From Venice With Love (10 page)

‘Tell me about Siegfried,’ he said.

‘No.’ The refusal was absolute. Charlotte pulled her hand away and turned to stare out of the window.

Nico leaned back against the seat, letting his head rest on the lace-covered cushion. ‘I’m a patient man,’ he said lightly. ‘We have the rest of today. And
all
night.’

He couldn’t miss the way Charlotte’s chest heaved as she gasped silently. Struggling for control? Interesting. He was getting somewhere, at least.

Nico watched her profile closely. ‘We are in this extraordinary place and time and we never have to see each other again after tomorrow. I believe I have something to learn from you, Carlotta. And I think that maybe you have something to learn from me.’

He touched her arm and she flinched. Nico sighed. He should give up. Accept that Charlotte wasn’t prepared or ready to learn anything. Except he didn’t believe that. She just had to unbutton herself a little more. And if she did that, maybe he would get the answers to the mystery of why she’d changed so much. And then his fascination with her would fade and his life could get back to normal.

‘In order to learn something,’ he offered carefully, ‘maybe you have to be prepared to admit that there’s something you don’t know. To be open. And honest. Being honest makes you vulnerable, I know that. But I’ve been honest with you.’

Charlotte nodded. ‘You have.’

‘More than honest. I’ve told you something that I’ve never told anyone else. That I never
will
tell anyone else. Something that I see as…shameful. What kind of man am I if I cannot fall in love or be the kind of husband and father a woman would want?’

She was still struggling. Did she even realise that she was shaking her head very slowly? That her hands were gripping each other tightly enough to have cut off any useful supply of blood?

‘You have the power to hurt me, Charlotte, if you
chose to share that information with anyone. I’m trusting you not to do that.’

The slow headshake turned into an equally measured nod. A promise.

Nico lowered his voice to something just above a whisper as he touched her again. And this time she didn’t flinch. ‘You can trust me.’ He cleared his throat and spoke more strongly. ‘So…will you do me the honour of being honest with me?’

Dio
, that had disturbing echoes of some kind of marriage proposal. Except it wasn’t, of course, so he didn’t need to feel as if he was getting completely out of his depth.

Even when Charlotte raised her eyes to his and he could see that she wanted to tell him.

Wanted to trust him.

She was just having to gather so much courage that it broke his heart to watch.

‘I loved him.’ She finally choked the words out. ‘I thought he loved me. But he wanted…I couldn’t…’ There was agony coating the words now. ‘We weren’t…
compatible.’

There was another message in her eyes now. One that said Charlotte was unbearably alone in the world but that there was nothing she could do about it.

Nico sighed again, more heavily this time, as though utterly defeated. He held out his arms and gathered Charlotte to his chest.

And held her while she cried.

‘T
HERE
’
S NOTHING LIKE
a
proper
afternoon tea, is there?’ Lady Geraldine sighed happily as she stirred sugar into her second cup and listened appreciatively to the sound of silverware tapping against real bone china. ‘Did you know you can buy these lovely cups and saucers from the gift shop?’

‘I’ll have to have a look. I’m planning to go there after this.’

Lady Geraldine couldn’t help noticing the glow of Winsome’s smile. Her old friend certainly looked very happy these days. She could return the smile easily. She had a lot to be happy about herself at the moment.

Like meeting an old friend unexpectedly. Being on her once-in-a-lifetime dream journey. Actually sitting in this famous bar carriage with the pianist now in residence playing some soft, classical music interspersed with Christmas carols. Remembering Charlotte playing on the beautiful instrument earlier when it had been the first time she’d heard her in so many years. Could it be that it was Nico who was bringing back the part of her granddaughter she’d been missing for so long?

She picked up the elegant white cup with the blue
ribbon pattern around its rim and the VSOE logo under a small crown. ‘Maybe a set of these would make a lovely engagement gift for my Charlotte and her Nico.’

‘You said they’d only met yesterday? In Venice? When they both saved that man’s life?’

‘Yes…’ Lady Geraldine pushed aside that tiny niggle of doubt. ‘But they’d met before. Years ago, at Charlotte’s hospital. Fate has just thrown them back together and…’ She sighed again. ‘It’s obviously meant to be. Like your Connor and…what was her name again?’

The conversation paused for a moment as the steward removed the plates that had contained tiny sandwiches and replaced it with a platter of warm scones, adding small silver pots of jam and clotted cream.

‘Mmm…’ Lady Geraldine eyed the cream. ‘Proper Cornish clotted cream, by the look of that.’

‘Kelsie,’ Winsome said as she followed her friend’s example and picked up one of the scones. ‘Kelsie Summers. But I don’t think she and Connor are about to fall into each other’s arms like your Charlotte and Nico. She jilted him, in fact, fifteen years ago and I have the feeling he hasn’t forgiven her.’

