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

‘Kidnapping my son?’ he suggested scornfully, tossing the passport down onto the desk, and Tess’s heart skipped a beat at the ridiculous accusation. ‘Attenzione, Miss Daniels,’ he added, sweeping back the thick swathe of dark hair that had invaded his forehead as he studied the pages, ‘just because you are not your sister changes nothing. Marco is still missing. He left with your sister. Therefore, you must have some idea where they are.’

‘No!’ Tess hardly knew what she was saying. ‘I mean—I do know where Ashley is. She’s at her mother’s house in England. Her mother is ill. Ashley is looking after her.’

His expression didn’t alter. ‘And that is why you are here taking her place?’

‘Yes. I’m a schoolteacher. I was on holiday. That’s how I was able to help her out.’

‘You are lying, Miss Daniels. Why are you not caring for your mother? I have just read in your passport that you live in England. So tell me why you are not taking care of your mother in your sister’s place?’

‘She’s not my mother,’ Tess exclaimed hotly. ‘My father married again after my mother died.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Now, I think that answers your question. I’m sorry your son is missing but it’s nothing to do with us.’

‘You are wrong.’ He didn’t accept her explanation but at least he stepped back into the passageway to give her some room. When Tess escaped into the comparative safety of the showroom, he followed her. ‘Whatever you say, Miss Daniels, your sister is not caring for her sick mother,’ he insisted. ‘She and Marco are still in Italy. He does not have his passport with him, capisce?’

Tess pressed nervous hands to her bare midriff, feeling the quivering beat of her heart palpating between her ribs. ‘You said—she’d kidnapped him,’ she reminded him tensely. ‘That’s a ridiculous accusation. If—and it’s a big if—Ashley and your son are together, then surely that’s their affair, not yours?’ ‘Non credo. I do not think so.’ He was contemptuous. ‘My son is sixteen years of age, Miss Daniels. He belongs in school, with young people of his own age, not chasing around the country after your sister.’

Tess swallowed convulsively. Sixteen! She couldn’t believe it. Ashley wouldn’t—couldn’t—be involved with a boy of sixteen! The whole idea was laughable. Involved with him, perhaps. That Tess could believe. But not with his teenage son.

Besides, she told herself again, clinging to what she knew and not what he suspected, Ashley was in England. Dammit, she’d spoken to her just a couple of nights ago. That was why Tess was spending part of her Easter break filling in for her. Ashley couldn’t leave the gallery unattended and she’d promised it would only be for a few days.

‘If you’ve not met my sister, how can you be sure that she’s involved?’ she asked unwillingly, realising she couldn’t dismiss his claim out of hand. Ashley might not have been in England when she’d phoned her. She could have used her mobile. How could she be sure?

The man gave her an impatient look now. ‘I may have met her once, but that was some months ago and I have met many people since then. In any case, the person who has been watching her would not make a mistake. I have been out of the country, regrettably, but my assistant contacted your sister just a week ago. She swore then that she would speak to Marco, that she would tell him there was no future in their—association. She is what? Twenty-four? Twenty-five? Much too old for a boy of sixteen.’

Tess pressed her lips together. ‘She’s twenty-eight, actually,’ she said, as if that made any difference, and watched his scowl deepen as he absorbed her words. She didn’t know what to say; she hardly knew what to think. But if it was true, she agreed with him. Could Ashley have told her an outright lie?

She could, she reflected ruefully. And she had to admit that when Ashley had asked her to help her out while she took care of her mother, it had seemed a little out of character. Ashley’s mother, Andrea, had never been a particularly strong woman and since their father had died of a heart attack just over a year ago, she’d suffered from a series of minor complaints. Tess had suspected that that was why Ashley had taken this job in Italy. Looking after a fretful parent who was halfway to being a hypochondriac had never seemed her style.

All the same, this situation was no less incredible. Surely even Ashley would draw the line at getting involved with a boy of sixteen? There was only one way to find out and that was to ring Ashley’s mother. But Tess was loath to do it. If Ashley was there, it would look as if she didn’t trust her.

‘I don’t know what to say,’ she murmured now, her fingers threading anxiously through the wisps of pale blonde hair at her nape. She’d had her hair cut before she came away and she wasn’t totally convinced the gamine style suited her. She’d hoped it would give her some maturity, but she had the feeling it hadn’t succeeded. He was looking at her as if she were no older than one of her own pupils. Oh, Lord, what was she going to do?

‘You could tell me where they are,’ the man declared tersely. ‘I realise you must feel some loyalty towards your sister, but you must also see that this situation cannot be allowed to continue.’

‘I don’t know where they are,’ Tess insisted. ‘Honestly, I don’t.’ And then, realising what she’d said, she added hastily, ‘As far as I know, Ashley’s in England, as I said.’

‘Bene, then you can ring her,’ he said, voicing the thought Tess had had a few minutes before. ‘If she is with her mother, I will offer you my sincerest apologies for troubling you.’

‘And if she’s not?’

Tess looked up at him, unable to disguise her apprehension, and for a moment she thought he was going to relent. But then, with a tightening of his lips, he corrected her. ‘You are confident she will be there,’ he said, and she had the fanciful thought that this man would take no prisoners. She just hoped Ashley had taken that into consideration before she’d taken off with his son.

