by Lucy Gordon
An old-fashioned man, he had never before thought of seeking safety in a woman, yet from her he craved it. She could give him love and pleasure, but she could also do what no other woman could do, and strengthen him against the world.
The world seemed very far away at this moment. Their trust in each other was instinctive. When he caressed her he found no hesitancy. She offered herself to him gladly, as though every inch of her body had waited only for him. He loved her for that, but he loved her even more for the look in her eyes as she watched him, a look of delight, expectancy and fulfilment.
He loved her too for her readiness to commit to him while not knowing what the morrow held, for the way she returned caress for caress, wanting him, making him feel like a king.
He cupped one breast in his hand, feeling how naturally it fitted there, as though made just for him, how swiftly the nipple peaked at the touch of his lips, how bravely it spoke of her desire.
She laughed softly and the sound went through him, shredding his control so that it was a struggle not to take her swiftly. But he forced himself to wait, to give her time to flower, even though the sound of her breathing was already telling him what he longed to know.
Ruth lay back, luxuriating in the joy of what was happening. The touch of his fingers, his lips, sent pleasure glowing through her, bringing her closer to the longed-for moment when she could let go of control. But greater than this was the joy of seeing his defences fall away, knowing that he’d abandoned them because his trust in her was complete.
She couldn’t see him very well, but well enough to know that he was everything she’d hoped and more; lean, straight, with a power that he kept leashed, but not completely hidden.
They were one in the heart before they were one in the body, and neither of them asked more.
She knew that the protective side of him was so strong that even now his fears for her troubled him, but they were slipping away as his desire for her took control of him, until at last he forgot everything but the urgency of claiming her.
She was ready for him, so that the moment of their union was easy, an inevitable coming together, that made the world stop for the briefest second before starting again with a fierce urgency that didn’t let up until they were both exhausted.
Ruth thought she cried out, or the voice might have been his. There were no words, only the triumph of coming home and knowing that it was the right place at last.
Afterwards he propped himself on one elbow to look down on her. His face was suffused with his love but, being Pietro, he had to ask her worriedly, ‘Is everything all right with you?’
She smiled. ‘Everything’s wonderful with me. Stop worrying. It doesn’t depend on Gino.’
‘How did you know I was thinking of him?’
‘Because I know you. You worry about things, all the time. But he can’t affect us. I wanted you to know that. Gino can give me some information, but he can’t touch me here.’ She laid her hand over her heart. ‘Don’t you believe me?’
‘I couldn’t bear to lose you-not now.’
‘You never will.’ She put her arms up around his neck. ‘I’m not even going to go away tonight.’
The last throw. A perfect six.
According to Mario, Gino’s email had given no indication of when he would arrive.
‘Or he may not arrive at all,’ Ruth observed next morning. ‘He might back out, like last time. I hope not. I want this out of the way and done with.’
‘Suppose you don’t remember the missing bits?’
‘Then I’ll manage without them.’ She smiled at him. ‘If only you knew how unimportant all that seems now.’
‘I’d better call Mario and tell him we’re not coming in.’
His manner was still troubled, and she knew that only one thing could truly ease his mind. As he turned to the phone she began to get out her books to do some work. But then a sound made her look up.
Gino was standing there, watching her.
How many times in her dreams-nightmares?-had she turned to find him there, looking just as he had once before, as handsome as ever, just as she remembered him?
Now he was here, a fantasy brought to life, for he was unchanged: tall, slim, a slightly hesitant smile on his face. That hesitancy had always been part of his charm. This was Gino, just as she recalled him.
And yet-something was different, something wrong, if only she could pinpoint it. There was no time to analyse it now. Her heart was beating with some emotion she didn’t understand. It was too much like fear.
Gino was looking puzzled, and she realised that he’d never seen her looking like this before.
‘Ruth? It is Ruth, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, it’s me. Hallo, Gino.’
She had the sensation that her mind had split into several sections, each one working at full stretch, noticing something different. Gino stared as if he couldn’t believe his eyes. Behind him was a young woman who might have been pretty if her make-up hadn’t been too lavish and her dress too tight. Above all Ruth was aware of Pietro, holding himself still and tense, watching them.
‘I want you to meet someone,’ Gino said with an awkward laugh. ‘This is Josie, my fiancée.’
He emphasised the last word, very slightly, and drew the girl forward, positioning her just in front of him, almost as though he wanted her to protect him. And that, of course, was exactly what he did want, Ruth thought.
She could almost have laughed aloud. For a while she had adored this man, thought the sun rose and set on him. Now he was afraid of her.
And in that moment she identified the subtle difference that had troubled her from the start. Gino looked shifty. The shiftiness was there in his eyes, in his smile. It was there in the fact that he could only face her with another woman to stand between him and trouble. It had probably always been there, had she not been too infatuated to notice it.
Behind the façade of the shining knight, he was a coward.
It was the word ‘coward’ that did it. Suddenly the world grew dark, shuddering around her.
‘Oh God!’ she screamed. ‘No, no, no!’
