The Impatient Groom by Sara Wood Page A

thinking of your baby who was never born?’
    He leant his head back against the seat, his eyes closed tightly. ‘I was thinking that I couldn’t bear it if anything should spoil our happiness,’ he replied in a harsh undertone so laden with darkness that she felt a tiny trickle of fear run the length of her body.
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    Nervously, Sophia blinked in the bright sunshine as they walked through the terminal doors in Venice and out onto a landing stage. A man in white ducks hailed them and ran forward, enthusiastically greeting Rozzano.
    â€˜This is Mario,’ Rozzano explained, when the man stopped pumping his hand up and down as if he might strike oil any minute. ‘He’s in charge of the family launches.’
    Launches! thought Sophia as Rozzano gestured to a
palatial and sleek-looking boat with furiously polished brassware.
    â€˜Buon giorno, contessa. I am very pleased to say hello.’
    She smiled, hiding her shock at being addressed by her title. She doubted she’d ever get used to it. ‘I’m pleased to say hello, too!’ she replied, genuinely delighted that they would be arriving by water.
    But she was nervous, too, at the prospect of meeting her grandfather. Her hand shook in Rozzano’s as he handed her into the boat though he made no sign that he’d noticed. She perched nervously on the immaculate royal-blue cushions, expecting him to sit beside her and hold her close to reassure her. But he didn’t.
    She tried not to mind but it did appal her that she should keep looking to him as if he were some kind of crutch. That wasn’t the kind of relationship she wanted at all. But...did he?
    The boat’s engines roared into life, or she felt sure he would have heard the loud thudding of her heart. She wondered if he liked her vulnerability because it gave him a chance to be dominant. But she wasn’t normally the vulnerable type. And when he found out he might drop her like a hot brick.
    Butterflies swooped in her stomach and she folded her arms tightly over it as panic rose in her throat, threatening a cry of fear.
    Perhaps their relationship was based on their own fan\-tasies—a fairy tale of their own making...
    Rozzano leant across to speak to her and with a supreme effort she produced a bright, interested face for him. ‘We’ll cross the lagoon,’ he said, ‘and you’ll have a fantastic view of Venice, rising from the water.’
    She nodded and concealed her quivering lip by swivelling
around and watching the wake of the boat as it cut through the glassy water and changed the calm serenity of the surface into a froth of white foam. Rozzano tapped on her arm and reluctantly she turned back, wishing her emotions were flat and calm again.
    â€˜Look. See the bricoli —those huge poles in the water? They mark out the deep-water passages through the lagoon to the sea. And there’s Torcello, the island where your ancestors and mine first settled.’
    Sophia nodded, smiled and remained silent, her mind full of anxieties and worries. It had been a mistake to commit herself so hastily. She knew that now. They couldn’t yet be certain of one another’s love.
    Her brows pulled together. Rozzano had spoken of his feelings with great eloquence. But had he mentioned love? She couldn’t remember—her thoughts had been in such turmoil that half of what he’d said hadn’t registered. Perhaps he had said he loved her. He’d been very sincere, very impassioned. Why would he propose if he didn’t feel strongly?
    Despite all her reasoning, she couldn’t shake off her uncertainties. Only dimly was she aware of the beauty of the shimmering lagoon, and the tiny islands with roses and honeysuckle drifting over ancient brick walls.
    And soon she could see the island of Venice itself sitting in the limpid water, the skyline a higgledypiggledy mass of turrets and bell towers and domes and tiled