‘Allora, Signora Chiesa, we are here.’
Hand in hand they mounted the steps to the first floor of the building. Domenico unlocked the door, then picked Laura up in his arms to carry her across the threshold. As he set her on her feet she reached up to give him a kiss, then went through the apartment on a tour of inspection, exclaiming over the fresh flowers everywhere before she went out onto the balcony to watch the sun sink into the lagoon. Domenico came behind her to slide his arms round her waist.
‘Welcome back to Venice, tesoro.’
Laura turned in his embrace, gazing up at him with such love his breath caught in his chest. ‘I’m not dreaming, am I?’
He shook his head lovingly. ‘No, sposa mia, you are not dreaming. You are here, in Venice, in my home and in my heart.’
Their lips met in a long, reverent kiss as though the occasion was too important for mere passion, then they went inside, closing the glass doors on the lagoon night.
‘I don’t want any tea,’ said Laura as they reached the bedroom. ‘I want you, Domenico.’ She smiled as his eyes darkened and he crushed her close for a moment before undoing her coat.
‘We shall celebrate our marriage in the place where we first made love,’ he said with satisfaction, and smiled wryly. ‘I rarely slept here after you sent me away. You were here with me in the bed, in every room. I could not get you out of my mind.’
‘I was the same,’ she said huskily. ‘Let’s make a promise never to quarrel again, Domenico.’
‘I do not make promises I cannot keep,’ he said regretfully, sliding the zip of her dress down. ‘I have a temper; so have you. But I promise we shall never be parted again.’
‘When we quarrel we must have make-up love straight away,’ she said firmly and stepped out of the caramel jersey dress in the lacy underwear worn for precisely this moment. She slid a suspender from a stocking, but Domenico shook his head and pulled her close to kiss her before scooping her up to lay her on the bed.
‘That is my privilege. I will undress you, tesoro,’ he informed her.
‘Will we stop wanting each other so desperately now we are married?’ she asked breathlessly.
‘Never,’ he promised huskily, the process of removing the scraps of lace and satin firing them both to such a state of frenzied arousal that their loving was hot and sweet and utterly satisfying, but very short.
‘You are Ice Maiden no longer!’ panted Domenico, burying his face against her breasts.
‘That gondola ride was to blame—the best foreplay one could ask for,’ said Laura breathlessly as she smoothed the damp hair back from her husband’s forehead. ‘I see now why Venetians keep it for their wedding day!’
Domenico looked up with a grin. ‘We shall ride by gondola often if it has that effect on you.’
‘The effect on you was just the same!’
‘That was nothing to do with the gondola. I will always want to make love to you—every night of our lives.’
‘Every night?’
‘This is a problem?’
‘Not for me.’ She gave him a cheeky grin. ‘After all, I’m a lot younger than you!’
Domenico growled and flipped her on her back, grinning. ‘Then before I get too old perhaps I should make love to you again now, yes?’
‘That’s your male Venetian pride talking again!’ She stretched luxuriously and smiled up at him. ‘I’m so glad you cancelled the gondola ride that first time, darling.’
‘I did so because of your dislike of romantic gestures,’ he said, running a possessive finger down her cheek. ‘But now I believe that fate prompted me to save the gondola trip for our wedding day. I knew even then, carissima, that you were my destiny.’
ISBN: 978-1-4268-5928-1
A VENETIAN PASSION
First North American Publication 2005.
Copyright © 2005 by Catherine George.
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