Dimly she could sense Pietro’s alarm, his look of horror as he rose and came to her. But his face faded, replaced by Gino, not as he was now, but as he’d been that night, handsome, shining, full of adoration for her before the world had fallen in on them.
‘No,’ she cried. ‘I don’t believe it-it can’t be true-’
Gino didn’t say a word. He only looked at her uneasily as his worst fears were realised.
‘You-’ she gasped ‘-you-you ran away and left me.’
She was back in the car park, and suddenly all the things that had been obscure were horribly clear. The thugs knocked her to the ground, kicking her. She screamed to Gino but he was running away as fast as he could. At the last moment he looked behind him, his face full of terror, then ran on faster than ever, abandoning her to her attackers. Then she passed out.
‘You left me to their mercy,’ she repeated slowly.
‘Ruth, what is it?’ Pietro was there, holding her, providing the one sure point in a disintegrating world, the way he always had.
‘When we were attacked in the cark park, he just ran away.’
‘That’s not true,’ Gino began to bluster. ‘I went to get help-you told me to-’
‘No, you saved your own skin,’ she said, staring at him as though seeing him for the first time, which, in a sense, she was.
‘You don’t know what happened-you don’t remember-’
‘I do now. It’s coming back. I could have died because you abandoned me. Get away from me.’
She cried out the last words because Gino had made a protesting gesture towards her. But Pietro was there, warding him off.
‘Stay away,’ he said firmly.
‘Look, it wasn’t as bad as she says-’
‘Yes, it was,’ Ruth choked. ‘I’m surprised you came to the hospital to see me even once-’
‘I-I had to find
out how you were-’ he stammered.
‘No, you wanted to find out if I was safely dead, so that I couldn’t give you away. When I couldn’t remember anything you must have thought luck was with you. That’s why you dashed back to Italy so fast.’
‘I did what was best for you,’ Gino tried to plead. ‘It just upset you to see me around, so I left-for your sake.’
‘You lying, cheating jerk.’ The words burst from the girl at his side. ‘You told me she’d broken your heart.’
‘No wonder you’ve kept away this year,’ Pietro snapped. ‘You were afraid I’d find out what a worm you are, and fire you. And you were right to be afraid. The sooner you’re out of this place, the better. Get out and don’t let me see you again. Ever.’
‘Oh, now look-be reasonable-’
‘Reasonable?’ Pietro echoed savagely. ‘You think-’
‘No, Pietro, stop.’ Ruth laid a hand on his arm. ‘Forget it. Let it go.’
‘Let it go? After what he did to you?’
But the clouds that had descended on her so fast were retreating just as quickly in the face of the truth. She could stand up and speak strongly, still holding on to Pietro, but now as much to reassure him as to claim his support.
‘But it doesn’t matter, don’t you see?’ she said. ‘He doesn’t matter. It’s over. Finished. We’ve found out what we wanted to know, and we can take it from there.’
‘Are you quite sure?’ he asked, searching her face.
‘I was never more sure of anything in my life. I love you, and only you. Is everything all right now?’
‘Yes,’ he said quietly. ‘If it’s all right with you, then everything’s all right with me.’
He drew her close in a fervent embrace, and when they looked up again they were alone.
‘He’s gone,’ Pietro said.
‘So let him go.’
From somewhere deep in the building Josie’s voice floated back, ‘Just push off!’
And Gino’s answering, ‘If you’d just listen to me-ow! What did you do that for?’
‘What do you think?’
They faded to nothing.
‘I think she’s got his measure,’ Pietro observed.
‘Can you stop worrying now?’ Ruth asked tenderly.
He shook his head in wry self-understanding.
‘No, I’ve just got a new set of things to worry about. What will I do if you leave me, if you don’t love me, if you won’t marry me-?’
‘I can set your mind at rest about that one right now.’
‘Then I’ll find another one. Suppose I disappoint you, drive you away with my awkward behaviour-’ He checked, answered by her fond smile.
‘Just promise to be here always,’ he said. ‘Love me to the end, and I won’t ask anything else.’
‘There isn’t anything else,’ she said. ‘Nothing else in all the world.’ She touched his face. ‘I’ll have to teach you that.’
‘Teach me anything you like, as long as you’re here.’
‘As long as for ever,’ she said.
Carnival ended with fireworks set off from boats far out in the lagoon, while an orchestra played on land. It began at eleven o’clock and finished on the stroke of midnight, for that was the start of Lent, the time of repentance.
‘Not for me,’ Pietro said as they wandered back home, his arm about her. ‘No repentance, no regrets-ever.’
‘You can’t be sure of that,’ she reminded him.
He regarded her fondly. ‘Yes, I can.’
Now it was over. The crowds wended their way back to hotels and the next day most of them would be gone. Already Venice seemed to be growing quieter as they opened the side door of the palazzo, and found Toni waiting there with an expectant look.
‘I was planning to go to bed,’ Pietro informed the awkward hound.
Toni looked at him.
‘He’s entitled to his walk,’ Ruth insisted. ‘We couldn’t take him out before because of the fireworks.’
‘Come on, then.’
