Tall, Dark and Italian

‘Non posso crederci! I can’t believe it.’ He shook his head. ‘But you told me your sister was twenty-eight, no?’

‘And I’m thirty-two,’ said Tess shortly, struggling to hold on to her patience. She paused, and then in a more civil tone she added, ‘Don’t bother to tell me I don’t look it. I’ve spent the last ten years trying to convince people that I’m older than the kids I teach.’

Castelli’s mouth tilted at the corners and she was struck anew by his disturbing appeal. ‘Most women would envy you, Tess. My own mother spends a small fortune on retaining her youth.’

‘But I am not most women,’ she retorted, realising she was only putting off the inevitable. ‘And now, I suppose, I’d better make that call’

Chapter Two

PAFE DI CASTELLI paced tensely about the gallery. All his instincts were urging him to join her in the small office, to be present while she made the call. To make sure she actually called her sister, he conceded tersely. Despite her apparent innocence, he had no reason to trust Tess Daniels any more than her sister.

But courtesy—and an underlying belief that she wouldn’t lie to him—kept him out of earshot. He didn’t want to know how she phrased her question; he didn’t want to hear her distress if he was right. And he was right, he told himself grimly. Verdicci had been adamant. Two people had got aboard the plane to Milano, and one of them had been his son.

It seemed to take for ever. He was fairly sure her Italian wasn’t fluent and it might have been easier if he had placed the call for her. But any suggestion of involvement on his part would have seemed like interference. Besides, impatient as he was, he was prepared to give her the time to marshal her thoughts.

She emerged from the office a few moments later and he saw at once that she was upset. Her hair was rumpled, as if she’d been running agitated fingers through it as she spoke, and her winter-pale cheeks were bright with colour.

She looked delectable, he thought ruefully, despising the impulse that would put such a thought in his mind at this time. Was this how she looked when she left her bed? he wondered. All pale tangled hair and face flushed from sleep?

It was a curiously disturbing picture, and one that he chose to ignore. Engaging though she was, she could mean nothing to him. He was amused by her naivety, but that was all.

‘She’s not there,’ she burst out abruptly as he paused, expectantly, looking at her. ‘Andrea—that’s Ashley’s mother—she hasn’t seen her.’

Rafe felt a mixture of resignation and relief. Resignation that his information had been correct, and relief that there was not some unknown woman involved.

‘You knew that, of course,’ she went on, regarding him half resentfully. Green eyes, fringed by surprisingly dark lashes, surveyed him without liking. ‘So—you were right and I was wrong. What do we do now?’

‘We?’ Her use of the personal pronoun caused an automatic arching of his brows and she had the grace to look embarrassed at her presumption.

‘I mean, I—that is, me,’ she fumbled. ‘What am I going to do now? I can’t stay here indefinitely. I’m due back at school in ten days’ time.’

‘As is Marco,’ he observed drily, feeling a little of her frustration himself. ‘May I ask, what did your sister tell you when she handed the keys of the gallery to you? Did she give you any idea when she would return?’

Tess sighed. ‘I haven’t seen Ashley,’ she muttered, lifting both hands to cup her neck, and his eyes were unwillingly drawn to the widening gap of skin at her midriff. Such soft skin it looked, creamy and flawless. Such a contrast to the ugly boots she wore on her feet.

Dragging his thoughts out of the gutter, Rafe tried to absorb what she was saying. ‘You have not seen her,’ he echoed blankly. ‘I do not understand.’

‘Ashley phoned me,’ she explained. ‘She said her mother was ill and was there any chance that I could come here and look after the gallery for a few days while she went to England. She said she wanted to leave immediately. That she was worried about her mother and she’d leave the keys with the caretaker of her apartment.’

‘So you crossed in transit?’

‘In a manner of speaking. But Ashley’s mother and I live in different parts of the country.’

‘Ah.’ He nodded. ‘So your sister had every reason to believe that she would not be found out in her deception.’

‘I suppose so.’ Clearly she didn’t want to admit it, but Rafe could see the acknowledgement in her face. She shook her head. ‘I can’t believe she’d think she’d get away with it. I could have phoned Andrea. I could have found out she wasn’t ill for myself.’

‘But you did not?’

‘No.’ Tess shrugged her slim shoulders and her hands dropped to her sides. ‘Ashley knows I was unlikely to do that, in any case. Andrea and I have never been particularly close.’

