Romance of a Lifetime

by Carole Mortimer

  ‘Absolutely,’ Martin said with satisfaction. ‘Beth had tests done to make sure the baby was healthy, and we were told the sex from that. I told her there was some history of heart defects in my family so that she would have it done.’

  ‘And she believed you,’ the woman scorned.

  He grinned. ‘My darling Chloe, Beth believes anything I tell her.’

  Beth hadn’t been able to listen to any more, had already heard enough to make her nausea imminent and her legs feel weak. She had turned and run out of the apartment, pressing the button for the lift, and, when it hadn’t come, escaping down the stairs.

  And that was when the blackness had engulfed her and she had fallen, fallen, fallen…

  She had lost the baby, of course. There had been a complication with the loss, so that she had almost died too, and when she had woken up and been told that her baby was gone and there couldn’t be any more she had wished that she had died. She had certainly had nothing left to live for.

  Her father didn’t even come to see her, and so she had known Martin had been right in his claim that Charles was just using her; now that he had been told of her inability to ever give him a grandson she was of no further use to him.

  Martin hadn’t come near her either, and she could well imagine the anger he had felt at having his plans thwarted in this way.

  But somehow Beth hadn’t cared about their absence, hadn’t cared about anything any more, the love she had had for both Martin and her father as dead as the baby she had carried and lost.

  Her mother had been the one to take care of her, taking her home from the hospital when it came time to leave, installing her in her own apartment, the only sign of emotion Beth had shown being when her mother had asked if she wanted to see Martin. She never wanted to see him again!

  Physically she had healed quickly. And much as she might have wanted to die, to know complete oblivion, to stop the emotional pain, her body had had other ideas on the subject. Yes, physically she had recovered. Emotionally she was scarred beyond healing.

  When the divorce papers came she had been shocked out of her lethargy, incensed that Martin was daring to accuse her of adultery. And with a man she didn’t even know.

  It had to be one of Martin’s friends, she had decided, a man with as few scruples as he had proved to have.

  She had fought the petition, denied the adultery, but finally her weakened state, and the law, had defeated her, and Martin had been granted his divorce on the grounds of her adultery with a man she didn’t even know!

  Chloe must have been becoming impatient at being kept waiting, Beth had decided; she could see little other reason for the lying and subterfuge that had gained Martin his divorce.

  And so it was finished. Over with. The divorce final several weeks ago.

  But Beth would never forget what had been done to her, how she had been used, and then callously discarded when she proved no further use to the two men. She doubted she would ever trust another man again.

  And now there was Marcus Craven trying to push his way into her life, a man with as much arrogance as her father and Martin.

  She gave a nervous start as a knock sounded on the door, frowning as she went to answer it; surely Marcus didn’t have this much arrogance?

  The waiter who had served them at dinner stood outside the door, a red rose held in his hand, a rose very similar to if not actually the same one which had graced their table during the meal.

  Beth’s frown deepened. ‘Yes?’

  ‘From Mr Craven.’ He presented the rose to her. ‘To thank you for a wonderful evening.’ He spoke carefully, obviously wanting to repeat the message precisely.

  Beth slowly took the rose, staring at its perfection, the waiter having silently left when she at last looked up.

  Yes, now there was Marcus Craven. And she had no idea what she was going to do about him.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ‘I’M GLAD you decided to join me,’ Marcus greeted Beth downstairs the next morning.

  She hadn’t meant to, had breakfasted on the balcony of her room, lingering over her coffee, hoping ten o’clock would pass and she could forget Marcus Craven had wanted her to meet him then.

  But as ten o’clock approached she had become restless, moving about on the balcony, entering her room only to go back outside again. And at two minutes to ten she had finally admitted to herself that she wanted to join him, grabbing up her bag from the bed before rushing from the room, arriving downstairs breathless and bright-eyed.

  She had never looked lovelier, her cheeks slightly flushed, her hair lightly mussed by the slight breeze out on her balcony, the green dress with its small white spots looking cool and elegant.

