and she knew instinctively that he was a learned man as well as an intelligent one.
The only problem was that at this moment in time she didn't feel like talking to any man on a more than cursory basis.
‘It was enjoyable,’ she conceded offhandedly.
‘Why don't we discuss it further over a leisurely lunch?'
Beth gave an exasperated laugh, shaking her head disbelievingly. ‘And before I made this trip I was warned that it was young Italian men who made nuisances of themselves with women!'
‘I had an Italian grandmother,’ he said with a shrug.
Which probably explained the familiarity with the language that she had noticed the previous evening. It probably also accounted for the darkness of his colouring.
But even so, she very much doubted he usually needed to use this bludgeoning approach with women!
‘I don't believe that can be used as an excuse, Mr Graven,’ she drawled drily.
‘And I wasn't attempting to offer it as one,’ he derided. ‘On the contrary, I would be very honoured if I thought I had inherited even one tenth of Nonna's charm.'
Beth certainly wouldn't have described this man as any ordinary charmer; he was something else too elusive to explain.
But all Beth really needed to know about him was that he was a danger to her solitude. And at the moment she desired that above everything else.
‘I really do hope you enjoy the rest of your holiday.’ She was ultra-polite. ‘But if you'll excuse me I really do have a lot more to see before I leave.'
‘Alone,’ he said wryly.
‘Exactly.’ She nodded her satisfaction with that supposition.
‘Well, you can't say I didn't offer.’ He shrugged with a sigh.
‘No,’ she drawled. ‘I certainly can't say that, can I?'
Unlike on the previous evening he didn't try to stop her departure, and Beth had given up any idea of looking further around the Capulet house. Besides, despite Marcus Craven's more agreeable behaviour today, she felt sure that if she continued to look around the house she would only keep ‘bumping into’ him!
Nevertheless, she couldn't resist glancing up at the balcony once more before leaving the courtyard completely, her steps faltering slightly at the off-guard expression she had surprised on Marcus Craven's face as he stood above watching her, but not quite seeming to see her; his eyes were narrowed to icy slits, his mouth a thin, uncompromising line.
It was an expression so unlike the relaxed charm he had shown her so far.
As if he had suddenly become aware of her scrutiny, that lazily smiling mask slipped back into place, and he lifted a hand in casual farewell as a smile continued to curve his lips.
But there would be no warmth in his eyes, Beth felt sure of that. Marcus Craven was obviously not a man who liked to be thwarted, and by resisting him she was doing exactly that.
She had been right to be wary of him, she acknowledged with a shiver. Very wary.
‘There has been a telephone call for you, signora.'
Beth took the key to her room, frowning her concern to the hotel receptionist; there were a limited number of people who knew exactly where she was!
‘It was your mother, I believe,’ the pretty young girl added, handing Beth the piece of paper with the exact message on it.
Beth's brow instantly cleared as she vaguely thanked the younger woman before turning away. Her mother had probably just telephoned to make sure she was actually still here and hadn't slipped off home without letting her know! Her mother simply refused to accept that she preferred her own company most of the time.
Nevertheless, she knew she would have to return the call.
‘How's it all going, darling?'
Tears welled briefly in Beth's eyes at the affectionately familiar sound of her mother's voice so many miles away.
This was the second time in as many days she had been moved to tears. Which was ridiculous when she had refused to cry at all for months.
She blinked back the tears; it wouldn't do to let her mother know that for that brief moment she had felt homesick for her cheery smile and comforting arms. Her mother would be on the first plane out here if she thought that were so, offering any help she could.
‘Fine, Mummy,’ she answered in a controlled voice.
‘And the opera,’ her mother prompted eagerly. ‘How was it?'
‘The experience of a lifetime,’ Beth acknowledged drily, willing to give her mother that satisfaction at least. The opera had been spectacular.
‘God, I wish I could have been there with you,’ her mother sighed, and Beth could easily visualise the disappointed frown on the still-beautiful face, her mother elegantly lovely, her features classical, her blonde hair drawn back in a neat coil, her small stature always neat and attractive in one of the smart business suits she chose to wear during the day. ‘You can be so stubborn sometimes, Beth,’ she added reprovingly.
She felt slightly guilty at being the one to deny her mother the opportunity of seeing Aida, but that guilt was eased a little by the knowledge that her mother had attended the Arena several years ago. But Beth hadn't wanted to come on this trip at all, certainly hadn't wanted company if she had to go, even that of her mother who she loved very much and knew understood her pain. She had found it very difficult to tell her mother that when she had offered to come with her, but she hadn't really been left with any other alternative.
‘I wonder who I get that from?’ she lightly teased, deliberately easing the situation.
‘I can't imagine,’ her mother returned drily. ‘All I can say is I would rather be there with you than trying to push this latest deal through.'
Much as she knew her mother cared about her, Beth didn't believe that for a moment.
No one looking at her delicately made mother would have believed she was the high-powered businesswoman that she actually was. And yet Katherine Palmer was very successful indeed, a self-made woman who now owned a chain of exclusive boutiques worldwide. Beth knew better than anyone that her mother had come by her business knowledge the hard way, and had tremendous respect for her as a person as well as a mother.
Her mother was in the process of branching out by introducing high-quality accessories to go with her clothing, and it was a very important move indeed; Beth had known that and it had helped to soften the blow when she had insisted her mother remain in England rather than accompanying her on this holiday.
Her mother had already sacrificed more than enough for her over the years—Beth had no intention of asking any more from her when she was obviously doing so well for herself.
‘I'm sure you would, Mummy,’ she dismissed lightly. ‘But there really is no need.'
‘I know that, darling, but … oh, never
