Not Just a Convenient Marriage

by Lucy Gordon - Not Just a Convenient Marriage

  ‘What a sad story,’ she mused.

  ‘It’s soppy,’ said Pietro contemptuously. ‘Come on, Toby, let’s go and play.’

  ‘That’s not like him,’ Sally observed when the boy and his dog had gone.

  ‘Children sometimes give rosebuds to their mothers,’ Mario said. ‘He did it once, with Imelda. She seemed to receive it more or less well, but then she threw it away. He found it a couple of days later.’

  ‘I’d like to slap her,’ Sally said crossly.

  ‘I think Pietro might give you a rosebud this time. He’s closer to you than he ever was to Imelda. Damiano’s over the moon about what a great mother you are.’

  ‘It’s nice to know that he approves of me,’ Sally said in a voice that gave nothing away.

  She promised herself that when she was finished he would do more than approve of her for being a good mother to his son. He would desire her as passionately as she desired him. If she wasn’t there he would be desolate. His heart would beat for her and her alone, not only with desire, but with love.

  This was her plan. The time was coming when she would don a new mask, but there were things still to be decided.

  She slipped away to the shop where Mario had taken her to buy what she needed for Carnival. After inspecting everything closely she found exactly what she wanted: a glamorous costume and an intriguing mask.

  She managed to carry everything home without being discovered, and hurried upstairs, hiding her purchases away in her old room until the moment she would need them.

  That came with the Festival of St Mark. The day started well, with Damiano presenting her with a small bouquet of red rosebuds over breakfast. Pietro gave her a rosebud of his own, then exchanged a smile and a nod with his father. Charlie and Mario applauded.

  ‘Come on,’ Pietro said excitedly when breakfast was over. ‘Time for the gondola race.’

  They secured places in a building overlooking the canal and cheered as a gondolier attached to the hotel won the race by a length. Then everyone streamed back for the celebrations, and to prepare for the masked ball in the evening.

  ‘Fine, I’ll wear what I wore before,’ Sally declared. ‘What about you?’

  ‘The same.’

  They dressed together. She put on the gold satin garment she’d bought for last time and he helped her with the buttons. Her heart was beating as the moment drew near when she must put her plan into action. Suddenly she closed her eyes and clutched her head.

  ‘What is it?’ he asked anxiously.

  ‘Just a headache. I thought it would have gone by now, but it’s getting worse.’

  ‘Are you sure you’re well enough for tonight?’

  ‘Not really. Would you mind if I didn’t go?’

  ‘If you’re not well I’d rather you stayed here.’

  ‘Then I will.’

  With his help she stripped off the dress and lay down. He kissed her cheek and departed.

  The plan had begun.

  She lay still to give him time to leave. When she was sure he was gone she slipped out and down the corridor to her own room. There she hurriedly dressed in an elegant red and blue gown she’d bought for tonight. The mask was glamorous, glittering about the eyes and covering most of her face with just a small gap for her mouth. A man looking down at her would just be able to see her smile, but no more.

  She removed her wedding ring and put it away. Nobody must see it tonight. Until now the ring had been almost meaningless but that was going to change.

  As she slipped out into the corridor the house was silent. Charlie and Mario were out having fun. Pietro was already asleep. The housekeeper remained at home for his sake but she was out of sight in the kitchen as Sally hurried down the stairs and slipped through the connecting door to the hotel.

  At once she was in a crowd of revellers and was able to make her way to the ballroom without attracting notice.

  As soon as she entered she looked for Damiano. It was hard because the ballroom lights were kept low, increasing the dramatic atmosphere. She had to search before she found him. His back was to her, but he wore the black velvet suit. She edged towards him, then halted with shock.

  He was holding a woman close to him, his right hand stroking her neck, then drifting down to caress her breasts, his fingers easing their way into the material.

  So that was it! That was what his restraint amounted to. He didn’t need to sleep with her because he was fooling around with other women. She wanted to scream, run away, fly at him, tear off his mask and slap his face.

