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“Don’t be fooled by him,” he scolded, likely using the same tone as well. “Sir Alfred taught you better than that.”
She shot him a glare. “I canmanagethe signore.”
Alec held her gaze, his expression now more thunderous than thorny. But Lottie refused to be cowed by him. “Luckily you won’t have to,” he snapped and turned on his heel.
Lottie grudgingly followed. In another minute they entered Saint Mark’s Square, where they were drawn into the bustling crowd and promptly separated by a large group of German tourists. Her sharp cries of “Pardon” and “Excuse me” went unheeded. Lottie had endured her share of ballroom crushes, but panic began to claw up her throat as she was carried along in a veritable sea of strangers. An older man with an impressive gray mustache began speaking to her in a jovial tone. Lottie smiled politely and exchanged a few basic pleasantries that covered nearly all of her German, but when she turned away the man caught her elbow. He murmured something else, and based on the direction of his leer Lottie suspected it was nothing she wished to translate. She tugged on his arm, but the man’s grip tightened. Lottie opened her mouth to chastise him, but Alec was suddenly beside them. If his expression had been merely thunderous before, it now bordered on apocalyptic.
He shouldered his way between them and uttered a string of guttural words to the man, who swiftly held up his hands. His eyes had gone wide with fear. Alec then grabbed her wrist and pulled her across the square.
“There was no need for such dramatics,” she insisted, even as her heart still raced in her chest. “I had the situation in hand.”
Alec kept his gaze fixed ahead. “Of course you did. But then I wouldn’t get to practice my German.”
Lottie glanced back. The man had gone deathly pale and immediately turned away when their eyes met. “What did you say to him?”
A chilling smile tugged at Alec’s lips. “Nothing appropriate for a lady.”
“I think the circumstances suggest otherwise,” she said dryly. “I’m afraid I must insist.”
Alec let out an aggrieved sigh as they came to a stop under one of the archways of the Doge’s Palace. “It won’t translate to English exactly,” he began with all the authority of a seasoned professor, “but I explained to the gentleman that if he didn’t let go of you, I would take great pleasure sending him back home with his bollocks in a box. More or less.” He then scanned the square. “Now, what do you wish to see first? The basilica or the bell tower?” When she didn’t directly respond, he cut a glance to her. “You do know your mouth is hanging open.”
Lottie schooled her expression into something slightly more composed. “The basilica, please.”
“Excellent choice,” Alec said as he offered his arm.
Lottie hesitated. It was so much easier to be angry with him.
“Come now,” he prompted. “I don’t want any more Germans snatching you up this afternoon, or I’ll run out of threats.”
Lottie reluctantly slid her arm through his, and they joined the line of visitors waiting to enter the famous Basilica San Marco. Her eyelids fluttered at the sensation of his tall frame so close to hers while her mind groused that she didn’tneedhis protection. She was perfectly capable of waiting in line without a guard, but it was hard to remain quite so indignant while standing beside him in the April sun. As they slowly edged toward the entrance, his intoxicating presence was akin to a rather potent narcotic, and Lottie gradually found herself leaning closer and closer to him, like a trembling vine stretching toward sunlight. At first, Alec’s arm muscles tensed and flexed against her approach. But then slowly, so slowly, he began to respond in kind, subtly adjusting his hold without uttering a word.
By the time they entered the basilica his arm had slipped down around her waist and his hand gripped her from the bottom of her rib cage to the top of her hip. The warmth of his wide palm melted through her gown and spread across her skin. As if pulled by unseen strings, Lottie turned her head toward him until her chin was scant inches from the lapel of his coat. A puff of his warm breath caressed her temple. He must be looking down at her. If she tilted her head upward, Lottie was certain her lips would meet his. She could almost feel his full mouth settling over her own, coaxing a deep, demanding kiss.
That morning, while he was still half asleep Alec had promised to be gentle, but Lottie was more intrigued by the rather commanding aspects of his nature. She liked needling him because even though he could have easily dismissed her, Alec always found a way to engage. To push back. But so far he had retained much of that stony facade. What, then, would it take to make him crack completely?
Just as her knees began to quiver at the thought, a pinch-mouthed docent loudly cleared her throat and threw an icy glare in their direction. Lottie inhaled and straightened, breaking from Alec’s hold. Their stance was decidedly inappropriate for a house of worship.
“Sorry,” Alec mumbled thickly, as if he had been roused from a dream.
Lottie stepped away and turned her attention to the architectural wonder around them. She had come here to see the many treasures of Venice. Not to engage in acts of public indecency. As they slowly made their way through the grand cathedral, Lottie silently marveled at the Byzantine mosaics, the great golden altar, and the relics of Saint Mark. All the while Alec kept a safe distance, just out of touch but never quite out of mind. Thank goodness Lottie wasn’t particularly religious, as the direction of her thoughts would surely damn her for all eternity.
She was still flushed when they stepped back into the square. Without a word Alec took her arm once again and led her around the basilica’s bell tower. She kept her eyes on the redbrick building, a world-famous symbol of the city, while Alec pointed out various features, like the golden weather vane crafted to resemble the Archangel Gabriel and the lion faces that topped each of the five bells. It was a pleasure to listen to him. Alec had a lovely speaking voice, low and smooth, and clearly knew much about the subject.
“Do you fancy going to the top?”
Lottie shook her head as she took in the lofty spire. “Not really. I don’t care for heights.”
“Hmm. And yet I seem to remember you had a habit of climbing out of your bedroom window.”
She did her best to school her smile and continued to take in the structure’s details. “I hadn’t developed the fear then. Besides, I wouldn’t exactly call it a habit. I only did it a few times.”
And always in order to meet him.
“Come,” Alec urged. “This is your one chance. Don’t let fear win.”
Overhead, the bells of San Marco pealed, as if beckoning her. A sharp pain twisted inside her, born of both forgotten memories and impossible futures. She could not bear to go with him and make even more. Lottie shook her head. Alec let out a soft sigh, but he pressed her no further.
He continued to play tour guide as they wandered the halls of the Doge’s Palace but only gave the history of each site, saying nothing about his own experiences. His father had written several poems that featured a young boy much like Alec reveling in the floating city’s treasures. Lottie pictured him here in the square chasing pigeons, making friends with street performers, and gorging on sweets from charmed vendors until he was carried home fast asleep in his father’s arms. Did Alec know of the poems that described such scenes, or was it all too painful for him to even contemplate? Lottie had always found refuge in her memories of her parents, but it wasn’t the same for him. And perhaps never had been.
