Tall, Dark and Italian: In the Italian's Bed / The Sicilian's Bought Bride / The Moretti Marriage

‘That he could be so—so stupid!’ exclaimed Maria, looking at Tess as if she were in some way to blame for this fiasco. ‘Bene, Papa, I knew that he admired this woman. But she is old. I assumed she would have more sense than to take his advances seriously.’

‘Basta!’ Castelli threw himself back in his chair, his frustration evident, and Tess shifted uncertainly as he cast an impatient glance in her direction. ‘At last we have the truth. You knew of Marco’s affair and you chose not to tell me.’

Maria stifled a sob. ‘There was no affair, Papa. Solo—just a silly infatuation. If Marco has gone away, you have no reason to believe he has taken this woman with him.’

Castelli shook his head. ‘We know they went together, Maria. They boarded a plane to Milano several days ago—’

‘A plane!’

‘But when the plane landed in Milano, they were not on board,’ he continued. ‘We suspect they disembarked at Genova. I am still hoping you can tell us why.’

Maria’s lips parted. ‘Me, Papa?’

Castelli nodded. ‘If you have any information, any information at all, I advise you give it to me now.’

‘But I do not.’ Groping for one of the napkins, Maria broke down completely. With tears streaming down her cheeks, she exclaimed, ‘I have told you all I know, Papa. I am as unhappy with the situation as you are.’

‘Veramente ?’

Her father did not sound sympathetic and Tess wished again that she’d passed on this trip. This was a family matter and her involvement was an intrusion. All right, she wanted to know where Ashley was, but it wasn’t the matter of life and death it seemed to the Castellis.

With Rafe di Castelli seething beside her, she felt as if she couldn’t get enough air and, picking up her glass, she gently eased away from the table. Crossing to the low wall that marked the boundary of the patio, she took a sip of the fruit juice, wishing she possessed the sense of well-being that had seemed so attainable before she’d left England. Now she was on edge, embarrassed, conscious that she was in some small part responsible. If she hadn’t agreed to stand in for her, Ashley could never have planned this escapade.

The sound of footsteps caused her to turn in time to see another man come out of the building behind them. Not as tall as Castelli and obviously much younger, the man went straight to Maria’s side and pulled her up into his arms.

‘Amatissima,’ he exclaimed, gathering her close and gazing accusingly at her father. ‘Che c’e, car a. Si sente male?’

‘There is nothing wrong with her, Carlo,’ declared Castelli in English, rising impatiently to his feet to face the other man. ‘She is upset because her brother has disappeared and she might have been able to stop him.’

Carlo. Tess remembered the name. This obviously was Maria’s husband. But his father-in-law’s words had brought a frown to his fair handsome features and, despite his concern, he drew back to regard his wife’s tear-stained face.

‘E vero?’

He asked her if it was true and Maria nodded unhappily. But before she could say anything in her own defence her father intervened.

‘Let me introduce you to my companion, Carlo,’ he said, indicating Tess. ‘Her grasp of our language is not so great. That is why we are speaking in English. Tess, this is my son-in-law, Carlo Sholti. Carlo, this is Tess Daniels. Her sister is the woman Marco has become infatuated with.’

Tess remained by the low wall, offering the young man a polite smile in greeting. She had the feeling Carlo was as curious about her presence as his wife had been earlier. But, at this point in time, Tess considered that as immaterial as her participation in this trip.

‘Marco has disappeared,’ put in Maria, regaining her husband’s attention. ‘Papa says he has gone with that woman who runs the gallery in San Michele. He thinks I should have told him they were friendly. But I had no idea Marco would do something like this.’

Carlo pressed Maria back into her chair and then turned to face Castelli. ‘What is this woman’s sister doing here?’ he demanded, in English this time. ‘Does she not know where they have gone?’

‘Obviously not,’ said Castelli curtly, as if he resented the implication of complicity. ‘And I invited Tess to accompany me. Do you have a problem with that, Carlo, or is this the usual way you treat unexpected guests?’

Now it was Carlo’s turn to look embarrassed. ‘Perdone, signorina,’ he said stiffly. ‘I did not mean to be rude.’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ mumbled Tess, wishing she could just leave them to it. ‘I’m sorry we’ve upset your wife. We’re just trying to find out where my sister and your brother-in-law have gone.’