‘Yet you must have been very young when your mother died,’ he probed, and then could have kicked himself for his insensitivity. But it was too late now and he was forced to explain himself. ‘I assumed this woman—your father’s second wife—would have cared for you, too.’

Tess shook her head. ‘Andrea has always been a—a delicate woman,’ she said. ‘Having two young children to look after would have been too much for her. I went to live with my mother’s sister. She’d never married and she was a teacher, too.’

Poor Tess. Rafe made no comment, but it sounded to him as if Andrea Daniels was as unfeeling and as selfish as her daughter. ‘It seems we have both been deceived,’ he said, softening his tone deliberately. ‘It is a pity your sister does not carry a mobile. Marco’s is switched off.’

‘But she does,’ exclaimed Tess excitedly, animation giving her porcelain-pale features a startling allure. Her smile appeared and Rafe had to warn himself of the dangers of responding to her femininity. ‘Why didn’t I think of it before? She gave me the number when she moved to Porto San Michele.’

Rafe expelled a harsh breath. ‘You have the number with you?’

‘Of course.’ She swung about and headed back into the office where she’d left her bag. She emerged a few seconds later, clutching a scrap of paper. ‘Here it is. Do you want to ring her, or shall I?’

Rafe realised suddenly that, almost without his volition, they had become co-conspirators. She was now as anxious to know where her sister had gone as he was. But once again he reminded himself not to get involved with her, however innocently. She was still his enemy’s sister. In any conflict of wills, she would choose Ashley every time.

‘If you wish that I should make the call, then I will,’ he told her politely, but he could hear the formal stiffness in his tone. ‘Even so, perhaps it would be wiser for you to phone her. If she hears my voice…’

‘Oh. Oh, yes.’

He didn’t elaborate but Tess understood at once what he was saying. The animation died out of her face and she averted her eyes. It was as if she’d just remembered that she owed him no favours either. That however justified he felt, she had only his word that Ashley was to blame for his son’s disappearance.

With an offhand little gesture, she returned to the office, only to emerge again a few minutes later, her expression revealing she had had no luck. ‘Ashley’s phone is switched off, too,’ she said, and Rafe could see she was losing faith in her sister. She heaved a sigh. ‘It looks as if you were right all along. What are you going to do now?’

Rafe wished he had an answer. There was hardly any point in saying what he’d like to do. ‘Continue searching, presumo,’ he replied at last, choosing the least aggressive option. ‘There are many holiday resorts between here and Genova. It is possible that your sister hired an automobile at the airport. They could be anywhere. It will not be an easy task.’

‘Mmm.’ Tess was thoughtful. A pink tongue circled her lower lip and Rafe realised she didn’t know how provocative that was. ‘Will you let me know if you find them?’ she asked ‘I mean—find Ashley.’ Becoming colour scored her cheeks. ‘You know what I mean.’

Rafe knew what she meant all right. What he didn’t know at that moment was whether he wanted to see her again. She was far too young for him, far too vulnerable. Despite her being the older, he’d stake his life that Ashley was far more worldly than she was.

The notion annoyed him however. What in the name of all the saints was he thinking? She wasn’t asking to see him again. She was asking if he’d keep her informed about her sister. Va bene, he could get his assistant to do that with a phone call. Providing he found out where her sister had gone…

‘Si,’ he said abruptly, buttoning his jacket in an unconsciously defensive gesture and heading for the door. He turned in the doorway, however, to bid her farewell and was surprised by a strangely disappointed look on her face. With her slim hands clasped at her waist, she looked lost and lonely, and before he could stop himself he added, ‘Perhaps you could do the same?’

Her green eyes widened. ‘I don’t know where to reach you,’ she said, as he’d known she would. Maledizione, he hadn’t intended to give her his phone number. How easily he’d fallen into the trap.

He would have to give her his card, he decided, reaching into his jacket pocket. That way Giulio could handle it and he needn’t be involved. To give her his mobile number would have been kinder, obviously, but why should he put himself out for the sister of the woman who had seduced his son?

He took a few paces back into the gallery and handed the card to her. Her fingers brushed his knuckles as she took it and he couldn’t deny the sudden frisson of desire that seared his flesh. He wanted her, he thought incredulously. Combat boots and all, she attracted him. Or maybe he was feeling his age and seducing her would give him some compensation for what her sister had done to Marco. What other reason could he have for the feelings she inspired?

