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Tess absorbed this. ‘I assumed they’d met at the gallery. I understand Marco is interested in art.’
‘Now where did you hear that?’ Castelli’s eyes were once again focussed on her. ‘It seems you, too, have been making the enquiries, cara.’ His lips curled. ‘My son’s—interest in painting came after meeting your sister. It was an excuse to visit the gallery, nothing more.’
‘You sound very sure.’
Castelli shrugged. ‘Marco has never shown any aptitude for art before. He is a science student. He has always been more interested in the reality of life as opposed to the ideal.’
‘Ah, but wasn’t it Jean Cocteau who called art “science in the flesh”,’ Tess pointed out triumphantly. ‘And surely you can’t deny that Leonardo da Vinci was a scientist, as well as being one of the most influential painters of all time?’
Castelli pulled a wry face. ‘You are determined to win this argument, are you not?’ he remarked ruefully. ‘And when it comes to quotations from the classics, you obviously have the advantage. But, please, do not tell me that Marco’s infatuation for your sister is, as Ruskin said, “the expression of one soul talking to another’’, because I do not believe it.’
Tess was taken aback by his knowledge, but not really surprised. Raphael di Castelli struck her as being a very intelligent man and, contrary to his declaration, she doubted she had any advantage over him. But she understood his feelings, understood that it must be a source of frustration to him that Ashley had caused such a rift between him and his son.
‘I can’t imagine what Ashley thinks she’s doing,’ she murmured now, half wistfully. ‘Her mother thinks I should report her disappearance to the police.’
‘La polizia?’ He seemed taken aback. ‘But this is not a criminal matter.’
‘No.’ Tess didn’t know why but suddenly she wanted to reassure him. ‘I’ve managed to persuade her that there’s no need to involve the police at present.’
‘Grazie.’
He was obviously relieved and, taking advantage of his momentary weakness, she said, ‘I gather your investigator hasn’t turned up any clues.’
‘No.’ He was resigned. ‘He is still in Genova, checking the automobile rental agencies, as I believe I told you. So far, he has had no luck in tracing their whereabouts.’
Tess sighed. ‘I’m sorry.’ And she was. As much for him, she realised with some confusion, as for herself.
His expression softened. ‘You are not getting a very favourable picture of my country, are you, Tess? Or perhaps I should say, of my family. Despite his youth I accept Marco is also to blame.’
She managed a smile. ‘Thank you for saying that.’
‘My pleasure.’ His voice stroked her senses. Then, with gentle insistence, ‘You are not at all like your sister, are you, little one?’
Despite his reference to her size, the sudden intimacy of his words couldn’t be ignored and she seized on the first thing she could think of in response. ‘You’re sure they’re in Genoa, signore?’ she asked hurriedly. ‘Is it a big city?’
‘It is a very big city,’ he said drily, ‘and at this point I am not sure of anything.’ A trace of weariness entered his voice. ‘That is why I am going to Viareggio. Marco may have confided his plans to his sister.’
‘To his sister? I didn’t know he had a sister.’
And why should she? she thought foolishly. It wasn’t as if Castelli had confided his family connections to her. But somehow she’d got it into her head that Marco was an only child. Or perhaps, she’d only hoped he was. If Castelli had more children, he was even further out of reach.
He was regarding her with mild speculation now and she wondered what was going on behind his polite façade. What was he thinking? That she’d been presumptuous to say what she had? Or that she had no right to question his private affairs?
‘My daughter married at the end of last year,’ he replied at last, apparently deciding she deserved an answer. ‘Maria—that is her name—she and Carlo, her husband, own a small albergo in a village not far from the city.’ He paused. ‘If you come with me, you can meet her for yourself.’
Tess sucked in a breath. She hadn’t expected him to repeat his invitation and now that he had she was unsettled again. She knew she should still say no. Closing the gallery would be irresponsible and reckless. How would his daughter feel if her father turned up with a strange woman? Pretty peeved, Tess was sure.
No, she couldn’t do it. Even if the idea of taking off for the day was almost irresistible, she had to keep her head.
