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She touched a hand to his cheek. ‘Not just want. I couldn’t sleep last night, afraid I’d never have the chance to tell you I’m very much in love with you, too, Domenico.’
This confession was too much for him. He kissed her fiercely, then scooped her up to carry her to the bedroom, which up to now had been unknown territory. But, utterly bowled over by being carried off in Domenico’s arms, Laura had no eyes for décor as he laid her down on the bed. He stretched out beside her and held her close, his cheek against hers.
‘You are trembling,’ he whispered.
She nodded. ‘You are, too.’
He gave a husky, muffled laugh. ‘I know a cure for this.’
Laura wriggled closer. ‘Cure me, then.’
‘First,’ he whispered, ‘I must take down your hair.’
‘Will that stop the shaking?’
‘No, but it will give me very great pleasure!’ When her hair streamed down in a gleaming cascade Domenico drew in a deep, relishing breath and threaded his fingers through it as he kissed her. Laura returned his kisses for a long, breathless interval, then pushed him away and stood at the side of the bed, shaking her hair back from her flushed face.
‘I must go back to the hotel looking respectable, Domenico, so if only for practical reasons I’d better take my dress off.’ She kicked off her shoes, then sat on the bed with her back to him. ‘Would you undo my zip, please?’
‘I like these practical reasons!’ He sat up to plant kisses down her spine as he laid it bare, then stood up and drew her to her feet to smooth the dress from her shoulders. Laura stepped out of it and held it out to him, her colour high as his eyes moved over her with a possessive look as tactile as a caress. He laid the dress carefully over a chair, then snatched her up again and sat down with her on his lap to press kisses all over her face. When he raised his head she began to loosen his tie.
‘Your turn now,’ she said breathlessly.
‘Be careful, amore,’ he warned, in a tone that turned her to jelly, ‘this tie is very special to me.’
Laura slid to her feet and handed it to him. ‘You can put it away, then.’
Domenico took it to join her dress, and then in sudden impatience took his shirt over his head, kicked off his shoes and stripped down to silk boxers before picking her up again to lay her on the bed. He let himself down beside her and took her face in his hands. ‘We are still shaking,’ he pointed out.
Laura smiled into the luminous blue eyes. ‘So what do we do to stop it?’
‘First,’ he whispered, ‘I do this.’ He undid her bra and tossed it away. ‘Then I do this.’ He paid loving, incendiary attention to each breast, his hands stroking and his lips on each nipple in turn with a delicate graze of teeth that sent such streaks of fire darting down inside she gasped and thrust her hips against him. He breathed in sharply, and moved his mouth lower over her ribs and down the slight swell of her stomach as he removed the last small lacy obstacle to kiss the mound beneath it. She stiffened, and pushed at his shoulders, and at once he slid back up her body, his eyes questioning.
‘You do not like this?’
She shook her head, flushing. ‘It’s a mystery to me why a man should want to do that.’
Domenico laughed joyously. ‘Ah, Laura. Has no man ever explained the mystery to you?’
‘No. It’s not a subject I care to discuss.’
‘Discussion is a mistake. A practical demonstration is better—and you like things practical, yes?’
‘I thought you were going to cure this shaky feeling, but it’s even worse now,’ she accused, and with sudden impatience slid a hand over the black silk, grasping him through it in a caress that brought such a groan she released him in shock. ‘Oh, Domenico, did I hurt you? I’m sorry!’
He closed his eyes tightly as he fought for control. Laura gazed up into his face and put her arms round him, hugging him close as he rubbed his cheek blindly over her hair.
At last Domenico let out an unsteady breath. ‘This will be the first time we make love, also the last for much too long. I want it to be perfect for you, so do not touch me like that, carissima or this will not be possible. As I have told you before, I am not made of stone.’
It had felt frighteningly like it to Laura, a discovery that escalated the shaking problem still further as Domenico made love to her with skill and passion she responded to with ardour, which delighted him as he caressed her into a state of longing so intense that this time she yielded to the touch of his seeking lips and tongue in the place no man had ever kissed before. Shock waves of sensation surged through her entire body, rocketing her to climax as Domenico held her close, whispering ragged endearments in his own language.
When she was quiet in his arms, he smoothed her hair from her forehead and smiled down into her dazed eyes. ‘Now you know why a man wishes to kiss and caress you that way, yes?’
‘It was obvious what it did for me, but nothing happened for you, Domenico,’ she said, frowning.
He smiled indulgently. ‘It is a most wonderful thing for a man to know that he has given his woman such pleasure, tesoro! And when you are ready for me again I shall share the pleasure with you.’
His hands and lips and tongue caressed with such skill that soon Laura was on fire for him again and Domenico slid his hands into her hair, his eyes blazing in triumph as he moved between her thighs to enter her with slow, exquisite care, little by little, until at last she gave a ragged gasp of pleasure as he thrust deep inside her. She hugged him closer and he kissed her open mouth, murmuring in his own tongue as he began to move, gradually increasing the tempo as she moved with him until they reached a frenzied rhythm, which brought them to culmination so overwhelming they stayed joined, close in each other’s arms long after it was over.
