Wedding in Venice

  Wedding in Venice

  Lucy Gordon

  In romantic Venice for the wedding of a friend, will independent Justine make time to find a love of her own?

  Lucy Gordon

  Wedding in Venice

  The fourth book in the Counts of Calvani series, 2003

  Chapter One

  "Your trouble is that you never take risks," Dulcie said.

  "Who? Me?" Justine queried, her face full of innocent indignation.

  Below them was a flash of sun on water as the plane from England circled Venice Airport before coming in to land.

  "I'm always taking risks," Justine said firmly. "I nearly broke my neck last month, hanging over that cliff to get a picture of a gorilla."

  "Oh, gorillas! Cliffs!" Dulcie dismissed all such trivial dangers. "You're a professional photographer. I know you take that sort of risk. I'm talking about people."

  "You mean men," Justine said frankly. "Fine, let's talk about men. They're great fun – in their way."

  "When you've got time for them, you mean," Dulcie teased.

  "I'm always dashing off on assignments. I have to fit male distractions into my schedule. It's just common sense."

  "You have too much common sense," Dulcie reproved her. "It's getting in the way of your life. When are you going to let your hair down and throw caution to the wind?"

  "Like you, you mean? One wink from a gorgeous Italian and you were a goner."

  "Guido isn't Italian. He's Venetian," Dulcie corrected.

  "Does it matter?"

  "Yes," Dulcie said, considering this seriously. "They wink differently. It's more intense somehow. You'll find out for yourself."

  "Not me," Justine said firmly. "I won't keel over just because an Italian – sorry, Venetian – gives me the eye. If he winks at me, I'll wink at him. If he looks me over, I'll look him over. Then I'll decide if he's up to standard. What I won't do is simply go weak at the knees."

  Dulcie laughed. "Just wait until you meet a Venetian."

  When they left the plane Dulcie cleared Customs fast, racing straight into the arms of her fiancé.

  Justine took her time, checking that her photographic equipment was undamaged. She was in Venice to take pictures of Dulcie's wedding. As she emerged from Customs she could see the other two locked in a passionate embrace.

  Justine grinned. Since Guido lived in Venice and Dulcie in England they hadn't seen each other for weeks, and she guessed this bit was going to take a while.

  To pass the time, she took out a mirror and checked her appearance, which had survived the flight in good condition. Her hair was red, not auburn or sandy, but a true, blazing red. She grew it long, but wore it swept up. It made a striking effect with her green eyes.

  The lovers finally drew apart, laughing and happy, and Dulcie introduced Justine. Guido greeted his fiancée's friend warmly and led them out of the airport, which was built on the edge of a large expanse of water.

  "This is the lagoon," he explained. "Venice is out there in the center, so we reach it by motorboat. The barges you see there are collecting goods to supply the shops and hotels."

  One barge was being loaded just next to them. On the quay stood a pile of boxes filled with bottles of wine. Getting them down should have been a job for two men, but one man was tackling it alone.

  One foot on the barge, one on the narrow stone steps, he swung up to lift a heavy box, then down to lay it in the boat. He looked to be in his early thirties, was tall and lithe, with an easy grace and a strength that treated the heavy weights as nothing.

  Justine noted his very short black denim shorts, which revealed long, powerful thighs. He wore nothing else. His feet were bare, and so, she noted with interest, was his broad chest, which glistened in the sunlight as he dipped and stretched to reach the boxes.

  His black hair was a little too long, and was shaggy and damp from his efforts, clinging to the heavy muscles of his neck. It made her smile just to look at such intense, masculine beauty.

  Then he looked up and caught her gazing at him. It was too late now to pretend that she wasn't studying him. He didn't seem fazed, though. Perhaps he was used to women's admiring glances.

  His grin seemed to confirm it. He had a wide mouth, which gave the biggest smile she had ever seen. It was blazing, glorious, lusty with life. And he aimed it straight at her.

  Then he winked. And Justine gasped.

  Dulcie was right. They did wink more intensely, a blatant invitation that said, "Come on in."

  And suddenly she didn't know what to do.

  Chapter Two

  The boatman's expression and the whole attitude of his athletic body was an invitation to the party of life, and for a moment Justine was stunned. She turned to Dulcie to see if she had noticed the bold boatman, but her friend was busy helping Guido load their bags into the motorboat.

  Stop dithering, she told herself. You enjoy a good party.

  She pulled herself together and winked back.

  His returning smile said, Message received and understood, which irked her slightly. She, herself, wasn't quite sure that she understood.

  But she wouldn't be seeing him again, and perhaps that was just as well. He was just a little too sure of himself.

  They were almost ready to go. Justine settled herself in the back of the boat and Guido started the motor.

  The sudden churning of the water made the barge rock, knocking the stranger off balance and overboard. Immediately he climbed back aboard, pushing the soaking hair back from his eyes, visibly cursing, but unhurt. Justine had a last glimpse of him, covered in water, shining in the sun.

  Then she was speeding across the lagoon, looking about her in breathless wonder as Venice came into view.

