Not Just a Convenient Marriage. Lucy Gordon
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‘Look at me,’ Damiano whispered.
She did so, and found his lips close to her own.
‘Help me, Sally. Say you agree,’ he said softly, his breath whispering against her face.
‘But—’
‘Say it. For my son’s sake.’
‘All right. I agree.’
Slowly Damiano dropped his head until his mouth brushed hers. She held herself steady, waiting for it to be over, feeling the tremors go through her, fighting every instinct that urged her to press against him and tempt him on—and on …
His lips parted from hers, but she could still feel the warmth of his breath. She tried to force her mind to take control. Damiano’s kiss had a power over her that she must fight. But her flesh challenged her, telling her mind that thoughts were irrelevant. The only thing that mattered was the sweetness flooding through her, destroying the common sense that had always ruled her life.
His eyes told her that he’d felt her tremble in his arms and knew his power over her. Now nothing could ever be the same. He would force on her a kiss of passion that would leave her no choice. She braced herself—part fearful, part furious, part craving.
She ought to leave Venice, she thought. She couldn’t bear to hurt the child, but it was better for him not to indulge in groundless hopes. But another voice spoke within her, urging her to marry Damiano and put her whole heart and soul into winning his love.
Not Just a
Convenient Marriage
Lucy Gordon
LUCY GORDON cut her writing teeth on magazine journalism, interviewing many of the world’s most interesting men, including Warren Beatty, Charlton Heston and Sir Roger Moore. She also camped out with lions in Africa, and had many other unusual experiences, which have often provided the background for her books. Several years ago, while staying in Venice, she met a Venetian who proposed in two days. They have been married ever since. Naturally this has affected her writing, in which romantic Italian men tend to feature strongly.
Two of her books have won a Romance Writers of America RITA® Award. You can visit her website at www.lucy-gordon.com.
I dedicate this book to Carla, my Venetian sister-in-law, who made the light-hearted remark that inspired me to write it.
Contents
‘WOW! CASANOVA! FANCY THAT!’
The young man devouring the contents of a book was alight with excitement. Sally, his sister, sitting beside him in the plane, regarded him curiously.
‘What are you on about, Charlie?’
‘Casanova, the great lover. He came from Venice. It says so here.’ He held up the tourist booklet about the city. ‘He had a thousand women and gambled a fortune every night.’
‘Then I can see why he attracts you,’ she said wryly.
At eighteen, Charlie had gambling debts that were fast mounting, something that barely troubled him while he could rely on his sister to stump up. But Sally had rebelled. Appalled by his developing addiction and the fearsome characters who were beginning to haunt their home, she’d hurriedly got him out of London. Now they were on a plane approaching Venice in what looked like a holiday but was actually an escape.
‘It’s not just the gambling,’ Charlie said. ‘He could have any woman he wanted, and they say that even now his legend lives in Venice. Aw, come on, that should interest you.’
‘Shut it!’ Sally told him.
His manner became comically theatrical. ‘How can you be so hard-hearted? You’re going to the most romantic city in the world and you couldn’t care less.’
‘Just as you couldn’t care less about the trouble your gambling causes. You’re only trying to change the subject. So just drop it, little brother. Or else!’
‘Or else what? Throw me out of the plane?’
‘No, I’ll do something much worse than that. I’ll cut off the money and make you get a job.’
‘Aaargh! You’re a cruel woman.’
Their tone was light, but beneath the banter was a hard reality. Since their parents had died seven years earlier she’d been responsible for him. She wasn’t proud of the result. He showed no signs of growing up.
As he’d said, they were travelling to the most romantic city in the world: Venice. Over a hundred little islands, connected by canals and bridges. A place of staggering beauty and magical, romantic atmosphere. And if she ‘couldn’t care less’ as he accused, it might be because there had been little romance in her life. Without being exactly plain she had looks that were ordinary, with nothing enchanting or alluring about them. Men did not tend to fall at her feet, and the one time she’d fancied herself in love there had been little happiness, and