‘Really
?’ Lady Geraldine had spread the jam and clotted cream onto her scone and was just about to take her first bite but the conversation had just become more enticing than the calorie-laden treat. ‘They must have been very young. Oh,
do
tell…’

They both dropped their voices to a more discreet level and Lady Geraldine listened to the story with avid interest. Young love could be such a fragile thing, couldn’t it? She had to hope that there wouldn’t be
any unforeseen twists in the road ahead for Charlotte and Nico.

She finally turned her attention back to her scone but her expression was thoughtful.

‘We might be able to help things along,’ she suggested.

‘What do you mean?’

‘The dinner seating is very strict, I hear.’

‘It certainly is. I’ve tried to change tables at the last minute on some of my previous journeys and it almost never happens.’

‘It’s not the last minute yet,’ Lady Geraldine said firmly. ‘And if we both had a little chat to the maître d’, I’m sure we could persuade him to juggle things a little.’

‘In what way?’

‘By making an extra table available. We’ve still got a lot of catching up to do, haven’t we? We haven’t even started talking about that terrible business with Deirdre Wilkins defrauding the charity so that she could run off to the Maldives with that “personal” trainer of hers.’

Lady Geraldine knew her smile would reveal how much she enjoyed an occasional bit of juicy gossip. ‘If we asked to be seated together, that would mean leaving both your Connor and this Kelsie and my Charlotte and the lovely Nico alone at their tables.’

‘Yes…If we could make sure they gave them a table for two or didn’t put another couple to join them at one of the bigger tables.’

‘It would be so romantic, wouldn’t it? Everybody dressed up and the lighting all soft and lots of delicious champagne to add to the atmosphere?’

Winsome was smiling. ‘Why don’t we ask our nice
steward to go and see if the maître d’ might be able to spare us a minute or two?’

Charlotte drifted towards consciousness with reluctance.

She had never felt so comfortable. So relaxed. So
safe
. She was floating, supported by a strength she knew she could trust. Cradled against it and it was warm and…moving?

Yes. A steady, gentle movement like breathing. And there was an equally steady but gentle thumping against her ear.

A sound she normally only heard through a stethoscope.

Awareness of where she was kicked in. Or should that be who she was with?

Asleep on, in fact?

‘Ohhh…’ Charlotte pushed herself upright with a groan. ‘I fell
asleep
?’

‘You did.’ There was amusement in Nico’s tone. And a tenderness that touched something that felt raw inside Charlotte.

The last thing she remembered was bursting into tears and Nico holding her. She’d expected him to want more information about what had gone so wrong with her relationship with Siegfried. For her to define what she’d meant by being incompatible. But he hadn’t asked anything. He’d offered her comfort instead, as though he understood. As though everything could somehow be put right.

And it had been too much for Charlotte. Her defences had collapsed completely and she’d sobbed out the tears
that had been bottled up for years and years. And then she must have been overcome by sheer exhaustion and fallen asleep.

And he’d just continued to hold her?

‘How long?’ Charlotte put a hand to her hair, which felt like a rat’s nest. She closed her eyes in disbelief and found that her eyelashes felt all clumpy when she blinked. She probably had mascara all over her face. She opened them again. The short winter’s day was ending already and it was dark outside but their cabin was glowing in the soft light from a lamp on the table. ‘How long have I been asleep?’

Nico was tilting his head to one side and then the other, stretching his neck. ‘I wasn’t watching the clock.’ He smiled. ‘I may have dozed off myself, in fact.’

Charlotte could feel a smile stirring. A joke about them sleeping together forming.

‘Only until the steward woke me to tell me about Jendi.’

The smile and joke evaporated. ‘What? Oh, my God…and you didn’t wake me? What was wrong? Why—?’

Nico put a finger against her lips and the gentle pressure stopped her anxious flow of words.

‘He merely came to ask if I could accompany her to the bar for the afternoon tea she had arranged to have with Mrs Black. As soon as he saw that I was…ah…otherwise occupied, he said it was no problem, he would accompany her himself and ensure that she didn’t lose her balance.’

Charlotte couldn’t believe she could have slept through the whole exchange. ‘I’m sorry,’ she muttered.
‘I must have been more tired than I realised. I…um…didn’t sleep much last night.’

‘Of course not. You’re worried about your
nonna.’

‘Mmm. That, too…’

She saw the flash of understanding in his eyes as he considered what else might have been keeping her awake. Like that kiss…

Distraction was needed. Charlotte looked around. The bottle of champagne was still sitting in the bucket. There were a few small cubes of ice floating on the water inside. Nico must have followed her glance.

‘It may still be cold enough,’ he said. ‘Shall we have a toast?’

‘To what?’

‘To making this evening as enjoyable as possible? For everyone involved. It will be time to get ready for dinner before long, I expect.’ Nico was dealing with the foil on the champagne bottle. ‘We need to prepare ourselves to put on a good show.’ The cork came out with a satisfying ‘pop’. He smiled that slow, easy, irresistible grin as he filled the glasses and held one out to Charlotte. ‘Dutch courage?’

‘Will I need it?’ And then Charlotte remembered what her hair and face must look like and she smiled ruefully. ‘Don’t answer that. I know I look a complete mess.’ She took a sip of her drink. ‘It’s just as well I won’t see you again after tomorrow. I would be mortified. I can’t think of anyone who’s ever seen me look this terrible.’