  She felt as if she was walking into danger for the second time in her life, but at least this time she knew that was what she was doing!

  ‘You promised to show me Venice,’ she reminded him, steadily meeting his gaze, willing her pulse to stop racing at how handsome he looked in the pale blue shirt and grey trousers, the shirt partly unbuttoned to reveal the dark hair on his chest. Unfortunately, her pulse wasn’t taking the slightest bit of notice of her!

  ‘And I will,’ he assured her decisively, taking a firm hold of her arm to guide her out into the sunlight.

  Now that she was refreshed from sleep Venice looked different again to Beth this morning, the street-vendors out, most of them selling souvenirs, although there was the odd artist trying to capture the beauty around them. A few of them had almost succeeded, and Beth lingered over studying their work.

  ‘We can see them again when we come back,’ Marcus teased softly. ‘You won’t get to see Venice this way.’

  ‘But it’s all Venice,’ Beth reasoned. ‘I’m in no hurry; I have all week.’

  Marcus gave an enigmatic smile, and, while they boarded the river bus that would take them around the canal to the Rialto Bridge, Beth wondered how long he intended staying here. He seemed to do what he pleased, go where he pleased, and she felt sure that if he decided to stay the week then he would do so. She couldn’t even begin to think how she felt about that.

  They got off the river bus at the Rialto Bridge, going up its steps to stand on its middle, small watercraft of every description beneath them as their passengers viewed the bridge from a different angle.

  Over the top of the bridge and behind it were small shops and market stalls, and the two of them lingered at one of these to buy pieces of moist coconut, munching on them as they continued to stroll through the crowd gathered there.

  As well as its numerous waterways, Venice was a labyrinth of tiny canals and side-streets, little shops tucked away in unusual places, cafés too, the check-cloth-covered tables outside beckoning temptingly as the day began to grow warmer.

  ‘Shall we find somewhere to eat?’ Marcus offered as he saw her linger at one of these places longer than before.

  She nodded. ‘Just a salad for me—and I mean it this time,’ she warned. ‘Somewhere cool, if possible,’ she added ruefully, starting to feel the heat quite strongly after their walk.

  Marcus smiled knowingly. ‘Trust me,’ he nodded, striding forwards with a purpose now.

  Trust him? She wasn’t sure any woman would be wise to do that, but as companions went he was knowledgeable and patient. Even when he took her into the slightly untidy restaurant, that was obviously frequented by the local people rather than tourists, Beth had confidence in his choice. And she was right to do so, once again her request for a salad was ignored, and the pasta meal that was quickly placed in front of them was mouth-wateringly enjoyable.

  ‘A week like this and I will have put on pounds.’ She sat back, replete.

  ‘I think that might be a good thing.’ Marcus frowned at her slenderness.

  Beth eyed him beneath lowered lashes. ‘You think I’m too thin.’

  Good grief, she was actually flirting with the man now! She hadn’t done that since…

  A shadow passed over her face, dulling eyes that had gleam
ed with mischief seconds earlier. ‘I believe it’s fashionable to be slender,’ she dismissed abruptly, although she knew she was thinner even than a lot of fashion models.

  Marcus sipped the wine he had ordered to accompany their meal. ‘I wouldn’t have thought you were a woman who went along with the crowd.’ He watched her over the rim of her glass.

  What did he really know about her? Nothing, she admitted, except that he seemed to find her attractive enough to keep following!

  ‘You’re right,’ she bit out. ‘I’m not.’ And she never would be again, she decided with a shudder.

  Marcus frowned at her. ‘Did I say something wrong?’

  Not really, although it disturbed her that he thought of her often enough to have decided what sort of woman she was. Where did he expect this holiday friendship to go, if that was the case? She hardly thought he was the type of man to spend hours of his time with a woman who would ultimately return to her own bedroom and expect him to return to his. And she doubted he had taken that into consideration just now when he made that remark about her not being ‘a woman who went along with the crowd’!