When Domenico raised the head he’d buried in Laura’s hair his smile flipped her heart over. ‘We are not shaking,’ he observed huskily.
‘No,’ she agreed unevenly. ‘You cured it.’
‘We cured it together,’ he corrected. ‘Perfectly, beautifully together, carissima.’
She heaved a deep, unsteady sigh.
‘Why do you sigh, Laura?’ he asked, smoothing her hair from her forehead.
‘I was just wishing I could stay here like this and not move until tomorrow morning,’ she said frankly, and smiled sleepily as his arms tightened.
‘I also,’ he said, and kissed her gently. ‘But Signora Rossi will expect me to bring you back by midnight, Cenerentola. I will come back for you early in the morning, and we shall have one last breakfast together before I take you to the airport.’
‘But won’t you be needed at your hotel?’ she said anxiously.
‘Not until I have taken you to Marco Polo.’
‘You have a very accommodating job, Domenico!’
‘I will tell you all about it in the morning,’ he promised, and smiled down at her. ‘Tomorrow we talk; tonight is for love.’
It was well past midnight when they reached the Locanda Verona, but Signora Rossi merely smiled indulgently when Domenico apologised for keeping her guest out a little later on her last night in Venice. He wished the signora goodnight, then turned to Laura and raised her hand very formally to his lips.
‘Sleep well. I shall come for you in the morning.’
She gave him a demure smile and said, ‘Grazie, e stata una magnifica serata.’
The blue eyes narrowed wickedly. ‘It was a wonderful evening for me, also.’
‘Goodnight, Domenico.’
‘Goodnight, Laura.’
When the door closed behind him Laura felt suddenly so tired she could hardly keep her eyes open. She received her key, asked for her bill to be made ready for the morning, wished the signora goodnight, and drifted up to her room in a happy daze. She managed to set her alarm before she fell into bed, and then slept like the dead until she woke to the ring tone of her phone next morning.
‘Hello,’ she said groggily, then shot upright at the sound of Domenico’s voice.
‘Laura! Are you awake?’
‘I am now. Is something wrong?’
‘Unfortunately, yes, carissima. There is a problem at the hotel. I have been called in to help with it—’
‘And you can’t come with me to the airport. Don’t worry, Domenico. I’m sorry you can’t make it, but I’ll be fine.’
‘I am more than just sorry,’ he said urgently. ‘There is so much I wish to say to you. Please ring me tonight.’
‘I will,’ she promised, keeping her voice steady by sheer force of will. ‘Goodbye, Domenico.’
‘Arrivederci, tesoro. Take great care, yes?’
‘You too!’
Laura disconnected and dragged herself out of bed, so disappointed she wanted to howl. She’d so looked forward to travelling to Marco Polo with Domenico, greedy for every possible minute with him after the magic of their night. She sighed heavily, then pulled herself together and got on with her preparations for leaving. When she was showered, dressed, her suitcase packed and the room tidy, Laura went downstairs to pay the bill, which surprised her by being less than expected because, Signora Rossi explained, the room was on the attic floor, much smaller than the others and less popular due to the absence of an elevator, therefore there was a discount on the usual tariff. Laura thanked her warmly, received her passport, and after goodbyes set off for San Marco to catch the No. 1 Aligaluna boat to take the slow journey back along the Grand Canal to say her last, lingering goodbyes to Venice on her way to Marco Polo airport.
Chapter Six
THE weather worsened over France. The descent into Heathrow was bumpy, and a very queasy Laura caught the train to Reading to get the next Intercity train to South Wales. Before she boarded it she rang her mother, who promptly volunteered to drive across the Severn Bridge to meet her. The train was packed and Laura escaped from it thankfully at Bristol Parkway, smiling broadly as she pulled her suitcase along the platform through the rain towards a small, hurrying figure in a dripping cagoule.
‘Darling,’ said Isabel Green, hugging her. ‘Welcome home. How was Venice?’
‘Fabulous. And a lot warmer than this. What a horrible day!’ Laura kissed her mother warmly. ‘You’re a star for braving the bridge in this wind.’
‘I thought you’d be glad to knock a bit off the journey and get home.’
They hurried through the rain to the car park and once Laura had stowed her belongings safely she sat back in the passenger seat with a sigh of relief. ‘How’s Abby?’
Isabel gave her daughter a triumphant little smile as they left the station. ‘Working right now, but only to the end of the week, then she’s off to France with Rachel Kent and her family. And after that she’ll be able to play like all the other girls until she goes up to Cambridge.’
‘How come?’ Laura eyed her mother in astonishment. ‘Have you won the lottery or something?’
‘You’re not far off. My Premium Bonds turned up trumps at long last. I won fifty thousand pounds!’
