‘No one could think of you as such.’ His mouth twisted. ‘You have changed, Laura.’
‘So have you.’
He shrugged. ‘But I look years older while you look even younger than before.’
Laura sat in the small basket chair and waved him to the sofa. ‘You’d better sit down.’ Before you fall down, she added silently.
Domenico did as she said, looking very different from the man she’d first met in Venice. His beautiful shoes were the best thing about him. His jeans and blue shirt had suffered for having been slept in, there were dark rings under his eyes, a growth of stubble darkened his jaw and his thick, waving hair was wildly untidy.
‘I apologise for my appearance,’ he said ruefully.
‘Never mind that. Tell me how you know my mother is away.’
‘Mrs Green rang me at the hotel,’ he said, startling her.
‘How did she know you were in London?’
‘Not London. Your mother rang the Forli Palace, Laura.’
‘She rang Venice?’ she said incredulously.
‘Yes, but I was not there at the time. She left a message for me, with a telephone number, and I contacted her immediately it was given to me.’ He took in a deep breath. ‘I thought something had happened to you.’
Laura licked lips that were suddenly dry. ‘When was this?’
‘Yesterday. Your mother was with your sister in Cambridge. Abigail answered when I rang, and explained that she was the ‘‘friend’’ you took to the hospital. She gave me a very stern lecture for doubting you, but your mother was much kinder.’ He looked up at Laura. ‘I understand now that you could not reveal Abby’s secret.’ His eyes darkened. ‘I would so much like to meet the bastardo who did this to her.’
‘Did Abby tell you who it was?’
‘No. Her concern was for you, Laura. And her disapproval was for me,’ he added wryly.
Laura smiled at the thought of it.
‘This pleases you?’ he asked.
‘I can just see Abby telling you off. But I’m sure my mother made you feel better.’
‘She was very honest with me,’ said Domenico sombrely. ‘She knew I could not ring you, but she thinks I should have written to you.’
Laura shrugged. ‘Why should you want to?’
‘I did not want to.’ His eyes met hers. ‘You hurt my heart and my pride, Laura.’
‘I had good reason!’
‘But before I spoke with Abigail I did not know the truth. When I did I thought of writing to you, but I speak English better than I write it. I could not hope to put my feelings into words.’ He shot her a wry look. ‘Nor could I ask my assistant to write such a letter for me.’
His assistant, thought Laura with a pang. ‘You engaged someone, then?’
‘My father insisted. My Forli cousins are convinced I am ill from overwork, and talked with my parents. Allora, I now have help I do not want.’ The bloodshot blue eyes locked with Laura’s. ‘Hard work is not my problem.’
She looked away. ‘If you’ve spoken to my mother, why didn’t you just ring me instead of writing to say—whatever you wanted to say?’
Domenico threw out his hands. ‘She would not give me your new phone numbers without your permission, so I decided there was only one thing to do. I took advantage of Roberto’s offer of help and was fortunate enough to get a flight here today.’
‘You came a long way on the off chance of finding me in on a Saturday night,’ she said coolly.
Domenico threw out a hand. ‘Since I could not ring, what else could I do? Because you were not here I tried to write a note to leave with your key, but while I tried to translate the words into English I fell asleep. I knew nothing more until you woke me.’ He looked at his watch and got up. ‘Dio! I must go to my hotel, and let you sleep.’
Fat chance of that, thought Laura.
Domenico took his phone from his jacket, consulted a card, punched in some numbers and after a brief conversation disconnected and sat down again.
‘It is a wait of five minutes,’ he informed her. ‘Which is good, because it gives me time to say what I have flown from Venice to say.’
‘I’m listening.’
‘I love you, Laura,’ he said simply.
She held her breath, her heart beating thickly as she waited for him to go on, but he sat in silence, his eyes on hers as he waited for her response.
‘If you’d told me that before you spoke to my sister I might have believed it,’ she said at last, and watched with satisfaction as the colour leached from Domenico’s drawn face.
‘You will not forgive me,’ he said quietly.
