The Echoes of Love (42 page)

Paolo half smiled. He laid one hand on Venetia's shoulder, and placing the other beneath her chin, tilted up her face. ‘Ah, but I'm an expert at many things,
signorina
– didn't you know that?'

He kept the tone light, but his heart was heavy. For one endless moment he gazed down into the depths of her golden eyes with their quizzical intensity. There was still so much she didn't know about him, so much he didn't know about himself… Would their love survive in the looming shadow of such uncertainties? Still, a life without Venetia meant a hunger unappeased, a thirst unquenched. Anything was better than that.

‘You were agile as a panther out there – it was quite something. Where did you learn to fight like that?'

Her question came to him through the haze of his thoughts.

‘Lessons,
cara
,' he was quick to answer. ‘Martial arts are a very useful way to stay fit. Besides, with the amount of crime on the streets nowadays, it's essential to know how to defend oneself.' He raised a dark brow. ‘You yourself had a bad experience, Venetia, not so long ago.'

‘I know. And there again, you defended me with quite masterly expertise.' She beamed at him and then thought for a moment. ‘You're right – I should learn Jujitsu, Karate or maybe Tae Kwan-do. Will you give me lessons?'

Paolo felt the stir in his body as his imagination instantly conjured up an image of Venetia belted in a white robe, the two of them entangled on the floor… and all the other wonderful things that he could teach her which had nothing to do with martial arts, though he didn't think she had much to learn. He gazed at her with a wicked glint in his eyes.

‘I'll give you lessons in anything you like,
cara
. But first we must vacate the room, it is already nine o'clock and we must get ready to leave after breakfast for Cagliari and our villa,' he said as he nipped her chin with his thumb and forefinger and gently uncoiled her arms, which had wound themselves about his neck.

She shot Paolo a pretend sulky look and playfully pushed him back.

‘You can use the bathroom first. In the meantime, I'll call
Zia
Giovanna to tell her that you've asked me to marry you – she'll be delighted.'

* * *

As Paolo disappeared into the bathroom, Venetia went to the sitting room to ring Giovanna. There was no answer at the house, or from her mobile which, unusually, went straight to voicemail. Venetia looked at her watch: it was a quarter past nine. Giovanna didn't usually go to the office on Tuesdays. She kept that day for her personal work because at weekends she was busy, either with entertaining or going out with her husband, Ugo. She was always served breakfast in bed, where she read the papers, and seldom came down before late afternoon. And in any case, Celestina the housekeeper should have been there as it was not market day.

Venetia tried again ten minutes later, and when she received no answer from either numbers, she rang the office.

‘I'm so sorry,
signorina
, but
Signor
Ugo was taken ill this morning as he was getting out of his car at the office,' Sabina, Giovanna's assistant, told her. ‘They called an ambulance and he was rushed to hospital – I think he may have had a heart attack. I informed
la Signora
Lombardi as soon as I heard about it, and she went immediately to the
ospedale
.'

Venetia tried to stem the rising panic in her throat, but she had to be practical and so she kept her voice calm. ‘Do you know which hospital? Do you have the number? And the room number too, please?'

Having obtained the information she needed, she set about getting in touch with her godmother. The switchboard at the
Ospedale dell'Angelo
tried their best to be helpful, but it was no straightforward matter. It was likely he would have been rushed into intensive care, she was told, but they could not be sure, and it was unlikely they'd be able to track the patient down quickly. There was no way of knowing if she could get in touch with Giovanna before the afternoon, or even the night, and so much could happen between now and then. Ugo was Giovanna's whole life; already she had gone through the trauma of losing her first husband while still in her early forties. Venetia could just imagine how harrowing this experience was for her darling
Zia,
while she was living it up in Sardinia and would be for the next week.

Venetia heard Paolo come out of the bathroom. He called to her from the bedroom, ‘The bathroom's clear,
cara
. All yours.'

But she didn't answer, the line of her jaw tense. She felt wretched, torn between a sense of duty towards her godmother and her reluctance to spoil Paolo's holiday, which he had gone to such pains to organise.

