The Echoes of Love by Hannah Fielding

need to make some notes about these mosaics. Their condition is very much like a plaque I’m working on at the moment.’ Her voice softened. ‘So thanks again for the invitation, but maybe some other time.’
    Paolo looked down at her from his great height with a glimmer of impatience in his deep-blue irises, his lips tightening in an effort of self-control.
    â€˜Very well, it’s your choice, of course. Though I cannot understand your obstinacy, please consider the subject closed. I will not importunate you again, signorina. ’ Upon which he nodded politely, turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing softly in the empty basilica.
    There was a dreadful finality about his words. And as Venetia heard the door close and the silence return, she felt a cold hand clutch at her heart.
    She spent half an hour strolling around the building, trying to concentrate in vain, replaying again and again the conversation that had just taken place. As previously after rebuffing him, she was confused and depressed. Her mind clouded with remorse. How could she be so rude? There really was no harm in accepting his invitation to lunch. Why did he bring out such an acute reaction in her?
    Over the years, Venetia had been taken out for lunch and dinner several times; she’d had many dates, and had always welcomed a degree of male attention. She enjoyed flirting innocently, and from time to time had even allowed herself to be kissed but her emotions had never been involved; she had invariably been in control.
    Paolo was different. She felt threatened in his presence; not only threatened, but vulnerable. She could sense the ice that she had so carefully wrapped around her heart beginning to thaw. Years of self-control, and the foundations of the fortress she had erected about her were being shaken, putting her emotional and mental state in jeopardy. She needed to protect herself. Even though deep down she believed that the girl with Paolo at the restaurant could have been just a client or a friend, her presence that day had provided a convenient excuse for Venetia to keep him at bay. Now, the current crackling between them was providing a heat that could easily disintegrate her defences.
    Still, some part of her yearned to be held once again by a man, to feel her body come alive, as it had the night before on the dance floor in Paolo’s arms. Despite the fact that it was faithfully guarding her from love’s harm, being celibate naturally had its disadvantages. The need to be loved that had built up in her was occasionally so painful that she found the tension almost unbearable.
    Once more Judd’s image, which over time had blurred around the edges, grew sharp in her head as if she had seen him only yesterday. With him she had known love, passion and a total fusion of mind and body, and she missed him now almost as acutely as she had missed him all those years back. Judd was probably married with a brood of children by now. He could never be hers, but knowing that didn’t end the hopeless ache of longing within her. Shake yourself out of this glum state, girl , she remonstrated, or you’ll drive yourself mad . She glanced at her watch; it was already half-past one. Perhaps she’d find a bench overlooking the lagoon, she thought, or maybe sit on Attila’s throne to eat her sandwich. After lunch she would visit the church of Santa Fosca and then head home before dark.
    The sun was high when Venetia emerged into the courtyard. The old trees cast shadows upon the ground; the light was tinged with gold. Flanking the lawn, the pink church of Santa Fosca looked impressively lonely with its arcades of stilted arches and its slim, elegant columns of Greek marble with Byzantine-style capitals. Pigeons were circling the columns, perching on the fragile cornices, cooing to each other in their soft, enchanting voices. The ancient little town was her own; she could pause and admire its beauty and its spell to