Lucy Gordon: Wedding in Venice

The fourth book in the Counts of Calvani series, 2003

"Your trouble is that you never take risks," Dulcie said.

"Who? Me? " Justine queried, her face full of innocent indignation.

Below them was a flash of sun on water as the plane from England circled Venice Airport before coming in to land.

"I'm always taking risks," Justine said firmly. "I nearly broke my neck last month, hanging over that cliff to get a picture of a gorilla."

"Oh, gorillas! Cliffs!" Dulcie dismissed all such trivial dangers. "You're a professional photographer. I know you take that sort of risk. I'm talking about people."

"You mean men," Justine said frankly. "Fine, let's talk about men. They're great fun – in their way."

"When you've got time for them, you mean," Dulcie teased.

"I'm always dashing off on assignments. I have to fit male distractions into my schedule. It's just common sense."

"You have too much common sense," Dulcie reproved her. "It's getting in the way of your life. When are you going to let your hair down and throw caution to the wind?"

"Like you, you mean? One wink from a gorgeous Italian and you were a goner."

"Guido isn't Italian. He's Venetian," Dulcie corrected.

"Does it matter?"

"Yes," Dulcie said, considering this seriously. "They wink differently. It's more intense somehow. You'll find out for yourself."

"Not me," Justine said firmly. "I won't keel over just because an Italian – sorry, Venetian – gives me the eye. If he winks at me, I'll wink at him. If he looks me over, I'll look him over. Then I'll decide if he's up to standard. What I won't do is simply go weak at the knees."

Dulcie laughed. "Just wait until you meet a Venetian."

When they left the plane Dulcie cleared Customs fast, racing straight into the arms of her fiancé.

Justine took her time, checking that her photographic equipment was undamaged. She was in Venice to take pictures of Dulcie's wedding. As she emerged from Customs she could see the other two locked in a passionate embrace.

Justine grinned. Since Guido lived in Venice and Dulcie in England they hadn't seen each other for weeks, and she guessed this bit was going to take a while.

To pass the time, she took out a mirror and checked her appearance, which had survived the flight in good condition. Her hair was red, not auburn or sandy, but a true, blazing red. She grew it long, but wore it swept up. It made a striking effect with her green eyes.

The lovers finally drew apart, laughing and happy, and Dulcie introduced Justine. Guido greeted his fiancée's friend warmly and led them out of the airport, which was built on the edge of a large expanse of water.

"This is the lagoon," he explained. "Venice is out there in the center, so we reach it by motorboat. The barges you see there are collecting goods to supply the shops and hotels."

One barge was being loaded just next to them. On the quay stood a pile of boxes filled with bottles of wine. Getting them down should have been a job for two men, but one man was tackling it alone.

One foot on the barge, one on the narrow stone steps, he swung up to lift a heavy box, then down to lay it in the boat. He looked to be in his early thirties, was tall and lithe, with an easy grace and a strength that treated the heavy weights as nothing.

Justine noted his very short black denim shorts, which revealed long, powerful thighs. He wore nothing else. His feet were bare, and so, she noted with interest, was his broad chest, which glistened in the sunlight as he dipped and stretched to reach the boxes.

His black hair was a little too long, and was shaggy and damp from his efforts, clinging to the heavy muscles of his neck. It made her smile just to look at such intense, masculine beauty.

Then he looked up and caught her gazing at him. It was too late now to pretend that she wasn't studying him. He didn't seem fazed, though. Perhaps he was used to women's admiring glances.

His grin seemed to confirm it. He had a wide mouth, which gave the biggest smile she had ever seen. It was blazing, glorious, lusty with life. And he aimed it straight at her.

Then he winked. And Justine gasped.

Dulcie was right. They did wink more intensely, a blatant invitation that said, "Come on in."

And suddenly she didn't know what to do.

The boatman's expression and the whole attitude of his athletic body was an invitation to the party of life, and for a moment Justine was stunned. She turned to Dulcie to see if she had noticed the bold boatman, but her friend was busy helping Guido load their bags into the motorboat.

Stop dithering, she told herself. You enjoy a good party.

She pulled herself together and winked back.

His returning smile said, Message received and understood, which irked her slightly. She, herself, wasn't quite sure that she understood.

But she wouldn't be seeing him again, and perhaps that was just as well. He was just a little too sure of himself.

They were almost ready to go. Justine settled herself in the back of the boat and Guido started the motor.

The sudden churning of the water made the barge rock, knocking the stranger off balance and overboard. Immediately he climbed back aboard, pushing the soaking hair back from his eyes, visibly cursing, but unhurt. Justine had a last glimpse of him, covered in water, shining in the sun.

Then she was speeding across the lagoon, looking about her in breathless wonder as Venice came into view.

Suddenly she realized that the barge was overtaking them. At the back stood the man, almost dry now from the effects of the wind, which blew his dark hair straight back from his face.

It was a powerful face, Justine realized, slightly saturnine, yet still with the quality of humor. The chin was stubborn, the nose slightly hooked. Not a conventionally handsome face, but one that would be remembered when pretty boys were forgotten.

He turned his head to give her that marvelous grin again, and she had a strange feeling that he had caught up especially for her.

She mouthed, "Are you all right?" But then remembered that he probably didn't speak English.

But it seemed that he did, for he raised a thumb and nodded.

"È Riccardo," Guido yelled. The man in the barge waved at him, then sped up and passed them.

Justine, who was sitting behind Guido and Dulcie, called, "You know him?"

"Yes, he's -" the rest of the words were drowned out by the noise of the motor.

Then she forgot everything as the boat slowed and they entered Venice, gliding along narrow waterways between ancient buildings in a quiet rhythm unlike the harried tempo of most cities she knew, until they finally reached the Grand Canal. Here was the Palazzo Calvani, where Guido lived with his uncle, Count Calvani.

The count was away until the next day, so Guido entertained them alone. At dinner he was charming company, but he was shooed away when Maria, the dressmaker, arrived late in the evening with Dulcie's wedding gown.

"I came out to Venice for one fitting a few weeks back," Dulcie told Justine, "but this is the moment of truth. Let's go upstairs."

The dress was an extravagant confection in white satin and lace, with a long, wide skirt and floor-length veil. Justine snapped madly with her digital camera as Dulcie turned in front of the mirror.

When the dressmaker had gone, Justine got out her laptop and began downloading the pictures from the camera. Dulcie gasped when she saw them on the screen.