Paolo found her in the sitting room. He was almost naked, with a narrow brief covering him, his virility only the more appealing with that edge of mystery; and despite having her mind on other things, Venetia couldn't help the instinctive arousal that stirred her body at this view. Built like an athlete, he was so tall and broad that he almost dwarfed the furniture in the room, not only with his bulk but with his personality. No wonder he had made short work of Umberto and his bodyguard.

Seeing her expression, he frowned. ‘
Sembri preoccupata, cara,
you seem worried. Was
Signora
Lombardi not happy with your announcement of our engagement?'

‘No, no, not at all,' Venetia reassured him. ‘I haven't been able to reach
Zia
. Ugo, her husband, was taken ill outside the office this morning and was rushed to hospital. They think he's had a heart attack.'

‘Dio mio.
' In two strides he was beside her, his hands on her shoulders. ‘
Cara
, you mustn't worry. We'll leave immediately for Venice. I'll take care of the arrangements and we'll be there before tonight, I promise.'

‘But Paolo, this will spoil the whole week… all the trouble you've taken to organise this wonderful holiday, and…'

‘There'll be time enough for that,' he said, ignoring her protests. ‘I think there's a plane from Alghero that leaves for Pisa at midday. We can then drive to Venice. My car is already at Galileo Galilei.'

‘I'm not going to have you drive all the way to Venice. I'll fly.'

He cocked his head to one side. ‘You think that I will let you go alone to Venice to face
una tragedia indescrivibile
? What sort of a man do you think I am, eh?'

He made her feel so soothed and protected, and so much stronger just by his presence. Venetia smiled, trailing her fingers over the scarred skin of his powerful chest. ‘I think you're the most wonderful man in the world, and I love you.'

Paolo closed his eyes, unmoving, and she felt him shudder under her touch.

‘Don't do that,
cara
,' he breathed, clasping her hand and gently pushing it away. ‘There's a limit to a man's willpower. If you continue down that road, I doubt we'll be in Venice even in a month's time.'

Venetia moved away a little. He stood there watching her. Looking at him standing, half-naked, his gaze so intense, it was as much as she could do not to test his willpower. His deep blue irises were stroking each of her features, tracing them as graphically as if it were his lips that were making that journey. She smiled impishly. ‘And I promise, Paolo, that I'll make it up to you.'

* * *

They arrived in Venice late afternoon and went straight to
Ospedale dell'Angelo.
Throughout the whole journey from Sardinia, Venetia had tried to call her godmother but, without a room number for Ugo, the switchboard employee could not be of any help, and she still hadn't been able to get through to Giovanna on her mobile. Feeling deeply embarrassed and guilty for having ruined Paolo's plans, nevertheless she strived to appear calm, almost phlegmatic, even though she was intensely worried. She tried to persuade him to leave after he had dropped her off at the hospital, but Paolo flatly refused to go before she had met up with Giovanna.

‘
Non posso andarmene prima di aver trovato la Signora Lombardi
, I can't leave before we've found
la Signora
Lombardi.'

‘Oh, Paolo, you've put yourself out enough for me today… You've had no sleep, you drove all day yesterday. You must be so tired.'

‘Don't argue,
cara
, I've told you before I'm never tired when I'm with you – I'd feel far more anxious if I left now and didn't know how things were. I promise that when we find
Signora
Lombardi I'll not intrude, and if I'm not needed I'll go, all right?'

They were lucky to find a parking place in the very restricted car park of the hospital. Having been given hardly any information for an hour, they finally learnt from one of the doctors that
Signor
Ugo Lombardi was in intensive care. He'd had a heart attack, but the situation was now under control and he was out of danger. However, they wanted to keep him in intensive care for twenty-four hours to be on the safe side.
La Signora
had been asked to go home, as there was nothing she could do at this stage and
Signor
Lombardi would hopefully be out in a couple of days. Having seen the test results, the doctors realised that his condition seemed to be less serious than they had originally thought.