‘Neatly put,’ remarked Castelli drily, and meeting his eyes Tess was again reminded of how disturbingly attractive he was. Even here, with his daughter and his son-in-law watching their every move, she was supremely conscious of his maleness. And the dark colours he wore accentuated it; gave him an energy and a feline power that couldn’t help but stir her blood.

‘No problem,’ she said at last, when it became obvious everyone was waiting for her answer. She moistened her lips. ‘I think we should be going now. I—well, I’ve got to get back to the gallery.’

She’d half expected an argument; half hoped for one, she acknowledged uneasily, not looking forward to the journey back to San Michele. Castelli, sociable, Castelli friendly, she could handle. But Castelli impatient, Castelli angry, even, was something else.

‘I think you are right, car a’ He chose to agree with her and she wondered if he used the endearment deliberately. He must know his daughter would resent the apparent familiarity between them. He swallowed the wine in his glass and set it carelessly back on the table. ‘Much as we would have liked to join you for lunch, Maria, I agree with Tess. We should be getting back.’

‘But, Papa—’

‘Not now, Maria.’ He was polite, but firm. ‘If you think of anything else, I am just at the other end of the phone, no?’

‘You will let us know, as soon as you have any news?’

That was Carlo, and Castelli’s lips flattened against his teeth. ‘If I can return the request,’ he said. ‘Maria may remember something she has presently forgotten.’

Both Carlo and Maria came to see them off. Maria had dried her eyes now and looked more resentful than upset. She looked on sulkily as Castelli swung open Tess’s door and waited for her to seat herself before closing it again. Once again, Tess was intensely conscious of her bare legs and of how provocative her appearance must seem to the younger woman.

But she couldn’t do anything about it. She just hoped Maria didn’t think she had designs on her father. However attracted she might be to him, she thought she was sensible enough to know he was far beyond her reach.

As they drove away Castelli seemed absorbed in his thoughts, and Tess was glad to relax after the tensions of the last hour. Nevertheless, she found herself replaying all that had been said and she wondered if Maria was doing the same.

‘Do you think I was cruel?’ he asked abruptly, and Tess marvelled that he should have guessed her thoughts so exactly. ‘I can see you are troubled,’ he went on wryly. ‘I was not very sympathetic, was I?’

Tess hesitated a moment, then she said, ‘No,’ in a noncommittal voice. His relationship with his daughter was nothing to do with her and she wished he wouldn’t behave as if it were.

‘And how would you have handled it?’ he inquired, his fingers flexing on the wheel. He had very masculine hands, broad yet long-fingered. She had a momentary image of those hands brown against her white body. Of how the blunt tips of his fingers would feel caressing her quivering flesh.

Dear God!

She was still fighting to dispel those feelings when he looked at her again and she realised he was waiting for her reply. ‘Um—I don’t know,’ she muttered. ‘It’s nothing to do with me.’ She tried to think positively to prevent the inevitable rejoinder. ‘I—er—I think she was genuinely shocked about what had happened.’

‘Oh, so do I,’ he concurred drily. ‘I am sure Maria is upset because Marco did not confide his plans to her. But she is also jealous of your sister.’ His tawny eyes swept over her appraisingly. ‘She finds it hard to accept that her brother might have needs she cannot satisfy.’

Tess felt the insidious warmth spreading up from her throat and struggled to divert the conversation. She couldn’t discuss his son’s sexual needs with him! ‘The—er—the albergo was very nice,’ she said, smoothing her damp palms over the hem of her shorts. Then, realising he had noticed what she was doing, she tucked her hot hands between her knees. And because the adjective she’d used was so insipid, she added, ‘It must be wonderful to live in such a lovely spot.’

‘I am glad you liked it,’ he said at last, and she wondered if the delay was a deliberate attempt to disconcert her. If so, it had worked. ‘It is a pity you did not get the chance to see more.’

‘I don’t think your daughter would agree with you,’ murmured Tess, almost without thinking, and Castelli’s brows drew together as he absorbed her words. ‘I mean, I don’t think she was in the mood for visitors,’ she added hastily. ‘She hasn’t been married very long. And she does seem very young.’

