The Venetian's Proposal. Lee Wilkinson
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I haven’t,’ she said, no longer caring overmuch what she saw. Just being with this charismatic man was enough.
‘They’re just across the way from each other…’
His mouth was fascinating, she thought. It was a mouth that was at once coolly austere and warmly sensual. A clear-cut mouth that sent little shivers down her spine…
‘Then later I’ll take you up to Schloss Lienz for dinner.’
She dragged her gaze away from his mouth and, feeling her colour rise, echoed, ‘Schloss Lienz?’
‘The schloss dates from the sixteenth-century and has quite a turbulent history. To begin with it was a fortress, then it was used as a royal hunting lodge, now it’s a first-class restaurant. From the terrace, which seems to hang in space, there’s a superb view over the city.’
‘It sounds wonderful.’ Glancing down at the faint marks still visible on her dress, she added, ‘Though I’ll need to get changed first.’
‘So will I. Where are you staying?’
‘At the Bregenzerwald.’
‘What a coincidence!’
‘You mean you are?’
‘Room 54.’
Hardly able to believe it, she marvelled, ‘I’m in room 56.’
‘Well, well… It seems coincidences are like swallows; they come in pairs…’
The rest of the afternoon passed in a haze of excitement. Nicola hadn’t known this kind of happiness for over three years.
She found that Dominic Loredan was an easy and interesting companion, who proved to have an extensive knowledge of the city, an appreciation of beauty, and a dry sense of humour when pointing out the more droll aspects of the scenery.
When the pair had finally finished traipsing around the cobbled lanes of the old town, and seen most of what was to be seen, warm and a little dusty, they took a horse-drawn carriage back to their hotel.
Leaving her at her door, Dominic asked, ‘How long will you need? An hour? Half an hour?’
Not having expected to dress up for dinner, she would have to go down to the car for her main suitcase. Even so…
‘Just long enough to have a shower and get changed,’ she answered quickly, begrudging even this amount of time spent away from him.
‘Good.’ Grey eyes smiled into green. ‘I’ll give you a knock in about half an hour.’
As she looked up at him he brushed her cheek with a single finger, and while she stood mesmerised, he bent his dark head and touched his lips to hers, a thistledown kiss that turned her knees to water and melted every last bone in her body.
Totally bemused, a hand to her lips, she watched him disappear into his own room. Then, like someone under a spell, she went into hers and gently closed the door.
CHAPTER TWO
FOR a little while she stood quite still, feeling again that most fleeting of caresses. Pulling herself together, she went to pick up her car keys.
Frowning, she stared at the empty space where she remembered them being before glancing around. Instead of lying on the chest of drawers, the keys, with their rental tag, were on the dressing table.
Perhaps she was mistaken? Maybe that was where she had left them? Or possibly one of the chambermaids had come in and moved them?
Whichever, the important thing was they were still there. So long as the car hadn’t been stolen it wasn’t a problem.
Stolen…
The implications of that thought made Nicola check her overnight case. A quick glance through the contents showed her passport and spare money were untouched, and so was her grandmother’s jewellery box, which held most of the things she treasured.
Holding her breath, she released the catch and opened it. Everything seemed to be there. A small string of pearls Jeff had bought her for a wedding present, her grandmother’s locket, the keys to John’s house in Venice…
With a sigh of relief, she closed the lid and replaced the box.
Then, picking up the car keys, she took the lift down to the car park and hurried over to the blue saloon. Releasing the central locking, she moved to lift the lid of the boot.
It refused to budge.
Another press of the key released it. Which undoubtedly meant that it hadn’t been locked in the first place.
Oh, but surely she’d locked it?
Or had she?
She lifted the boot lid, half expecting to see her case gone, but it was still there, exactly as she’d left it.
No, not exactly.
As if someone had closed it in a hurry, caught between the two zips where they met in the centre, was a small piece of material.
Opening the case, she looked inside. Once again nothing was missing. Everything seemed to be as it should be, apart from that tell-tale scrap of ivory satin that had been caught in the zip.
Eager to be off that morning, she had wasted no time in packing, so perhaps she had left that bit of nightdress hanging out?
But wouldn’t she have noticed it?
Apparently not.
The only rational explanation had to be her own carelessness.
Yet the three things—the keys being moved, the car being unlocked, and the material caught between the zips—made a logical sequence that was very hard to dismiss.
Except that in the long run it made no sense.
If someone had got into her room and, finding the distinctive rental-tagged keys, gone to the trouble of locating the car and searching her case, wouldn’t they have taken everything worth stealing? Including the car?
Instead there was nothing missing and the keys were still there. Which seemed to prove the whole thing was just a strange coincidence.
And coincidences did happen. Dominic Loredan being in the same hotel and having the room next to hers was proof of that.
Her thoughts having flown back to Dominic and the evening ahead, she lifted out the case, locked the car and hurried over to the lift.
Once in her room, having showered in record time, she donned fresh undies and a smoke-grey silk chiffon dress that Sandy had nagged her into buying, saying, ‘You never know…’
It was a romantic dress, with a cross-over bodice, a long, swirling skirt and a matching stole. Shaking out the stole, which was lined with scarlet, Nicola hesitated, still unsure.
But recalling how, when she had hesitated at the colour, Sandy had exclaimed crossly, ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake! You can’t go on wearing widow’s weeds for ever’, she made up her mind to take it.
Placing it on a chair with her small evening bag, she stood in front of the mirror to take up her thick, naturally blonde hair.
As she held the smooth coil in place on top of her head and began to push in the pins her eyes were drawn to her wedding ring.
Her task finished, she studied the thin gold band. Married for barely a year when Jeff was killed, she had now been a widow for considerably longer than she had been a wife.
As John had said, anyone who had lost a loved one needed to mourn, but no one should mourn for ever.
Maybe the time had come to let go of the past.
Slipping off the ring, she put it carefully with her other treasures.
Anxious to look her best—for the first time in more than three years—she