Whatever, he dismissed the idea impatiently. He was obviously having some kind of midlife crisis because girls like Tess had never appealed to him before. He liked his women young—well, reasonably so, but far more sophisticated. They wore designer dresses and heels, and they’d never dream of going out without make-up on their faces.

Vigneto di Castelli, his card read, and he watched Tess’s expression as she looked at it. ‘You have a vineyard,’ she murmured. ‘How exciting! I’ve never met anyone who actually owned a vineyard before.’

Nor had her sister, thought Rafe drily. He was too cynical to believe that Marco’s background hadn’t figured in Ashley’s plans. He still had no idea what her ultimate intentions were, of course, but he suspected that a pay-off would be part of it. He’d encountered the ploy before with his daughter. But fortunately Maria had been eighteen, not sixteen at the time.

‘It is a small operation, signorina,’ he said now depre-catingly. ‘Many families in Italy have taken to growing grapes with the increase in wine drinking in recent years.’

‘All the same…’ Her lips curved beguilingly, and Rafe felt the familiar pull of awareness inside him. Time to go, he thought grimly, before he invited her to visit the villa. He could just imagine his mother’s horror if he returned home with someone like Tess in tow.

‘Ci vediamo, signorina,’ he said politely as he retraced his steps to the door but she wouldn’t let him have the last word.

‘My name’s Tess,’ she reminded him, following him out onto the esplanade and watching as he strode away towards his car.

And, although he didn’t answer her, he knew that was how he would think of her. Somehow the name suited her personality. It was as capricious and feminine as she was.

As he’d half expected, his mother was waiting for him when he returned to the Villa Castelli.

A tall, elegant woman in her mid-sixties, she’d moved back into the villa six years ago when he’d divorced his wife. Rafe’s father had died almost twenty years before and he was sure that looking after Maria and Marco had given the old lady a new lease of life. Of course, she’d never forgiven him for divorcing Gina. In the Castelli family marriages were made to last and her strict religious beliefs rebelled against such secular freedom. Nevertheless, she had proved a tower of strength on many occasions and it was only recently that she had decided that the time had come to move back into the small farmhouse she’d occupied on the estate since Raphael’s father’s death.

Rafe knew her decision had been partly influenced by his son’s behaviour. Although Maria had had her own period of rebellion, she had been fairly easy to control in comparison to her brother. Marco was self-willed and headstrong—much as he had been at the same age, Rafe acknowledged honestly—but without the sense of responsibility his father had instilled in him.

‘You’ve seen her?’

His mother’s first words reminded Rafe that, as far as Lucia di Castelli was concerned, Ashley Daniels was still running the Medici Gallery. His main reason for visiting the gallery had been to find out if Ashley knew where Marco was hiding. Instead of which he’d met her sister and discovered he was not too old to make a fool of himself, too.

‘She’s not at the gallery,’ he said with contrived carelessness, strolling onto the loggia where his mother was waiting enjoying a mid-morning cappuccino. It was very warm on the loggia and Rafe loosened his tie and pulled it a couple of inches away from his collar before approaching a glass-topped table and helping himself to one of the thin, honey-soaked biscotti Lucia loved. ‘Verdicci appears to have been correct. They have gone away together.’ He glanced round as a uniformed maid came to ask if there was anything he required. ‘Just coffee, Sophia,’ he replied pleasantly. ‘Black.’ Then to his mother. ‘Her sister is looking after the gallery while she’s away.’

‘Her sister?’

His mother was sceptical, and Rafe guessed she’d jumped to the same conclusion he had. ‘Her sister,’ he confirmed, flinging himself into a cane-backed chair and staring broodingly out across the gardens below the terrace. ‘Believe me, she is nothing like this woman Marco has got himself involved with.’

‘How do you know this?’ Lucia’s dark eyes narrowed. ‘I thought you said you wouldn’t recognise the woman if you saw her.’

‘I wouldn’t.’ Rafe realised he had been far too definite. ‘But Tess is a schoolteacher. And, believe me, she’s as much in the dark as we are. Ashley had given her some story about going home to care for her sick mother.’

‘Tess!’ Lucia scoffed. ‘What kind of a name is that?’

