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Luca asked her if she wanted to go inside, but it was exhilarating standing at the back of the vessel, the wind tugging at her hair, and she shook her head. Besides, the view outside was just too good. There was something about seeing Venice from the water, buildings standing where by rights there should be none, rising vertically from the lagoon like a mirage.
But the city was real. Just as the man standing at her side was real. Heart-stoppingly, devastatingly real, when she thought about their love-making last night; ruthlessly, unscrupulously real when she remembered why she was here, and if there was a mirage anywhere, it was this game they were playing, pretending to be lovers.
He’d told her last night he wanted her so badly that he would use her mother’s debts to blackmail her into his bed. Then, with the wick of anticipation already lit and burning down towards their inevitable coupling, it had almost seemed reasonable. Today logic demanded a better explanation. Because she wasn’t that special. What was really going on?
He put a lazy arm around her shoulders and she looked up at him. ‘Why am I here?’ she asked, her words tugged away by the wind. ‘The real reason this time.’
His eyes were masked by dark glasses. ‘Don’t you want to see Murano?’
‘No,’ she said, not knowing if he had deliberately chosen to misunderstand her question, ‘I don’t mean that.’ But, before she could clarify, he squeezed her shoulders and pointed ahead. ‘Look, we’re almost there.’
They slowed and landed at a small dock where a man stood waiting for them. He waved as they pulled alongside and she had no doubt who he was. Cousins could be brothers, both lean and long-limbed and good-looking enough for a dozen men. ‘Matteo,’ called Luca as he bounded onto the dock. The pair embraced before he turned to offer Tina his hand.
‘And this,’ he said as she joined him on the deck, ‘is Valentina Henderson, Lily’s daughter.’
Matteo smiled and greeted her like a traditional Italian, a kiss to each cheek before standing back, a wide smile on his handsome face. ‘Lily’s daughter, yes, I see it, but much more beautiful too. Do you share your mother’s passion for our local glass, Valentina?’
‘No,’ she said, ignoring the compliment and hoping to knock on the head any hope he might hold that he had gained himself a new client. ‘It holds no interest for me at all.’
‘Valentina has—’ Luca looked at her and smiled
‘—other passions, don’t you, Valentina?’
One day she would grow out of blushing, she swore, as she tried to look anywhere but at the two men standing opposite. Maybe just not today.
‘Come,’ said Matteo, clearly enjoying the joke as he clapped his cousin on the shoulder, ‘let’s see if we can change that.’
She wasn’t about to have her mind changed. Not when she was led into the large warehouse room, warm from the heat of at least four fiery kilns. Men worked there, doing whatever it was they did, but it was the chandeliers she noticed hanging from the warehouse ceiling, magnificently ornate and totally incongruous examples of the glassmakers’ craft in the yawning airspace above her, that made up her mind.
So this was where her mother had found her inspiration for her disparate collection.
‘If you would excuse me,’ Luca said, ‘I have to talk with my cousin. Would you mind waiting here for a few minutes? The glassmakers are about to put on a show. You might enjoy it.’
She raised her eyebrows. They did a show? Bring it on, she thought cynically, but still she welcomed this brief respite from Luca’s presence. She welcomed the chance to breathe in air not tainted by the scent of him in space he didn’t own. So she let herself be led to a small stand of tiered seating where a couple of other family groups were already seated, ready and waiting. There was space in the front row still, and she sat down and almost immediately wished she hadn’t.
A toddler was sitting on the floor to her side, his mother nursing an infant behind him, his father on the other side. The child looked up at Tina as she sat down, all huge eyed, mouth gaping, clearly wondering who she was to be invading their space.
He would be about the right age, she reasoned with a sizzle of recognition, feeling her stomach churn. Their son would have been about the same age as this child.
She looked away, thought about leaving, her palms suddenly damp with sweat before his big dark eyes drew her back like a magnet.
Dark eyes. Long lashes.
She had seen her baby’s eyes open, and they had been dark too, like this child’s. Like his father’s.