  ‘Not at all,’ she returned smoothly. ‘Thank you for today, but I think I should get back now.’

  ‘Why?’

  Beth looked startled. ‘Why? Well…’ She shrugged. ‘Because it’s time that I did.’

  ‘What do you have waiting for you back there?’

  An empty room. The same sort of empty rooms she had been going back to for six months since she had insisted on returning to her own apartment from her mother’s after she lost the baby, much to her mother’s disapproval.

  She had at least managed to salvage the apartment from her marriage, forcing herself to go back there and confront the demons that awaited her. Martin hadn’t seemed interested in moving back into the apartment himself, and as it had been a wedding present from her father she hadn’t had too much difficulty holding on to it.

  She had tried, so briefly, to talk to her father of the reason for her accident, but he had told her she shouldn’t have reacted like a fool, that the other woman didn’t matter because she had been the one married to Martin, the one expecting his child. With reasoning like that on her father’s side it was no wonder her mother’s marriage to him had failed!

  ‘Beth?’

  For several seconds she looked blankly across the table at Marcus Craven, and then the full realisation of where she was and who she was with returned to her. ‘You’ve shown me some of Venice—’

  ‘But it’s only early afternoon—’

  ‘And I’ve taken up enough of your time for one day.’ She smiled with a noticeable lack of warmth, signalling for the bill. ‘I’m sure you have relatives, friends, you would like to visit.’

  ‘My family come from Northern Italy,’ he instantly dismissed. ‘And I thought we were friends.’ Her scepticism at this claim must have shown in her face because he laughed softly. ‘Acquaintances often become friends,’ he reasoned. ‘It’s a natural progression in the relationship.’

  Her head went back, her eyes narrowed. ‘And just how far do you expect this relationship to “progress"?’

  ‘I expect nothing except friendship,’ he shrugged.

  ‘Don’t you?’ Beth derided.

  His mouth tightened. ‘Have I asked you for anything else?’

  His type didn’t ask, she just stopped herself from saying. But maybe she was being unfair to him; he had just been good company today. But he was too handsome, too intelligent, too smooth, to only be interested in being ‘good company’.

  Until a year ago she had never experienced cynicism; now she viewed everything in that light, was sure, with the exception of her mother, that everyone had an ulterior motive for most of their actions. And she didn’t believe Marcus Craven was just wasting his time on her—he expected something back in return.

  ‘Not yet.’ Her hand was completely steady as she raised her glass to her lips, nodding her thanks to the waiter as he brought her the bill. ‘Lunch in return for your time this morning.’ She took some notes out of her bag.

  Marcus caught her wrist as she would have thrown the notes down on top of the bill. ‘You can’t buy everything, you know,’ he rasped.

  Martin had been bought as a husband for her, her father’s money had seen to that, and the only thing Martin had given up, the only thing, had been his name.

  ‘That hasn’t been my experience,’ she said dully, removing her arm from his hand with little effort, turning to pick up her bag. ‘I really do appreciate this morning; I don’t want you to think I’m at all ungrateful.’

  ‘Do you always deliver an insult with a thank-you?’ he bit out hardly.

  ‘I wasn’t meaning to be insulting.’

  ‘No?’ he frowned disbelievingly.

  Beth sighed. She had enjoyed her morning with him, and if she hadn’t started thinking about Martin and her father she would have thanked this man politely at the end of the day and none of this conversation would have taken place.

  ‘No,’ she said heavily. ‘I really have appreciated the time you’ve given me this morning, but there must be other things you need to be doing.’

  ‘I can’t think of any,’ he told her drily.

  They were going round and round in circles here, both of them being as stubborn as the other. ‘Then perhaps you would like to walk me back to the hotel,’ she compromised. ‘I thought I would go to my room and rest for a while.’

  He gave a rueful smile. ‘The pat on the head with a kick in the teeth?’

