The Echoes of Love (34 page)

Her sigh whispered between them as he searched for her lips, his kiss melting her inside and then spreading through her whole body. They broke apart and Venetia met his sapphire eyes shining intensely as she searched them with her own. ‘Though I feel as if I've known you forever, I realise I have a lot to learn about you, don't I?'

‘You're doing fine,
amore mio
! These last hours I've spent with you have given me more happiness than I can ever remember.' He smiled a mischievous smile. ‘That is, even if my memory only goes back ten years.'

Venetia's eyes then filled with a soft light. She couldn't bear to think of the ordeal he had suffered, and continued to suffer. ‘Oh Paolo, I promise I'll furnish your memory with so many golden times that it'll be a treasure book to replace the old ones, and all you ever need.'

‘Let me take you away for a few days,
cara
, so we can begin to fill this wonderful album then. Where would you like to go?' He nipped her chin with his thumb and forefinger.

‘Are you really asking me to choose?'

‘
Naturalmente.
The world is vast and I'll take you wherever you fancy.'

Venetia's crystal laugh filled the room. ‘You're so extreme, Paolo – I don't need the world, though it's very sweet of you to offer. There are so many places in Italy that I haven't explored. I've always wanted to visit Sardinia, I suppose, and never had the opportunity, and apparently it's quite unspoilt compared with the other islands. I usually go back to England for Easter, but my father is spending the holiday in Scotland with friends this year, so I was thinking of going back to Venice next week, on Good Friday, to spend it with my godmother.'

‘Sardinia is a wonderful idea. I myself would also have chosen one of the islands of Italy.' He had his hands locked behind her waist, arching an eyebrow as his secret smile returned, ‘And Sardinia is my favourite – it has a unique way of celebrating Easter. Events take place all through the holy week. The Monday before Easter, the
Lunissanti
, is a very emotional ceremony in Castelsardo that starts at dawn and ends at nightfall. If we leave by plane from Pisa to Alghero tomorrow, we could be in Castelsardo in time for the evening procession, which is the most moving part of the event.
Bene
. I'll rent a car for the week from the airport.
Me ne occupo immediatamente
, I'll make arrangements at once
.
'

But Venetia was wrestling with doubts. Everything was going a little too quickly. She remembered Nanny Horren's favourite saying: ‘
The devil takes a hand in what's done in haste.'
If she were sensible, she wouldn't be going anywhere with him, at least not yet.

‘Are you sure? You don't want to think about it?'

‘What is there to think about,
cara
?'

‘You're so impulsive, Paolo! And then, it's a whole week you're talking about here, not just the Easter weekend. We haven't yet gone through the documentation of your project. Is it very wise?'

Venetia knew she was making excuses, playing for time… all she needed really was a little push to get her to cross the slim line between
Maybe not
and
Why not?

Paolo gazed down at her. ‘Venetia, you must take the oppor-tunity when it arises.
Life's too short
is my motto, and so I make sure that important things come first. Spending a few days together in a beautiful place to get to know each other better is what counts for me,
carina.
All the rest is
senza importanza.
' He gestured dismissively.

‘You definitely don't waste any time.'

A spasm of pain crossed his face. ‘Having lost one life, I've been very fortunate to be allowed a second chance at living, and I intend to do that to the full and not waste a single moment in procrastination. I accept what is given to me today and I intend to enjoy it all.'

And as Venetia met his deep-blue brooding eyes she realised her decision was made.

She went back to La Sirena to start packing. There was a dress she was particularly fond of that she wanted to take with her, but it was missing a button. She went looking for Ernestina to ask for a needle and thread and found her sitting at the door of the stables with Antonio and Rufus. The dog sprang forward, barking ferociously as Venetia walked towards the housekeeper, and she leapt back, her heart pounding. She was not usually afraid of dogs, but she found Rufus intimidating.

