‘Oh, yes…’ Lady Geraldine took hold of Charlotte’s hand with both of hers. ‘He’s sure it’s some form of bowel cancer.’ Her voice wobbled. ‘I didn’t want you to find out, darling. Not yet.’
Charlotte’s voice was thick with tears. ‘Why not? You should have told me. I should have been there with you when you had your appointments.’
‘We’ve been planning this trip for so long. Going on the Orient Express has been on my bucket list for far too long.’ Unbelievably, Geraldine was smiling mischievously. ‘And what better time to fulfil a bucket list item than when you’ve been told the end probably isn’t that far off?’
‘Gran…We can’t spend thirty hours on a train. We have to fly back to London tonight. I’ll talk to people. We’ll find a way to bring that procedure forward so we can start treatment earlier.’
‘No way, Jose.’ The way Lady Geraldine’s eyes narrowed was a warning that she was not about to be contradicted. ‘I’ve taken some painkillers. I’ll be as right as rain after a little rest. You’re not going to spoil this for me, Charlotte. Are you?’
It wasn’t really a question. And the look coming from those faded blue eyes wasn’t disapproving. It was full of absolute love. The kind of love Charlotte had received from this remarkable woman ever since she’d been orphaned as a small, terrified child.
This was why her grandmother had wanted to hear her speak today. Why she’d wanted to tell her how proud she was of her. Well, that cut both ways, didn’t it?
‘Let’s enjoy this time together,’ Lady Geraldine added softly. ‘Before we know anything for sure. Let’s pretend you didn’t find me like this. The way I wanted it to be. Go back to your conference, darling. I need a little rest and then I’m going to choose my outfit for the dinner tonight.’
Those words stayed with Charlotte during the afternoon’s symposium proceedings and it was the hardest thing she’d ever done, to keep up her professional image. The papers being presented were fascinating and the discussions lively, and Charlotte had learned long ago to firmly shut the door between her professional and personal lives, but today it was impossible.
Today had started badly. She thought she’d made the best of a bad situation and survived but now it felt as if the world had tilted far too sharply on its axis. What did her brilliant career matter if she was about to lose the person she loved most? The only person she truly loved, come to that.
The conference attendees were invited to a cocktail session before a break to get ready for the dinner but Charlotte quietly slipped away from the group. She had to pull herself together. Had to find the strength to deal with what was undoubtedly coming. Did she really want to deprive her grandmother of the long-awaited pleasure of the train trip tomorrow and whisk her back to London and into hospital? Did she have that right?
The balcony leading off the now deserted dining room offered a private space with the bonus of an idyllic canal view where more than one ornate gondola could be seen floating past.
One of the gondolas held a pair of young lovers who were locked in a passionate embrace, oblivious to their surroundings for the moment. Maybe they were practising. Wasn’t there a bridge here in Venice and if you kissed while going beneath it, it meant that your love would last for ever?
If her grandmother was here on this balcony with her, she’d be poking Charlotte with a bony finger right about now. Clicking her tongue.
That should be you in that gondola, Charlotte Jane, she’d be saying. Kissing some gorgeous young man whose baby you can’t wait to have. You don’t know what you’re missing, child, and it’s the most important thing in life.
But Charlotte knew all too well what she’d be missing far too soon and hearing her grandmother’s voice so clearly in her mind was the final straw.
Tears rolled down her cheeks. Hot, burning tears that felt like acid. No surprise there. They were pretty concentrated given that she hadn’t shed a tear for six years now. They were such a sign of weakness. Feminine weakness.
She knew there was no point in trying to stop them.
Thank God nobody could see her.
The room Nico had been given at the hotel Bonvecchiata was luxurious. He eyed the huge bed, pulled at his tie to loosen it, and looked forward to putting his feet up for a while before heading off to the symposium dinner.
What a day!
Shedding his jacket, Nico walked to the tall windows of his room and looked through the ornate iron grille to find he had the bonus of a canal view. A gondola floated past with a young couple locked in each other’s arms.
Nico smiled. Nice. His gaze drifted lazily and then it caught.
His smile faded.
There was a balcony on the floor beneath his. Charlotte Highton was standing there, her shoulders bowed as if she carried the weight of the entire world on them.
And she was crying?
Dio, but this woman was so full of contradictions. For a moment Nico stared in fascination. He would never have believed that she was capable of showing such a depth of emotion. But why was she so upset?
Did it have anything to do with being unable to present what she’d intended to present this morning?
Because of the trouble he’d unwittingly caused for her?
For another, long moment Nico kept staring, unsure of how to unravel the conflicting emotions being stirred in his own gut. Why did he feel such a strong urge to try and help this prickly, complicated woman? It was more than having contributed to a bad start to her day. More, even, than being curious about how someone’s personality could have changed so much in just a few short years.
Being aware that there was some indefinable extra motivation should be enough of a warning to stop him getting involved any further, but did he want to listen to that warning?
He turned away. Stared at the huge, inviting bed for a moment. And then, with a soft growl, he turned on his heel and headed for the door.