‘Do you blame me?’
‘No.’ He threw out his hands in appeal. ‘But you looked so guilty when you talked of this friend, Laura. You blushed and would not look at me.’
‘Because I’m such a hopeless liar,’ she said defensively. ‘I had to keep talking about a ‘‘friend’’ instead of my sister.’
His mouth twisted. ‘I was so sure it was you that I longed to comfort you, grieve with you. But you sent me away.’
Laura looked him in the eye. ‘If I had been expecting your child, Domenico Chiesa, you would have been first to know,’ she assured him, and for the first time won a ghost of a smile from him.
‘I was angry because you could go through such pain and not tell me, yet confide in your friend the doctor,’ he explained.
‘I didn’t go through anything,’ she reminded him. ‘I didn’t confide in Edward either. He just happened to be on duty when I took Abby in that day. I was appalled when he referred to it that night. Not because I was afraid you would believe it was me—I never for a moment expected that—but because he was unethical enough to say anything at all.’
The doorbell rang and Domenico got up. ‘The taxi is here.’
Laura nodded. ‘You’d better go, then.’
Domenico looked at her steadily as he put on his jacket. ‘So. Are you going to let this vindictive friend of yours have his victory, Laura?’
She rose to her feet, the chiffon drifting as she moved. ‘What do you mean?’
‘He wanted to tear us apart—and he succeeded.’ He caught her hand. ‘If you tell me you no longer love me I will go. And this time I will not come back. But you must tell me the truth.’ He smiled a little. ‘I will know, now, if you lie.’
‘I still have feelings for you, yes,’ she admitted reluctantly.
‘Bene. Then I will call for you tomorrow.’ Domenico kissed her hand and left without giving her time to consent or refuse.
Laura woke late next morning after the best night’s sleep she’d had for a long time. And the moment she opened her eyes she knew the reason why. Domenico was back in her life. The self-assured Domenico Chiesa had changed a lot in the time they’d spent apart, but one look at his sleeping, haggard face had made it clear that she loved him per sempre, just as she’d once told him. And he obviously still felt the same or why had he come? They’d given each other pain—six long weeks of it. But now they both had a second chance to make it up to each other she, for one, was going to take full advantage of it.
At ten-thirty her phone rang, and Laura smiled. Domenico hadn’t been too tired to make a note of her new number.
‘Buon giorno, Laura. Did you sleep well?’
‘Good morning. I slept very well. Did you?’
‘I had more sleep last night than in all the endless time we have been apart.’
‘Good. You looked pretty tired last night.’
‘I did not look pretty at all last night! Today I look a little better.’
She laughed. ‘And how you look is very important to you.’
‘Not so much any more. Now I have different priorities. If you will eat lunch with me I will tell you about them, Laura.’
‘That would be nice.’
‘Bene. I shall come for you soon, then.’
What did he mean by soon? Laura rushed through a shower, then brushed damp hair into shape with
one hand while she slapped moisturiser on her face with the other. With no time to dither over clothes, she pulled on black cord jeans and a slouchy ice-pink sweater, and because her feet were still protesting after a night spent in four-inch heels slid them into flat suede boots. She was ready and waiting and had just started the coffee maker when the doorbell rang, and with a sigh of relief she ran to snatch off the receiver.
‘I am here, Laura,’ said Domenico, and she pressed the release button and went out on the landing to watch him come up the stairs. But for once he came up in the lift. When the doors opened she could see why. He was carrying a vast picnic basket in one hand and a cool-box in the other.
‘What on earth have you got there?’ she said, laughing.
His eyes lit up at the sound as he strode towards her, smiling. ‘This is our lunch,’ he informed her as she held the door wide for him to pass through.
‘You really do look prettier today,’ she told him.
Domenico put his burdens down and made her a graceful bow. He wore the same suede jacket, but with dove-grey trousers of impeccable cut and a white wool shirt instead of his signature blue. The circles were less in evidence beneath his eyes, which had lost their bloodshot weariness, but now, by daylight, Laura saw changes that clutched at her heart. His face was leaner, the cheekbones more prominent, and there was even an odd thread of silver in the glossy black hair waving so obediently about his head today. But the smiling self-confidence was back in full force as Domenico kissed her hand, then drew her closer and kissed her on both cheeks.