‘Maria is nineteen,’ he told her evenly. ‘And I know exactly what you meant. You think my daughter did not approve of my bringing you with me.’ He shifted in his seat. ‘But like my son, I too have my own life to lead.’

Tess had no answer for that. Turning her head, she stared out blankly at the fields of waving poppies that stretched inland in a colourful swath. She saw a village clinging to the hillside, and tried to be objective. But how was she supposed to deal with him? The experiences she’d had in England, infrequent as they’d been, had not prepared her for his magnetism.

Pursing her lips, she decided not to let him faze her. She was a grown woman, for heaven’s sake. Not some impressionable girl who was overawed because a man had paid some attention to her. ‘I expect there are many women in your life, signore,’ she said, with amazing nonchalance. ‘Someone of your experience must be very much in demand.’

The breath he expelled then conveyed a mixture of admiration and humour. ‘You think?’ he murmured faintly. ‘And call me Rafe, if you will. Not signore.’ He paused. ‘And now you have surprised me, cara. I am not sure whether that was a compliment or not.’

Call him Rafe! Tess swallowed. She could just imagine how Maria would feel about that. ‘I was merely stating the obvious,’ she said, managing to avoid calling him anything. ‘If Maria objected to your companion today, it was not because she’d never seen you with a woman before.’

‘No?’

‘No.’ Now she’d started, she had to finish, and Tess inhaled a deep breath. ‘I’m just different from the usual women you have dealings with. Maria was resentful because—well, because of who I am.’

‘Ashley’s sister,’ he said mildly and she sighed.

‘That’s the least of it and you know it.’ She paused. ‘I don’t fit the image of the kind of woman you obviously prefer.’

He glanced her way then, and Tess was intensely conscious of the intimacy of his gaze. ‘And that image would be?’ he said, causing her no small measure of uneasiness. ‘Come, Tess, you cannot say something like that without elaborating. So tell me. What kind of woman do you think I like?’

She bent her head in confusion. As usual, he was determined to have the last word. ‘Someone more sophisticated; someone more elegant,’ she muttered at last, lifting her hands and cupping the back of her neck almost defensively. Then, exasperated, ‘How do I know? I’m just guessing that your companions don’t usually wear shorts.’

The car slowed then and for a moment she thought he was stopping so that he could continue the argument more forcefully. But, instead, he pulled onto a gravelled headland overlooking the beach below. There was a van parked there, too, the kind that supplied snacks and sandwiches to weary travellers, and, after turning off the engine, he said, ‘I think it is time for lunch, no?’

Chapter Seven

RAFE could see she was surprised by his choice of venue. It made him wish he had asked his housekeeper for a packed lunch that they could have eaten in more salubrious surroundings than this. But then, he hadn’t known he was going to ask Tess to join him when he’d left the villa that morning, he reflected drily. That impulse, like the impulse he had now to comb his fingers through the silky tangle of her hair, was not something he should consider repeating.

Now, however, she looked at him out of the corners of those limpid green eyes of hers and he realised she had misread his intentions. ‘Do you usually patronise sandwich bars, signore?’ she asked tightly. ‘Or do you gauge your eating habits according to the sophistication of your companion?’

Rafe pulled a wry face. ‘You are offended because I have not taken you to an expensive restaurant?’ he queried innocently, and saw the familiar colour darken her cheeks.

‘You know that’s not what I meant,’ she declared hotly, pushing her back against her seat. ‘But if you’re only stopping because of me, don’t bother. I rarely eat lunch anyway. I can wait until we get back to San Michele.’

‘Well, I cannot,’ he retorted, pushing open his door and getting out of the car. ‘And contrary to popular supposition, plenty of good food can be found at roadside kiosks, no?’

‘I can’t see you eating a burger, signore,’ said Tess, pushing open her own door and joining him. The brilliant noonday sun immediately burned on her uncovered head and shoulders, and she caught her breath. ‘Goodness, it’s hot!’

Rafe studied her bare arms with some concern. ‘Perhaps you should stay in the car,’ he said, resisting the desire to smooth his fingers over her soft skin. ‘It is cooler there.’

‘What? And miss the chance to see what the chef has on offer?’ she asked lightly, and his pulse quickened at the unexpected humour in her face.