  If only she could decide which.

  But while she was still struggling with temptation, the man moved so that his left hand came into view, and suddenly all questions were answered.

  Damiano had a scar on the back of his left hand, and she was just close enough to see that this man had no such scar. This wasn’t him, but a man wearing a very similar costume.

  For a moment she was dizzy with relief as the nightmares that had danced before her faded. But where was he? She must identify him quickly without further mistakes. She glided through the crowd, frantically searching.

  She saw him at last. The mask covered most of his face but he was holding up a glass of wine high enough for her to just make out the scar.

  Now things were working out well. For her plan to succeed they must each recognise the other, but pretend otherwise, at least at the start.

  Time for action.

  He glanced in her direction and she seized a glass from a passing waiter, holding it up, approaching him to clink glasses, then turning away again.

  ‘Wait!’ He detained her with a hand on her arm. ‘You’re surely not going to leave me just like that.’

  ‘Aren’t I?’ she said in a teasing voice. ‘I just came to say hello.’

  ‘Hello. Not goodbye.’

  ‘Perhaps. Perhaps not. I have other hellos to say.’ She indicated a group of men nearby.

  He moved closer. ‘Let me see if I can change your mind about that.’

  Taking her glass, he set it aside with his own, and slid a hand around her waist.

  ‘Hello,’ he said.

  She smiled. ‘Hello.’

  As they glided around the floor he held her too close for propriety. Looking up, she found his mouth close to hers, the lips touched with a faint smile that might have been designed to tempt her.

  Had he recognised her? Did he think he was dancing with a stranger? Or did he suspect the truth and was trying to decide? Of the three she decided the third would be the most intriguing.

  ‘Who are you?’ he murmured.

  She made her laugh as teasing as possible.

  ‘Come, come, you’re a Venetian. You know that I’m everybody and nobody. And does it really matter which?’

  ‘It does to me.’

  She laughed again. ‘If you don’t know who I really am, it’s because you’re afraid to know.’

  She said the last words with great significance, and felt his clasp tighten.

  ‘Why should I be afraid?’ he asked.

  ‘Only you can answer that. Some things we don’t know because we don’t want to know them.’

  ‘You make me sound like a coward.’

  ‘Not a coward, just a man like every other man on earth.’

  ‘So you despise us all?’

  ‘No, but I watch you with caution.’

  He was silent for a moment. Then suddenly he said, ‘I know another woman who does that. She too has things she doesn’t want to know.’

  ‘About herself, or about you?’

  ‘Both, I suspect. And I can’t decide whether to tell her.’

  ‘But do you know her secrets?’

  ‘I know secrets she doesn’t suspect.’

  ‘Perhaps it’s the same with her.’

  ‘I often think it is,’ he said in a low voice.

  The waltz came to an end, and she drew away from him. She needed time to think. Damiano’s words sounded as though he saw past her mask to the
woman within. Deep inside some instinct told her that they were talking a secret language known only to the two of them.

  ‘Dance with me again,’ he said. ‘Dance with me now.’

  ‘Not now. Later, when I’m ready.’

  She turned and departed before he could become more demanding. Other admirers clamoured for her attention and she went through them one by one, conscious of Damiano keeping her under permanent observation, until at last he stepped in and reclaimed her.

  ‘My turn,’ he said, taking firm hold and guiding her onto the dance floor. After a few turns he said, ‘You haven’t told me your name.’

  But he had recognised her. She was confident of that now. A strange and exciting chance had opened before her. They could talk openly, yet behind the protection of their masks. It sounded impossible, but in the magical air of Venice nothing was really impossible.

  ‘Your name,’ he repeated.

  ‘I have several names. Tonight I am Mysteria, the woman of many masks. Haven’t you sensed that already?’

  ‘Perhaps. Maybe I don’t know whether to believe it. It’s so confusing.’

