‘They’re not going to be looking at the place, just me, draping myself over it.’ She went to a large beam, aslant from floor to ceiling, leaned on it and let her arms glide up slowly over her head.

‘Like this,’ she purred. ‘And like this.’ She raised one knee so that the silk fell away on either side, giving him a grandstand view of the most perfect, elegant leg he’d ever seen.

‘And how much will they pay to see you like that?’ he asked, moving closer and reaching up to trap her wrists.

‘It depends how well the pictures sell. A lot, I hope.’

He drew her wrists towards him and over his shoulders, then took her by the waist, pulling her closer.

‘Do you really not mind men looking at you, for money?’ he asked.

‘They’re only pictures. Who cares if they look at me-as long as I’m not there to know about it? It doesn’t matter what they’re thinking.’

‘But I’m here,’ he murmured, dropping his lips to her neck. ‘Does it matter what I’m thinking?’

‘As long as you’re thinking the right thing,’ she whispered.

‘I want to take you to bed and make love to you until we’re both crazy. I want you to make love to me so that I know I’m the man you need. Is that the right thing?’

‘Oh, yes,’ she growled. ‘That’s very much the right thing.’

Her knee was still raised, so that it was easy for her to hook her ankle behind him in a gesture whose significance he couldn’t miss.

‘Strega,’ he said fervently. Witch.

‘Of course I am,’ she murmured. ‘I stir my cauldron night after night, thinking up spells to lure you in.’

His hands were finding their way through the slits at the side of her long skirt, seeking the top of her legs where she wore a lacy thong, so frail that it almost didn’t exist. He grasped her hips, feeling around to the back, the swell of her behind, almost naked as the thong vanished in the centre. Moving carefully, he hooked his thumbs through the delicate material and, with a swift wrench, demolished it, dropping the shredded remains onto the floor.

Now there was nothing between her and his fingers, seeking and finding what he’d expected, the hot moisture that said she was ready for him. Helena gasped, almost overcome there and then by his skilled exploration.

‘Now,’ she urged breathlessly. ‘I don’t want to wait-now!’

She sensed vaguely that he was tearing at his own clothes until he too was half-naked, and then entering her with a swift, decisive vigour that sent pleasure screaming through her so violently that she grasped him to her, curling both her legs up and around him as if she would enclose him within her forever.

Forever. No end to the sheer physical joy that made the rest of life seem irrelevant. There was this and only this, and it must be made to last because she was yielding herself to it with a lack of caution that would normally have alarmed her.

But not now. She was strong enough for anything, even to look him in the eye when they had both climaxed, and say, ‘Don’t you dare stop.’

There was a couch in the office next door. He carried her in and they finished stripping each other before dropping down onto the narrow space that was barely big enough.

Her flesh seemed to have acquired a memory of its own, that had nothing to do with her head. Their first loving had left her with an intimate knowledge of him, so that her hands directed themselves to the places where a touch could drive him wild, and, once there, a kind of devil magic inspired them to caress and caress until he was beyond his own control.

He entered her with one fierce movement, seizing, claiming, conquering without subtlety. But then his hold on her changed, grew easier, less intense. Now he could draw back and look into her face as he moved inside her, still demanding but gentle.

‘Look at me,’ he murmured and saw her eyes open wide as though in amazement. He didn’t understand.

‘Tell me,’ he whispered, ‘tell me.’

But she couldn’t speak. She could only look up at him, suddenly defenceless in a way that tore his heart.

‘Tell me,’ he pleaded again.

But their excitement was mounting again, driving him to move faster, harder until she cried out, clasping him to her as though she would hold him there forever. And he found himself wishing that she would do that.

As the world grew peaceful again he lay with his head against her, wondering at the web in which he was caught. She’d spoken of luring him in with spells, but her strongest spell was one she exercised unknowingly.

She could make him want to protect her. She could make him laugh. She was the most dangerous woman he’d ever known.

‘Strega,’ he murmured again.

She thumped him lightly on the shoulder. ‘You’re repeating yourself.’

‘I know. But it’s the right word. There’s nothing else to say.’

She chuckled, and the feel of her body shaking against him filled him with delight. She followed it with a long, contented sigh that almost destroyed his control, enough to make him take her again at that very moment, no nonsense, no preliminaries, no manners.

