that.’
Maybe there’d always been a glimmer of hope deep inside that that was true. Maybe when she’d tried again, it had been too soon. Or with the wrong person. Charlotte had always thought that she might have conquered her demons if she could have talked to someone professional about it but the shame of anyone knowing had always stopped her.
And now Nico knew. And he was still here.
And he was gorgeous and kind and he’d said that he wanted her.
They wouldn’t be seeing each other again after tomorrow so would it really matter if it didn’t work. She might never have an opportunity like this again. To find out…
Charlotte licked suddenly dry lips. ‘Did you really mean it?’ The words were incredibly hard to utter.
‘That I want you?’ Nico’s eyes were so dark they looked black. His hands on her back slid lower until they cupped her bottom. He pulled her even closer so that she had no need of any verbal confirmation of his state of arousal.
From Venice With Love Page 12
