She tried to speak but she couldn’t get the words out coherently.

‘What is it?’ he asked gently, cupping her face and turning it up so that he could see her better. ‘Tell me.’

‘Nothing,’ she choked, ‘I’m all right now.’

‘I don’t think you are.’ He took out a clean handkerchief and dabbed her wet cheeks. Her hair was coming down over his hands.

‘What do I look like?’ she asked shakily.

‘Like a little girl who’s just found out her father doesn’t love her. But you won’t give in to despair. You know the world still has much for you.’

‘I don’t know what the world holds for me,’ she said huskily. ‘Right now I’m not really sure that I care.’

‘Never speak like that again,’ he said sternly. ‘I forbid it. Only weaklings say it doesn’t matter what happens, and you are strong, cara. You’re the kind of person who wrests life to your will.’

He looked down into her face for a moment, then he lowered his head and laid his lips on hers, keeping them still for a moment, then moving them very slowly. It was the lightest of touches, but it was enough to bring her to instant, eager life. Her own mouth began to move in helpless response, urging and encouraging him.

He had a moment of doubt, enough to make him raise his head and give her a troubled look. He’d come to her bedroom offering comfort, but not of this kind. Harriet saw the ‘man of honour’ in his eyes, threatening to restrain him.

She dealt with that man swiftly, slipping her hand behind Marco’s head and drawing him back down to where her warm, persuasive lips could tell him, without words, what she wanted. Now she was ready for him, her lips already parted, welcoming the entry of his questing tongue. The signal she’d given him had taken the brakes off his control and his fevered movements were telling her that now he felt free to do whatever he liked.

Good!

His tongue teased her own before starting a lazy exploration of her mouth. Her response was electric. No other kiss had ever been so thrilling, and it wasn’t enough. Now she had to have him in every possible way.

His mouth drifted down her neck and across her chest, and she drew in a long, shaking breath. It felt shatteringly good to have his lips there, where she’d so often longed to feel them, tracing the swell of one breast while his fingers outlined the other. Her neckline was low, but not low enough for him, for he made a sound of impatience at the resistance of the material. The next moment she heard the sound of tearing, felt the shock of cool air, and her breasts were free. Instantly she sensed all constraint fell away from her, as though her spirit too had flown free. This was the man she wanted. She wanted his love, and she wanted his passion, and she vowed to herself that if she couldn’t have one she was going to have the other.

He dropped his head between her breasts, rejoicing in their silkiness with his tongue, while his hand celebrated their shape with joy. Wherever he touched her the result was electric, sending shivers of sensation everywhere, along her arms, her legs, between her thighs.

The dress was torn to just below her breasts. As his fingers curled around the edge he met her glowing eyes. Reading consent in them, he tightened his hand and wrenched hard, ripping the dress open to the hem, revealing the whole length of her body. Half dazed she reached up for him, pulling at his black bow-tie, then the buttons of his shirt. He finished the job himself, tossing aside his clothes and pulling her against him while the remainder of her ruined dress slipped to the floor.

She wished the light was better, so that she could see him, but there was only the sensation of his nakedness pressed against hers, his hands exploring her intimately with slow, sensual movements that made her vibrantly aware in every inch of her own body.

She began her own exploration of him, discovering that his shoulders really were as broad as they seemed in an elegant dinner jacket, his spine as long and supple, his hips as narrow. Through her wild, whirling thoughts she promised herself that soon they would do this again, and she would know him better, know the caresses he liked and that provoked him. Meantime, she was learning and it was wonderful.

His fingers were on the soft insides of her thighs, making teasing promises that drove her half out of her mind. A long, soft moan broke from her and he moved slightly so that he could look into her wild face on the pillow, her magnificent hair spread out.

She thought she whispered his name, she wasn’t sure, but the next moment he was between her thighs, skilfully urging her to greater and greater passion until she was ready for the moment he entered her. And then everything was right, and perfect. Everything was as it was always meant to be, and she was a part of it for ever.