Apart from Siegfried, of course. Charlotte took a longer sip of the wine.

Nico touched his glass to hers. ‘You are beautiful, Carlotta.’

He looked as though he believed the words. He was giving her
that
look again. Like the one he’d given her last night. And again, in the gift shop. But why? There was no one around to see. He didn’t have to pretend here.

And hadn’t he told her that she was safe because she was so completely not
his
type?

She wanted to be his type. Heaven help her but she wanted Nico to kiss her again.

Dammit. Where were her safety barriers when she needed them? At the very least she needed to break their eye contact but it seemed impossible.

Charlotte searched for a barrier she could put up to protect herself but couldn’t find a trace of one. All she could find was a memory of how it had felt to know that Nico had shared his shameful secret with her and how cathartic it had been to finally share her own with another living person. How it had felt to wake up in Nico’s arms.

How was it possible to feel so vulnerable and yet so safe at exactly the same time?

She still couldn’t break the eye contact either. And Nico wasn’t looking away. Charlotte could feel the distance between them closing. The kiss that she wanted so badly was only a heartbeat away.

Until a knock sounded on the cabin door.

‘Dr Moretti? Dr Highton?’ The steward sounded as if the matter was urgent. ‘I’m sorry to disturb you, but you are both needed.’

It was just as well the moment had been broken by the interruption.

Perhaps it had been a mistake to let Charlotte sleep in his arms for so long but what else could he have done?

The depth of pain he’d heard in those words ‘
not compatible’
. They couldn’t have had anything other than a sexual reference and for it to be so hard for Charlotte to have uttered them meant they were the key to the puzzle of what had changed her so much.

A horrible suspicion had formed in Nico’s mind. Something unthinkable. So dark it couldn’t be given a name. So horrific all he’d been able to do was hold onto this damaged woman as he’d tried to fit in the other pieces of the puzzle and control the rush of pure fury on her behalf.

He had to control it. Nico hadn’t known if his assumption was correct. Maybe Charlotte would never tell him and even if she did, what on earth could
he
do about it?

Nothing, that’s what. It was none of his business. Not his problem. But it would provide an explanation to the mystery and that was what he’d wanted, wasn’t it?

So Nico had done nothing. Said nothing. As the minutes had ticked by he’d continued to do nothing and that was when he’d felt Charlotte’s heartbroken sobbing subside. When the exhaustion in her body had taken over. When she’d slipped into a peaceful, bone-deep slumber.

He could have eased himself away at that point, found a pillow and blanket to make her comfortable on the seat. Or carried her to a bunk, maybe, and left her to sleep for an hour or two. What was it about this
bizarre situation he’d been caught up in since early yesterday morning that made it impossible to walk away?

He could have ignored Charlotte when he’d first seen her crying on the terrace below his window. He certainly hadn’t needed to come up with the dangerous notion of posing as her lover, let alone shoving a ring on her finger. And he could have found an excuse not to accompany the women on this train journey.

But he hadn’t. Every step of the way he had hesitated and then been drawn in deeper by something he couldn’t explain. And if the steward hadn’t rapped on the door at that particular moment, he would have kissed Charlotte again.

More than kissed her, actually. He could have asked gentle questions with his mouth and his hands that would have confirmed what he suspected was the answer to the puzzle that had intrigued him ever since he’d recognised Charlotte on that cobbled Venetian street.

He would have got answers to those questions, he was sure of that. Just as sure as he was of the fact that Charlotte had
wanted
him to kiss her. He had seen that desire darken her eyes and soften her lips and he’d felt that knowledge kindle his own flame because it was part of what intrigued him so much. The contradictions. The ice queen on the surface and the woman capable of such deep emotion within. Was the single, ultimately professional doctor desperately in need of physical release, possibly without being consciously aware of it?

Whatever. The desire had been wiped from her eyes the moment that sharp rap had sounded on the door and the tone of the steward’s voice had told them that they were not only needed but needed urgently.

Charlotte’s assumption was, of course, that Jendi had become ill. She moved swiftly to wrench open the cabin door.

‘It’s my grandmother, isn’t it? She needs us?’

The steward nodded. ‘Only you, Dr Highton. She’s asking for assistance to get dressed for dinner.’

‘But you said you needed both of us.’

‘Yes. I’m hoping that Dr Moretti could come with me to see another passenger in the carriage who requires a doctor. He thinks he might be having a heart attack.’

Nico could actually feel his professional persona taking over. Smothering anything personal, like his desire to kiss Charlotte. There was still a flicker of something personal there, though. He stepped closer, needing to touch her, and put his hand on her shoulder.

‘You go and help your
nonna,’
he told her. ‘I’ll deal with this.’

‘But…’ Was it his imagination or did Charlotte lean into his hand a little, as if she was trying to return the touch? Her gaze caught his and he could read the message so easily. She was reminding him of what he’d told her grandmother only hours ago. That, together, they made an amazing team.