Tall, Dark and Italian: In the Italian's Bed / The Sicilian's Bought Bride / The Moretti Marriage
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‘But you do not?’
‘No.’ Tess was polite, but firm.
‘Did my son tell you that he has spoken with his daughter, also?’ Lucia continued. ‘Maria is married and lives in Viali, some distance from here.’
The query seemed innocent enough at face value, but Tess was wary. Was it possible that Lucia di Castelli knew she had accompanied her son the day before? Had he told her? Had Maria? And if not, how was she supposed to answer that?
‘He—I—yes, I knew,’ she mumbled at last, unwilling to venture further. Besides, why shouldn’t Castelli have mentioned that she’d gone to Viali with him? With certain abstentions in his narrative, of course.
She took a deep breath and then was relieved when a young couple came into the gallery. They were obviously holiday-makers and she doubted they intended to buy anything. But her visitor didn’t know that.
‘Was there a reason for your visit, signora?’ she asked, indicating the newcomers. ‘Because if not, I have customers. If you hoped I might have any more information than I’ve given your son, then I’m afraid I must disappoint you.’
Lucia’s lips tightened. ‘I think you know more than you are saying, Miss Daniels. Unlike my son, I am not beguiled by a sympathetic manner and a pretty face!’
Tess was taken aback by her rudeness and she glanced awkwardly about her wondering if their exchange could be heard by anyone else. But to her relief the young couple had moved to the farthest side of the gallery and she thought it was unlikely that they’d noticed anything amiss.
‘I think you’d better go, signora,’ she said in a low voice, refusing to humour her any longer. ‘I’m working and I’m sure you have better things to do than stand here wasting my time. I’m sorry about your grandson, I really am. But there’s nothing I can do about it. Ashley didn’t confide in me before she took off.’
Lucia’s nostrils flared, and for a moment Tess expected another rebuke. But then, amazingly, the woman’s haughty arrogance crumbled, and with a gesture of defeat she pulled a handkerchief out of her purse.
Tess didn’t know which was worse, having Castelli’s mother berating her as an accomplice or breaking down in front of her. Tears were streaming down the woman’s face now and she was obviously distressed. Any moment Tess’s customers were going to notice and, despite herself, she couldn’t allow that to happen.
With a feeling of resignation, she took Lucia by the arm and led her back into the office. Then, after seating her at Ashley’s desk, she indicated the small bathroom. ‘You can rest here,’ she said. ‘Come out when you’re feeling better. No one will disturb you. I’ll see to that.’
As she’d suspected, the young couple had no intention of buying anything, and she had to acknowledge that Signor Scottolino had a point. Since she’d been looking after the gallery, she’d sold a grand total of three paintings, which was clearly not enough profit to pay the bills.
It was another fifteen minutes before she remembered her sandwich. She’d put it down as she was talking to Signora di Castelli and now she saw it wilting in the noonday heat. She would have liked to have gone into the office and made herself some fresh coffee. Signora di Castelli might even like one. Although, remembering her son’s reaction when he’d tried the filtered brew, she couldn’t guarantee it.
However, she’d told the woman she wouldn’t be disturbed and she kept her promises. It was obviously going to take a little time for Lucia to compose herself again. Until then, Tess contented herself with straightening the pictures, picking up a leaf that had blown through the open doorway, and adjusting the blinds to limit the sunlight.
After half an hour had gone by, however, she was beginning to get anxious. All sorts of thoughts ran through her head, not least the worry that Lucia might do something desperate in her grief. Which was silly, she knew. The situation was not that serious. They might not know exactly where Marco was, but if he was with Ashley, he could hardly come to any harm.
Or could he? Tess supposed it depended what your interpretation of harm was. As far as Lucia was concerned, Ashley was little better than a baby-snatcher. The fact that Marco sounded like a precocious teenager seemed to mean nothing to her.
At the end of forty-five minutes, Tess was desperate. All right, she’d promised not to disturb the woman, but that was ages ago now. Squaring her shoulders, she picked up her sandwich and went to the half-open door of the office. ‘Signora di Castelli,’ she said, pushing it wider. ‘Are you feeling better?’
