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Nicholas sat back in the chair, wearing only his towel, and waited. Closing his eyes, he listened to the sound of footsteps and then rapping of knuckles on the door across the hall.
“Signore?”
“Si,” he replied without opening his eyes.
“The signorina does not reply.”
He blinked his eyes and frowned. Could something have happened to her? She had hit her head on the gondola before she dropped into the water. Not willing to let an injured woman die in his friend’s home, he strode from the room.
Mrs. Costa stood before the door with an armful of clothes and shrugged. “She no answer, signore,” she said in her broken English.
“Open the door and check on her.”
Mrs. Costa shrugged again. She took the ring of keys from her pocket and opened the door. The servant walked into the room and glanced around. After returning to the hall, she said, “The signorina sleeps.”
“Grazie. I will get my things.”
Mrs. Costa handed him the clothing for her. Nicholas walked into the bedchamber. Slowly, he walked into the bedroom and stopped at the threshold. The woman lay on his bed with her eyes shuttered tight, her breathing even.
Nicholas shook his head. He needed to get his clothes and leave her alone. The poor woman had been through enough this evening. He walked farther into the bedroom and stopped again.
Drawn to her by the force of desire, he stepped closer to the bed. He sat on the edge and stared at her. Her black hair curled around her face and appeared still slightly damp. He reached out to sweep a few dark tendrils off her cheek. She shifted and turned away from him, baring an ivory shoulder to his lecherous gaze. Discovering that she lay naked under the coverlet only increased his yearning.
Leaning over her, he gently kissed her soft shoulder. She smelled like lavender and tasted like sin. He was being completely foolish, wanting a woman whose name he didn’t even know. His unruly cock hardened again. What was it about this particular woman that made him desire her so badly? He couldn’t remember ever wanting a woman with this much force.
She moved again, this time so she rested on her back. Her eyes blinked and a pair of the most beautiful gray eyes he had ever seen looked up at him. Her eyes rounded with surprise but a slow smile lifted her full red lips.
Sophie’s smile turned into a frown. Even after napping for a few minutes, she felt dazed by the accident. Who was this man staring down at her?
The pain in her head had lessened slightly but the confusion in her mind remained. She stared at the bare chested man and trembled. Hard muscle shaped his strong chest and fine brown hair formed a line that traced a path downward. Her gaze followed that path until she realized it went under the towel that covered him.
A towel. He only wore a towel!
No gentleman would appear in front of a woman in a towel. Could things be that different in Venice? She highly doubted it but wondered why he would be here dressed as such. If anyone saw them together like this she would be ruined. Not that anyone knew her here.
She moved her gaze to his face, assuming that would be a safer place to look. She was dreadfully wrong. His chestnut hair was a tad long for the conventional English gentleman. Perhaps she had not noticed that the Italian men wore their hair longer. He had warm brown eyes that crinkled as he smiled back at her and a nose that while larger than some, seemed to fit perfectly on his face.
Was he the reason she’d felt propelled to Venice? She ha
d to know.
She closed her eyes for a long moment and focused on love just as she had for the past few months. Her love. A hazy image of a man came to her. Finally! She could see an image of the man she was supposed to love. He looked like . . . she blinked her eyes open.
“You,” she whispered in Italian. The man in her vision was him. He was the reason she traveled here. Her intuition hadn’t steered her wrong as she’d wondered. She had to find out more about him before he sent her on her way back to her rented rooms.
“Me?” he asked in reply.
“The man from the gondola,” she said, trying to make up an excuse. “I’m sorry. I fell asleep in your bed.”
“I truly do not mind.” His smile widened revealing two deep dimples.
Her heart fluttered. This was the man she was supposed to fall in love with, she was certain of it. She had absolute trust in her visions. “I was dreadfully cold even after the bath and the maid hadn’t returned with any dry clothes.”
“I never mind having a beautiful woman in my bed.”
Heat crossed her cheeks with his implied meaning. She seemed unable to look away from the handsome man. “Thank you,” she said quietly.
“For what?”