  ‘Not at all.’ She stood up smoothly, looking cool and attractive. ‘It happens to be the truth.’ And she would much rather deal with the truth nowadays, no matter how painful it might prove to be.

  Then why had she avoided telling her mother about this man last night? But she hadn’t lied, she consoled herself, she just hadn’t mentioned the fact that Marcus was now in Venice too.

  It was even hotter outside now than it had been when they went in to lunch, and the thought of a rest in her cool room seemed even more inviting as they strolled back to the hotel.

  ‘It really is a coincidence, your being in Venice too,’ she remarked casually.

  ‘Is it?’ Marcus drawled.

  She arched dark blonde brows. ‘Isn’t it?’

  ‘No,’ he answered derisively, the sun glinting on the darkness of his hair.

  She was supposed to be disconcerted by the admission, she knew that, but nevertheless his honesty did shake her a little. ‘How did you know I was coming here?’

  He shrugged. ‘I telephoned your hotel and asked them.’

  Her eyes widened. ‘And they told you of my travel plans, just like that?’

  ‘More or less.’ He chuckled at her indignation. ‘Actually, I told them I was your brother and wanted to make sure your reservations were OK. They seemed happy with that.’

  This man’s undeniable authority would open a lot of doors to him, Beth felt sure.

  She didn’t want to ask him why he had followed her here. It was enough that he had. And that he had admitted it.

  She was silent for the rest of the walk back to the hotel; what could she possibly say after an admission like that?

  She couldn’t help wondering what this man did for a living, that he had the money, and time, to simply go where the whim took him. The Danieli was an expensive hotel, Marcus’s clothes, even the casual ones he wore during the day, were obviously of good quality. She had earlier dismissed the idea of him being a gigolo, but now she began to wonder just what it was he did do for a living.

  If he was a businessman he might even know her father!

  Not that she thought for one moment that her father would have had anything to do with these meetings; he had made it perfectly obvious during the last year that she didn’t even exist for him any more.

  ‘Do you live in London?’ she casually asked Marcus.

  ‘No.’

  Very helpful!

  He was being deliberately o
bstructive now. But she couldn’t exactly blame him—he was merely giving her what she had given him when they first met: absolutely nothing!

  ‘Are you in business here?’ she tried again.

  ‘In Venice? No,’ he replied with a shake of his head.

  Now she knew how frustrated he must have felt for the last three days; it was very irritating, to say the least.

  ‘Are you in business in England?’ she persevered.

  ‘Are we playing twenty questions?’ he returned tauntingly, although there was a hardness in his eyes that hadn’t been there seconds ago. ‘If so, perhaps you wouldn’t mind telling me a few things about yourself.’

  ‘I was merely making conversation,’ she dismissed irritably because she knew she was getting absolutely nowhere fast with this man. He obviously didn’t intend telling her anything about himself until she became more forthcoming about herself!

  He shrugged. ‘I’m just as comfortable with the silence.’

  So was she, normally; he had just roused her curiosity to the point where she felt desperate to know about him. How had he made his money? Had he inherited it along with his Italian grandmother, or had he worked and earned it for himself?

  Now she had to become curious about him!

  When she was told there was another telephone message for her Beth knew it had to be from her mother. It was going to take her mother some time to get used to the idea of Charles leaving his money elsewhere, and until she did accept it she was going to run around in a complete fury confusing everyone. In some ways Beth was now glad of this holiday, would have hated to be in London with her mother right now. Hopefully the worst of her mother’s anger would have faded by the time she got back to London.

  ‘Aren’t you going to read your message?’ Marcus prompted at her side.

  Beth had momentarily forgotten he was there, blinking up at him unseeingly for several seconds. And then she realised he was talking about the piece of paper she still held in her hand with her mother’s message on it.

  ‘It could be important,’ he prompted.

  It could be, but somehow she doubted it. It was probably just her mother letting off steam again.