The Venetian's Proposal. Lee Wilkinson
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Название: The Venetian's Proposal
Автор: Lee Wilkinson
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Современные любовные романы
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But why should there be any suggestion of guilt or blame? He certainly hadn’t pressured her. She had been a willing partner…
And it had been wonderful. She sighed. As well as being a skilful lover, he had been generous and considerate and, remembering the controlled passion of his lovemaking, her heart began to beat faster.
Jeff’s lovemaking had been kind and tender, warm and caring, but she hadn’t realised until last night how much it had lacked passion. Or skill.
How much she had missed.
Her main pleasure, quite often her only pleasure, had been lying in his arms afterwards, happy that he was satisfied and contented.
Maybe it had been her own fault. Perhaps she had felt too inhibited to let go and enjoy the side of marriage that she was convinced her foster mother had secretly regarded as ‘not quite nice’.
Things might have been different if she and Jeff had managed to get away—get away…she was using Dominic’s words—but it was no use thinking about what might have been. That part of her life was over. Fate had written finis to it.
Now, at last, with John’s encouragement, and having met Dominic, she was moving forward into a new, exciting, and hopefully much happier phase.
Thinking of Dominic, and recalling how he had mentioned getting an early start, she glanced at her watch. It was gone eight-thirty. He was probably waiting for her in the breakfast room, wondering where on earth she’d got to.
Pushing aside the light covers, she scrambled out of bed. Her discarded clothes, she noticed, had been picked up and placed neatly over a chair.
As soon as she had cleaned her teeth and showered she dressed in a light two-piece and flat shoes that she judged would be easy to drive in, and hastily repacked her cases.
Standing in front of the mirror, she saw a strange young woman with a smile hanging on her lips. A happy and excited woman, who had a glowing, heart-shaped face and sparkling green eyes.
With a feeling of joie de vivre, she smiled back.
She was halfway through taking her hair up into its usual neat coil when, recalling the way Dominic had run his fingers through it, her heart picked up speed and her hands started to tremble.
Telling herself not to be foolish, she finished pushing in the pins and, leaving her luggage where it was, hurried to the lift, eager as a young Juliet.
The breakfast room faced east and was light and airy, with a crescent-shaped counter that held fruit and cereals, rolls and croissants, ham, cheeses, and various preserves.
Three or four tables were occupied, and an elderly couple were standing by the buffet debating in English whether to have rolls or croissants. Dominic was nowhere to be seen.
So she was first down after all. Making up her mind to tease him about it, Nicola helped herself to fruit juice and a croissant, and sat down at a table for two. When a waiter appeared, she asked for coffee.
By the time she had eaten her croissant and drunk two cups of coffee, there was still no sign of him.
She went back upstairs and tapped at his door.
There was no answer.
Thinking he might possibly be in the shower, she knocked harder.
Still no answer.
As she stood hesitating in the corridor, wondering what to do for the best, a chambermaid appeared pushing a trolley loaded with fresh bedlinen.
With a curious glance at Nicola, she opened the door of number 54 with a master-key.
‘The man who has this room…’ Nicola said carefully, ‘I was hoping to speak to him.’
‘He has gone, fräulein. The room is empty.’
‘Oh.’ Somehow they must have missed each other. Possibly he was at the desk paying his bill.
Letting herself back into her own room, Nicola gathered together her luggage and took the lift down to the foyer.
There were quite a few people there, including the bullet-headed man she had seen the previous day, but no Dominic.
She paid her own bill and made her way down to the car park. Having stowed everything in the boot, she locked the car and crossed to the far bay where Dominic’s white car had been parked.
It was no longer there.
The realisation was like a blow in the solar plexus.
Surely he hadn’t just gone without a word?
Hurrying back to the desk, she gave her name to the desk clerk and asked, ‘Did anyone leave a note for me?’
A white envelope with the hotel logo was produced. ‘My apologies, fräulein. It should have been given to you when you checked out, but it was overlooked.’
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