‘Really? How absolutely wonderful!’
‘When I got the cheque Abby and I did a war dance round the room!’
‘I’m not surprised. Congratulations, you lucky old thing,’ said Laura, laughing.
‘Not so much of the old! What’s in the parcel?’
‘Candlesticks from Murano for Fen. I hope she likes them.’
‘You can find out tonight. She’ll be down later with your dress, and, I quote, demands to know every last thing you did in Venice.’
Laura flushed, glad her mother was concentrating too much on the road to notice. ‘Trust Fen! Though she’s entitled to a few details. Her brother-in-law sent someone to meet me from the airport. His name is Domenico and he took me out and about a bit while I was there.’
Isabel shot an amused glance at her daughter. ‘Holiday romance?’
‘He was just looking after me because Lorenzo Forli told him to.’
‘Then you certainly got value for money. Was the hotel all right?’
‘It was more boarding house than hotel, but spotlessly clean. My bedroom was tiny, but it had its own little bathroom and a fabulous view.’ Laura chuckled. ‘Now you’re a lady of means you should try it yourself.’
‘I may well do that some time.’
‘You should. I helped myself to a brochure from the Locanda Verona as I left. Take Abby with you and overdose on culture together before she flies the nest.’
There was no more conversation for a while as they crossed the Severn Bridge. The speed limit was down to the minimum in the strengthening wind, which meant dogged concentration for Isabel as gusts buffeted the small car. She smiled at Laura in relief as she turned off for Chepstow.
‘Thank heavens for that. Now, talk. Tell me more.’
Laura managed to keep Domenico out of it as much as possible as she gave her mother a swift account of her stay in Venice, and then changed the subject. ‘How are things coming along for the wedding of the year?’
Isabel smiled affectionately. ‘Fenny’s very calm about the whole thing. As long as she marries Joe Tregenna on the day she’s not worried about anything else. But from a personal point of view I hope the weather relents by then. The label on my hat says, ‘‘do not wear in rain’’!’
When they turned off the main road up into Springfield Lane there was a pause in the proceedings. A herd of cows crossed from one field to another on the Morgan farm before Isabel could drive on through the narrow lane to Briar Cottage, which stood by itself half a mile from its nearest neighbour. When Isabel had first moved her daughters into it twelve years before the splendid view over the river had been no compensation to Laura for small rooms and a garden overgrown with brambles. It had been a painful contrast to the big Edwardian rectory she’d lived in all her short life until then. But because Isabel had crammed as many of their possessions as possible into it the three of them had soon come to look on Briar Cottage as home, and now, even with the rain lashing down like winter instead of summer, the rosy tint of the bricks glowed in welcome as they dashed up the path to the front door.
‘Thank goodness,’ gasped Laura as she came to a halt in the kitchen with her suitcase. ‘I’ll take this into the scullery and unpack my stuff straight into the washing machine, if that’s OK. I need some of it to go back on Sunday night.’
‘I’ll make tea,’ said Isabel, divesting herself of her cagoule. ‘I bet you didn’t have a decent cup all the time you were in Venice.’
Wrong, thought Laura, smiling at the memory of English Breakfast. ‘After I’ve had a shower I’ll drive into town to fetch Abby when she finishes, if you like.’
‘No need. She’s going straight from work to Rachel Kent’s party tonight and she’s staying the night there afterwards. I said you wouldn’t mind if she didn’t dash home in between to see you.’
‘Of course not. She deserves some fun. Fen will be down later, anyway.’
During the evening the conversation centred on Isabel’s windfall and her plans for it, but when asked for more news of the holiday Laura changed the subject to the souvenirs she’d brought back. She wasn’t ready, yet, to tell her mother more about Domenico. She needed to hear his voice first.
Isabel was delighted with her gifts, and put the crimson slippers on right away. ‘They’re much too good to wear round the house, but I’m going to, just the same. Thank you, darling. Tomorrow we’ll find exactly the right place to hang this gorgeous mask. By the way,’ she added, ‘take Fenny up to your room when she comes. I shall be glued to my favourite murder serial.’
‘Can’t have you missing that,’ agreed Laura, smiling.
A familiar screeching of tyres outside later heralded the arrival of Fenella Dysart. She shot up the path into the house, laid a sleeping bag on the kitchen table and hugged them both.
‘Don’t worry, Mrs G, I haven’t come for a sleepover. The sleeping bag is keeping Laura’s dress dry. Do you mind if I drag her upstairs to try it on?’
Isabel smiled affectionately. ‘I was hoping you would, Fenny—my programme’s about to start.’
‘If it’s the murder serial, Mother’s glued to it as well!’
‘Come on, then, Fen,’ said Laura. ‘Do you want coffee or a drink first?’
‘Later, please. Let’s take your ravishing creation up to your room and pray I haven’t got any rain on it.’
Upstairs Laura hung the dress on her wardrobe door and eyed it closely. ‘Looks good to me.’