Venetia was relieved. She hated the smell and the feel of hospitals and, besides, she had the impression that Paolo shared her aversion. Although he didn't say anything, he was subdued while she spoke to the doctors and, noting the shades of pain that clouded his eyes, she sensed that a sort of malaise had overcome him. He was probably reliving the time he'd spent in hospital after the accident, she told herself. And yet the degree of his restlessness the longer they stayed surprised her.

They spoke little on the way out of the hospital, or on the drive through the centre of town, heading for Giovanna's penthouse.

Paolo parked the car at the municipal car park at Piazza le Roma in Santa Croce and they picked up his launch at the Venice Marittima Port, a stone's throw away.

‘I'll wait for you at Fritelli. Meet me there when you've finished with your godmother and we can have dinner,' he told Venetia when they finally arrived at the pier of Piazza San Marco.

‘You might as well come with me, Paolo, and we can announce our engagement to
Zia
. It'll help cheer her up.'

‘Are you sure I won't be intruding?' He looked at her warily.

She nodded. ‘Quite sure –
Zia
will be delighted about the news. If she hasn't had dinner, we can take her to Fritelli together.'

When they arrived at Bella Vista and enquired at the security desk if
Signora
Lombardi was at home, the friendly porter told them that she had arrived an hour ago and that as far as he knew, she had not come down again. They were taken up in the lift by a smart bellboy dressed in a black and green uniform – Venetia had always liked this little touch of ceremony, of the kind you would find at a hotel or a smart department store. It was so like charming, old-fashioned Ugo to give his building this element of luxury; a little pompous perhaps but it had a lot of panache.

Giovanna Lombardi was surprised but relieved to see her goddaughter. ‘I'm so glad you've come,' she said, ushering her and Paolo into the apartment and sitting them down on one of her sumptuous sofas. ‘Just as I was about to call you from the hospital, my stupid mobile gave up on me and I had no way of contacting you. It's been horrible – I really thought Ugo was at death's door.
Grazie a Dio
, the doctors have said he's now out of danger. It was only a mild attack and he'll be back to normal in a couple of weeks.'

She was delighted when Venetia told her of the engagement. ‘Isn't it rather sudden?' she enquired in a low voice, once Paolo had gone out into the hall to ring the restaurant. Giovanna looked at her goddaughter with a twinkle in her eye. ‘After all, I thought you didn't particularly like the man. If I remember rightly, I had to twist your arm to take the assignment and that was only a few days ago.'

Venetia smiled ruefully, recalling how difficult she had made things at the beginning. ‘I think we fell in love almost from the first minute we met, but I was still haunted by my experience with Judd.'

‘Have you told him about all that?'

‘Yes.'

‘And the loss of your baby?'

‘Yes.'

‘And?'

‘And nothing – he listened and we moved on.'

Giovanna looked surprised. ‘He's rather broadminded for an Italian.'

‘He's a widower himself.'

‘Oh… I see… Actually, it could be a marriage made in heaven – you've both suffered a great loss.' Giovanna patted her goddaughter's hand gently.

‘Yes, I honestly think we're made for each other.'

‘If that's the case, then it's a wonderful thing. You look well, and happier than I've seen you for years. Oh, the radiance of love!' Giovanna smiled and kissed her affectionately. The words were light but Venetia caught some undercurrent beneath them and her godmother's eyes looked faintly anxious as she added, ‘Perhaps you'll be the one to tame him. Anyhow, there's no rush for the wedding – that's what the engagement period is for.'

Venetia was wondering what reply to make to this when the door opened.

‘I've reserved us a table at Rigoletto,' Paolo announced, coming back into the room.

‘Oh, Paolo, isn't that a little over the top?' Venetia's sleek eyebrows shot up. Rigoletto was reputed to have the best dining room in Venice and it was very expensive. It had been around for more than six decades and unlike many fad restaurants that appeared and disappeared within a short period, Rigoletto had kept its impeccable high standards over the years, renovating its menus to reflect modern times while the décor was kept unchanged to reflect the nostalgic atmosphere of yesteryear.