CHAPTER THREE
OH…NO.
As if she could cope with her day getting even worse!
Of all the people to discover her at her lowest point in so many years, it had to be Nico Moretti.
Charlotte did her utmost to stem the tide of her tears. She turned her back on Nico and leant on the balustrade of the balcony, gripping the roughened concrete so hard she could feel tendrils of pain in her fingers that flickered into her arms. She fixed her gaze on the canal beneath and blinked again and again, trying to clear the wetness that didn’t want to stop. Why couldn’t it go back where it had come from, instead of continuing to roll down her face in these humiliating tears?
He didn’t say anything. He just came to stand beside her. He, too, seemed to be gazing at the view and he spread his hands on the balustrade as if the only reason he was there was to admire their surroundings.
Charlotte’s panic ebbed a little as he just stood there, a silent presence.
She’d never had company during the most unhappy periods in her life. Her first instinct, even as a young child so bereft at the loss of her parents, had been to hide. To cry alone. And feel alone. To accept that life was a terribly lonely business and you just had to deal with that.
There was comfort to be found in simply being close to another person. To feel the presence of another living, breathing human.
The fact that Nico wasn’t saying anything made it easy to accept his presence. She didn’t have to try and find excuses or explain anything, and to have someone there who was clearly prepared to accept the state she was in made it feel as if it was okay not to be coping. As if she had support.
Strong support. Bit by bit, Charlotte found her thoughts creeping out from the dark knot in her head. She was aware of how big Nico was. Well over six feet in height and broad with it. His hands against the ancient concrete looked huge and powerful but his fingers were long and artistic looking. Clever hands, no doubt capable of performing the careful, intricate movements that were needed when you were dealing with something as precious as brain tissue.
Her head turned, as if her gaze was being pulled up by an external force. Up his arms, across his chest, where a loosened tie hung like a necklace and the top buttons of his shirt were undone. It was impossible not to flick her gaze up to his face now, but it was safe. He was still staring down at the canal so Charlotte let her gaze linger for a moment on the strong profile. Unfairly luxurious eyelashes that brushed his cheeks when he blinked. A nose that made no apology for the space it took and deep creases on each side that ran down to meet a mouth that looked as if it smiled often and easily.
A jaw that looked like it hadn’t seen a razor in a fair few hours. And a firmness to it that suggested tension. Was he gritting his teeth? Was he standing there not knowing what to say? Wishing he was somewhere else?
‘I’m sorry.’ The words came out as a whisper. ‘I’ve had…It’s been…’ she had to take a tiny gulp of air ‘…a weird kind of day.’
‘I understand.’ Nico moved finally, but only his head. He angled it a little towards Charlotte. And then he smiled at her.
And…dear Lord…what a smile. Slow and so full of warmth. The most genuine smile she had ever seen. And it was for her. She had to catch her breath again.
‘And I have a horrible feeling I might have contributed to your day not being the one you hoped for,’ Nico continued. ‘I really must apologise again.’
His voice was as warm as that smile. The Irish lilt was unmistakeable but, if he had been in Ireland, they would hear something else. An Italian inflection that made it unique. An astonishing accent colouring a depth that was as masculine as his size and aura of power.
How many women had fallen in love with that voice already?
Not that she was about to join the ranks. Charlotte cleared her throat.
‘No…really. Losing my laptop was nothing compared to…’ Oh, help. Had she really been about to break one of her most ironclad rules and share personal information with a professional colleague?
‘Compared to what, cara?’
It was the endearment that did her in. An endearment in a foreign language that somehow made it inoffensive and genuinely caring.
‘My…grandmother is here. She’s not well and…and it’s possible she might not have…’ Charlotte’s intake of breath was a small sob. ‘Might not have much time left.’
‘Ohhh…’ The sound was a drawn-out note of understanding. Empathy.
This man was a stranger even if they had met before. She would probably never see him again after today. So it didn’t really count as sharing personal information, did it? Nobody would be giving her meaningful glances at work or gossiping about her in the cafeteria at St Margaret’s. As if it would help with the anonymity, Charlotte fixed her gaze on the canal again. She could be simply talking aloud to herself.
‘She’s the most important person in the world to me,’ she said softly. ‘My parents both got killed in a horrible accident when I was eight years old. I was in the accident too and came out as a terrified shell of a child who wouldn’t even speak to anyone for months. Gran never cared how tough it got, she was always so patient and so loving. So proud of any achievements I managed.’
‘She would have had a lot to be proud of.’
Charlotte’s breath came out in a huff of incredulity as she twisted sharply to glare at Nico. He was so used to giving women compliments, wasn’t he? Meaningless compliments that demeaned what she was trying to tell him about her wonderful grandmother.
‘What makes you think you know anything about me?’ The words came out tight and accusing. And then Charlotte shook her head and swallowed fresh tears. ‘You know nothing.’
There was a flash in his eyes but, while he might be startled by the verbal attack, he didn’t look away.
‘I know that a few years ago I met a woman who would have made anybody who loved her immensely proud,’ he said calmly. ‘But you’re correct…I know nothing about you on a personal level.’