She needn’t have bothered with the softly-softly approach. The office was empty. While she’d been fretting in the gallery, Lucia must have let herself out of the back exit. So much for Tess worrying about her. She had evidently dried her eyes and made herself scarce.
Tess didn’t know whether she felt relieved or resentful. She was glad the woman had gone, of course, but she might have asked her permission to use the back door. As it was, it was standing ajar and Tess went to close it. It would have been all the same if she’d had valuable paintings on the premises. With the alarm turned off, a thief could have had a field-day.
A check of her bag assured her that there’d been no intruders in her absence. Her passport was still there and the several hundred Euros she’d brought for the trip. She frowned suddenly. She could have sworn her passport had been in the side pocket of her backpack as it had been when Castelli had asked to see it. But now it resided in the main compartment alongside her wallet-purse.
She shrugged. She must have made a mistake when she’d put it away. She hadn’t needed it for the last couple of days so she couldn’t be absolutely sure which compartment she’d put it in. Castelli had got her so flustered, she might have put it anywhere. In any case, so long as she had it, that was the important thing.
She spent a couple of minutes emptying the coffee-pot and refilling the reservoir. Then, after putting several spoonfuls of ready-ground coffee into the filter, she sat down at the desk to have her sandwich.
It wasn’t very appetising. Having waited for almost an hour, it was definitely dry. Thankfully it was cheese. She was afraid any meat would have proved inedible. Even so, if she hadn’t been so hungry, she might have put it into the bin.
As she drank her coffee she idly opened the drawers of the desk. She was not really looking for anything, but she was still conscious of the doubts she’d had before. Once again, she was fairly sure nothing was missing, and as she’d riffled through the drawers herself days ago, looking for any clues to Ashley’s whereabouts, she wasn’t really surprised when she found nothing useful now.
The niggling doubts remained, though, and she wondered if Lucia di Castelli had searched the office before she’d left. It would explain the discrepancy about her passport. And perhaps explain the reason why she’d left without saying goodbye. Though, remembering Castelli’s mother, Tess doubted whether she’d care if she offended her. Until her emotions had got the better of her, she’d been doing a fairly good job of making Tess feel she was equally to blame.
It was a long afternoon. She had a couple more customers, one of whom actually bought a painting of the pretty resort of Portofino further up the coast. The other was a young Frenchman, who was evidently on holiday. His main interest was in flirting with Tess, and she guessed Ashley had enjoyed this aspect of her job.
But she didn’t. She was in no mood to be flattered and she became impatient when he refused to go. She eventually resorted to blackmail, picking up the phone and threatening to call la polizia. She wouldn’t have, of course, but thankfully her ploy was successful.
She closed the gallery early, not wanting to risk Silvio coming round to offer her dinner. She couldn’t help thinking she’d never been so popular in her life. Of course, at home her work kept her busy and the men with whom she worked were not her type. Those that weren’t married were often too boyish. Her friend, Maggie, always said they were like overgrown school kids themselves.
Tess had only had one real relationship and that had been with a boy she’d met at college. They’d kept in touch for a couple of years afterwards, but Tess’s moving to Derbyshire had put paid to their affair. He’d eventually written that he’d found someone else, and Tess remembered she had been more relieved than sorry. Maybe she just wasn’t cut out to find a partner, she thought as she drove back to Ashley’s apartment. The quintessential schoolmistress, that was her.
An image of herself and Castelli on the beach flashed into her mind, but she quickly pushed it away. Apart from the fact that she’d initiated that encounter, it was obvious he’d only been humouring her. He was a virile man and perhaps he’d been flattered at a younger woman coming on to him. Even if he’d felt sorry for her, and that was not an alternative she wanted to consider, it hadn’t been hard for him to fake a convincing response.
He’d certainly convinced her, she thought bitterly. Her stomach still quivered at the memory of the feelings he had aroused inside her. She could still taste his kiss, still feel the heat of his tongue in her mouth. She knew he’d been physically aroused. That was something he hadn’t been able to hide. Yet even so, he’d found it easy to pull away.
And that hurt. She couldn’t understand how he’d been able to turn off his emotions like a switch. Or perhaps his emotions hadn’t been involved. She’d obviously been wrong to think he’d been as eager as she had. While she’d been anticipating how exciting making love with him would be, he’d had an entirely different agenda.