  Suddenly she realized that the barge was overtaking them. At the back stood the man, almost dry now from the effects of the wind, which blew his dark hair straight back from his face.

  It was a powerful face, Justine realized, slightly saturnine, yet still with the quality of humor. The chin was stubborn, the nose slightly hooked. Not a conventionally handsome face, but one that would be remembered when pretty boys were forgotten.

  He turned his head to give her that marvelous grin again, and she had a strange feeling that he had caught up especially for her.

  She mouthed, "Are you all right?" But then remembered that he probably didn't speak English.

  But it seemed that he did, for he raised a thumb and nodded.

  "È Riccardo," Guido yelled. The man in the barge waved at him, then sped up and passed them.

  Justine, who was sitting behind Guido and Dulcie, called, "You know him?"

  "Yes, he's -" the rest of the words were drowned out by the noise of the motor.

  Then she forgot everything as the boat slowed and they entered Venice, gliding along narrow waterways between ancient buildings in a quiet rhythm unlike the harried tempo of most cities she knew, until they finally reached the Grand Canal. Here was the Palazzo Calvani, where Guido lived with his uncle, Count Calvani.

  The count was away until the next day, so Guido entertained them alone. At dinner he was charming company, but he was shooed away when Maria, the dressmaker, arrived late in the evening with Dulcie's wedding gown.

  "I came out to Venice for one fitting a few weeks back," Dulcie told Justine, "but this is the moment of truth. Let's go upstairs."

  The dress was an extravagant confection in white satin and lace, with a long, wide skirt and floor-length veil. Justine snapped madly with her digital camera as Dulcie turned in front of the mirror.

  When the dressmaker had gone, Justine got out her laptop and began downloading the pictures from the camera. Dulcie gasped when she saw them on the screen.

  "Tomorrow I want to go
outside and take more pictures of you wearing this," Justine said.

  The photographer in her was at work now, picturing this gorgeous dress against the canals, the picturesque buildings.

  As she worked, she asked casually, "Who was that man who passed us on the water this morning, the one Guido called Riccardo?"

  "I've never met him," Dulcie said. "Guido has a lot of boatman friends, so he's probably one of them."

  Justine let it go. It would be a mistake to seem too curious.

  * * *

  They set out next morning so that Justine could photograph Dulcie in the lovely dress against the background of Venice. She took picture after picture, exhilarated by the beauty she was capturing.

  "Just one more," she said at last as they stopped in a little square by the water. "Stand by that fountain."

  She arranged her shot, focused and took a step back, then another, and another.

  Totally absorbed, she failed to notice that she was getting closer to the canal. Dulcie's cry of warning came too late, and the next moment Justine was stepping back into nothing, and falling.

  She gave a yell of despair as she thought of what the water would do to her precious camera.

  But there was no water. Instead she landed on something that felt relatively soft. Sprawled inelegantly on her back, she had a grandstand view of the man she'd seen yesterday, standing over her, regarding her with recognition and delight.

  He gave her a mock bow, reaching forward to pull her into a sitting position, and saying, "It's a pleasure to meet you at last."

  Chapter Three

  It was definitely the boatman from the previous day, wearing slightly more today: a sleeveless black vest and a pair of threadbare jeans that ended just below the knees.

  Close up, he was even more overpowering. Justine had to resist the temptation to stare like a dizzy schoolgirl.

  He shouldn't be allowed, she decided. That tan, those white teeth, the strength she could sense in his hand, with its hint of even more strength leashed, the glint of the devil in his dark eyes – there ought to be a law against him.

  But if there was a law, he would ignore it. She knew that already. He would ignore anything that didn't suit him.

  At the moment it seemed to suit him to keep hold of her hand, although she was sitting upright now, and there was no need.

  He sat down beside her.

  "Are you all right?" he asked. "That was quite a tumble!"

  "Not as bad as the one you took yesterday," she reminded him.

  "But I landed safely in the water."

  "Well, I landed safely on – cabbages? I'm sitting on cabbages?"

  "And onions and potatoes and lettuces. This barge belongs to the Hotel Busoni, and I'm taking supplies to the kitchens."

  "Well, I'm very glad you were passing just then, or it could have been really nasty. The water wouldn't have done my camera any good."

  "Then I'm happy to have been of service," he said with an air of chivalry that sat oddly with his threadbare clothes.

  He squeezed her hand gently between both of his.

  "I hope I haven't squashed the vegetables," she said, reluctantly disengaging her hand and feeling around gingerly. "I don't want to get you into trouble."

  "Please don't worry about me," he said gravely.

  "You're sure your boss will be okay?"

  "Let's say I can handle anything he's likely to throw at me."

  "Hey, how do I get out? That ledge is way above me."

  "Because this is low tide."

  "You mean I'm trapped here?"

  "Only until we reach the next flight of steps."

  He pointed to where she could see steps cut into the stone, about ten yards ahead.

  "But we're not moving," she said.

  "That's because we've hit a traffic jam," he pointed out, indicating several other barges, bent on the same errand, that were blocking their way.

  "Where's Dulcie?" she asked, looking around.

  "Your friend is back there. We moved on for a bit after you fell."

