“I thought we could take the canal.” He gestured toward a gondola waiting alongside the hotel’s dock. “Couldn’t have you leave Venice without experiencing their most famous form of transportation. I’m afraid it’s not as romantic as it would be at night, but—”
“It’s perfect.” Allie launched herself at him, throwing her arms around his neck and pulling him into a tight embrace.
Hudson steadied them and laughed. “I take it this was a good idea, then?”
She pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “It was a great idea. Thank you.”
His gaze softened. “I’d do anything for you,” he whispered. Then his mouth slanted over hers, kissing her long and slow and deep. Her arms tightened around his neck, holding him to her as their tongues stroked and their breaths quickened. His hand slipped inside her jacket and she felt the weight of his palm pressing against her back. She arched into him, wishing she could feel his bare skin against hers and wondering if it was too late to explore the idea of checking back into the hotel.
Behind her someone discreetly cleared his throat. Allie turned to find their gondolier gesturing to the boat. He was dressed in the traditional uniform of black pants, a black-and-white striped shirt, and a wide-brimmed straw hat with a red ribbon tied around the middle.
“Scusi, but the stazione,” he said in a mix of English and Italian.
Hudson glanced at his watch. “Grazie,” he thanked the gondolier, then to Allie he whispered, “We’ll continue this on the train.”
Warmth spread through her body at the silky, sensual tone of his voice. “I’ll hold you to that, Mr. Chase.”
His answering grin was almost boyish as he climbed gracefully onto the rocking boat. He held his hand out to Allie and she grasped it, somehow managing to climb into the gondola without tumbling into the canal.
“What about our luggage?” she asked as they settled onto a bench that was fashioned to look like a tufted red-velvet settee.
Hudson reached for the folded blanket on the table in front of them and draped it across their laps. “Max took it in the car. He’s meeting us at the station.”
Allie reared back to look at him. “No security? Aren’t you afraid ninja scuba divers might attack us?”
Hudson tried his best to hide his smile. “No, Alessandra, I’m not worried about ninja scuba divers. But we’re covered in the event that they do.” He nodded to the far side of the canal. Allie followed his gaze to a small motorboat driven by two rather imposing-looking men in dark jackets and aviator glasses.
She rolled her eyes. “I feel like I’m in a Bourne movie.”
Hudson chuckled. “Just enjoy the ride.” He wrapped his arm around Allie’s shoulders and pulled her tight against his chest as the gondolier took his place at the rear of the boat. With a smooth stroke of his oar, they began to glide forward through the water. He steered them effortlessly through the winding waterway, past hundreds of pastel buildings dating back as far as the fourteenth century, until they reached the terminal.
The Venezia Santa Lucia sat at the foot of the Grand Canal and served as the main train station in Venice. It was a modern building made of concrete and glass, which made it look more than a little out of place among the grand palazzos and hotels. Outside, dozens of people crisscrossed through the courtyard, and even from the dock Allie could see the large crowds milling about the expansive terminal. But once they reached the platform it was though she and Hudson had taken a step back in time.
With its restored 1920s vintage cars, the mere sight of the Venice Simplon-Orient-Express conjured images of the elegance, sophistication, and romance of a bygone era. The carriages themselves were nothing short of a rolling work of art. Painted a gleaming midnight blue, they were trimmed in gold and capped with a snowy white roof.
A row of stewards dressed in a livery of white jackets and gloves stood in a line alongside the train. As they approached, one stepped forward and greeted them by name.
“Mr. Chase, Miss Sinclair.” He bent slightly at the waist. “Welcome to the Orient Express. My name is Andrew and I will be your steward for the duration of your journey,” he said in a refined British accent. “Should you require anything at all, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
Allie smiled. “Thank you, Andrew.”
“We’ll be departing precisely at 10:57, where upon our chefs will preside over a three-course lunch in our Etoile du Nord dining car. If you’d like to go ahead and get a table, I can wait for your driver to arrive and see to it that your bags are delivered to your cabin suite.”
Hudson thanked the man with a generous tip before helping Allie up the steps of the dining car. The interior of the world’s best-known luxury train was a heady mix of prewar glamour. Varnished marquetry panels lined the walls of the car along with antique light fixtures and tapestry drapes. Along each side sat tables covered in starched white linen and surrounded by dark green velvet chairs. The crystal goblets sparkled in the late morning sun, and the silver was polished to a high shine. Everything was ready to whisk one hundred travelers on a mystical journey through the Italian Dolomites and the Swiss Alps.
Once the train pulled out of the station, Allie and Hudson enjoyed a leisurely lunch for two, gazing at each other more than the Italian countryside. Andrew appeared shortly after the waiter served dessert to inform them the train was about to arrive at their first destination. Allie was grinning from ear to ear by the time he finished talking.
“I assume Verona is a city you’d like to tour?” Hudson asked when they were alone.
“I’d love to visit Casa di Giulietta.”
“Ah yes, Juliet’s house,” he said, referring to the home where the Cappelletti family is said to have lived.
“I know they might have only been figments of Shakespeare’s imagination, but—”
“But never underestimate the power of storytelling,” Hudson said, finishing her thought.
Allie nodded. “Exactly. So can we go?” Excitement bubbled up inside her. She was practically bouncing in her seat as she waited for his reply.
“I was thinking we could spend the time in our cabin, perhaps pick up where we left off at the hotel.” He smiled at her indulgently. “But if you have your heart set on Juliet’s balcony, Verona it is.”
***
The driver dropped them at the Piazza delle Erbe, where they wandered the cobblestone streets eating gelato and browsing the various vendors selling everything from jewelry to soccer jerseys. Max was never far behind, although he followed at a discreet distance. Allie still thought the security unnecessary, but Max’s constant presence brought her comfort of a different kind since she knew his watchful eye allowed Hudson to relax and enjoy himself.
When they reached the center of the square they stopped in front of a marble fountain so Allie could consult her guidebook. “It says we should look for the graffiti-covered sign post.”
Hudson read over Allie’s shoulder. “It also says that Shakespeare never even visited Verona.” He lifted the book out of her hands and continued reading while following her through the crowded streets. “And that the balcony was added by the local government in the 1930s to increase tourism.”
“Shhh,” she shushed him, ignoring his dose of reality. Because while it was true that Romeo and Juliet were likely nothing more than fictional characters, what Hudson failed to understand was that their actual existence was inconsequential. The thousands of tourists who flocked to the thirteenth-century home each year came not to stand on the actual balcony where Juliet caught Romeo’s eye, but to experience, even for a moment, what that balcony represented.
Allie rocked on her tiptoes, scanning the alleys and passageways until she found what she was looking for. A smile stretched across her face. “Come on,” she said, grabbing Hudson’s hand and leading him to a stone archway. A plaque with one of Shakespeare’s most famous quotes hung above them while in front of them stretched a long, dark tunnel covered with thousands of small scraps of paper.