  She gave a soft laugh, calculated to entice him.

  ‘If it’s confusing, that’s a reason to believe it.’

  ‘Now you’re trying to confuse me even more.’

  ‘Why would I want to do that?’

  He had danced her into a corner, turning her so that she was shielded from everyone.

  ‘Kiss me,’ he commanded.

  ‘In these masks? Impossible.’

  He tightened his grip but it was, as she said, impossible to get close enough.

  ‘Do I know you?’ he breathed. ‘Are you—could you be—?’

  ‘I could be anyone you want me to be. But who do you want?’

  ‘I want—I want—you!’

  ‘But I am nobody. I don’t exist.’

  ‘Don’t say that.’

  ‘After tonight we will never meet again. I will vanish into thin air. That other woman will still be there, and you’ll have to decide if we’re the same person. And you will wonder if we ever met.’ She gave a slight chuckle. ‘You’ll probably feel that it’s best if we didn’t.’

  ‘Why do you laugh at me? Does it amuse you to confuse me?’

  ‘Yes,’ she admitted. ‘A man is always amusing when he’s at a disadvantage.’

  ‘Damn you!’ he whispered.

  Before he could say or do more someone called his name. Furiously he turned to them, forcing himself to engage in polite conversation. When he turned back she had gone.

  Watching him from the doorway, Sally could see his air of desperation as he looked this way and that. At last he grew close enough to see her, and came to a sudden sharp halt.

  Sally raised her hand and beckoned to him, retreating through the open doorway. He followed fast, catching up, gazing down at her, breathing heavily.

  ‘Where are you going?’ he demanded.

  ‘Wherever you want to take me. I wonder where that could be.’

  ‘You know where it is. I’m taking you where you belong, to my room, to my bed. Unless—’ His confidence seemed to weaken. ‘Unless you do not wish to go there with me.’

  She smiled. ‘Do you think that is my wish?’

  ‘I don’t know what I think. I don’t know anything about anything any more.’

  ‘Then why don’t we find out?’ She indicated the way ahead. ‘Go on, lead me. After all, you’re in command. You lead, I follow.’

  What little she could see of his mouth twisted wryly. ‘We both know that’s not true.’

  ‘Who could possibly dictate to you?’

  ‘There is one woman who could.’

  ‘Lead on.’

  She held out her hand. He took it and led the way through the hotel until they reached the connecting door. In a moment they were through and on their way up to the bedroom.

  Sally had a blissful sensation that fate had blessed her plans. Everything was going well. She had no doubt that Damiano had recognised her.

  He knew this was Sally, but which Sally? How many might there be? Her disguise had freed them both from the prison of their usual selves. Now they could each make love to a ‘stranger’ without being faithless to each other.

  As they entered their bedroom he reached out to the wall switch, but she restrained him.

  ‘No,’ she murmured. ‘We don’t need light.’

  After a moment he nodded. ‘I don’t need to see you,’ he agreed.

  ‘And why should you want to? You already know the things that matter about me.’ She moved closer so that he could feel her breath against his mouth. ‘Otherwise you wouldn’t be here.’

  ‘And you?’ he asked. ‘Don’t you want to know who I am?’

  ‘But I do know who you are. You’re the man who came when I beckoned.’

  ‘Does every man come at your command?’

  For answer she gave a soft chuckle. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘I think every man follows you because he can’t help himself.’

  ‘What do the others matter? What does anything matter except that we are here, now, together?’

  She stripped off her own mask, then reached up to his and slowly pulled it away. In the semi darkness she could just see his face enough to be sure it was Damiano, and knew he could see hers. But for the moment they should keep silent about their mutual recognition and enjoy the advantages of strangers.

  She touched his mouth lightly with her fingertips, and would have drawn them away but he seized her hand, pressing it against his lips, kissing it again and again. Her response was a soft chuckle.

