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Not Just a Convenient Marriage
Lucy Gordon
Wedded in Venice… Starting again is meant to be the purpose of Sally Franklin’s trip to Venice. Not finding herself spontaneously married to enigmatically handsome Damiano Ferrone! Maybe it was the magic of Venice or simply Damiano’s captivating good looks that made his proposal impossible to resist! Damiano needs the perfect mother for his little boy—and a marriage of the utmost convenience. But before long Damiano is seeing Sally in a whole new light and realizing he’s got a lot more than he bargained for…a wife for real!
‘Look at me,’ Damiano whispered.
She did so, and found his lips close to her own.
‘Help me, Sally. Say you agree,’ he said softly, his breath whispering against her face.
‘But—’
‘Say it. For my son’s sake.’
‘All right. I agree.’
Slowly Damiano dropped his head until his mouth brushed hers. She held herself steady, waiting for it to be over, feeling the tremors go through her, fighting every instinct that urged her to press against him and tempt him on—and on …
His lips parted from hers, but she could still feel the warmth of his breath. She tried to force her mind to take control. Damiano’s kiss had a power over her that she must fight. But her flesh challenged her, telling her mind that thoughts were irrelevant. The only thing that mattered was the sweetness flooding through her, destroying the common sense that had always ruled her life.
His eyes told her that he’d felt her tremble in his arms and knew his power over her. Now nothing could ever be the same. He would force on her a kiss of passion that would leave her no choice. She braced herself—part fearful, part furious, part craving.
She ought to leave Venice, she thought. She couldn’t bear to hurt the child, but it was better for him not to indulge in groundless hopes. But another voice spoke within her, urging her to marry Damiano and put her whole heart and soul into winning his love.
Not Just a
Convenient
Marriage
Lucy Gordon
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
LUCY GORDON cut her writing teeth on magazine journalism, interviewing many of the world’s most interesting men, including Warren Beatty, Charlton Heston and Sir Roger Moore. She also camped out with lions in Africa, and had many other unusual experiences, which have often provided the background for her books. Several years ago, while staying in Venice, she met a Venetian who proposed in two days. They have been married ever since. Naturally this has affected her writing, in which romantic Italian men tend to feature strongly.
Two of her books have won a Romance Writers of America RITA
Award. You can visit her website at www.lucy-gordon.com (http://www.lucy-gordon.com).
I dedicate this book to Carla, my Venetian sister-in-law, who made the light-hearted remark that inspired me to write it.
Contents
Cover (#u1b319c87-cc33-5cb5-8261-52d28b4e26d5)
Introduction (#u496c173f-94f1-5db7-bf28-c44746a33dc3)
Title Page (#u3fc86d3b-8c26-5570-a7ff-6e6e57580428)
About the Author (#ua58645f0-45bc-5a9d-8d55-2758508eb1f0)
Dedication (#u83d1edd4-55e7-5aa4-a4e6-de724b331efd)
CHAPTER ONE (#u6fea7f53-6d46-5d4c-868f-9c70164f9cf8)
CHAPTER TWO (#ue2a049a1-fb79-5051-9cae-fc479a01274c)
CHAPTER THREE (#u59799eab-8859-5465-88de-55dcc1c2abb8)
CHAPTER FOUR (#ud77d0f95-317c-5a11-9190-a76aa908c5e7)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
EXTRACT (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_5bb1967e-1c40-5a98-a6d0-8349e0ef24a3)
‘WOW! CASANOVA! FANCY THAT!’
The young man devouring the contents of a book was alight with excitement. Sally, his sister, sitting beside him in the plane, regarded him curiously.
‘What are you on about, Charlie?’
‘Casanova, the great lover. He came from Venice. It says so here.’ He held up the tourist booklet about the city. ‘He had a thousand women and gambled a fortune every night.’
‘Then I can see why he attracts you,’ she said wryly.
At eighteen, Charlie had gambling debts that were fast mounting, something that barely troubled him while he could rely on his sister to stump up. But Sally had rebelled. Appalled by his developing addiction and the fearsome characters who were beginning to haunt their home, she’d hurriedly got him out of London. Now they were on a plane approaching Venice in what looked like a holiday but was actually an escape.
‘It’s not just the gambling,’ Charlie said. ‘He could have any woman he wanted, and they say that even now his legend lives in Venice. Aw, come on, that should interest you.’
‘Shut it!’ Sally told him.
His manner became comically theatrical. ‘How can you be so hard-hearted? You’re going to the most romantic city in the world and you couldn’t care less.’
‘Just as you couldn’t care less about the trouble your gambling causes. You’re only trying to change the subject. So just drop it, little brother. Or else!’
‘Or else what? Throw me out of the plane?’
‘No, I’ll do something much worse than that. I’ll cut off the money and make you get a job.’
‘Aaargh! You’re a cruel woman.’
Their tone was light, but beneath the banter was a hard reality. Since their parents had died seven years earlier she’d been responsible for him. She wasn’t proud of the result. He showed no signs of growing up.