‘You are not pretty, Laura, you are beautiful,’ he informed her, surveying her from head to toe.
‘I never could get my head round that myself, but since the haircut I feel even less so,’ she said with a sigh, and smiled ruefully. ‘I could have cried when I saw the result.’
‘Then why did you have it cut?’
Laura flushed. ‘Guess!’
‘To defy me, naturally. I miss that long rope of hair,’ he said with regret, ‘but you look delightful with shorter hair also. Was this much admired by the ragazzi at your bank?’
She pulled a face. ‘There was total uproar until they found that only the hair had changed.’
Domenico smiled with satisfaction. ‘You are still Ice Maiden?’
‘Yes. To them, at least,’ she added, her pulse racing at the hot, hungry look he gave her in response. ‘Now, explain about the picnic. It’s raining out there.’
‘It is not raining in here, carissima—’ He stopped short, then shrugged. ‘If you object I will not refer to you so.’
She shook her head. ‘I don’t object.’
‘Bene,’ he said huskily, and took the basket and box into the small kitchen area. ‘I thought we might eat here in private, so that we can talk uninterrupted by waiters, but if you prefer I can take you to lunch at the Ritz.’
‘No, not the Ritz,’ she said quickly. ‘It’s a wonderful place, but that’s where Edward embarrassed me with the ring episode.’
‘Ah!’ Domenico smiled grimly. ‘Then most definitely not the Ritz.’
‘You’ve been clever enough to organise lunch so we’ll have our picnic here. But not yet. It’s early. I’ve made coffee.’
He sniffed the air. ‘Grazie. May I take off my jacket? Then I shall put some of this in your refrigerator.’ He frowned as he stowed containers away. ‘There is very little food in here, Laura. It is a good thing I am here to see you eat properly.’
‘A very good thing,’ she agreed.
Domenico transferred the last container, closed the fridge, and leaned across the counter to look into her eyes. ‘You mean this, Laura?’
‘With all my heart,’ she said quietly.
He took in a deep breath, but instead of seizing her in his arms, as Laura wanted him to, Domenico filled two mugs with coffee, added a little milk to one and took them across to the small table in front of the sofa. ‘Today we shall share the sofa, yes?’
‘Yes, Domenico.’
‘That is so much what I like to hear.’ He drew her down beside him. ‘I have things to say. If you say, ‘‘Yes, Domenico’’ in answer to all it will make me very happy.’
She took a fortifying sip of coffee. ‘Can I say something first, please?’
‘Yes, Laura,’ he said promptly, and smiled. ‘You see? It is easy.’
She shook her head soberly. ‘What I’m going to say isn’t easy at all.’
His smile died. ‘You no longer love me?’
‘I’ve never stopped loving you, even when you suspected me of doing something I never could, ever.’ Laura gulped more coffee and put the mug down, turned to face him and took a deep breath. ‘Look, Domenico, I appreciate that abortion is the only solution for some women, but it’s not for me.’
Domenico looked startled. ‘It does not surprise me, Laura, but why are you telling me this?’
She glared at him. ‘Because you accused me of having an abortion!’
His eyes widened in horror. ‘Cosa? No! I thought only that you had lost our child and could not bear to tell me—’ His eyes filled with sudden comprehension. ‘Laura, is this why you sent me away that night?’
She nodded vehemently.
‘Dio, I know now what is meant by the language barrier!’ He let out a deep breath. ‘In Italian aborto can simply mean miscarriage, Laura.’
She stared at him in dismay. ‘Is this true?’
‘Any dictionary will confirm it. Your lessons in school did not include this word?’
‘No, but I wish they had.’ She drew in a deep, unsteady breath. ‘It would have saved six long weeks of misery. For me, anyway,’
‘For me, also,’ he said bitterly.