If she’d taken off with his son, she amended sharply. She only had his word for that. And that of his investigatore—his investigator, she assumed. But she was becoming far too willing to accept what this man said as if it was the truth.

‘If—if she is there, who shall I say is asking for her?’ she inquired abruptly, realising she had been staring at him for far too long. He probably thought she was a flake in her long skirt and combat boots, she reflected ruefully. After all this, it wouldn’t do for him to think that Ashley’s sister might be interested in him.

He hesitated a moment, evidently considering her question. Then, he said briefly, ‘Just tell her it is Castelli. The name will mean something to her, I am sure.’

Tess guessed it would, though what she didn’t dare to speculate. Oh, please, she begged, let Ashley be staying with her mother. Apart from anything else, Tess was going to look such a gullible fool if she wasn’t.

‘All right,’ she declared briskly. ‘I’ll ring her. If you’d like to give me a number where I can reach you, I’ll let you know what she says.’

‘If she says anything,’ murmured Castelli wryly, and then his dark brows drew together. ‘But perhaps you would ring her now, Miss Daniels? I will wait while you make the call.’

Tess caught her breath. He was certainly determined to have his way. But she’d been chivvied long enough. ‘I can’t ring her now,’ she said, not allowing him to intimidate her.

‘I’ll ring her later. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got work to do.’

His scepticism was evident. ‘You have?’ He glanced round the gallery. ‘You are not exactly overrun with customers, Miss Daniels.’

Tess stiffened her spine. ‘Look, I’ve said I’ll ring Ashley and I will. Isn’t that enough for you?’ The underlying words were almost audible. But not until you have gone!

His faint smile was sardonic. ‘You are afraid to make the call, Miss Daniels,’ he said impatiently. ‘Be careful, or I shall begin to think you have been lying to me all along.’

Tess’s anger was hot and unexpected. ‘Oh, please,’ she exclaimed fiercely. ‘I don’t have to listen to this. It’s not my fault if your son’s been foolish enough to get involved with an older woman. You’re his father. Don’t you have some responsibility here?’

For a moment, his stillness terrified her. He was like a predator, she thought unsteadily, and she waited in a panic for him to spring. But suddenly his lips twitched into a smile that was blatantly sensual. A look, almost of admiration, crossed his dark face and he appraised her small indignant figure with a rueful gaze.

‘Dio mio,’ he said, and her heart quickened instinctively. ‘The little cat has claws.’

His analogy was startling. It was so close to what she had been thinking about him. Though he was no domesticated feline, she acknowledged urgently. Those strange tawny eyes belonged to a different beast entirely.

And, despite her determination not to let him have his way, she found herself stammering an apology. ‘I’m—I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I shouldn’t have spoken as I did. It—it’s nothing to do with me.’

‘No, mi scusi, signorina,’ he said. ‘You are right. This is not your problem. Regrettably, my son has always been a little—what is it you say?—headstrong? I should not have allowed my anger with him to spill over onto you.’

Tess quivered. His eyes were softer now, gentler, a mesmerising deepening of colour that turned them almost opaque. They were locked on hers and the breath seemed to leave her body. Oh, God, she shivered, the impact on her senses leaving her feeling absurdly vulnerable. What was wrong with her? She was behaving as if a man had never looked at her before.

‘It doesn’t matter,’ she managed at last, but he wouldn’t let it go.

‘It does matter,’ he said. ‘I am an unfeeling moron, and I should not have called your honesty into question. If you will give me your sister’s number, I will make the call myself.’

Tess stifled a groan. Dear Lord, just as she was beginning to think the worst was over, he sprang this on her. Having reduced her to mush with his eyes, he was now moving in for the kill. He hadn’t given up. He’d only changed his tactics. And she couldn’t be absolutely sure that this hadn’t been his intention all along.

She moved her head in a helpless gesture. How could she give him the number? How could she allow him to speak to Ashley’s mother if Ashley wasn’t there? Andrea would have a fit if he told her that her daughter was missing. And if he added that he suspected she was with his sixteen-year-old son, heaven knew how Ashley’s mother would react.

Concentrating her gaze on the pearl-grey silk knot of his tie, Tess strove for a reason not to give the number to him. But it was hard enough to find excuses for her reaction to a stranger without the added burden of her own guilt. ‘I—don’t think that would be a very good idea,’ she said, wishing desperately that someone else would come into the gallery. But no one did, and she continued unevenly, ‘Ashley’s mother isn’t well. I wouldn’t want to upset her.’

Castelli heaved a sigh. ‘Signorina—’

‘Please: call me Tess.’

He expelled a breath. ‘Tess, then,’ he agreed, though she hardly recognised her name on his tongue. His faint accent gave it a foreign sibilance that was strange and melodic.

‘Why would my call upset her? I have no intention of intimidating anyone.’

But he did, thought Tess grimly, almost without his being aware of it. It was in his genes, an aristocratic arrogance that was dominant in his blood. Who was he? she wondered again. What was his background? And what did his wife think of the situation? Was she as opposed to the liaison as he was?

Of course she must be, Tess told herself severely, averting eyes that had strayed almost irresistibly back to his face. But if Marco was like his father, she could understand Ashley’s attraction. If she had been attracted to his son, she amended. She must not jump to conclusions here.