by Shannon Drake
...He asked her if she needed a walk back to her hotel. She told him no. That Venice was a safe city.
Yet she was glad that he was there...
The last of the vaporettos had departed. "See, there's no one left," he said.
She inclined her head toward the Swiss Guard on the dock.
"He's a stranger," Rangor said."
"I don't think anyone is stranger than you," she replied.
He shrugged. "That may be true."
She sighed. "We never get anywhere."
"We would, if you'd let us." He spoke very softly. Yet even as she felt a growing excitement at his touch, she heard a hissing sound. Looking back toward the palazzo, it seemed that shadows swooped and fell around the entry. She looked up at the sky, wondering if the moon had been covered. A sense of fear swept through her. Inadvertently, she took a ste closer to him.
He slipped an arm around her shoulder. She leaned her head against him. Fingers smoothed her hair beneath the fantasy headdress.
"What time is it?" she asked him.
"Almost three," he murmured. "Deep midnight."
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