The Venetian Playboy’s Bride

safety.

‘You sit here,’ he said, settling into the rear-facing seats, an arrangement that would enable him to see her face. ‘It’s better if you don’t face the front,’ he hurriedly improvised. ‘At this hour people get the setting sun in their eyes. And you might get seasick,’ he added for good measure.

‘I’ll do just as you say,’ she agreed demurely. She supposed she could be blinded by the setting sun from either direction, depending on which route he took, but she appreciated his strategy.

It suited her, too, to be able to lean back and stretch out her long, silk-clad legs before his gaze. True, she was supposed to be tempting him with the prospect of money, but there was no harm in using the weapons nature had bestowed.

He cast off, and for a while they went gently through narrow canals, where buildings rose sheer out of the water. They glided under a bridge and as it slid away she saw that it seemed to emerge direct from one building, over the water and straight into another. Dulcie watched in wonder, beginning to understand how this city was truly different from all others.

He was a clever man, she thought. He knew better than to spoil it by talking. Only the soft splash of his oar broke the silence, and gradually a languor came over her. Already Venice was casting its spell, bidding her forget everything but itself, and give herself up to floating through beauty.

‘It’s another world,’ she murmured. ‘Like something that fell to earth from a different planet.’

An arrested look came into his eyes. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘That’s exactly it.’

They seemed to drift for ages, one beauty crowding on the last, too many impressions for her to sort them out. Vaguely she remembered that this wasn’t why she was here. Her job was to work on the man standing there, guiding twenty-two feet of heavy, curved wood as though it was the easiest thing in the world.

She considered him, and found that she understood why a naive, sheltered girl like Jenny found him irresistible. He was tall, not heavily built but with a wiry strength that she’d already felt when he’d helped her into the boat. Just a light gesture, but the steel had been there, unmistakable, exciting. He handled the heavy oar as though it weighed nothing, moving with it, lithe and graceful, as though they were dancing partners.

They passed into a wider canal, and suddenly the sun was on him. Dulcie looked up, shading her eyes against the glare, and at once he removed his straw boater and tossed it to her.

‘You wear it,’ he called. ‘The sun is hot.’

She rammed it onto her head and leaned back, taking pleasure in the way the light illuminated his throat and the strong column of his neck, and touched off a hint of red in his hair. How intensely blue his eyes were, she thought, and how naturally they crinkled at the corners when he smiled. And he smiled easily. He was doing so now, his head on one side as though inviting her to share a joke, so that she couldn’t help joining in with his laughter.

‘Are we nearly there?’ she asked.

‘There?’ he asked with beguiling innocence. ‘Where?’

‘At my hotel.’

‘But you didn’t tell me which hotel.’

‘And you didn’t ask me. So how do we know we’re going in the right direction?’

His shrug was a masterpiece, asking if it really mattered. And it didn’t.

Dulcie pulled herself together. She was supposed to toss the hotel name at him, advertising her ‘wealth’. Instead she’d revelled in the magic of his company for-good heavens, an hour?

‘The Hotel Vittorio,’ she said firmly.

He didn’t react, but of course, he wouldn’t, she reasoned. A practised seducer would know better than to seem impressed.

‘It’s an excellent hotel, signorina,’ he said. ‘I hope you are enjoying it.’

‘Well, the Empress Suite is a little overwhelming,’ she said casually, just to drive the point home.

‘And very sad, for a lady alone,’ he pointed out. ‘But perhaps you have friends who’ll soon move into the second bedroom.’

‘You know the Empress Suite?’

‘I’ve seen the inside,’ Guido said vaguely. It was true. His friends from America regularly stayed there, and he’d downed many a convivial glass in those luxurious surroundings.

I’ll bet you’ve seen the inside, Dulcie thought, getting her cynicism back safely into place.

‘When your friends arrive you’ll feel better,’ he said.

‘There are no friends. I’m spending this vacation on my own.’ They were pulling in to the Vittorio’s landing stage, and he reached out to help her onto land. ‘How much do I owe you?’ she asked.

‘Nothing.’

‘But of course I must pay you. I’ve had an hour of your time.’

‘Nothing,’ he repeated, and she felt his hand tighten on her wrist. ‘Please don’t insult me with money.’ His eyes were very blue, holding hers, commanding her to do what he wished.

‘I didn’t mean to insult you,’ she said slowly. ‘It’s just that-’

‘It’s just that money pays for everything,’ he finished. ‘But only if it is for sale.’ He spoke with sudden intensity. ‘Don’t be alone in Venice. That’s bad.’

‘I don’t have a choice.’

‘But you do. Let me show you my city.’

‘Your city?’

‘Mine because I love it and know its ways as no stranger can. I would like you to love it too.’

It was on the tip of her tongue to make one of the flirtatious replies she’d been practising for just this moment, but the words wouldn’t come. She had a sense of being at the point of no return. To go on was risky and there would be no way back. But to withdraw was to spend a lifetime wondering ‘what if?’

‘I don’t think-’ she said slowly. ‘I don’t think I should.’

‘I think you should,’ he said urgently.

‘But-’

His hand tightened on hers. ‘You must. Don’t you know that you must?’

The glow of his eyes was almost fierce in its intensity. She drew a sharp breath. She didn’t come from a long line of gamblers for nothing.

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I must.’

‘I’ll meet you at seven o’clock at Antonio’s. It’s just around the corner. And wear walking shoes.’

She watched as he glided away, then hurried up to her suite, glad of the time alone to gather her thoughts.

It wasn’t easy. In a few blazing moments he’d taken her ideas and tossed them into the air, so that they’d fallen about her in disorder. It took some stern concentration to reclaim her mind from his influence, but at last she felt she’d managed it.

Stage one completed successfully. Quarry identified, contact made. Ground laid for stage two. Professional detachment. Never forget that.

Guido got away from the hotel as fast as he could before he was spotted by someone who knew his true identity. In a few minutes he’d left the city centre behind and was heading for the little back ‘streets’ in the northern part of town, where the gondolier families lived, and their boatyards flourished.

At the Lucci house he found Federico at home watching a football match on television. Without a word he took a beer from the fridge and joined him, neither speaking until half time. Then, as he always did, Guido put the money he’d earned on the table, nearly doubling it with extra from his own pocket.

‘I had a good day, didn’t I?’ Fede said appreciatively, pocketing the money with a yawn.

‘Excellent. You’re an example to us all.’

‘At this rate I think I’ve earned a holiday.’

‘I know I have.’ Guido rubbed his arms, which were aching.

‘Perhaps it’s time you got back to the souvenir trade.’

Guido had established his independence of the Calvani family by setting up his own business, catering to tourists. He owned two factories on the outlying island of Murano, one of which made glass, and the other trinkets and souvenirs.