‘It’s Teresa,’ replied Rafe evenly, thanking the maid who had delivered his coffee. He turned back to his mother in some irritation. ‘We won’t get anywhere by picking fault with one of the few people who might be able to help us.’

‘How can this woman help us? You said yourself she doesn’t know where her sister is.’

‘Ashley may get in touch with her. If she wants Teresa to go on believing the story she’s given her, she may feel the need to embellish it in some way.’

Lucia’s mouth drew into a thin line. ‘It sounds to me as if this—this sister of the Daniels woman has made quite an impression on you, Raphael,’ she declared tersely. ‘Why do you believe her? What proof do you have that she’s telling you the truth?’

None at all! ‘Believe me, she was as shocked as we were,’ he responded stiffly. ‘You can’t blame her for what her sister’s done.’

‘And has she contacted her mother?’ Lucia was scathing.

‘Forgive me, I know I’m old-fashioned, but don’t English girls keep in touch with their own parents these days?’

‘Of course they do,’ retorted Rafe testily. ‘But Ashley’s mother isn’t her mother. Their father married twice. Teresa is the older sister.’

‘Che sorpresa!’ What a surprise! Lucia was sardonic. ‘People get married and divorced at the drop of a hat these days.’ She crossed herself before continuing. ‘Thank Jesu for the Holy Catholic church. At least most good Catholics take their vows seriously.’

Rafe knew that was directed at him but he chose not to rise to it. It wasn’t worth it. He contented himself with saying drily, ‘I understand Teresa’s mother is dead.’ Then, refusing to feel defensive, added, ‘In any case, as you’ll have guessed, Ashley wasn’t at her mother’s home. It seems she has told her sister a pack of lies.’

Lucia shook her head. ‘It sounds very suspicious to me.’

Rafe controlled his temper with an effort. ‘Well, I cannot help that,’ he said grimly.

‘But you must admit it is strange that this woman—this Teresa—doesn’t know where her sister is.’ She arched an aristocratic eyebrow. ‘Why on earth would she want to keep her whereabouts a secret from her?’

‘Because she knew her sister wouldn’t approve any more than we do?’ suggested Rafe tightly. ‘I don’t know, Mama. But I believe her and I think you should do the same.’

Lucia sniffed and Rafe thought how ridiculous this was, having to explain himself to his mother. Sometimes she behaved as if he were no older than Marco. He supposed it came of giving her free rein with the household after Gina walked out.

‘So what happens now?’ she inquired at last when it became obvious that Rafe was going to say no more. ‘Do I take it that unless the woman gets in touch with her sister, the information Verdicci gave you is our only lead?’

‘I will also speak to Maria,’ said Rafe. ‘She and Marco share most things and she may know where he’s gone. It’s a long shot and for the present we only know they disembarked in Genova. I suspect the Daniels woman guessed we might check the airlines and buying tickets to Milano was meant to throw us off the scent.’

‘And knowing they might be in Genova helps us how?’

‘Well, obviously she didn’t know we were watching her. She has no reason to believe that we might question whether they completed their journey. Ergo, she will expect us to make inquiries in Milano. Inquiries which, as we now know, would have gained us nothing.’

‘Very well’ Lucia accepted his reasoning. ‘But Genova is a big city. How do you propose to find them there?’

‘I’m hoping Ashley will have hired an automobile,’ replied Rafe, finishing his coffee and getting to his feet again. He paced somewhat restlessly across the terrazzo tiles, staring out at the distant vineyard, hazy in the morning sunshine. ‘Verdicci is checking the rental agencies at the airport. If she has used her own name, we will find them, never fear.’

‘And if she hasn’t?’

‘Car rental agencies need identification. If my guess is correct, she will have used her passport to confirm her identity. Either that or her work permit. In each case, she will have had to use her own name. She may even have had to give an address—a local address, I mean. Somewhere she plans to stay. Where they plan to stay.’

Lucia’s lips crumpled. ‘Oh, this is so terrible! Every time I close my eyes, all I can see is Marco and that woman, together. It’s—appalling! Disgusting!’

‘Don’t exaggerate, Mama.’ Rafe could see she was building up to another hysterical outburst. His lips twisted. ‘For all I know, Marco may be more experienced than we thought. He must have something to have attracted the interest of a woman of her age.’