But what agenda? If he hadn’t avoided the subject of Ashley all the way back to San Michele, she’d have suspected that finding her sister had still been his principal concern. He could have thought that seducing her might produce some hitherto unspoken confession. That she’d be so bemused by his lovemaking, she’d betray any confidence she’d been given.
But she’d been wrong about that, too. While she’d been aching with longings now suppressed, Castelli had spoken of his interest in wine, and the grape harvest, and how lots of people were leaving the towns to start a new life in the country. He’d behaved as if nothing untoward had happened, as if he was totally unaware of how she was feeling.
She was sure she’d never forgive him for that. Being rejected was one thing; being ignored was something else. But, with Ashley’s example to follow, what had she expected? Castelli didn’t want anything more from her than information. He didn’t care about her. He only cared about his son.
Chapter Nine
TESS bought some chicken and vegetables on her way home and stir-fried them for her supper. She wasn’t particularly hungry, but there was no point in starving because she’d made a fool of herself over a man. She wasn’t the first woman to do that and she wouldn’t be the last. And she at least had the satisfaction of knowing that Castelli hadn’t been totally indifferent to her.
She’d bought some wine, too, but, although she left it on the counter, she didn’t open the bottle. It was one thing making herself a decent meal for once. Drinking a whole bottle of Lambrusco on her own was something else. Instead, after making a gallant effort to enjoy the food, she made herself a cup of instant coffee and carried it out onto the balcony adjoining the bedroom to drink.
It was almost dark and already a string of lights had sprung up along the waterfront. She could smell the aromas of food cooking, of garlic and other herbs, and hear the sound of voices from the street below. Somewhere a saxophone was playing a haunting melody, bringing the unwilling brush of tears to her eyes. This should have been such a simple visit, she thought miserably. When had it all started to go wrong?
She knew the answer, of course. It had been wrong from the beginning. Andrea wasn’t ill; Ashley hadn’t been called home to look after her. Instead, she’d taken off with a boy who was far too young for her, causing embarrassment to her sister and distress to his family.
Tess caught her breath as another thought struck her. It was Friday tomorrow, and, remembering what Ashley’s mother had said, she was surprised she hadn’t heard from her again. She prayed it wasn’t because Andrea had decided to make good on her threat and come to Italy herself.
Oh, God, that was all she needed, for her stepmother to show up unannounced. Where would she stay? The apartment wasn’t really big enough for two people and Tess could well imagine that she’d be the one expected to find alternative accommodation.
A burst of laughter from the courtyard below was reassuring. Obviously some of her neighbours were having a party and she envied them their careless enjoyment. She thought if she’d lived here, like Ashley, she’d have made an effort to make friends with the other tenants. She’d noticed a couple of younger people going in and out of the building and they’d looked friendly enough. It would have been fun to brush up on her Italian, too. Fun, also, to invite someone in to share her supper. Someone who, unlike Silvio, would not expect anything more than good food and casual conversation.
She was considering opening the wine, after all, as a compensation for standing here all alone, when everyone else seemed to be having such a good time, when there was a knock on her door.
Tess froze for a moment and then took a swift look at her watch. It was after nine o’clock. Far too late for a casual caller. It had to be Andrea, she thought in dismay. Who else could it be?
She was tempted to pretend she wasn’t in. Ashley’s mother didn’t have a key, obviously, and she doubted the old caretaker would let a complete stranger into the apartment. But she would have to face her sooner or later and she didn’t have the heart to send her away. Depositing her empty coffee-cup in the sink, she composed herself and went to open the door.
It wasn’t Andrea. The man standing outside was probably the person she’d least expected to see, and she stared at him in total disbelief.
‘You should have checked who your caller was before you opened the door,’ Castelli said roughly, by way of a greeting. ‘Who were you expecting?’
‘No one.’ Tess was too shocked to lie to him. ‘I wasn’t expecting anyone.’ Then, in an attempt to regain the initiative, she added defiantly, ‘What are you doing here, signore? Slumming?’