His gaze still held hers and there was something else in his eyes now. Respect? Curiosity?
‘So tell me,’ he invited. And then he smiled again. ‘I’m listening.’
She was about to walk away.
Nico could sense the internal struggle but, dammit, he wanted to hear more. He knew perfectly well he was taking advantage of finding Charlotte in a state that made her vulnerable but he wasn’t about to use the situation to his own advantage. Quite the opposite! His only motivation for coming out to this balcony and interrupting an obviously private moment had been to offer assistance.
He owed her that, surely?
Even though she had dismissed any contribution he’d made to her having such a bad day, he knew he hadn’t helped it get off to a good start. And it was frustrating not to be able to think of a way to make up for that. Nico Moretti was an expert in making other people’s lives better, even in the most dire of circumstances. He firmly believed that you could find at least a little patch of joy anywhere if you didn’t take life too seriously.
Maybe that was why he knew he had the reputation of being a playboy. But play was the key, wasn’t it? Like when he took the time to actually play with one of his smaller patients or do something silly enough to make them smile. And…good grief…he’d never encountered a woman who couldn’t accept a compliment, even if it had been an automatic and possibly less than genuine response.
Nico had a strong sense that anything Charlotte told him would be completely honest, no matter how badly it reflected on herself. In his experience, this was an unusual trait, particularly for a woman on first acquaintance.
What really surprised him, however, was how much he wanted to hear more about her. His curiosity about Charlotte Highton was increasing rapidly. He remembered the brilliant young doctor. He’d seen the icy-cool clinician in action. He’d seen a speaker not only cope with facing an international audience having been deprived of her resources but engage them to the point where she’d had them in the palm of her hand.
And now he’d seen a glimpse of a loving granddaughter. Beneath all the layers he could detect there was an orphan who’d been a desperately unhappy child. A woman who currently looked alone. And lonely.
Just who was the real Charlotte?
He tried to send a silent message with his smile. And his eyes.
Talk to me. Please. You never know, I might be able to help. I’m good at helping.
It wasn’t working, though. It was as though he was trying to hold a wild creature in his hands and it was struggling to be free. An injured wild creature that wanted to crawl away and lick its wounds somewhere it felt safe.
He needed something more to keep her here. He needed to tap into something that would give them a bond, however tenuous.
‘I’ve met many people at many conferences over the years,’ he told her. ‘They are often accompanied by their husbands or wives. Or their lovers. Sometimes by their children. You are the very first I’ve met who is accompanied by a grandparent. That’s…intriguing. Special.’
He watched Charlotte take a ragged breath. He heard her sniff and had to hide a smile because it sounded so…unprofessional. Childlike, even. It wasn’t as if he’d never witnessed a grown woman crying, of course. They usually did, when he told them things were over, but this was different. The tears had nothing to do with him and they touched a spot in his heart usually reserved for those younger patients or their families. Something poignant.
‘Gran is special,’ Charlotte said, her words a whisper. Then she cleared her throat. ‘But she doesn’t usually accompany me. In fact, I’m not allowed to talk about anything remotely gruesome or medical when I’m around her. She says that you can always find something uplifting to talk about if you try hard enoug
h.’
‘A woman after my own heart,’ Nico smiled. ‘A finder of joy who can make people around her feel better.’
He let out a quiet breath as he sensed Charlotte relaxing. He knew she was almost smiling herself because he was watching so carefully and he could see the softening of her lips. The imperceptible curling at their corners.
‘She always has something to look forward to. A new adventure planned. That’s why she’s here. As soon as she knew I was going to be speaking in Venice she looked up the timetable for the Orient Express going from Venice back to London and when the dates were perfect she said it was meant to be and I couldn’t say no because it was well up the bucket list.’
‘The bucket list?’
‘You know…’ Charlotte really smiled this time, as she looked up and caught his gaze. ‘The list of things you really, really want to do before you kick the bucket?’
‘Kick the…? Oh…’ Just occasionally, the fact that English was a second language tripped him up. ‘Sì…’ The Italian word slipped out unconsciously as he contemplated the euphemism for dying. ‘I understand.’
Her eyes were grey. A dark, stormy sort of grey at the moment. He always expected blonde women to have blue eyes so the colour struck him as different. As unusual as this woman was herself, perhaps?
‘But it’s a crazy idea. How can we take a slow train trip across Europe when she’s so sick? We should fly back to London tonight. I could have her in a hospital by tomorrow, getting the kind of investigations she needs to plan treatment.’
‘Is that what she wants? Your grandmother?’ It was a relief to be given a problem to solve at last and Nico was more than ready to focus on it, but he needed more information. ‘What is her name?’
‘Geraldine. Her friends call her Jendi.’
‘And what are the symptoms of her illness?’
‘I don’t really know. She’s kept this from me. I wouldn’t have known about it at all yet except I found her resting and could see she had abdominal pain. And…I could feel a mass…’
‘She has medication for the pain?’
From Venice With Love Page 4