by Nina Milne
‘It’s what I’ve worked out for myself.’
There was defiance in the jut of her chin and defence in the folding of her arms as she glared at him in a clear dare to challenge her.
It was a dare he was more than happy to take up. ‘How long have you had these attacks?’
‘Since childhood.’
‘Then surely you must have seen a doctor or a counsellor? Someone must have noticed you panic—your parents, a teacher, Gabe, Cora...’
‘I didn’t need to see anyone.’
‘Did your parents know?’
Easy, Daniel. This isn’t a witness in the stand.
‘Yes. But they decided it was better to deal with it ourselves.’
By that, Daniel was pretty sure Kaitlin meant they had left her to deal with it by herself. His mind whirred, put together the hints and conversational snippets of the past few days.
‘Something happened to incite the panic and they didn’t want the publicity.’
‘Leave it.’
Her face had blanched and Daniel knew that whatever had happened to her had been catastrophic.
‘I’m not under oath and I will not discuss the cause of the attacks.’
There was strength and dignity in her stance and in her voice, underlain with such vulnerability that his chest ached. Whatever burden she bore she clearly carried it alone. Anger with her parents caused his stride to increase even as he determined not to spook her further.
‘I understand. I won’t ask any more. But I strongly believe that you need to talk to an expert.’
‘I have it under control.’
‘I totally admire that you have managed this for so long, but there may be a better way. A way to overcome the panic rather than control it—a way to make it go away. The best way to find out is to talk to someone—an expert, a therapist.’
‘I can’t do that.’
‘Yes, you can. If the story leaks out so be it.’ Halting in front of her, he reached out a hand and pulled her up, kept her hand in his. ‘Kaitlin, this is your life we’re talking about.’
‘Stop it. You’re messing with my head. My life is fine as it is.’
‘Yes, it is. I would never belittle what you have achieved. But the panic imposes limits on you. Without it your life could take a different trajectory.’
‘That is akin to the assertion that a blind person’s life would be different if they could see. It is as it is.’
‘Maybe it doesn’t have to be. You owe it to yourself to find out.’
She huffed out a sigh that signalled exasperation, pulled her hand from his. ‘Until you came along my life was on the exact trajectory I wanted it to be on, and I have every intention of returning it there after Venice. End of discussion.’
Frustrated, he opened his mouth to continue the argument—until he saw the stubborn set to her jaw. Perhaps a softly-softly approach would make more sense, but he wouldn’t let this go for long. Just for now.
‘Fair enough. No more discussion. But I have an idea about the Doge’s Palace. Think back to Barcelona.’
‘I really don’t want to remember Barcelona.’
‘Yes, you do.’ He took her hands back, ignored the shiver of sensation that rippled up his arm in response. ‘You walked the streets, you went into the hustle and bustle of a tapas bar and you were fine.’
‘That’s because—’
She broke off, pressed her lips together, and he wondered what she had been about to say.
‘Because you were ‘Lynette’?’
‘Something like that. But that won’t work here.’
‘No. But you have something else here that you had in Barcelona.’
Her eyes narrowed.
‘Me,’ he completed.
‘You?’ Disbelief tinged the very air. ‘So you reckon you are the magical solution to my panic attacks?’
‘No. Of course not. But maybe I can be a temporary sticking plaster. I promise that I will keep you safe. If you can bring yourself to believe that, maybe it will help keep the panic at bay enough to allow you to appreciate Venice. I promise you that if it all gets too much I will get you back here quickly and discreetly, and although I understand there is nothing tangible you are worried about I am more than equipped to keep you safe from pickpockets. What do you think?’
Kaitlin moved away from his presence and walked over to the window, almost as if to brave the view of the scenery again.
‘Why does this matter to you? Why not just leave me here and go and enjoy Venice?’
‘Because that would make me a complete heel. And I could use the company.’
Seeing the disbelief in her face, he dug deep. Kaitlin had shared something huge with him. Surely he could choose to reciprocate a little.
‘It’s the truth. My father died before I was born. But my mother told me that they had planned to move to Venice some day. So the city always makes me feel a little melancholy.’
Kaitlin’s eyes darted to his face. ‘That must be hard—never having known your dad.’
‘I had my mother, and she was amazing.’
‘She must have felt so blessed to have had you.’
Blessed. Daniel didn’t think so. Oh, his mother had loved him—so much that she had sacrificed her very soul for him. It was a shame it had proved such a poor investment. The bitter taste of guilt flooded him and he swiped a hand down his face. Enough. This was about Kaitlin.
She looked at him, her green eyes serious.
‘OK. Let’s do this. Doge’s Palace, here I come.’
* * *
As they approached the splendour of the palace Kaitlin caught her breath in sheer awe. Here she was, standing in front of this incredible building, and a wave of emotion swathed her—a lightness, an unfamiliar joy that made her want to laugh out loud.
Without thought she reached out, took Daniel’s hand and smiled up at him. ‘This is fabulous—thank you for your persistence.’
‘No trouble.’
But it had been—Daniel had cared enough to return for her, to convince her to accompany him, and the idea sent further warmth to her insides.
Careful, Kaitlin.
