Lucy Gordon - Wedding in Venice

She dressed for boating in dark blue trousers and a white silk top.

Riccardo was waiting for her in Guido's motorboat, borrowed for the occasion.

He was dressed in black shorts and shirt, the black stark against the brown of his skin.

He reached up to help her into the boat.

"Steady, careful," he said.

"I'm not breakable." She laughed. "I could simply jump in. Or fall in. I've done it before."

"Yes, twice," he agreed with comical gravity. "It's causing talk. If you do it a third time you'll have to marry me."

She shook her head, her eyes dancing. "A terrible fate."

"Do you think so?"

"I meant for you. Imagine having to marry me for a reason like that."

"I'd marry you for any reason if I thought I could talk you into it."

For a while Justine concentrated on enjoying the day out as Riccardo gently urged the motorboat down the Grand Canal and out into the lagoon where there were miles of open water, bounded on the far side by the long islands of the Lido.

"Where are we going?" she asked, standing beside him at the wheel.

"We're going nowhere," he replied, putting his arm about her and drawing her tightly against him.

"Where's nowhere?"

"Wait and see."

That was fine with her. Who could ask for more than to drift across the water, going nowhere with him?

"There's some champagne below," he said.

She went down and found the boat less cramped than she had expected. There was a large cushioned space, almost as big as a double bed. In the picnic hamper she found champagne and glasses, and took them up.

He stopped the boat within sight of some of the smaller islands, and they drank contentedly.

"If this is nowhere, I love it," she said.

He nodded. "The most peaceful place on earth." He brushed her face gently. "I love you."

She shook her head. "Don't."

"Do you find it so hard to believe?"

"So quickly? Yes, it's hard."

His shrug had a touch of helplessness that sat oddly with his usual air of confidence.

"I, too, was taken by surprise. You see, I'm like you. I plan my life ahead. I had not planned for you, and yet there you were, at the airport.

"Justine, I don't understand what's happened to us any more than you do. I only know that it has happened, and there's no going back. To say that it's too soon, that we've barely met, is easy. I admit it, but it changes nothing.

"That day I went to the airport, I had nothing on my mind but collecting supplies. Then I looked up and saw the woman I'd been waiting for all my life. She was red-haired and glorious, and she looked me straight in the eye in a way that said, 'Fool with me at your peril.'

"I'd never had a challenge that thrilled me more. There and then I decided to fool with her. And the more I knew her, the more I knew it had to be for the rest of my life."

"Don't I get a say?"

"Of course. Tell me what you want from me. A brief adventure? Fine. We'll have an adventure. And afterward you will stay with me forever."

"Then it wouldn't be an adventure," she countered. "An adventure is brief. That's why it's an adventure."

"And you don't think that spending your life with one man might be an adventure?"

"That's just clever words."

"What you really want is a fling, but flings are for people who can't commit themselves."

"You forget I've been married."

"No, I don't forget. But I don't think you committed yourself to that marriage, otherwise you wouldn't have cast it aside at the first hurdle."

"You know nothing about it," she cried, on the defensive again.

"Then tell me. Show me that I'm wrong."

"I don't have to explain myself to you."

"Not to me, but to yourself. Have you ever tried to do that, beyond believing that all your prejudices had been proved correct?"

"I don't have to listen to this."

"Fine, run away."

Justine looked all around her. Water everywhere.

"Well, I can't, can I?" she seethed. "I'm trapped out here now."

"Ah, yes! I never thought of that."

"Like hell you didn't."

He grinned.

"Will you please start this engine and take me back to Venice?"

"I've got a better idea," he said. "Why don't we go below and have something to eat?"

For a moment she glared at him, then relented. "All right, but it's under protest!"

"Of course. You'll find the smoked salmon tastes just as good under protest."

She aimed a friendly punch at him. It was too glorious a day for anger.

The picnic hamper was full of the very finest from the hotel. As she unpacked and they reclined against the cushions, she asked, "How is it you were able to take the day off?"

"I did well out of those catering assignments, so I could hire some extra help for a few days. This is more important."

As he'd promised, the food was exquisite. For once she forgot about healthy eating and indulged herself. Afterward she was suddenly sleepy, and when he drew her back against his shoulder she nodded off at once.

She awoke to find him watching her and had a sudden conviction that he'd been doing that all the time.

"Now tell me about yourself," he said. "I want to know everything."

Held in the safety of Riccardo's arms, Justine struggled with memories that usually she tried never to think of.

"Until I was eight years old I thought I had a happy home. I knew my parents loved each other more than they loved me, but there was love to spare for everyone, or so I thought." Justine let out a sigh. It was difficult for her to talk about this.

"My mother used to say that being in love was the most important thing in the world, and nothing mattered more than being true to your heart.

"But then she fell in love with another man, and he became the most important thing in the world – enough for her to leave us to be with him."

Justine gave a little wry smile. "She had to be true to her heart, you see. Well, she was. She made a fine romantic heroine, giving up everything for love. But one of the things she gave up was me."

Riccardo was watching her with shocked intensity. "She didn't take you with her?"

"But how could she?" Justine asked in a rallying voice. "Romantic heroines can't have eight-year-old kids in tow."

He gave her hand the smallest squeeze, as if to show that he understood her irony.

"So you stayed with your father?" he asked.

"For a while. Then he dumped me on one of his sisters while he went out on the town. He didn't want me cramping his style, either. In due course he fell in love again.

"They sent me to boarding school for a while. Then there was some mix-up about who was supposed to be collecting me for Christmas. In the end, neither of them did. I spent Christmas in the care of the Social Services."

Riccardo swore violently. Justine didn't understand the words, but from his tone she guessed it was a profanity. She felt vaguely comforted at the fierceness of his empathy.

"I never lived with either of my parents again," she went on. "Neither of their new marriages lasted. My mother is currently being true to her heart in South America with a man ten years younger. We don't keep in touch."

"So that's why your views are jaded," Riccardo said. "And who could blame you?"

"As far as I'm concerned love is just an excuse for selfishness."

"In selfish people, yes. But love doesn't make us what we are. It merely reveals the truth about us. Selfish people love selfishly, generous people love generously. Your parents were spoiled brats, but don't blame love. It didn't make them that way."

"It gave them the excuse," she said stubbornly.

"But you were married. Didn't you love him?"