It took Antonio a few seconds before he ordered the beast to sit down quietly. He smiled at Venetia slyly. ‘You mustn't show that you're scared of him,
signorina
. Rufus is usually a friendly dog, but animals, they can smell fear. Intelligent creatures, dogs. See, Rufus, here, knows he's frightening you. He feels threatened, and that makes him act up.'

Ernestina shook her head. ‘How many times has the
signore
told you to keep that animal in check, eh? One day he's going zto injure somebody,' she told the caretaker reprovingly. ‘You were looking for me,
signorina
?'

‘Yes, I was wondering if you could lend me a needle and some purple thread. I need to sew back a button on one of my dresses.'

Ernestina beamed, showing off her brilliant white teeth. ‘I have a box full of threads of all tints and colours,
signorina
. Give me the dress and I will match the thread and sew the button on for you.'

‘Are you sure? I wouldn't want to trouble you.'

‘There's no trouble,
signorina.
'

‘That's very kind of you.'

‘
E'un piacere servire la signorina
. It's a pleasure to serve the
signorina.
'

At that point, Antonio whistled at Rufus to follow him and lumbered off. The two women walked back together to the cottage. Venetia took the dress out of the cupboard. A beautiful Parigi purple chiffon dress with a puffball full, short skirt and low-backed ruched bodice, it fastened at the side with twelve tiny buttons made of the same material.

‘Oh,
signorina
, you will steal the spotlight wherever you go in this!' The housekeeper passed her hand lovingly over the flounces of material. ‘The colour is
squisito
.' Then, noticing Venetia's suitcase open on the table, she frowned. ‘But you are leaving us already?'

‘No, no, no, just for Easter,' Venetia answered quickly, hoping that she wouldn't pursue her interrogation.

At that moment there was a knock at the door. It was Paolo coming to take her out for lunch.

‘Are you ready,
amore mio
?' He almost entered the room and then stopped in the doorway as he noticed the housekeeper holding the dress. This time he merely looked at Venetia, completely unembarrassed by Ernestina's presence.

‘
Oh, com'è bella!
What a beautiful dress,
cara
. In it you will look like a purple butterfly, so dainty,
così eterea,
so ethereal
.
'

Ernestina was eyeing them with her bird-like glance and Venetia felt herself flushing.

‘Give me the button that's missing,
signorina
. I'll sew it back on and return it to your room. You'll find it done when you come home after lunch.'

‘Thank you, Ernestina.'

The housekeeper left, carrying the dress. Paolo turned to Venetia. ‘
Andiamo
?'

‘Yes, I'm ready.'

‘Have you finished packing?'

‘Almost, there's only that dress and my wash bag.'

‘Splendid then, let's go for lunch.'

That afternoon, after lunch, they worked solidly, going over the plans, assessing, arguing. Venetia made suggestions, many of them in direct contradiction with the original designs, and though Paolo listened, discussed, and gave his ideas, she noticed that if the plans didn't comply with her propositions, he usually altered the project here and there as they went along in accordance with her advice, almost encouraging her to make it her own. They functioned well together, taking pleasure in each other's company, entering into each other's enthusiasms. She was amazed at the way they got on, their brains clicking with the same perfection and compatibility as their bodies had shown that morning. They sparked off each other and when they disagreed on a point, it was only because their contrasting ideas complemented one another.

Paolo laid his hand on hers as they were studying the plans spread out on the table in front of them. ‘I'm happy that you've taken on this assignment, Venetia,' he said, grinning and curling his arm around her waist, pulling her gently towards him, ‘not only because it will keep you near me, but also because you're a brilliant architect and restorer, with a flair and taste that I've seldom seen. For any other firm, it would just be another contract; they would look at the project from a purely business point of view but I know that you will look at it with the eyes of your heart. You'll weigh all the elements: aesthetics, history, conservation, and business too, and you'll give each aspect its fair due without compromising on any one of them.' He cocked his head and his eyes shone with admiration and love.