‘Okay.’ He saw her looking at the curving line of the shoreline that fell away below the promontory. ‘Let us get something to eat and drink and find somewhere more private to enjoy it, no?’

Tess caught her breath. ‘You mean, go down to the beach?’ she asked, viewing the precipitate descent with some concern. ‘Isn’t it too steep?’

‘Do not tell me you are afraid of heights, cara.’ He teased her mercilessly. ‘Where is your sense of adventure?’

Tess shook her head. ‘I don’t think I have one, signore,’ she murmured unhappily. ‘But—if you can do it—’

‘An old man like me, you mean?’ he queried wryly, and she turned to give him an impatient look.

‘You’re not old, signore,’ she protested, and he sighed at her continued use of the formal means of address.

‘Then why do you persist in calling me signore?’ he countered, his eyes intent on her flushed face. ‘You know my name, Tess. Use it.’

‘I—I don’t think I should call you Rafe,’ she exclaimed, and he had the impression that she found it difficult to drag her gaze away from his.

‘Why not?’

He couldn’t prevent himself from pursuing it and this time she succeeded in breaking the connection. ‘Because—well, just because,’ she mumbled lamely. Then, in an effort to divert him, she added, ‘Oughtn’t we to choose a sandwich or something? The owner will think we’ve just stopped here for the view.’

‘Works for me,’ murmured Rafe before he could stop himself, and she cast one astonished look in his direction before moving away towards the van.

Rafe was pleased to see that the man who ran the booth was offering cheese-filled panini and steaming slices of pizza as well as the more common tramezzini or sandwiches. There were ready-made salads, too, in foil-wrapped containers, and spicy bruschetta, spread with olive or tomato paste.

It was obvious Tess didn’t know what to choose, so he took it upon himself to place two orders for pizza and salad, and a slice each of tiramisu for dessert. Sealed cups of black coffee completed the meal and he was aware that Tess looked at him rather doubtfully as he carried his purchases back to the car.

‘I—how do you propose to carry all that?’ she asked, and he remembered that she still thought he intended to scale the cliff to reach the beach.

‘You will see,’ he said, opening the boot of the Ferrari and putting the bags and containers inside. He smiled to himself at the thought of what his mother would think of him—as she would put it—abusing the automobile in this way. Tess hadn’t been far wrong. He wasn’t in the habit of eating the food from roadside kiosks. But that was not to say he wasn’t going to enjoy it this time.

Tess was frowning now, and circling the car, he swung open her door. ‘Get in, per favore.’

Tess hesitated. ‘I thought you said—’

‘Just get in,’ he urged her softly, and, although he could see the uncertainty in her face, she was too polite to refuse.

He watched as she swung her legs inside, assuring himself he was only waiting to close the door when in his heart of hearts he knew he had a more personal reason. He enjoyed watching her, enjoyed disconcerting her. However much he might regret his impetuosity tomorrow, for today he intended to live each minute as it came.

A moment later, he slid in beside her, instantly aware of the feminine aroma of her heated skin. It was a disturbing scent, unfamiliar and definitely sensual. It aroused him as nothing had that he could remember, and the urge to touch her was almost overwhelming.

But he controlled himself, consigning the insistent pull of attraction to the back of his mind. All right, he sensed she was aware of him, too, but she’d probably run a mile if he acted on it. Apart from anything else, they hardly knew one another. So why did he feel as if he’d known her for half his life?

Casting her a brief half-smile, he started the car and drove away from the headland. But not far. Just a few yards further on, a winding track almost overhung with wild bramble and juniper dipped away from the coastal road. Anyone who didn’t know it was there would never have noticed it, particularly at this time of the year when the blossom was out.

He was aware that Tess had turned to stare at him now and he guessed what she was thinking before she spoke. ‘You never had any intention of climbing down the cliff, did you?’ she exclaimed, but her tone was more relieved than accusing. Then as the car swung round a hairpin bend she groped for the edge of her seat. ‘Is this road going somewhere or are we likely to get stuck halfway down?’

‘Relax, cara,’ he said, taking a hand from the wheel to briefly touch her knee. ‘I know what I am doing.’

But did he? he wondered as he withdrew from that strangely intimate connection. Once again, he had acted on impulse and now her gaze was decidedly uncertain as it darted away from his.