But she didn’t want to be careful; for once she wanted to go with the flow, with the thoroughly unfamiliar sense of trust.
Bad idea.
But it wasn’t. It wasn’t as if she proposed to trust in Daniel long-term. This was purely a three-day fix. If he could help her enjoy Venice then it made sense to let him. And his presence did seem to have a positive effect on her panic—sure, the swirl of unease was present, but it hadn’t escalated.
Now they stood in the slanting Venetian spring sunshine and gazed at the Gothic structure of the enormous building—an epicentre of history where political decisions had been made, where justice had been meted out over the centuries by each elected Doge.
‘It is such an influential place, and yet it has a fairytale element.’
Enhanced by the candy cane effect of huge walls of white limestone and pink marble and the series of balconies.
Daniel nodded. ‘Apparently experts say that the sense of lightness is because of the way it was built, with the loggias below and the solid walls above. That gives it an openness that was meant to indicate how powerful Venice was. Most cities back then would build more fortified castles.’
Suddenly aware that she was still holding Daniel’s hand, she looked down at their clasped fingers and wondered what to do. Placing temporary trust in him was one thing—venturing into any realm of physical contact was another. Yet letting go required an effort of will that had her alarm bells ringing again.
‘Shall we go in?’
Daniel nodded and they made their way into the courtyard.
‘It’s impossible to know what to
look at first,’ Kaitlin marvelled.
‘Yes.’
She glanced at him, observed the light in his blue eyes as they rested on her, and felt heat climb her cheekbones. Suddenly their surroundings, despite the magnificence of the giant ceremonial staircase, the enormous statues of Neptune and Mars, even the imposing yet ethereal beauty of the Foscari arch, faded into the background.
All she could see—all she was aware of—was Daniel. The strength of his features, the dark curl of his hair, the absurd length of his eyelashes and the growing heat in his eyes. A step closer to him and she was enmeshed by his aura, focused on the breadth of his chest, the toned masculinity of the sinews of his arms...
The sound of a man’s throat being cleared, followed by the uttering of their names, broke the spell and she turned, pinning a smile in place.
‘I am your guide for the tour. My name is Marco.’
‘Pleased to meet you.’
‘Follow me. As you know, this part of the palace is a separate tour—I will be showing you the nitty-gritty, the less salubrious side, as well as the places where the real work was done over the centuries.’
As the guide moved forward Daniel looked down at her. ‘You’re sure about this?’
‘Yes.’ She’d done some research before they left, and although there was a definite risk that some of the rooms might trigger panic, she wanted to give it a try. ‘I want to see the behind-the-scenes reality as well as all the treasures and art-work.’
Plus the tickets had been gifted to them, and she had no wish to explain why she hadn’t done the tour now they had got this far.
Kaitlin followed the guide through the narrow door and into the ‘pozzi’, and gave a shudder as she looked round in horror at the tiny stone-walled cells; their only ventilation small round holes. She saw the drawings on the wall—depictions of the prisoners’ despair. Moisture sheened her neck and for a horrible moment the walls seemed to close in, the dank atmosphere blanketed her and terror rippled her body with memories.
The turn of a lock...the cloying feeling of powerlessness...the remembered pain as she’d repeatedly thumped the door until she’d realised no one would come. No one would rescue her.
She shook her head and focused on Marco’s words, tried to remember that prisoners in times gone by had had it way worse than she had during her ten-day incarceration.
Then Daniel enclosed her hand in his and his deep voice offered reprieve.
‘Would it be possible to move on, Marco? I suffer from a touch of claustrophobia and these walls are enough to cause me discomfort.’
‘Of course, of course. Let us move on.’
For the next half an hour Kaitlin was transported back in time as they walked the chambers where the Council of Ten—a group of elected men with immense power—would have convened, rooms where they would have made life-and-death decisions, plotted and schemed. Then they toured the spacious Chamber of the Secret Chancellery, with its magnificent mirrored upper doors and cabinet-lined walls.
And the whole time the knowledge that Daniel still held her hand firmly in his grasp burned in her with a small white light of awareness. The sane Lady Kaitlin part of her told her that this was a public place and they were courting disaster. Yet his grasp made her feel safe, secure, protected, and therefore it behoved her to hang on. After all, there was no meaning to it—it was simply a tactic to keep panic at bay, the equivalent of a stress ball, nothing more.
You’re kidding yourself, warned the voice of reason. Because if his grasp was warding off panic it was also ushering in other sensations: a warmth, a thrill, a delicious ripple of sensation reminiscent of their time walking through Barcelona hand in hand. And look where that had ended up.
Yet as they explored the horror of the torture chamber, known as the Chamber of Torment, and listened to the chilling stories from the guide, she shifted closer to Daniel’s bulk, remained there as they viewed the wood-panelled prison cell that had once housed Casanova himself, before his daring escape.
Only once the tour was over and they’d returned to the majesty of the main rooms of the palace did she drop his hand, forcing herself to do so without so much as tremor. Simply a cool smile.
‘Thank you Daniel. Having something to hold did help.’
‘Glad to be of service.’