  Justine could just make out Dulcie standing by the water, at the place where she had gone in. She waved and caught her attention.

  Dulcie doubled up with laughter, and indicated that she would walk along the canal's edge to join her, but Justine firmly waved her back for fear of damage to the lovely wedding dress. Dulcie nodded, agreeing to wait.

  "I'm taking the pictures of Dulcie and Guido's wedding," Justine explained. "You know Guido, don't you?"

  He grinned.

  "Everyone knows Guido. He's crazy." Seeing her puzzled look he added, "In Venice, that is a compliment."

  "I see – at least, I think I do."

  He extended his hand again.

  "I am Riccardo Gardini."

  "I am Justine Bentley."

  They shook hands.

  "Will you remain in Venice for long?" he asked.

  "I don't know. I've got a few days before the wedding, then I'll stay on to get some shots of the city, but I'm not sure just how long that will take."

  "It will take a lifetime," he said at once. "You will never come to the end of Venice. There is always one more beauty to be seen, one more mystery to tease you. So you must stay here forever."

  "Well, it's beautiful enough, I agree, and I really want to see it all."

  "Then I shall arrange it so that you do."

  The lordly way he said, "I shall arrange it," made her lift her eyebrows. Just who did he think he was? And what did he think she was? An easy pickup?

  "Say that you will spend some time with me," he coaxed.

  He was the most dangerously attractive male that she'd met in a long time. Did anything else matter?

  And then she saw something that drove everything else out of her mind.

  "Oh my goodness, look at that!" she breathed.

  "Maria Vergine!" he exclaimed, looking around. "What's the matter?"

  "That!" she said, pointing over his shoulder. "Oh, help! I've got to get out of here, fast."

  Chapter Four

  "Where's the fire?" Riccardo demanded, looking around to see what had agitated Justine.

  "Dulcie!" Justine cried. "Look at her! Oh, how can that happen and me not be there?"

  Turning to look behind him, Riccardo saw Dulcie standing by the canal in her wedding dress. A sudden breeze had arisen, whisking the long veil high, so that it seemed to stream up to the sky, making a perfect gauze halo about her. Dulcie's face was raised and she was laughing with delight. It would have made a glorious picture. And Justine was missing it.

  "Can't you take it from here?" Riccardo asked.

  "I am," she said, snapping away madly, "but it won't be the same. I need to get close, but how can I while we're stuck here?"

  "Like this," Riccardo said, placing his hands on her waist and hoisting her up.

  She had a brief sensation of flying, as though she were no more than a bag of feathers he was tossing. Then she landed and scrambled to her feet, almost in one movement.

  "Thank you," she gasped, beginning to run.

  "Good luck!" he called, but she was already beyond hearing.

  Riccardo watched her, wryly aware that she had completely forgotten him. Only a moment ago the air had seemed to sing with the intensity of something that was starting between them. He had asked her to spend time with him. She had hesitated, but his well-honed instincts told him she was about to fall into his net.

  But she had escaped at the last minute through one of those twists of fate that even the best fishers of women could not anticipate.

  And she hadn't even glanced back for a last look at him. Faced with a good picture opportunity, she'd wiped him from her existence.

  Riccardo wasn't a conceited man, but this was not what he was used to. Honor demanded that he did not leave matters there. They had unfinished business.

  As he went on his way, he was smiling.

  * * *

  "I can't believe that happened," Justine wailed as Dulcie'
s veil floated back down to earth. "That would have been the shot of shots, the big one. Aaaarrrgh!"

  "It's not fair," Dulcie agreed sympathetically. "Still, you got some lovely pictures before that."

  But Justine couldn't be consoled. As they made their way back to the Palazzo Calvani she was still mourning "the one that got away."

  It was Riccardo's fault, of course. If he hadn't kept her talking she would have been back to work in moments.

  I hope his vegetables rot, she thought grumpily.

  As soon as they reached the palazzo, Dulcie changed out of the wedding dress and settled it on its stand to await the big day. Then she went to Justine's room, and found her downloading the morning's work.

  "Guido's gone to collect Uncle Francesco and Liza from the airport," she said. "I'm longing for you to meet them."

  "They're getting married the day before you, right?"

  "Right. It's such a romantic story. They've been in love for fifty years, but Liza wouldn't marry him because he was a count and she was his housekeeper. After all this time, she's finally agreed. It's so sweet to see how much they love each other. Guido and I are going to be exactly the same when we're old."

  Justine gave a brief, wry smile that made Dulcie cry out, "What's that for? I know you pretend not to believe in love, but even you have to agree that it's a beautiful story."

  "I do believe in love," Justine said. "Love is real. It's the 'eternal' bit that I can't swallow."

  "Fifty years sounds pretty eternal to me."

  "Sure, a fifty-year courtship!" Justine chuckled. "I believe in that. But you know as well as I do that it's when people get married that things start to go wrong."

  "Let's be glad the rest of the world doesn't know it," Dulcie observed, "or the human race would die out. Three cheers for men and women getting together."

  "Ah, getting together. That's different," Justine said, her eyes twinkling. "I believe in that."