They went towards the Rialto Bridge, and stood there a moment, watching as a convoy of gondolas approached, on their way home. As they neared the bridge the lead gondolier called out, congratulating them on their coming marriage.
‘How does he know?’ Ruth asked.
‘He’s Minna’s nephew. And the one behind him is Minna’s godson and the one behind him-well, you get the picture.’
‘You mean all Venice knows?’
‘Certain to.’
Toni put his paws on the stone balustrade and wuffed, and the gondoliers hailed him too, before gliding on under the bridge, and home.
‘The whole of Venice is planning our wedding,’ he said. ‘And the rest of our lives probably, how we’re going to open up the palazzo and return it to its glory days.’
‘Do we have to?’ she asked quickly. ‘Cinderella isn’t used to living a grand life.’
‘I’m afraid the Contessa Bagnelli will have to put up with a bit of grandeur, some of the time.’
‘I suppose so,’ she sighed. ‘It’s just that I love those little rooms. They’re like a nest. I’d like to stay right there, but I suppose that’s unrealistic of me.’
‘We could still keep it. When you get mad at me, you can take refuge in the nest. Just leave me a note saying that you never want to see me again, and I’ll know where to bring the red roses.’
They laughed in fond understanding.
‘In any case,’ she mused as they left the Rialto and strolled on under a narrow archway and over a tiny bridge, ‘the nest is very tiny. It won’t be big enough for three of us-or four-’
He stopped abruptly. ‘No,’ he said.
‘I thought you wanted children.’
‘Not like-I mean, it’s up to you. I’ll never pressure you, or even ask you.’
For a moment his voice was tense as his ghosts walked again and she hastened to ease his mind.
‘You won’t have to ask,’ she promised. ‘It’ll just happen. Stop worrying.’ She put her hands on either side of his head and repeated, ‘Stop worrying. I’m here, and I’m going to take care of everything.’
He gave a self-mocking smile. ‘You don’t know how good that sounds.’
‘From now on you’ll have me to look after you.’
‘Then I have nothing else to worry about-’ his face clouded again ‘-as long as all is well with you. I saw you when you were waiting for Gino, and you were afraid, I could tell. Suppose you did love him, after we-?’
‘No, it wasn’t like that,’ she assured him. ‘I was only afraid of what I might remember, that maybe I’d done something stupid, something that would cast a blight over you and me, or even send my mind back into the shadows. That was the only fear.’
‘And instead, Gino turns out to be a cowardly little swine whom no woman should look at twice,’ Pietro said with a touch of anger.
‘Hush, it doesn’t matter.’
‘How can you say that what he did to you doesn’t matter?’
‘All right, it matters, but only because it sent me to you. If he’d behaved well I might have married him, and then you and I would have met too late.’
He nodded. ‘That’s a terrifying thought, because I couldn’t have met you without loving you, and if it was too late-’
He tightened his arm about her.
‘That would have been truly a life lived in the shadows,’ he said. ‘With nothing but pain and regret.’
‘Do you remember the first night we met?’ she asked. ‘We talked then about shadows, about how they never ended.’
‘I remember.’
‘But they have ended now. Gino has gone from my mind as thoroughly as he’s gone from my heart. Now there’s only you, always.’
Pietro replied, not in words, but with a kiss that was long and gentle.
They walked on for a while, listening to the night. Venice was quiet except for the distant sound of laughter, the fading music that meant the gondoliers were going home, the sof
t cry of seagulls.
‘Contessa Bagnelli,’ she mused, trying the name for size. ‘I just can’t quite see myself living up to all the pomp. Life in a London suburb doesn’t exactly fit you for it.’
‘But you’ll do it wonderfully, with the help of your friends-all seventy thousand of them.’
She understood at once. The people who lived here all the time, the true Venetians who stood out from all other people in the world by their courage, their readiness to face any trouble, and, above all, their generosity.
Her very first day here they had kept protective eyes on her as she blundered around, then guided Pietro to her rescue. Her friends were there again now, opening windows overhead, looking down at the two of them, smiling with delight, whispering their good wishes, welcoming her into the family.
‘Buona notte, signore.’
‘Buona notte, Alfredo, Renato, Maria…’ He knew all their names.
From all sides the words floated down around them. ‘Is it true? Please say that it’s true-we will be so glad.’
He laughed up at them. ‘Wait and see,’ he teased.
But they had already seen what they cared about. Their friend was laughing again. All was well.
‘You’re one of us already,’ Pietro told her. ‘And we’ll never let you go.’
Overhead, a hundred eyes watched them drifting contentedly on their way, with Toni padding softly behind them, until the friendly darkness swallowed them up.
Lucy Gordon
Lucy Gordon cut her writing teeth on magazine journalism, interviewing many of the world’s most interesting men, including Warren Beatty, Richard Chamberlain, Sir Roger Moore, Sir Alec Guinness, and Sir John Gielgud. She also camped out with lions in Africa and had many other unusual experiences which have often provided the background for her books. She is married to a Venetian, whom she met while on holiday in Venice. They got engaged within two days.
You can visit her website at www. lucy-gordon. com and look out for The Italian’s Passionate Revenge which will be available in May!
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