Italian men had a reputation for liking women and Castelli was a married man besides. She’d be mad to put herself into his hands.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said at last, feeling real regret as she voiced the words. ‘I don’t think your wife would approve.’
‘My wife?’ He gazed at her strangely. ‘What does my wife have to do with my asking you to accompany me on this trip?’
‘Well…’ Tess’s face felt as if it were burning. Put like that it did sound as if she was attributing motives to him he clearly didn’t have. ‘I just thought—that is, I’m sure the rest of your family will think it odd if you turn up with—with a strange woman.’
His mouth flattened. ‘Ah, a beautiful woman, cost intendi?’ he remarked softly, and Tess felt as if she couldn’t get enough air. A faint smile lightened his expression. ‘You think my wife and my daughter would not approve of my friendship with the attractive sister of my son’s innamorata, no?’
Tess had never felt more embarrassed in her life. ‘We’re hardly—friends, signore. I just meant—’
‘I know what you meant, Tess,’ he assured her smugly, and she felt as if she wanted to scream with frustration. ‘Relax, cara. There is no conflict of interest. There is only my daughter. My wife and I live separate lives.’
Tess wasn’t convinced. ‘But she still lives in your house, yes?’
‘She lives in my house, no,’ he teased her mockingly. ‘Sono divorziato, Tess. We are divorced. Gina makes her home in New York.’
Chapter Five
SHE didn’t look as if she believed him and Rafe acknowledged that divorce was still not a common thing in his country. Indeed, hadn’t his own mother been horrified that he should consider such a thing? Catholics did not get divorced, she’d told him severely. Marriage vows were meant to last.
But Rafe couldn’t believe that anyone should be condemned to spend their lives with someone who flouted their vows so freely. Who, he suspected, had only married him to escape the rigorous dictates of her elderly father.
‘I’m sorry,’ Tess said now, cupping the back of her neck with her hands and drawing his eyes to the rounded breasts pressing against her sleeveless top. ‘It’s really none of my business.’
‘No.’ He conceded the point because he realised he was behaving totally out of character for him. Dio mio, he was too old to be—what?—flirting with a girl who was almost young enough to be his daughter. Well, perhaps that was an exaggeration, he conceded. But he was forty-three. More than old enough to have more sense.
‘Anyway,’ she continued, evidently taking his response at face value, ‘I mustn’t keep you.’ She forced a polite smile. ‘Will you let me know if—if your daughter does know where they are?’
And Rafe felt his resolve faltering. Dammit, what was wrong with inviting her to go to Viareggio with him? It wasn’t as if he had any ulterior motive for doing so. She was Ashley’s sister. She deserved to know what was going on.
Yeah, right.
‘I had thought you might like to question Maria yourself,’ he said, ignoring his conscience. ‘Can I not persuade you to change your mind?’
Her hands dropped to her sides then and the colour that had ebbed and flowed from her cheeks all the time she had been speaking to him deepened again. ‘Oh—really,’ she said, making a distracted gesture towards her outfit. ‘I couldn’t go out dressed like this.’
‘Why not?’ She looked perfectly fine to him, bare legs and all. And when had he noticed them ? ‘This is not a formal visit, cara. You must have considered that what you are wearing was good enough to come to work, no?’
Tess lifted her shoulders, once again attracting his attention, this time to the gap of creamy flesh that widened between her top and her shorts. ‘I don’t know,’ she murmured uncertainly, but he could tell she was weakening. ‘How long would I be away from the gallery.’
‘Um—two hours.’ Or three! Rafe was not altogether truthful. ‘Does it matter? Which is more important, pleasing your sister’s employer or finding Ashley?’
‘Well—finding Ashley, of course.’
Rafe inclined his head. ‘Then shall we go?’ he said, knowing he was giving her no option, and with a nervous little shrug she obediently picked up her bag.
He’d parked the Ferrari in a no-waiting zone and he noticed how her eyes widened at his audacity. Or perhaps she was just impressed with the automobile, though he doubted it. He didn’t know why, but he had the feeling that possessions didn’t matter much to Tess Daniels. Which was a novelty.