Venetia blushed and smiled playfully, holding on to his forearms. ‘Well, that's certainly a vote of confidence,
Signor
Barone, which I hope I'll live up to. I must admit that, to start off with, I didn't want to get involved with the project for reasons that you might have guessed.' She looked up at him shyly through her long lashes. ‘But although it's a challenge, now that I've visited the site and seen the plans I'm really very excited about it.'

In the late afternoon they went for a stroll in the garden. Paolo had a firm arm about Venetia's shoulders. The clear golden sunshine crowned the hills. They couldn't see the sea, it was behind them, but the hills were beauty enough to gaze at and lose oneself in for hours at a time; and besides, they didn't need the scenery, they had each other.

‘I've been starved of the warm, sweet touch of a woman and I'm hungry for more of you. I had read about this wonderful feeling… I'd heard other men talk about it and still I hadn't found it, until today, in your arms.' Paolo's eyes were intense, wandering over the scenery and then back to Venetia as he spoke.

Venetia gazed up at him, seeing above her his wide shoulders rampant with masculine force and his strong protectiveness. She wondered how such a hulk of a man could be so vulnerable, and she leaned further into him as they walked, immersing herself happily in that thought. They sat on the edge of a fountain that played in a round stone lily pond and watched the goldfish swim out their circular lives.

At this hour, the garden was teaming with birdsong. A blackbird, perched on the branch of a small pine tree, was sending forth his notes, which tumbled out on to the air like a little fairy trill cascading over invisible stones. Here and there, he seemed so thrilled with the loveliness of his own song that he got the notes all jumbled up and they came out like a veritable splotch of music. From a distance away somewhere, a mistle thrush sent out his ringing like a question:
Did-he-do-it? Did-he-do-it?
And from farther away still came the cawing conversation of rooks. Venetia could see their black shapes flapping about the sky, the outlines ragged. They might have been pieces of black paper caught up and blown about in the wind. She revelled in the calm beauty of it all. The air, only just moving in a light breeze, felt clean, and it was so soft, passing like folds of invisible velvet over her skin. She hadn't felt as happy and serene since those far-off days when she used to go for walks with Judd in Kew Gardens.

Later, Paolo and Venetia had dinner on the
terrazzo
among the dwarf potted lemon and orange trees and the large Etruscan urns overflowing with flowers
.
All around them was the scent of freesias, whose sweet fragrance rose like incense from the sunken garden to the terrace.
They watched as the sun slipped steadily lower and lower, chasing the long shadows from the valleys, and with remarkable swiftness changed its golden flame for coral-red, as bright as a branding iron. The sea turned purple, and above, the sky darkened and began to glow with the phosphorescence of night. Then, overpowering everything else, the Tuscan islands of the Tyrrhenian Sea started to shine and blaze with hot ochre light. It seemed as if the sea itself was steaming from the immersion of these burnt-sugar creatures, covered with ice-green lichens that here and there occurred and vanished in the broad consuming glow.

After dinner, Paolo walked Venetia back to La Sirena. The moon was shining, the stars winking at them happily in the navy velvet canopy above. The sea was like a table of amethyst liquid, glistening with moonlight. In the distance, the Port of Santo Stefano wore her lights as a woman wears her diamonds, sparkling and glowing against the darker bulk of the hills behind. There was something infinitely peaceful and refreshing now that the sun had gone down; the air was as wine – cool and reviving, intoxicating the lovers.

Paolo stopped at the doorway. Their eyes met for a brief moment as Venetia hesitated, and in that instant she was conscious of every detail about him, which was enough to send wild yearning surging through her. She shivered.

‘Let's go in,' he murmured.

‘Oh, Paolo,' she breathed as he tried to pick her up, while fire shot to life inside her. ‘We have a long way to go tomorrow. You need to have a good rest. You'll be driving, and you mustn't be tired.' Her voice was gentle to match the quiet of the night.

He gazed down at her. ‘I'm never tired when I'm with you.'

‘Well, perhaps just a small nightcap.' A little smile flickered around her mouth. ‘But you must promise me that you'll go back to the house after. I don't want to be worrying tomorrow.' She looked at him shyly.