Castelli’s mouth compressed. ‘I will not dignify that remark with a response,’ he declared harshly. Then, with a glance beyond her into the apartment, ‘Are you alone?’
Tess caught her breath. ‘What’s that to you?’ she retorted, in no mood to respect his feelings. The image of his regretful—no, pitying—expression when he’d pushed her away from him on the beach was still painfully acute. How dared he come here and behave as if he had any right to question her behaviour? Unless this visit was to get her to apologise for what she’d said to his mother. If it was, he was wasting his time.
He sighed now. ‘May I come in?’
‘Why?’
‘Because I wish to speak with you,’ he said patiently. ‘And I would prefer it if we could speak privately.’
Tess felt mutinous. ‘I don’t think I want to speak to you tonight, signore,’ she said, squashing the little spark of hope that he might have come to apologise himself. Besides which, it was better if she didn’t spend any time alone with him. Crazy as it was, she didn’t trust herself where he was concerned. She waited a beat and then added defensively, ‘I was just going to bed.’
His expression was sceptical. ‘At nine-fifteen? I do not think so, cara.’
‘Don’t call me that.’ Tess was angry. ‘And it’s really none of your business what I do, signore. I’ll be at the gallery in the morning. If you have anything to say to me, perhaps you could save it until then?’
‘Tess!’
His use of her name was almost her undoing. His voice had softened, deepened to a dark, persuasive drawl. It caused a quiver in her stomach, an aching need that spread to every part of her body. Despite herself, emotions stirred inside her, and she had to lift a hand to the frame of the door to support her shaking legs.
But somehow, she found the words to say, ‘If this is your way of getting me to apologise for what I said to your mother, you’re going to be unlucky.’ She straightened her spine. ‘I meant what I said, and you can tell her from me that I don’t think much of the way she left without even closing the door behind her.’
Castelli’s brows drew together. Then, before she realised what he intended to do, he swept her hand aside and stepped across the threshold. She was forced to move out of his way to avoid coming into contact with his hard body and he used the opportunity it gave him to slam the door.
The sound reverberated round the apartment and she was gearing herself to demand that he get out of there, at once, when he said, ‘What the hell are you talking about? I did not even know you had met my mother.’
Tess’s lips parted. She didn’t want to believe him but there was something so convincing in his gaze that she couldn’t help herself. ‘I—she came to the gallery,’ she said stiffly. She lifted her shoulders. ‘I thought you knew.’
‘Well, obviously, I did not.’
‘No.’ Tess conceded the point. ‘I’m sorry. I naturally assumed that was why you were here.’
Castelli made a strangely defeated gesture. ‘Naturally,’ he said flatly, walking across the living room to stand staring down at the lights of the harbour below. ‘What other reason could there be?’
Tess caught her lower lip between her teeth. She would not feel sorry for him, she thought. That way lay danger. And, as she didn’t have a satisfactory answer for him, she indulged herself for a moment by pretending he really had come here to see her.
With his back to her, she was able to look at him unobserved and her eyes lingered on broad shoulders, shown to advantage in a close-fitting black polo shirt. His black drawstring trousers were tight over his buttocks but only hinted at the powerful muscles of his legs. Taken as a whole, his outfit didn’t look like something he would wear to a social gathering. Which meant what? That he had come here to see her, after all?
The breath she was about to take caught in her throat and all her bones seemed to melt beneath her. A purely visceral surge of longing gripped her, but before she could say something foolish, comprehension dawned.
‘Ashley,’ she said quickly before her panicked breathing could betray her. ‘You’re here about Ashley.’ She paused to take another calming gulp of air. ‘Have you found out where they are?’
He turned then, pushing his hands into the pockets of his pants as he did so, tautening the soft cotton across his thighs. In spite of herself, Tess’s eyes were drawn there. She dragged them away again as he said, ‘No,’ in a flat, expressionless voice. Then, as if he too was finding it hard to speak casually, he continued, ‘Verdicci has had no luck in Genova. If your sister has hired a car, she has hired it under another name.’
‘Oh.’ Tess swallowed. ‘Could she do that?’
‘If she had an accomplice,’ replied Castelli carelessly. ‘Do you know if she has any friends here in San Michele?’