‘After what happened to Abby I was ultra-sensitive on the subject.’ Laura shivered. ‘Even though she was virtually raped, and didn’t want the baby, Abby cried her heart out after she lost it, Domenico. Women have a tough time fighting their hormones.’
With a smothered groan he pulled her close, rubbing his cheek over her hair. ‘To think that one word tore us apart!’
‘We’re together now,’ she said into his shoulder.
He turned her face up to his and lowered his head until his lips were a breath away from hers. To her frustration they stayed there, just out of contact, and she slid a hand up into his hair and closed the gap. At the first touch their lips crushed together in hunger and Domenico lifted her onto his lap, his arms hard around her as they kissed with a starving desperation fuelled by the long weeks of separation. When the need for oxygen forced them apart at last he leaned his forehead against hers.
‘Ti amo, Laura,’ he said unsteadily. ‘I have been in such need of you, just to hold you in my arms like this. Tell me you love me, tesoro.’
‘Of course I love you.’ She blinked fiercely. ‘I’ve been as miserable as sin since you left me.’
‘I did not leave you,’ he said with passion. ‘You sent me away.’
‘And all over a misunderstanding,’ she whispered, and stroked a hand down his cheek. ‘I’ll start more Italian lessons right away, so it never happens again.’ Laura drew away suddenly, her face hot. ‘Or am I taking too much for granted?’
Domenico smiled indulgently. ‘How could you do that? We belong together, Laura mia.’
‘Yes, Domenico.’ She smiled demurely and he laughed.
‘Ottimo! You learn quickly. But I cannot think clearly like this. You must sit beside me while I say the things I am here to say.’
‘Yes, Domenico.’ She grinned at him and gave him a quick kiss before sliding off his lap to sit beside him. ‘There.’
‘Before your mother rang me,’ he began, taking her hand, ‘I had decided to put my apartment up for sale.’
‘What?’ Laura gazed at him in horror. ‘You can’t do that!’
Domenico shrugged. ‘Without you I could no longer bear to live there.’
‘Then I’d better come and live there with you—eventually,’ she added hastily as his eyes li
t up.
‘Soon, Laura,’ he said imperiously, ‘not eventually. We have wasted enough time apart.’ He raised her hand to his lips. ‘I came here today with such good intentions, amore. I meant to be patient, to court you and show how much I care for you, but I cannot wait. I need your answer now. Say you will marry me.’
‘Yes, Domenico.’
‘Soon?’
‘Yes, Domenico.’
He let out a deep, unsteady breath and drew her back onto his lap, his cheek against her hair as he held her in an embrace that threatened her ribs. ‘I love you, Laura,’ he said, after a while, in a voice so deep and ragged with emotion it brought tears to her eyes.
‘I love you, too,’ she said, sniffing, and Domenico tipped her face up to his.
‘You are crying!’
‘Happy tears!’
He kissed them away, kissed her mouth briefly, and got up. ‘Allora,’ he said, clearing his throat. ‘Have you had breakfast?’
‘No. Have you?’
‘No. When I woke up my first thought was you, also the second and third thought, but then I told myself to be practical and ordered a picnic lunch to bring to you.’ Domenico smiled at her. ‘Food has not been of interest to me lately, but now I am hungry.’
‘So am I,’ said Laura, and for the first time in weeks found she was starving. ‘I could eat a horse.’
He grinned. ‘Che peccato! I did not think to order horse.’
They got out plates, sliced bread and opened containers together, and with much laughter got in each other’s way in the confined space before they actually sat together to wolf down slices of Bayonne ham and Norfolk turkey with some of the salad greens Laura had already, along with most of a ciabatta loaf, and a glass of the Prosecco Domenico produced from the cool-box.
‘That was just lovely,’ said Laura with a sigh when their plates were empty.
‘I chose well, then?’ asked Domenico.
‘Very well.’ She smiled at him. ‘But, gorgeous though it was, the food didn’t matter. It was eating it together that made it a feast.’
A Venetian Affair Page 16