‘Don’t be offensive!’ Lucia gazed at him with horrified eyes. ‘How can you even say such things? Marco is just a child—’

‘He’s nearly seventeen, Mama.’ Rafe was impatient now. ‘He’s not a child. He’s a young man.’ He paused. ‘With a young man’s needs and—desires.’

Lucia’s spine stiffened and she pushed herself rigidly to her feet. ‘Very well,’ she said coldly. ‘I can see you are not prepared to discuss this sensibly so I might as well go. I should have expected this of you, of course. You’ve never taken a strong enough hand with that boy and now we’re all suffering the consequences.’

Rafe blew out a breath. ‘You’re not suffering anything, Mama. Except perhaps from a little jealousy. I know you’ve always thought the sun shone out of Marco’s—well, you’ve always favoured him over Maria. Perhaps you ought to wonder if you are in any way responsible for his apparent rebellion against parental authority.’

Lucia’s jaw dropped. ‘You can’t blame me?’

‘I’m not blaming anyone,’ retorted Rafe wearily. ‘You are. All I’m doing is defending myself.’

‘As you did when Gina decided she’d had enough of your indifference?’ declared his mother tersely, making for the door. ‘You’ve always neglected your family, Raphael. First your wife and now your son. With you, your work must always come first.’

‘Gina slept with my estate manager,’ said Rafe through his teeth, but Lucia was not deterred.

‘She was lonely, Raphael. She needed love and you didn’t give it to her. What did you expect?’

Trust? Loyalty? Rafe didn’t attempt to dispute her words, however. This was an old argument and one he had no intention of rekindling. Gina hadn’t wanted love, she’d wanted sex. Her affair with Guido Marchetta might have been the reason he’d divorced her, but it hadn’t been the first. He had never told his mother that and now was not the time to do so.

‘Look,’ he said, his tone neutral. ‘Let’s not get into blaming ourselves. Marco’s somewhere out there and I’m going to find him.’

Lucia shrugged. ‘If you can,’ she said scornfully, determined to have the last word, and Rafe let her enjoy her small victory.

Chapter Three

As TESS had half expected, Ashley’s mother rang the gallery just after the man, Castelli, had left.

Tess didn’t blame her. She wouldn’t have been satisfied with the terse explanation she had given her. But once Tess had ascertained that Ashley wasn’t there, all she’d wanted to do was get off the phone. It had been bad enough having to relay the news to Castelli. Discussing Ashley’s whereabouts with her mother while he’d listened in just hadn’t been possible.

Even so, when the phone pealed in the small office she paused a moment to pray that it might be her sister instead. The gallery was still empty and she had no excuse for not answering it. And it could be anyone, she reminded herself, not looking forward to explaining the situation to Andrea.

‘Teresa?’ Clearly Ashley’s mother had no difficulty in distinguishing between their voices. ‘What’s going on? What are you doing at the gallery? Where’s Ashley?’

Tess sighed. When she’d spoken to Andrea earlier, she hadn’t mentioned the gallery. But it was only natural that Andrea would ring here when she got no reply from Tess’s flat. And this was where her daughter was supposed to be, after all.

‘Um—she’s taking a holiday,’ Tess managed at last, deciding that the best liars were those who stuck most closely to the truth. ‘It’s good to hear from you, Andrea. How are you?’

‘Never mind how I am, Teresa.’ There was no affection in the older woman’s voice. ‘Five minutes ago you rang here asking to speak to Ashley. You must have known how upsetting that would be for me. As far as I knew, she was still in Porto San Michele.’

‘You’ve heard from her?’

Tess couldn’t keep the excitement out of her voice and her stepmother detected it. ‘Of course, I’ve heard from her,’ she said shortly. And then, more suspiciously, ‘Why shouldn’t I? She still cares about me, you know.’

‘Well, of course she does—’

‘Just because you encouraged her to leave home and live alone, as you do, doesn’t mean Ashley doesn’t have a conscience,’ continued Andrea preposterously. ‘I know you’ve always been jealous of our relationship, Teresa, but if this is some ploy to try and get me to think badly of—’

‘It’s not.’

Tess couldn’t even begin to unravel what Andrea was talking about. She hadn’t encouraged Ashley to leave home and work in Italy. She had certainly never been jealous of her relationship with her mother. Envious, perhaps, because her own mother wasn’t there to share her hopes and fears; her development. But Aunt Kate had been a wonderful substitute. And what she’d lacked in experience, she’d more than made up for in love.