Lucy Gordon - Wedding in Venice

"So much that I do seems to annoy you," he said. "I've learned to tread carefully. I'm really very scared of you."

"Don't be absurd," she said, laughing despite herself.

What could you do with a man who talked like this, except smile back at him and feel that the day had become brighter?

To give herself a moment she turned away to lean on the railing overlooking the Grand Canal. Riccardo came to stand close behind her.

"There's something I must tell you," he said quietly.

"What?"

"That I've thought about nothing but you since we said good night."

"Nothing but me?" Justine asked lightly. "I hope you gave some thought to the food as well."

Riccardo didn't answer at first, but turned her to look at him.

"It's no good," he said at last. "You can't make a joke of it. That won't solve the problem. And somehow we have to find a way to solve it."

"So you admit it's a problem?"

"Of course it's a problem when a man has fallen in love with a woman, and she -"

"Don't you dare say that I'm in love with you," she spit out.

"How can I? I don't know, any more than you do. I only know that you're fighting it – fighting me. And you're angry with me. Can't you tell me why?"

"You know why," she murmured. "I don't want to feel what I'm feeling. I've got my life in such good order, and you're threatening everything."

"No, I'm only threatening the bolts and bars with which you try to imprison yourself."

"You think I want to be locked in there?"

"Partly, yes. Prison can be a very comforting place. You know where everything is. But I won't let you cling to it. When the wedding is over, I shall be back, knocking on the door."

"And you're so sure that I'll open it for you?"

"No, I'm not sure at all. I'm never sure with you. Perhaps that's why it has to be you and no other."

The sound of voices from inside the building drew them back to reality.

"I must go," he said reluctantly. "But I'll be back."

He would have turned away, but Justine detained him with her hands on his shoulders, just long enough to kiss him gently.

"Yes," she said. "You must come back."

The next day saw the first wedding, that of the count and Liza, a small, private occasion that took place in a side chapel of St. Mark's Basilica. The day after, it was Dulcie and Guido's turn.

No city in the world staged a wedding like Venice. It was normal for a bride to go to the church in a gondola, but Guido sometimes amused himself by being a part-time gondolier, and many of his friends had turned out for the occasion. At least twenty gondolas escorted Dulcie down the Grand Canal from the Rialto Bridge to the landing stage at St. Mark's.

Justine took pictures to her heart's content, traveling just ahead of the convoy in a motorboat. Landing first, she was able to witness Dulcie's arrival at the great church.

When the bride and groom emerged from the basilica together Justine took her final pictures and raced for the motorboat, to be whisked back to the palazzo and start frantically downloading. When she'd finished, she joined the reception for her final shots, which she took between mouthfuls of wedding cake.

At last the tables were cleared away for the dancing to begin. Dulcie and Guido took the floor, to applause. Gradually the other guests joined them, until everyone seemed to be dancing, except Justine.

The music was sweet and sensuous, disturbing her vaguely. Nobody should listen to music like that without dancing to it.

"You look tired," said a sympathetic voice at her shoulder.

She turned and saw Riccardo holding out a glass of champagne to her. She drained it thankfully.

"Hey, Riccardo" came Guido's cheerful voice as he danced past with his bride in his arms. "Your duties are finished. From now on you're our guest.

Riccardo smiled and nodded, taking Justine's hand.

"Dance with me," he said.

As if in a dream she circled the floor with him, feeling the movement of his legs, the closeness of his body to hers, and knowing that she had been waiting for this all day.

She had expected him to talk, trying to dazzle her with words again, but instead he looked at her tenderly, in silence, until she could sense that he was caught in the same dream.

Then there was a small commotion. Marco and Harriet were dancing together, absorbed in each other as she hadn't seen them before.

Justine remembered Dulcie's prediction that they were more in love than they thought, and reckoned it might be true. Everyone else thought so, too, because suddenly they were crowding around them, demanding that they set the date for their own wedding.

Justine didn't stay to hear what happened. Riccardo had clasped her hand and was drawing her out into the garden.

The garden was flooded with light from the colored lamps hung between the trees. Guests milled everywhere.

"Let us escape them," Riccardo said, drawing Justine beneath the trees, and not stopping until they had reached the furthest part of the garden.

Once there he wasted no time before taking her into his arms. Justine went willingly. It was no use pretending to herself that she didn't want to kiss him. She wanted it passionately.

He had said he'd thought of nothing but her, and she knew now that everything that had happened to her in those few days, everything she'd seen or heard or done, had simply been another way of waiting for him.

Once before she had come alive in his arms, high on the roof, under the stars. Some part of her was still living in that moment, ready and eager for his touch.

The words he wanted to hear were hard for her, but her mouth spoke to him just the same, caressing his with skill and joy, saying things that could not be said aloud, and eliciting a response that thrilled her. She could feel the excitement mounting but was no longer sure whether it was his or her own. Where did he end and she begin?

"I mustn't kiss you too much," he said at last, huskily, drawing back. "It's dangerous."

She laughed recklessly. "What's wrong with a little danger? I thought you were the kind of man who enjoyed it."

"Don't provoke me, Justine, I'm almost at the end of my control already."

"Then let's be sedate and well behaved," she said, forcing herself to back away from him. It was hard because she was as fired up as he.

She went to the stone wall and looked out over the water.

"Look there," Riccardo said. "Do you recognize them?"

A solitary gondola was gliding out from the palazzo. Justine could see Dulcie reclining in her wedding gown, while Guido took the oar.

"He's got a tiny apartment tucked away somewhere," she said. "Dulcie said they're spending their honeymoon there, away from the world. What an incredibly romantic way to end a wedding!"

"Romantic. Meaning that you disapprove?"

"I wish them well. I hope they'll be the one couple in the world to prove that it can work the way it's supposed to.

"Don't forget the promise you made me, not to leave without seeing me again," he reminded her.

"I've seen you twice since then."

"Not the way I meant. I'll call for you in the boat tomorrow morning and take you – well, wait and see."

"I may have other things to do tomorrow."

His answer was to wrap his arms tightly about her, taking her prisoner.

"No," he said firmly. "You haven't."

"Oh, yes, I have," she retorted playfully.

"Oh, no, you haven't," he assured her just as playfully.

"Well then, I guess I haven't." She smiled.

He kissed her briefly and released her.

"I'll see you tomorrow."

He slipped away before anyone could see them together, and Justine wandered back to the wedding, where everyone was toasting Marco and Harriet.