Tess shook her head. ‘Not as far as I know,’ she replied, sure that Ashley had never mentioned any particular friend to her. Certainly no one who might be willing to assist her in doing something that sounded vaguely illegal. ‘She’s only lived here for nine months. Hardly long enough to get that close to anyone.’
‘Except Marco,’ Castelli observed softly, and Tess felt his frustration. Then, his eyes intent, ‘Tell me about my mother. I assume she came to ask you about your sister. What did she say to upset you?’
Tess shrugged. ‘Why do you think she upset me?’ she argued defensively, and a faint smile tugged at his lean, attractive mouth.
‘You said that if I had come for an apology, I would be unlucky, no?’ he responded drily. ‘Please, humour me. I would like to know her reasons for speaking with you.’
Tess sighed. ‘Oh—you know. She thought I might know more than I’d said.’
‘That you might know more than you had told me?’ he suggested shrewdly, and she nodded.
‘Something like that.’
‘Mmm.’ He withdrew his hands from his pockets and crossed them over his chest, tucking his fingers beneath his arms. ‘I guess she was unhappy with the results I had achieved. Did she tell you what a disappointment I had been to her as both a husband and a father?’
‘No!’ Tess was shocked. ‘She didn’t say anything like that.’
‘But she did imply that I was to blame for allowing Marco to become involved with your sister?’
‘No.’ Tess shook her head. ‘It was Ashley she vilified, not you. Or Marco. She said that Ashley had corrupted her grandson. That he was just a child. And when I said that boys of sixteen were not considered children in England, she criticised that, as well.’ She paused. ‘You—you were hardly mentioned.’
Castelli was sardonic. ‘You disappoint me.’
‘Well, I’m sure she didn’t approve of you associating with me,’ Tess appended swiftly. She pressed her hands together at her midriff, aware that she’d changed into an old pair of denim cut-offs when she’d got home from the gallery and they were hardly flattering. ‘She probably thinks that I’ll corrupt you, too.’
Castelli regarded her with mild amusement. ‘Do you think that is possible, cara? I am not an impressionable boy to be dazzled by a woman’s looks. In my experience, a pretty face has a limited appeal. If I had to choose, I would pick brains over beauty every time.’
‘How noble of you.’ Tess couldn’t hide her bitterness. ‘Is that why your wife left you? Because she couldn’t live up to such high ideals?’
It was an unforgivable thing to say, but Tess refused to feel any remorse. She resented the fact that he’d come here, that he’d felt he had the right to force his way into the apartment on some pretext she had yet to discover. All right, the way she’d behaved on the beach had probably given him the notion that she’d be willing to do just about anything he asked of her. But that had been a moment of madness that she had no intention of repeating. Ever.
Castelli moved then and she had to steel herself not to put the bar that divided the kitchenette from the rest of the room between them. But all he did was rub his palms over his spread thighs. He seemed to be more thoughtful than angry. It was as if he was considering her words and deciding how to answer her. Perhaps she’d been a little too close for comfort, she thought eagerly, feeling a momentary surge of revenge.
When he said, ‘I do not wish to discuss my wife with you,’ she felt almost euphoric. And when he continued, ‘Her reasons for leaving me are not part of this equation,’ she was sure she had bloodied a nerve.
‘So I was right,’ she said, amazed at her own temerity. ‘You’re just like your mother and Maria. You Castellis think you’re never wrong!’
‘No!’ The word was harsh and angry and for the first time Tess was aware that they were alone. ‘You are not right,’ he said, coming towards her. ‘Gina and I did not separate because of any high ideals on my part. Not unless you consider the fact that she preferred to sleep in other beds than mine no justification.’
Tess did retreat behind the bar then.
She felt mortified and ashamed. She’d been so intent on scoring points, she hadn’t considered the wounds she might have been inflicting.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said unhappily. ‘I shouldn’t have said that.’ She spread her hands along the bar, nails digging into the plastic rim. She licked her lips and when he didn’t speak she added, with a weak attempt at humour, ‘Blame your mother. I got used to defending myself with her.’
Castelli’s lips tightened. ‘You do it very well,’ he said, facing her across the narrow divide. ‘But you are wrong about me. My opinion of my own character is very poor.’