He moved strongly inside her, and while she felt the pleasure mounting she was aware that his hands were touching her face softly. She would hardly have believed he could be so tender but each caress was unbelievably gentle, so unlike the Marco who dominated his world, but hinting at the man she was sure lived deep inside him. And she could coax that man out, she was sure of it, just as he was reaching out to her now…

Then all thought was shut off as the pleasure took her over, shook her until she seemed to dissolve. The world flew apart into a million pieces, that flamed in the universe before drifting back together and reforming into a world that was no longer the same, would never be the same again.

She tried to speak but Marco’s fingertips were across her lips, his arms about her, his lips against her hair, murmuring reassurances. A heavy languor seemed to weigh her down until she fell into a deep sleep with his arms still about her.

As she dozed in the early morning she felt a slight disturbance in the bed next to her. Opening her eyes a crack she saw Marco rise and stand a moment in the grey light. Last night she’d felt his body but seen little of it. Now she saw him fully, the long legs, lean but with muscular thighs, the narrow hips with their unmistakable power. She remembered that power, how he’d used it to drive her to an ecstasy whose memory melted her again now. If he had reached for her, she would be his again.

Instead he dressed quickly, while she lay listening to the rustling movements, waiting for the moment when he would awaken her to say goodbye. Or perhaps he would simply kiss her, and she could put her arms about him. But then the movements stopped, and there was a long silence. She opened her eyes to see him standing in the window, his head sunk on his chest, the picture of a deeply troubled man. He seemed to be staring at the inner distance and seeing something there that disturbed him.

At last he straightened his shoulders and seemed to give himself a little shake, as though discarding thoughts that were no use to him. Then he walked out of the door.

CHAPTER TEN

THREE days later they all flew to Venice, Harriet and Lucia departing from the villa, and Marco going from his apartment and meeting them at Rome airport.

‘Are you sure you’re not sickening for something?’ Lucia asked Harriet anxiously as they drove to the airport. ‘You’re very pale, and you’ve been quiet the last couple of days.’

‘I just don’t enjoy flying,’ Harriet put her off.

It was true that she’d been quiet ever since the moment she’d seen her lover leave in the dawn, and lain there, aching with desolation.

She acquitted him of deliberate unkindness. She would never forget that he’d returned to the house to comfort her, how gently he’d spoken, and how much understanding he’d shown. He’d felt with her, as only a truly sensitive man could have done, and she would always love him for it.

In the moments of passion, too, he’d treated her with great tenderness. But then he’d left her alone in a way that felt nothing less than brutal.

The next day Lucia had told her excitedly of Marco’s encounter with the Baroness d’Alari, and the way he’d risked losing valuable business to defend her. That too warmed her heart, but it cooled again when she realised that he wasn’t going to tell her himself.

She could sympathise with the wariness that made him shrink from too much human contact. She could even pity him for it. But she increasingly felt that she couldn’t live with it.

A resolution had formed in her, to leave as soon as possible after the wedding. It would break her heart, but the misery would be short-lived, unlike the misery of being married to a man who would allow himself to get close to her only to withdraw as though she’d turned into an enemy.

With the decision taken she pushed it aside until after the coming weddings, determined not to spoil them for anyone else. At Rome airport she greeted Marco with cool composure, and a smile that gave away no more than did his own. This was her first trip to Venice, and she was going to enjoy it. She could be wretched later.

The Calvani family began to gather in Venice two days before the first wedding. The Rome party arrived to find Guido and Dulcie waiting for them with two motor boats to take them across the lagoon, one driven by Guido himself.

‘You’re lucky he’s not trying to take you in a gondola,’ Dulcie chuckled, referring to their early courtship when she’d thought he was a gondolier, and he’d let her go on believing it, thinking that he was luring her into his net, while actually he was the one being lured.

The Palazzo Calvani was a treasure trove of masterpieces and Harriet soon settled to explore it in the company of the count’s archivist, who had been put at her disposal.

Leo turned up next day, looking less cheerful than Harriet remembered. She and Dulcie were both fond of him, and it took them no time to divine his trouble. Settling on the big sofa, one each side of him, they went onto the attack.