The Venetian's Proposal

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She was trying lazily to brush aside the last clinging cobwebs of sleep to find the reason for her euphoria when, as though in answer, her mind was filled with thoughts of Dominic.

Memories of his dark, handsome face and the infinite rapture and delight he had given her came flooding back.

Her heart filled to overflowing, she turned her head.

She was alone in the bed, and his clothes had vanished. Presumably, for the look of the thing, he had gone back to his own room. But just the imprint of his head in the pillow beside her, and the recollection of his lovemaking, was as warming as the sun.

For so long the world had seemed a cold and lonely place. No love, no warmth, no joy. She had denied and suppressed all her natural needs, keeping her longings and emotions packed away in ice while life went on around her.

Now, as though to make up for the blows it had inflicted, fate had offered her a second chance of happiness.

A chance she had snatched at in a way that was not only completely unlike her but which, in her right mind, she would have regarded as wild and irresponsible.

In the normal course of events a new relationship would have moved forward at a steadier rate—getting to know one another, becoming friends, and then finally lovers.

But somehow they had skipped the first two stages. All she knew about Dominic was what she had discovered in a single afternoon and evening. That he was an excellent companion, intelligent and charming, with a dry humour and a curiously old-fashioned sense of chivalry.

She had no real idea what made him tick as a person.

After all her foster mother’s dire warnings she had gone to bed with a man she had only just met; a man who was a virtual stranger. A departure from the norm that she was forced to admit was dangerous to the point of lunacy.

Though she couldn’t regret a moment of it, she found herself wondering what on earth had made her behave so recklessly.

Too much alcohol had undoubtedly contributed, by putting her on a high and lulling her inhibitions. But if she was truthful, she knew the alcohol wasn’t to blame.

She had found Dominic irresistibly attractive from the word go, and the whole magical evening—the drive, the schloss, the ambience, the good food and wonderful scenery—had all played a part.

A scene set for seduction.

Except that she couldn’t blame him. She had wanted what happened. Probably more than he had, she admitted, recalling his first reaction to what she now realised uneasily must have appeared to be a come-on.

Perhaps if she explained to him that she wasn’t used to drinking…? Or would it be better to say nothing? She didn’t want him to feel guilty in any way, or think that she was trying to put the blame on him.

But why should there be any suggestion of guilt or blame? He certainly hadn’t pressured her. She had been a willing partner…

And it had been wonderful. She sighed. As well as being a skilful lover, he had been generous and considerate and, remembering the controlled passion of his lovemaking, her heart began to beat faster.

Jeff’s lovemaking had been kind and tender, warm and caring, but she hadn’t realised until last night how much it had lacked passion. Or skill.

How much she had missed.

Her main pleasure, quite often her only pleasure, had been lying in his arms afterwards, happy that he was satisfied and contented.

Maybe it had been her own fault. Perhaps she had felt too inhibited to let go and enjoy the side of marriage that she was convinced her foster mother had secretly regarded as ‘not quite nice’.

Things might have been different if she and Jeff had managed to get away—get away…she was using Dominic’s words—but it was no use thinking about what might have been. That part of her life was over. Fate had written finis to it.

Now, at last, with John’s encouragement, and having met Dominic, she was moving forward into a new, exciting, and hopefully much happier phase.

Thinking of Dominic, and recalling how he had mentioned getting an early start, she glanced at her watch. It was gone eight-thirty. He was probably waiting for her in the breakfast room, wondering where on earth she’d got to.

Pushing aside the light covers, she scrambled out of bed. Her discarded clothes, she noticed, had been picked up and placed neatly over a chair.

As soon as she had cleaned her teeth and showered she dressed in a light two-piece and flat shoes that she judged would be easy to drive in, and hastily repacked her cases.

Standing in front of the mirror, she saw a strange young woman with a smile hanging on her lips. A happy and excited woman, who had a glowing, heart-shaped face and sparkling green eyes.

With a feeling of joie de vivre, she smiled back.

She was halfway through taking her hair up into its usual neat coil when, recalling the way Dominic had run his fingers through it, her heart picked up speed and her hands started to tremble.

Telling herself not to be foolish, she finished pushing in the pins and, leaving her luggage where it was, hurried to the lift, eager as a young Juliet.

The breakfast room faced east and was light and airy, with a crescent-shaped counter that held fruit and cereals, rolls and croissants, ham, cheeses, and various preserves.

Three or four tables were occupied, and an elderly couple were standing by the buffet debating in English whether to have rolls or croissants. Dominic was nowhere to be seen.

So she was first down after all. Making up her mind to tease him about it, Nicola helped herself to fruit juice and a croissant, and sat down at a table for two. When a waiter appeared, she asked for coffee.

By the time she had eaten her croissant and drunk two cups of coffee, there was still no sign of him.

She went back upstairs and tapped at his door.

There was no answer.

Thinking he might possibly be in the shower, she knocked harder.

Still no answer.

As she stood hesitating in the corridor, wondering what to do for the best, a chambermaid appeared pushing a trolley loaded with fresh bedlinen.

With a curious glance at Nicola, she opened the door of number 54 with a master-key.

‘The man who has this room…’ Nicola said carefully, ‘I was hoping to speak to him.’

‘He has gone, fräulein. The room is empty.’

‘Oh.’ Somehow they must have missed each other. Possibly he was at the desk paying his bill.

Letting herself back into her own room, Nicola gathered together her luggage and took the lift down to the foyer.

There were quite a few people there, including the bullet-headed man she had seen the previous day, but no Dominic.

She paid her own bill and made her way down to the car park. Having stowed everything in the boot, she locked the car and crossed to the far bay where Dominic’s white car had been parked.

It was no longer there.

The realisation was like a blow in the solar plexus.

Surely he hadn’t just gone without a word?

Hurrying back to the desk, she gave her name to the desk clerk and asked, ‘Did anyone leave a note for me?’

A white envelope with the hotel logo was produced. ‘My apologies, fräulein. It should have been given to you when you checked out, but it was overlooked.’