Her fingertips were feather-light against his face.

‘I wonder who won this time,’ she said drowsily.

You did, he thought. You snapped your fingers and I came running like a desperate schoolboy, because I’ve spent the last week haunted by you, sleepless because of you, angry with you because you wouldn’t go away even though you weren’t there.

Something happened the other night that I don’t understand. All I know is that I’ve been waiting for you to decide. Now it seems that you have, but I still don’t know what’s going on in your head, and that worries me more than I can risk letting you know. But suddenly you don’t seem to have any worries in the world. Oh, yes, you’ve won.

Aloud he said, ‘Let’s call it even.’

A few days later they discussed the coming festival over dinner in a small trattoria overlooking the Grand Canal. It was tiny and basic, but its pizzas were among the best in Venice.

‘The fleet of boats leaves from St Mark’s,’ Salvatore explained, ‘so it will be a five-minute walk from the hotel. My secretary will collect you. Then we go out into the lagoon to the Lido Island, to the church of St Nicolo on the far side. After the ring has been flung into the sea we disembark and there’s a church service.’

‘Has this really been going on for a thousand years?’

‘More than a thousand. The original idea was to demonstrate Venice’s supremacy, and remind the world that the Venetian Republic would always be dominant.’

‘And you haven’t changed, have you? As far as you’re concerned you still rule the world.’

‘There’s not a doubt of it.’ He met her eyes. ‘And if the world forgets, the world must be reminded.’

‘You enjoy that bit, don’t you?’

He took an unsteady breath. ‘Can we not talk about that right now?’

‘Do I strain your self-control?’ she teased.

‘Will you stop gloating?’

‘Of course. I’ll wait until we’re alone, and gloat then. It’ll be more fun.’

‘As I was saying…’ He ground his teeth. ‘What was I saying?’

‘Telling me about the festivities.’

‘Yes, then there are firework displays, concerts, dinners. You’ll come to the Palazzo Veretti for that part of the day. A room will be prepared for you, and I hope you’ll stay the night. By the time the evening finishes it’ll be too late for you to go back to the hotel.’

‘Of course,’ she said wisely. ‘And it’s such a long walk, isn’t it?’

He grinned.

His decision that Helena should meet his family had been an impulse, soon regretted. His grandmother’s blatantly expressed contempt had angered him, making him forget that he’d once judged Helena in the same way.

Now he would have given anything to get out of the occasion, guessing how many of his family would share the signora’s opinion of her as a vulgar, money-grubbing tart. Most of all he feared that one of them would insult her openly, driving him to her defence and revealing something in himself that he wasn’t yet ready to face.

But since he was caught he was determined to show her honour in a way his family couldn’t misunderstand.

‘They’re all eager to meet you,’ he told her.

‘I’ll bet they are,’ she said, wry but amused. ‘Are the missiles ready for chucking? Will you supply them or will they provide their own?’

‘I don’t know why you should talk like that,’ he growled.

‘Liar,’ she said mildly. ‘You know exactly why I should talk like that.’

She regarded him with an impish smile, causing a confusion inside him that was becoming all too familiar: bang his head in frustration or succumb to delight?

‘I misunderstood you once,’ he said, choosing his words carefully, ‘but that’s in the past.’

‘You mean you’ve told your family how things are between us?’ she asked innocently. ‘I mean-exactly how.’

He didn’t answer in words, but gave her a look that made her choke with laughter.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said, touching his face. ‘It’s wicked of me to tease you, but I can’t help it. You never see it coming until it’s too late.’

‘That’s because nobody’s ever done it before.’

‘Nobody? Surely there must be someone in the family who sent you up rotten when you were a kid?’

He shook his head. ‘Sending up rotten has never been a feature of my family life.’

‘You poor soul. You’ve been really deprived.’

‘I’ve never felt it as a deprivation,’ he said firmly. But then he amended, ‘Not then. Now I think some practice might help me to deal with you.’

‘Don’t worry. I’ll give you plenty of practice. Now, go on telling me about what’ll happen when I go into the lions’ den.’

He tried to describe his relatives, many of whom would be coming in from distant parts of Italy for the occasion. After a while Helena’s eyes glazed over.