In The Italian's Bed. Anne Mather
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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.
‘I—Mrs Daniels doesn’t know you,’ she said firmly, answering his question. ‘And—and if by chance Ashley is out and she answers the phone, she’s bound to be concerned.’
‘Why?’ Once again those disturbing eyes invaded her space. ‘Come, Tess, why not be honest? You are afraid that your sister is not at her mother’s house. Am I not correct?’
Tess’s defensive