It was a service she must not allow herself the luxury of using too often, or her stupid body would get the wrong idea. Distance—she had to keep her distance.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
FOR HOURS KAITLIN did manage to do exactly that—to maintain distance. As they toured the rest of the palace she submerged herself in the spectacular splendour of the Doge’s apartments, in the ornate gold interior of the rooms, the impossible to describe detail of the frescoes, the sheer splendour of the art.
‘Glad you came?’ Daniel asked as they emerged onto the Bridge of Sighs.
‘Yes. Truly. Thank you.’
‘You’re welcome.’
They paused on the bridge. ‘Why is it called the Bridge of Sighs?’ Kaitlin asked, testing herself as she looked into the chill green of the water. If she wanted to enjoy Venice she had to get her head round the fact it was a water-based city.
‘Prisoners crossing the bridge knew it would be their last taste of freedom and open air, so they are said to have sighed as they crossed it. Other people say it is the sigh lovers make. Legend has it that if you take a gondola ride under the Bridge of Sighs as the sun sets with your significant other and you kiss then your love will be eternal.’
‘Lucky I don’t believe in love, then, because there is no way on this earth I’m getting in a gondola. Or even a vaporetto. My enjoyment of Venice is going to be on land!’
‘But your plan is to enjoy Venice?’
Kaitlin pulled in a breath. ‘If you still want my company?’
There was a pause, and for a moment she wondered if she had just made a complete idiot of herself.
‘Though if you would rather spend time alone here because of your dad and everything I understand.’
‘Shh.’
Lifting a hand, he brushed a finger softly against her lips, and she froze at the exquisite sensation that ran through her, then backed a step away, looking around to make sure no one had seen. But the throngs of tourists had no interest in them—were too busy gazing at the Palace.
‘I do still want your company.’
‘Then why the hesitation? I don’t want your pity because of what I told you.’
‘You don’t have my pity.’ His lips turned up in a rueful twist. ‘My hesitation was due to a momentary worry that I might succumb to the temptation to kiss you. The problem is, I want more than that.’
‘Oh.’
Please kiss me.
Get a grip.
There could be no kissing. Though right now Kaitlin wanted him to kiss her with a yearning so great she could taste it. But that wasn’t possible—she and Daniel weren’t a normal couple on holiday in Venice, like so many of the men and women around them, who could stop and kiss whenever they liked.
Come to that they weren’t a couple of any description. She was Lady Kaitlin Derwent—a woman who wanted an alliance that would bring glory to the Derwent name, who wanted a family, children, marriage. Daniel was a man who wanted success and all its trappings—a man who could offer no more than a few days of pleasure to any woman.
For Lady Kaitlin Derwent that pleasure would come at way too high a price. The gossip, the scandal, her parents’ fury... And more than that there was the risk of losing herself—the risk that her whole being would unravel. Daniel represented danger and disorder. Any involvement with him would be too scary. It sent a skitter of anxiety through her whole body.
‘You can’t kiss me.’ Her voice was breathless, a squeak of pure panic.
The rueful
look on his face intensified. ‘Don’t look so troubled, Kaitlin. I understand that. Forget I said anything and let’s focus on enjoying Venice. Agreed?’
‘Agreed.’ Pushing her doubts away, Kaitlin nodded.
How hard could it be not to kiss someone for two days?
* * *
Daniel glanced out of the latticed semi-circular window at the late-morning sunshine that glinted off the canal and rooftops of St Mark’s Square before turning to where Kaitlin sat at the round marble-topped table, pen tucked behind her ear.
‘What would you like to do today?’ He gestured at their now closed laptops and neat pile of papers. ‘Now that we know the ball is completely under control.’
They had spent the morning checking and double-checking that the arrangements were in place and watertight.
‘The rest of today is ours to do with as we choose.’
Kaitlin rose from the table and headed to the window, oh, so careful not to so much as brush past him. ‘There is a part of me that’s tempted to stay right here in safety, but most of me feels cautiously optimistic that I can deal with outside. I would like to go to the Scuola Grande di San Rocco, if that’s OK with you? It’s a little off the beaten track, but I’d love to see so many of Tintoretto’s works under one incredible roof. ‘
‘Sounds like a plan. I’ll get directions, and we can always use our phones to navigate.’
He sat down and pulled his computer towards him to source exact directions—sure that for Kaitlin the idea of getting lost would hold little appeal and might indeed trigger panic.
‘Thank you.’
As he glanced at her he felt a funny little tug pull at his chest. Dressed in a blue lace dress that combined simple elegance and comfort, Kaitlin looked...relaxed—more relaxed than he could have imagined. Her glorious hair hung in loose waves to her shoulders, her green eyes held a glint of emerald and her body held minimal tension.
He glanced at the map of Venice and made some quick calculations. ‘OK. Route mastered. Let’s go.’
As they exited the hotel from the back entrance, walked through the peaceful courtyard and through the wrought-iron gates that led out onto a bustling Venetian street, Daniel glanced down at her. Her body held more tension now, as they joined the crowds, and he couldn’t help but wonder how hard it must be for her to contain her panic—the amount of energy and strain she expended in simple day-to-day life.