‘I suppose it would be worth more than a parking attendant’s job to tow your car,’ she remarked as she folded her legs into the front passenger seat and Rafe felt a momentary spurt of indignation. He didn’t need her to remind him that the authorities often turned a blind eye to his indiscretions. But he doubted that any defence he made would enhance his reputation in her eyes, so he chose not to comment on it.
‘Are you comfortable?’ he asked instead, getting behind the wheel, and he was gratified to see that she looked embarrassed now.
‘How could I not be?’ she remarked at last as he started the powerful engine. ‘This is a Ferrari, isn’t it? I saw the horse on the bonnet.’
Rafe winced. ‘It’s a stallion,’ he said drily, and then wished he’d kept his mouth shut when she said,
‘Oh, yes. An Italian stallion. I’d forgotten.’
Rafe glanced in his mirror and then took his chance to pull out into the stream of traffic. But her mocking words still rankled and, ignoring the safer path, he said, with a definite edge to his voice, ‘I hope that was not meant as a criticism.’
Her lips parted then, and she turned her head to look at him, wisps of white-blonde hair blowing about her face. ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she said, lifting a hand to tuck several strands behind her ear. And, although he was fairly sure she knew exactly what he’d meant, he chose not to argue with her.
‘Non importa. It does not matter,’ he declared, but he was intensely aware of her beside him. Aware of her bare arms only inches from his sleeve, aware of the way her shorts rode up her thighs, exposing a smooth length of slim leg. He took a breath. ‘Do you know Viareggio, signorina?’
She hesitated and he wondered if she intended to pursue what he had said earlier. But eventually all she said was, ‘I’ve never been to Italy before so all I know is Porto San Michele, I’m afraid. And my name is Tess. I know you haven’t forgotten it. Or have I offended you and that’s why you’ve suddenly become so—so formal?’
They were leaving the small town behind them now, the hilly environs above the harbour giving way to a coast road that wound its way south. But it wasn’t of the elegant little seaport of Viareggio that Rafe was thinking. He was wontering how to answer her without compromising his fear that he was getting in too deep.
‘You have not offended me,’ he told her neutrally. ‘I do not offend that easily. But perhaps you are right. We do not know one another very well.’
The look she cast his way now was wary. ‘So why did you invite me to come with you?’ she asked, and Rafe’s fingers tightened on the wheel.
Good question, he thought drily. But…
‘You know why I invited you to come with me,’ he said firmly. ‘So you could talk to Maria yourself.’
‘Mmm.’ She didn’t sound convinced. ‘You think my presence will encourage her to talk? If she knows anything, that is?’
‘I do not know.’ He didn’t like the feeling of being on the spot. ‘But as this is your first visit to Italy, perhaps you will enjoy seeing a little more of my country.’
Tess gave him an undisguisedly disbelieving stare. ‘But you didn’t know it was my first visit to Italy until I said so,’ she pointed out mildly, and Rafe expelled an impatient breath.
‘No,’ he conceded flatly. ‘You win. I wanted your company.’ His lips twisted. ‘So sue me.’
Tess’s jaw dropped. ‘You wanted my company?’ she echoed. ‘Why?’
Were it anyone else, he might have been tempted to wonder if she was fishing for compliments. But not with Tess. There was such a look of perplexity on her face that he couldn’t hide the humour that was surely evident in his eyes.
‘I don’t know any more about Ashley’s whereabouts than I’ve already told you,’ she continued, misinterpreting his expression. ‘I want to find her just as much as you do. And if you think—’
‘I believe you, cara,’ he interrupted her gently. ‘I know you have not been lying to me.’ And then, because he wanted to wipe the suspicious look off her face, he added, ‘Why should I not enjoy being with a younger woman? Just because I am over forty does not mean I am—what is it you say?—over the hill, no?’
Her eyes widened for a moment. Then she shook her head. ‘I think you’re teasing me, signore. It’s kind of you, but I wish you wouldn’t. I know my own limitations better than anyone.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘And they are?’
