know, I'm the original cynic,’ she sighed, and Beth could imagine the beautiful face creased into a perplexed frown. ‘No, actually, I'm not the original one.’ She sobered abruptly. ‘He was the reason I rang you earlier.'
Beth instantly tensed in expectation of the emotional blow to come, knowing exactly who her mother was talking about, her nails digging into her palms as she grasped the telephone receiver.
‘Oh, yes?’ Her voice sounded hollow and completely unlike her usual self, not really wanting to hear what her mother had to say, but knowing she had little choice in the matter. Her mother wouldn't have rung her at all if she hadn't thought it important she do so; Beth realised that now.
‘Charles and Martin are up to something,’ Katherine announced harshly.
The piercing of Beth's nails into her palm was accompanied by her sharply indrawn breath, although she didn't feel the pain of the self-inflicted injury until much later, just the mention of the two men being enough to cause her distress. ‘Do you have any idea what it is?’ she prompted through stiff lips.
‘Not yet,’ she was told grimly. ‘But I intend to find out.'
And her mother would do exactly that, of that Beth had no doubts. Her mother had been her only ally the last year, and Beth knew without doubt that she wouldn't let her down now. It was too late to tell herself she should have had this trust in her mother three years ago. Far too late.
But in the meantime she had this further worry; what could there possibly be left that the two men could do to her?
‘I didn't want to worry you with this at all, darling,’ Katherine continued concernedly. ‘But I didn't want them to just drop something else on you without warning.'
After what had already been done to her Beth knew this concern was merited; together Martin and Charles could be absolutely ruthless.
‘I'm glad of the warning,’ she reassured her mother. ‘Although I don't think it's enough to bring me back to England just yet.’ She didn't feel up to returning to England to face yet more of the two men's cruelty.
‘Of course not.’ Her mother sounded scandalised that she should even have considered doing such a thing. ‘You can rely on me to look after your interests here.'
Beth knew that she could, that her mother bore no grudge for that time three years ago when Beth had completely ignored her advice, when her mother had tried to help her see a truth she hadn't wanted to see. Her mother wasn't the type to say ‘I told you so’ and just leave her alone in her misery.
She had cursed herself a million times for not listening to her mother all that time ago when she had tried to warn her about Martin, had tried to help her see the true man behind the charm he had showed her. A truth she had chosen not to believe because she was blinded by love for the man.
That blindness had cost her dearly over the last year.
Would probably continue to do so
VENICE: one of the most beautiful cities in the world. What a pity it was slowly sinking into oblivion.
Although at this moment in time that wasn't apparent; Venice was everything Beth had ever heard it claimed to be. And more.
She had been slightly sceptical about her mother's choice of Venice as her second port of call, romance being the last thing she wanted to feel. But Beth had felt the magic of the place the moment she stepped out of the airport in search of the water taxi that would take her to her hotel. It was everything she had ever thought it would be, bustling, overcrowded, over-commercialised, and yet somehow the mystique and magic of the place managed to captivate the senses in spite of this.
Her hotel, the Danieli, had done a lot to add to the charm of her visit; her mother had really spoilt her with her choice of hotels this time. Of course, Beth had heard of the Danieli before this visit, knew it had once been a beautiful palace owned by the Danieli family, the building itself magnificent in construction, the décor and furnishings chosen accordingly.
And to add to the charm of the place Beth's room overlooked the lagoon, the view from her balcony one of the bustling activity on the water itself as it entered the Grand Canal. Beth had spent the first couple of hours after her arrival just sitting on the balcony watching the toing and froing of the water traffic, amazed at the variety of craft, from the numerous gondolas to a cruise ship that somehow navigated the narrow water.
She had finally ventured out of the hotel in the afternoon, crossing the bridge close to the hotel before she realised that the people gathered on the bridge were actually looking at something. A step back had revealed the famous Bridge of Sighs.
Beth could hardly believe it. There was history wherever she looked, the Doge's Palace and St Mark's Square just around the corner.
It was all too much at once, numbing the senses, and Beth decided she would be better waiting until the following day before exploring further, so she started back towards the hotel, pausing to look at the stalls of the street-vendors. Here were the usual tacky touristy things that could be found at any seaside town in England, and yet even this was merely another added charm to Venice.
But the bride and groom stepping into the gondola were, Beth felt, taking the romantic image of the place too far!
The bride wore a floating white gown, her veil long and trailing behind her, her hair dark, her face achingly lovely, the groom dark and good-looking, having eyes only for his bride as the wedding party waved them on their way down the Grand Canal.
‘Beautiful, isn't it?’ drawled a mocking voice.
Beth closed her eyes as she swayed, but the gondola bobbing up and down with the bride and groom gazing ecstatically into each other's eyes was still in front of her as she opened her eyes, the noise of chattering people still bombarding her ears.
And yet she had heard that voice, she knew she hadn't dreamt it. She didn't even know why she had felt that initial surprise; she was being hounded, she knew that now.
She was perfectly in control by the time she turned to face Marcus Craven, calmly looking up at him as he stood so relaxed and handsome, one hand thrust casually into the pocket of the black trousers he wore, the short-sleeved cream shirt revealing the olive tone to his skin where the shirt was unbuttoned at his throat. He looked strong and very male—and magnetically alive!
‘Actually,’ Beth drawled drily, ‘I was just thinking it was overplaying the romantic image of Venice just a touch too much.'
His eyes gleamed with shared amusement. ‘You don't seem surprised to see me.'
She arched blonde brows. ‘Should I be?'
Inside she was furious at being in his company once again, all sorts of questions and suspicions filling her mind. What was he doing in Venice? On the very same day she too had come here. Was he following her? If so, why? She really couldn't believe in this much of a coincidence.
And yet what possible reason could he have for wanting to follow her?
He certainly couldn't be after any money he thought she might have; he looked much wealthier himself than she would ever dream
