From outside came the sound of singing. Going to the window, they saw a ‘serenade’-a procession of seven gondolas, each one with a singer, hymning the moon. As they approached the Rialto Bridge a number of sad-faced clowns tossed petals down on them.
‘They sound so melancholy,’ Ruth observed.
‘Carnival is nearly over,’ Pietro said. ‘And that is always sad.’
The procession of boats had paused outside the palazzo, while the leading singer turned to the window where they were standing, and serenaded them in Venetian.
Pietro began to translate.
‘Now the time is passing-all is over-shall we meet again another year-or shall we have only our memories?’
He stood just behind her, his hands laid gently on her shoulders.
‘I’ve got something to tell you,’ she said. ‘Mario checked your email and he says Gino’s coming back tomorrow.’
He reacted at once, snatching his hands from her shoulders and stepping back.
‘Why do you do that?’ she asked, swinging round to him.
‘Gino-’
‘So what, Gino? He’s not part of my life now. I don’t love him, I love you. And that’s not going to change.’
‘It might. When you see him-’
She reached out, putting her hands on either side of his face.
‘You’re doing it again, trying to take charge of every detail. But I say how I feel, not you. I make this decision, not you, and I’ve made it. I’m a grown woman, and I know what I want.’
‘And what-do you want?’ he asked, almost hypnotised by the force she radiated.
‘This,’ she said, and drew his head down to hers.
He laid his hands on her, unable to resist that much. But he was still fighting himself, not moving his lips on hers, except to say, ‘This is dangerous.’
‘Yes, isn’t it wonderful?’ she challenged him. ‘Stop thinking with your head. That’s more dangerous than anything.’
She kissed him again, and when she drew back he was smiling.
‘It’s not supposed to be this way,’ he murmured. ‘I’m expected to be the one in charge.’
‘Unless you meet someone who knows more than you do.’
‘Yes, you know so much more than me.’
‘I know everything,’ she confirmed. ‘Come with me. Carnival will soon be over, and we must toss the masks away.’
Ruth took him to her room, where the bed was a little wider than his, although not by much. She was without false modesty. She’d been naked in his arms once before, without knowing it. Now she wanted to relish every moment, so she stripped off her clothes in seconds and stood before him, asking a silent question.
She had her answer when he dropped down to his knees and laid his face against her breasts, enclosing her in his arms. It was a gesture of surrender, an acknowledgement that his love and need of her was stronger than the demons that had haunted him.
She closed her hands behind his head, drawing him closer, inviting him to make his home in her love and care, and his caresses told her that it was where he wanted to be. He too discarded his clothes quickly and they clung together, not hurrying because every moment was precious and they had never dared to think they would reach this moment.
She was smaller than he remembered, more delicate, yet stronger. He understood that strength now. He’d discovered it in her spirit, now he found it in her flesh that was strangely elusive, while at the same time her clasp on him had a power and purpose that thrilled him. When she reached for him he felt enfolded in her love, carried to safety.
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