As he’d said, they were travelling to the most romantic city in the world: Venice. Over a hundred little islands, connected by canals and bridges. A place of staggering beauty and magical, romantic atmosphere. And if she ‘couldn’t care less’ as he accused, it might be because there had been little romance in her life. Without being exactly plain she had looks that were ordinary, with nothing enchanting or alluring about them. Men did not tend to fall at her feet, and the one time she’d fancied herself in love there had been little happiness, and pain in the end. She had no illusions that her life was about to change now.
‘Why did you insist on coming to Venice when we could have gone anywhere?’ Charlie persisted.
‘Because I had a friend who’d booked a trip here and had to cancel at the last minute,’ she said. ‘I managed to get her hotel rooms, and air tickets.’
She had seized the offer as a chance to get away fast and cheaply. Otherwise she wouldn’t have chosen to make this trip in January.
A voice on the loudspeaker announced that the descent was about to start. Soon they could see Marco Polo Airport near the boundary of the mainland. Close by was the sea, with the two-mile causeway stretching out over the water to the multitude of little islands that made up the city of Venice.
‘Hang on,’ said Charlie. ‘It says here that there are no cars in Venice. Does that mean we have to walk along that causeway?’
‘No, there’s a car park called Piazzale Roma on the very edge of the city,’ she said. ‘A taxi can take us as far as that, then we get out and do the rest of the journey by boat through the canals.’
As they descended she gazed out of the window, enchanted by the glittering sea stretching out to where Venice could just be glimpsed on the horizon. When they landed there was the relief of finding a plentiful supply of taxis, and soon they were on their way across the causeway.
Now the city was just ahead, looming up in all its legendary beauty. The taxi turned into Piazzale Roma, and stopped near the water. Here there was a crowd of motor boats, the Venetian version of taxi. Sally gave their destination, the Hotel Billioni, and soon they were moving out into the Grand Canal, the huge elegant highway that sliced through the centre of Venice. At last the boat turned into a tiny side canal and halted where a flight of steps came down to the water. The boatman took their bags and led them the few yards to the hotel.
After checking in they were shown upstairs to the two rooms where they were to stay. Sally went straight to the window and threw it open.
Below her the little canal was quiet and mysterious. Darkness was falling and the only light on the water came in soft gleams from the windows above.
The little she had seen of Venice so far was enough to confirm its reputation for romance and mystery. It would attract lovers, perhaps for their honeymoon.
The word ‘honeymoon’ directed her thoughts to Frank, despite her efforts to prevent it. These days she didn’t often let herself think of him, not since she’d resolved to put him out of her life.
He’d attracted her. His kisses had pleased her, yet for some reason she’d resisted his urging to take them further.
‘C’mon, Sally,’ he’d said, sounding irritated. ‘This is the twenty-first century. Kisses aren’t enough any more.’
He was right. If she’d wanted to go to bed with him she was free to do so. But something held her back. When she found him with another girl it was hurtful but not really a surprise.
He accused me of being cold, she thought, and maybe he was right. Will I ever want a man so much that I can’t control myself? Probably not. If it was going to happen I guess I’d know by now.
She gave a little self-mocking laugh.
I’ve come to the city of Casanova, but somehow I don’t think even he could make me passionate. I’m too sensible. But then, I’ve always needed to be.
The sound of Charlie moving in the next room reminded her why good sense was necessary. She had made many sacrifices for him. Even being here was a sacrifice, as it might have cost her the chance of a wonderful job. She was an accountant, working independently with reasonable success, but suddenly a job with a major firm beckoned. If she’d stayed at home it might have been hers. But they were unlikely to keep it open for her, at least, not for more than a week.
She could hope, but she knew hope could be destructive if it was all you had.
Charlie’s head appeared round the door.
‘I’m starving,’ he said. ‘Let’s go and have some supper.’
The restaurant downstairs was humming with life. Delicious smells wafted from the kitchen and they spent a merry few minutes choosing food.
‘And this is just the start,’ Charlie said. ‘We’re going to have a great time.’
‘You might. My time will be taken up watching you to stop you going crazy.’
‘Hah! So you say. But this is the city of Casanova, the great lover. You’ll be fighting the men off.’
A chuckle overhead revealed that one of the waitresses had heard and understood.
‘It is true,’ she said. ‘This was the home of Casanova.’
‘Never mind him,’ Sally said. ‘He can wait. I want some supper.’
‘Fish,’ Charlie enthused. ‘Did you ever see so much fish?’
‘We have everything you want, signore,’ the waitress declared.
‘It’s lucky you all seem to understand English so well,’ Sally observed. ‘We’d be really lost otherwise.’
‘But people come to Venice from all over the world. We must be able to talk with them. Now, what can I get you?’
‘I’ll have the codfish prepared with olive oil, garlic and parsley.’
‘Me too,’ Charlie announced.
‘Duo baccala mantecata,’ she announced triumphantly, and bustled away.
‘Is that what we ordered?’ Charlie asked.
‘I guess it must have been.’
‘It sounds great. I’m beginning to think you did the right thing in hauling me out here.’
‘I didn’t haul you.’
‘Come on. You practically chucked me into your suitcase.’
‘Well, all right. I was getting a bit worried by those phone calls that kept coming from people who wouldn’t give their name. One called himself Wilton but the others wouldn’t tell.’
‘Wilton—well—yes.’
