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.
‘I think you are right, car a’ He chose to agree with her and she wondered if he used the endearment deliberately. He must know his daughter would resent the apparent familiarity between them. He swallowed the wine in his glass and set it carelessly back on the table. ‘Much as we would have liked to join you for lunch, Maria, I agree with Tess. We should be getting back.’
‘But, Papa—’
‘Not now, Maria.’ He was polite, but firm. ‘If you think of anything else, I am just at the other end of the phone, no?’
‘You will let us know, as soon as you have any news?’
That was Carlo, and Castelli’s lips flattened against his teeth. ‘If I can return the request,’ he said. ‘Maria may remember something she has presently forgotten.’
Both Carlo and Maria came to see them off. Maria had dried her eyes now and looked more resentful than upset. She looked on sulkily as Castelli swung open Tess’s door and waited for her to seat herself before closing it again. Once again, Tess was intensely conscious of her bare legs and of how provocative her appearance must seem to the younger woman.
But she couldn’t do anything about it. She just hoped Maria didn’t think she had designs on her father. However attracted she might be to him, she thought she was sensible enough to know he was far beyond her reach.
As they drove away Castelli seemed absorbed in his thoughts, and Tess was glad to relax after the tensions of the last hour. Nevertheless, she found herself replaying all that had been said and she wondered if Maria was doing the same.
‘Do you think I was cruel?’ he asked abruptly, and Tess marvelled that he should have guessed her thoughts so exactly. ‘I can see you are troubled,’ he went on wryly. ‘I was not very sympathetic, was I?’
Tess hesitated a moment, then she said, ‘No,’ in a noncommittal voice. His relationship with his daughter was nothing to do with her and she wished he wouldn’t behave as if it were.
‘And how would you have handled it?’ he inquired, his fingers flexing on the wheel. He had very masculine hands, broad yet long-fingered. She had a momentary image of those hands brown against her white body. Of how the blunt tips of his fingers would feel caressing her quivering flesh.
Dear God!
She was still fighting to dispel those feelings when he looked at her again and she realised he was waiting for her reply. ‘Um—I don’t know,’ she muttered. ‘It’s nothing to do with me.’ She tried to think positively to prevent the inevitable rejoinder. ‘I—er—I think she was genuinely shocked about what had happened.’
‘Oh, so do I,’ he concurred drily. ‘I am sure Maria is upset because Marco did not confide his plans to her. But she is also jealous of your sister.’ His tawny eyes swept over her appraisingly. ‘She finds it hard to accept that her brother might have needs she cannot satisfy.’
Tess felt the insidious warmth spreading up from her throat and struggled to divert the conversation. She couldn’t discuss his son’s sexual needs with him! ‘The—er—the albergo was very nice,’ she said, smoothing her damp palms over the hem of her shorts. Then, realising he had noticed what she was doing, she tucked her hot hands between her knees. And because the adjective she’d used was so insipid, she added, ‘It must be wonderful to live in such a lovely spot.’
‘I am glad you liked it,’ he said at last, and she wondered if the delay was a deliberate attempt to disconcert her. If so, it had worked. ‘It is a pity you did not get the chance to see more.’
‘I don’t think your daughter would agree with you,’ murmured Tess, almost without thinking, and Castelli’s brows drew together as he absorbed her words. ‘I mean, I don’t think she was in the mood for visitors,’ she added hastily. ‘She hasn’t been married very long. And she does seem very young.’
‘Maria is nineteen,’ he told her evenly. ‘And I know exactly what you meant. You think my daughter did not approve of my bringing you with me.’ He shifted in his seat. ‘But like my son, I too have my own life to lead.’
Tess had no answer for that. Turning her head, she stared out blankly at the fields of waving poppies that stretched inland in a colourful swath. She saw a village clinging to the hillside, and tried to be objective. But how was she supposed to deal with him? The experiences she’d had in England, infrequent as they’d been, had not prepared her for his magnetism.
Pursing her lips, she decided not to let him faze her. She was a grown woman, for heaven’s sake. Not some impressionable girl who was overawed because a man had paid some attention to her. ‘I expect there are many women in your life, signore,’ she said, with amazing nonchalance. ‘Someone of your experience must be very much in demand.’
The breath he expelled then conveyed a mixture of admiration and humour. ‘You think?’ he murmured faintly. ‘And call me Rafe, if you will. Not signore.’ He paused. ‘And now you have surprised me, cara. I am not sure whether that was a compliment or not.’
Call him Rafe! Tess swallowed. She could just imagine how Maria would feel about that. ‘I was merely stating the obvious,’ she said, managing to avoid calling him anything. ‘If Maria objected to your companion today, it was not because she’d never seen you with a woman before.’
‘No?’