Her colour deepened. With her face free of any obvious make-up and her hair blowing wildly about her head, she looked little more than a teenager, and he marvelled anew that she was older than her sister. From Verdicci’s description, he knew Ashley Daniels was far more sophisticated—and comparably more worldly. She knew what she wanted and went after it, no matter who got hurt in the process. Including her own sister, he acknowledged as Tess moved a little uneasily in her seat.
‘They’re too many to mention,’ she said at last, shifting her attention to the view. ‘Oh, is that a monastery over there?’
Rafe decided to let her divert him, taking his eyes briefly from the twisting road ahead of them. A green rolling landscape, dotted with pine and olive groves, rose steadily inland. There were isolated farms, some of them with their own vineyards, and small villages visible among the trees. Some farmers grew vines between the olive trees, providing a much-needed boost to their economy in years when the grape harvest was poor.
Each village sported its own spire or campanile, and, hearing the distant sound of bells, Rafe guessed that was what Tess had heard, too. ‘I think it is a church,’ he said, returning his attention to the road. ‘There are few monasteries surviving in this area. There are ruins, naturalmente, if you are interested. But I fear the thought of the noble priests does not inspire any enthusiasm in me.’
Tess frowned. ‘Because you are divorced?’ she asked innocently, and he smiled.
‘No.’ He cast a fleeting glance her way, once again amused by her refreshing candour. ‘I do not think I can blame them for that.’
‘Then why—?’
‘I was taught by the Jesuits,’ he said. ‘Who as you may know are not known for their misericordia—their mercy, no?’ He paused reminiscently. ‘It is a long time ago, but I have not forgotten.’
Tess seemed interested. ‘You went to school here, in Tuscany?’
‘No.’ Rafe shook his head. ‘I went to school in Rome.’ He grimaced. ‘My mother’s greatest wish was that I should enter the priesthood.’
Her lips parted. ‘The priesthood?’
‘Unlikely, is it not? Is that what you are thinking? That this man who has been married and divorced should have been considered worthy of such an office?’
‘No.’ She spread her hands. ‘I was surprised, that’s all. I’ve never met a would-be priest before.’
‘And I was never a would-be priest,’ he assured her drily. ‘That was my mother’s dream, not mine. Fortunately my father was of a more practical persuasion. While he indulged her to the extent of allowing her to choose my source of education, I was his only son. It was necessary that I should inherit the vineyard, that I was able to take over from him when his health began to fail’
‘Is your father still alive?’
‘No.’ He spoke regretfully. ‘He died almost twenty years ago.’
‘He must have been very young.’
‘He was fifty,’ acknowledged Rafe ruefully. ‘But he had always been a heavy smoker, cara. He knew the risks he was taking, but he could not shake the habit.’
Tess nodded. ‘My father’s dead, too,’ she said, confirming something he had already suspected. ‘He died of a heart attack last year.’
‘Ah.’ Rafe was silent for a moment and then he said, ‘Do you miss him?’
‘Not as much as I would have done if we’d lived together,’ she admitted honestly. ‘As I believe I told you before, I was brought up by my aunt when my mother died. Then, after college when I started teaching, I moved to another part of the country. Dad and I used to see each other from time to time, but it was never the same.’
‘I get the feeling that your stepmother has a lot to answer for,’ said Rafe drily. ‘I suspect she is more like her daughter than you thought.’
‘Oh, Andrea’s all right.’ Tess was instantly defensive of her family and he had to admire her for it. ‘She only ever wanted one child. She hadn’t bargained for two.’
‘But she must have known your father was a single parent before she married him,’ Rafe pointed out reasonably as Tess made a play of examining an insect that had landed on her bare leg.
‘Is this a mosquito?’ she asked, deliberately creating a diversion, and Rafe had stretched across and flicked it away before he gave himself time to think.
It wasn’t until his hand was safely back on the steering wheel and his fingertips were registering the soft brush of her flesh that he realised what he had done. This wasn’t his daughter, he reminded himself. She wasn’t even his cousin. Tess was a virtual stranger and he was treating her like a friend. Or more than a friend, he conceded, his skin burning where he had touched her. And he wanted to touch her again, he thought, in places that were hot and wet and definitely forbidden.
