Tall, Dark and Italian. Carol Marinelli
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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.
As if she sensed his guilty attraction, Tess turned away from him now, pressing against the door beside her, keeping her eyes on the view. But only after they’d exchanged one searing look of raw intimacy that left Rafe at least stunned by the strength of his own response.
They were silent then, each of them occupied with their own thoughts, pretending an interest in their surroundings that Rafe was sure neither of them really felt. Or perhaps he was only imagining it, he thought irritably. Whatever, he was much too old to play these childish games.
Only there was nothing childish about the way he was feeling and, realising he had to normalise the situation, he was relieved when a cluster of villas strung out along the coastline came into view. ‘This is Viali,’ he said, trying to recover his earlier optimism. ‘It is really just an extension of Viareggio these days. The port has expanded so much. But Viali is pretty. It has its own personality. And, although it cannot boast the art nouveau architecture for which Viareggio is famous, many people prefer it to the larger resort.’
‘Is this where your daughter lives?’ asked Tess, apparently prepared to meet him halfway, and he agreed that it was.
‘Their albergo is situated just outside Viali on the way to Viareggio. They will not have too many guests at this time of the year. Maria should have plenty of time to speak with us.’
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