Carol Marinelli - Tall, Dark and Italian

‘I suppose it would be worth more than a parking attendant’s job to tow your car,’ she remarked as she folded her legs into the front passenger seat and Rafe felt a momentary spurt of indignation. He didn’t need her to remind him that the authorities often turned a blind eye to his indiscretions. But he doubted that any defence he made would enhance his reputation in her eyes, so he chose not to comment on it.

‘Are you comfortable?’ he asked instead, getting behind the wheel, and he was gratified to see that she looked embarrassed now.

‘How could I not be?’ she remarked at last as he started the powerful engine. ‘This is a Ferrari, isn’t it? I saw the horse on the bonnet.’

Rafe winced. ‘It’s a stallion,’ he said drily, and then wished he’d kept his mouth shut when she said,

‘Oh, yes. An Italian stallion. I’d forgotten.’

Rafe glanced in his mirror and then took his chance to pull out into the stream of traffic. But her mocking words still rankled and, ignoring the safer path, he said, with a definite edge to his voice, ‘I hope that was not meant as a criticism.’

Her lips parted then, and she turned her head to look at him, wisps of white-blonde hair blowing about her face. ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she said, lifting a hand to tuck several strands behind her ear. And, although he was fairly sure she knew exactly what he’d meant, he chose not to argue with her.

‘Non importa. It does not matter,’ he declared, but he was intensely aware of her beside him. Aware of her bare arms only inches from his sleeve, aware of the way her shorts rode up her thighs, exposing a smooth length of slim leg. He took a breath. ‘Do you know Viareggio, signorina?’

She hesitated and he wondered if she intended to pursue what he had said earlier. But eventually all she said was, ‘I’ve never been to Italy before so all I know is Porto San Michele, I’m afraid. And my name is Tess. I know you haven’t forgotten it. Or have I offended you and that’s why you’ve suddenly become so—so formal?’

They were leaving the small town behind them now, the hilly environs above the harbour giving way to a coast road that wound its way south. But it wasn’t of the elegant little seaport of Viareggio that Rafe was thinking. He was wontering how to answer her without compromising his fear that he was getting in too deep.

‘You have not offended me,’ he told her neutrally. ‘I do not offend that easily. But perhaps you are right. We do not know one another very well.’

The look she cast his way now was wary. ‘So why did you invite me to come with you?’ she asked, and Rafe’s fingers tightened on the wheel.

Good question, he thought drily. But…

‘You know why I invited you to come with me,’ he said firmly. ‘So you could talk to Maria yourself.’

‘Mmm.’ She didn’t sound convinced. ‘You think my presence will encourage her to talk? If she knows anything, that is?’

‘I do not know.’ He didn’t like the feeling of being on the spot. ‘But 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.’