‘I hope so,’ she mumbled almost under her breath, but he heard her and chided himself for causing more tension between them. He’d intended this to be a light-hearted interlude before he returned her to Porto San Michele, but he was in danger of creating problems that might be far harder to deal with than Marco’s boyish infatuation for her sister.

The track narrowed as it neared the bottom of the cliffs and he winced as the untamed bushes scraped along the sides of the car. A mistake in more ways than one, he thought ruefully, but that didn’t stop him from feeling an ungovernable sense of anticipation at spending a little longer in Tess’s company.

As he’d hoped, the shallow plateau above the beach was deserted. There was just room enough to turn the car and his satisfaction at their seclusion was only equalled by his relief that his memory of the place hadn’t been faulty.

And it was just as beautiful as he remembered. The untouched stretch of beach was enclosed on either side by a rocky promontory, and the sand was as pure and untouched as when the cove was formed. At the shoreline, waves broke into rivulets of foam, and beyond the dazzling brilliance of the sea the sky rose, a cloudless arc of blue above. They could have been alone on some desert island were it not for the sails of a yacht heading far out towards the horizon.

Tess thrust open her door as soon as he stopped the car. Getting out, she walked to the edge of the turning area and lifted both hands to protect the top of her head. He wondered what she was thinking as she stared out to sea. He hoped she wasn’t regretting coming with him. For the first time in more years than he cared to calculate, he was enjoying himself and he didn’t want anything to spoil it.

But he had been sitting there too long watching her, and when she glanced back over her shoulder he saw the doubt in her eyes. He at once opened his door and, pushing his feet out onto the sun-baked earth, he crossed the space that divided them.

‘I suppose you knew this was here,’ she said as he joined her. Then, turning back to the view, she added somewhat wistfully, ‘It is a marvellous place.’

‘You like it?’ He was pleased. ‘Thankfully, it has not yet been discovered by the tourists.’

‘Down that track?’ A smile was in her voice. ‘I dread to think what you’ve done to your car.’

‘It is only a car,’ he assured her mildly. ‘If it needs a paint job, then so be it.’

Tess shook her head. ‘You say that so casually. Most people have to take care of their possessions.’

Rafe sighed, realising he had been careless. ‘Perhaps I measure my possessions differently, cara,’ he said softly.

‘People are more important to me than—what shall I say?—pretty toys, no?’

She shrugged and as she did so he noticed how the sun had already tinged the skin of her upper arms with a rosy glow. She would burn easily, he thought, the knowledge increasing the sense of protection he already felt towards her. He wanted to—

But, no. He was already getting ahead of himself and, turning back to the car, he collected the bags containing their lunch from the boot. ‘Come,’ he said, stepping into the tangle of reeds and grasses that bordered the plateau. ‘We can have lunch in the shade of the cliffs, yes?’

‘Okay.’

He saw her give another glance back towards the car before she followed him down onto the sand. Then, kicking off her shoes, she seemed to relax, and by the time he had spread his jacket for them to sit on she was right behind him.

‘I know,’ he said as she dropped her shoes beside her. ‘This will not do my jacket any good either. But in this instance, it can be cleaned.’

‘If you say so.’

Apparently deciding she had no choice than to trust him, she seated herself at the edge of the jacket, drawing up her knees and wrapping her arms about them. Rafe dropped down beside her, trying not to stare at the smooth flesh disappearing into the cuffs of her shorts. Imagining what lay beneath the pink cotton was not only unforgivable, it was stupid, and he distracted himself by opening the bags and containers and setting them out between them.

‘What would you like to eat?’ he asked, when Tess seemed to be more interested in the tiny shells that dotted the sand at her feet than the food. ‘Salad? Pizza?’

‘What? Oh—’ He was suddenly sure she was only pretending not to have noticed what he’d been doing. ‘Um—salad sounds good.’

He met her wary gaze with a deliberately neutral stare. ‘Only salad?’

She shifted a little awkwardly. ‘Well—maybe a slice of pizza, too,’ she agreed, accepting the salad container from his hand. ‘Thanks. This looks good.’

‘I hope so.’ He helped himself to a slice of the pizza and bit into it with feigned enthusiasm. The tomato juice oozed onto his chin and he grabbed a napkin to wipe it away. ‘Hmm. Molto bene.’