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

‘You do not know, cara?’ There was no mistaking the censure in Castelli’s tone. ‘Do not lie to me, Maria. You knew of Marco’s sudden interest in painting. I have heard him discussing his aspirations with you.’

‘Well, yes.’ Maria lifted her shoulders defensively. ‘But why should I associate his interest in painting with the Medici Gallery?’

Castelli’s eyes narrowed. ‘You tell me.’

Maria cast a malevolent look at Tess, clearly resenting her observance of this embarrassing scene. If she could, Tess would have left the table then, just as unhappy with the situation as Maria. But she was a stranger here. She didn’t even know where the restrooms were. And she was supposed to be monitoring the girl’s reactions too. Did she know where her brother was or didn’t she?

‘I do not know what you are talking about, Papa,’ Maria said at last, reaching for the jug of fruit juice and pouring some rather jerkily into an ice-filled glass. Her hand was shaking, however, and she spilled some of the orange juice onto the table. She only just managed to stifle her irritation as she snatched at a napkin to mop it up. Then, turning to Tess, she arched her brows. ‘Juice or coffee?

‘Juice is fine,’ said Tess, not wanting to risk the chance of getting hot coffee spilled over her, deliberately or otherwise. ‘Thanks.’

‘Papa?’

Castelli shifted in his seat and, although she was supposed to be concentrating on their exchange, Tess flinched at the bump of his thigh against her hip. Despite her determination not to get involved with him, she couldn’t help her instinctive reaction to the contact. His thigh was hard and warm and masculine, and she felt the heat his body generated spread across her abdomen and down into the moistening cleft between her legs.

She doubted he’d noticed what had happened. After all, what had happened? Just a careless brush of his leg against hers. If she was absurdly sensitive, that was her problem. Castelli was totally focussed on his daughter. She might as well not have been there.

He made an eloquent gesture now, as if having to decide what he wanted to drink was an annoying distraction. ‘Chi-anti,’ he said after a moment, nodding towards the bottle of wine the maid had left uncorked in the middle of the table. ‘But you will not divert me, Maria. Marco is missing. If I find out you know where he is, I shall not forgive you.’

Maria gasped. ‘What do you mean, Papa? Marco is missing? Has he run away?’

‘Do not be melodramatic, Maria. I suspect you know perfectly well what is going on. But in case you have any doubts, let me enlighten you, cara. Your brother has gone away with Ashley Daniels, Tess’s sister.’

Tess wasn’t sure what Maria’s reaction meant then. She was shocked, certainly, but whether that shock was the result of Marco’s behaviour or because her father had found her out, it was impossible to judge.

‘But—that cannot be,’ she said at last, her voice a little unsteady. ‘You are saying that Marco has some interest in the woman who runs the Medici Gallery? That is ludicrous. She is far too old for him.’

Tess decided not to take offence at Maria’s words. After all, she was right. Ashley was too old for Marco. They were all agreed on that. Of course, hearing the scorn in Maria’s voice did make her feel ancient. But what of it? It didn’t matter what Maria thought of her.

‘You knew he was seeing her, no?’

Castelli was relentless, and Maria sighed. ‘I knew he visited the gallery,’ she admitted. ‘But he visited a lot of galleries, Papa. He told me he was interested in art. Why should I suspect his visits to this woman’s gallery meant anything more than the rest?’

‘Because he told you?’ suggested her father grimly. ‘Vene, Maria, I am not a fool. Marco tells you everything. If he was interested in this woman, he could not have kept it a secret from you.’

Maria looked tearful now. ‘You have to believe me, Papa. Do you think I would have encouraged him to do something like this?’

‘I am not saying you encouraged him,’ retorted Castelli. ‘I believe you are far too sensible for that. But I do think he mentioned his interest in this woman to you. To—what shall we say?—to brag about it, force! Did he tell you the kind of relationship they had?’

Maria sniffed. ‘I do not believe it.’

‘What do you not believe? That Marco could be infatuated with an older woman? Or that he would hide his true feelings from you?’

‘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.