  ‘Why are you laughing?’ he demanded. ‘Was that what you meant me to do? Am I dancing to your tune?’

  ‘Do you think you are?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ he said hoarsely.

  ‘Would you mind?’

  After a long moment he whispered, ‘No.’

  ‘I think you would. No man likes a woman to have too much power.’

  ‘That depends how she uses her power.’

  She gave a soft laugh. ‘No, it doesn’t. No woman can be trusted. Never forget that.’

  ‘Do you say that I shouldn’t trust you?’

  ‘That’s your decision. If you take the risk of trusting me—I can do as I like.’

  ‘Stop it,’ he said hoarsely. ‘Stop trying to turn me against you.’

  ‘But you can always send me away. You’re the one in control now. Aren’t you?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said, but his voice shook.

  ‘Just throw me out, say you never want to see me again, and I’ll—’

  The last words were silenced by his mouth on hers. It was what she’d wanted but she was still taken by surprise. The force and urgency of his kiss told of a man driven to the edge of control, ready to step into uncharted waters.

  Excitement rose in her. She too was venturing into uncharted waters and this was a journey they would take together.

  As he kissed her his hands began to move over her body, pulling at the laces that fixed her dress, pushing it from her shoulders until at last it fell to the floor. She responded by working on his coat, helping him wrench it off. As if given a signal he seized her up in his arms and strode to the bed.

  ‘Is this our fate?’ she whispered. ‘Are you set on imposing your will on me?’

  ‘I impose nothing.’ There was a tinge of anger in his voice. ‘I’m doing what you always meant me to do, and we both know it.’

  ‘I’m not sure that I do know it. You might have to persuade me.’

  ‘Right.’ His mouth was on hers again, forceful but caressing at the same time, sending excitement pulsing through her so strongly that she could barely stand. She moved her own lips against him, seeking to inspire him with thrills as great as her own, sensing his reaction in the trembling of his body.

  She had longed for this, dreamed of it. Now she seemed possessed by something beyond herself. Victory was in her grasp and she must seize it be
fore the chance slipped away. She wasn’t sure who it was who ripped open his shirt buttons. It might have been herself, but the action held more of the other self who had taken her over.

  That other Sally ran her hands over his bare chest, relishing the feel of his muscles, his smooth skin, the tension of desire that throbbed through him.

  Now she was naked, and so was he. It was too dark to see but she could feel the length of his body against her, feel the caresses that seemed to invade her everywhere, until at last he took possession of her completely, and the whole world changed.

  A long gasp broke from her as she sensed first the power of his desire, then her own uncontrollable response. For a few moments madness consumed them both, and they clung to each other, seeking pleasure and comfort in the same moments.

  For Sally it was as though everything had been drained from her. She was no longer herself but a new woman, open to the world, to this man, to a wealth of new experiences and joys waiting to be discovered. And it was the same with him. Every instinct told her that as she held him close to her, refusing to release him, now or ever.

  She had claimed him. And now he was hers.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  IN THE PALE dawn light Damiano looked down at the woman on the pillow, overwhelmed with emotion at seeing the face he had expected. The night before had ushered him into a new universe, one that was a mystery to him. In a moment she would awaken and he would see in her eyes the answer to the question that tortured him.

  Her eyes opened, and she smiled.

  ‘Hello,’ she said.

  ‘Hello.’

  ‘It’s like meeting as strangers. You’ll never look the same to me again.’

  ‘We’re not strangers,’ he said at once. ‘I knew who you were as soon as I saw your mouth. But what about you? My face was almost completely covered. How could you have recognised me?’

  ‘Because of this,’ she said, taking his hand and running her finger over the little scar. ‘I knew you as soon as I saw that scar, in the first few minutes.’

  ‘You knew?’ His voice was tense. ‘You knew it was me all the time?’

  ‘Or I wouldn’t have made love to you.’

  ‘I’ve wanted you too much for too long. Last night you took the decision right out of my hands.’