What about you, Luke? Doesn’t she worship you, too? The questions reverberated in her heart for no good reason.
“For the last six weeks our mother has known that she isn’t the only woman in his life anymore. I’m afraid she’s not ready to give him up without a struggle.”
Gaby rubbed her aching temples. “But she isn’t going to have to give him up! Before dinner starts you could take her aside and tell her everyth—”
“Brother Luca—” Giovanni suddenly appeared in the doorway, effectively terminating a conversation which was tying her in knots. “What terrible family secrets have you been telling Gaby to produce that look on her face? Come. Mama wants to meet you.”
Gaby’s eyes implored Luke, but he remained an implacable figure. Her gaze flicked back to Giovanni. “I wish you could have warned me what was going to happen tonight.”
He smiled, ignoring her distress when he knew full well that she was overwhelmed by everything that had transpired.
“Then you wouldn’t have come. Admit it. We’re not such an awful bunch as Luca has made us out to be. No poisonings have been reported for at least two years. Isn’t that true, fratello?”
Normally she would have laughed at his remark. He could be very funny. But this was no laughing matter. She refused to look at him or his brother.
“If you wish, I will ask everyone to remove their rings before dinner.”
“Giovanni—” she cried in exasperation. He had no idea how she was suffering inside. His was the sin of omission, but a sin all the same.
Praying he wouldn’t announce something patently untrue which would rebound on all of them before she could escape the castle, she reluctantly accompanied him through the palatial rooms.
Luke might not be in her line of vision, but the prickling of hairs on the back of her neck let her know he wasn’t far behind. She brushed one hand against her hip in a nervous gesture, wishing she hadn’t worn pants. Though perfectly modest, they revealed too much of her figure to a man who made her feel her femininity to the very core of her being.
Breathless before they reached the grand salon with its walls of sage green damask, she counted twenty-six smartly dressed adults of all ages assembled. They sat in groupings near an antique piano at the end of the oblong room.
Beneath one of four magnificent chandeliers suspended from the painted ceiling, Gaby picked out Signora Provere. Small in stature like Giovanni, her short, stylishly cut Titian hair made her stand out from the others. For a woman in her sixties, she. looked younger and perfectly lovely in a hyacinthtoned silk dress.
Gaby had difficulty believing this woman had given birth to Luke until she left off talking to one of the relatives and trained dark brown eyes on Gaby.
There was no question that her piercing regard hinting at an indomitable will, plus the possession of a daunting hauteur, had been passed on to her firstborn son.
Luke’s father must have been responsible for the black hair and tall bone structure which had gone to create the most striking male she’d ever known or imagined. If there was a strong physical resemblance to his father, then Gaby had compassion for Signora Provere’s loss because there was no man to compare to him anywhere.
“Mama? Vorrei presentare la Signorina Holt.”
The older woman lifted one hand to her younger son for him to kiss, the other for Gaby. “Piacere, signorina.”
Giovanni’s mother used the word “delighted” in her response, but the cool, very brief handshake and lack of facial expression denoted not only extreme reserve, but distaste. If the situation had been different and Gaby had been hoping to become Giovanni’s wife, she would have been crushed to tears by his mother’s cold reception.
“Piacere di fare la Sua conoscenza, signora,” Gaby replied in her best Italian.
The older woman shook her head and gazed at Giovanni, perplexed. “Mi dispiace, ma non capisco.”
Gaby knew her Italian pronunciation wasn’t perfect, but unless Giovanni’s mother was hard of hearing, she couldn’t have misunderstood her.
“I have no problem with her Italian, Mama.” Giovanni championed Gaby, yet he showed no sign of irritation toward his mother. “With your permission, I will introduce her to the rest of the family.”
Not waiting for a nod of approval from his parent, Giovanni began the lengthy process, which turned out to be an even greater ordeal than Gaby had expected.
Not because he’d said something he shouldn’t. To her relief, and undoubtedly to Luke’s, Giovanni explained that Gaby was a close personal friend and left it at that. Except for an aunt on his mother’s side, and a pretty young woman close to Gaby’s age who’d been presented as a goddaughter, the rest of Giovanni’s relatives were enthusiastic in their greetings and made her feel welcome.
They seemed as sincere and cordial as any group of people might be when meeting a stranger. As for Luke, he remained in the background. A dark, unsmiling figure, he stood near a lighted candelabra which was as tall as he was.
Several times Gaby’s gaze unexpectedly met his and she’d quickly look away again, wondering what he was thinking behind his relentless scrutiny. If he had a wife and family, a possibility which was becoming more and more insupportable to Gaby, then they weren’t present, nor was there any mention of them.
While Giovanni related anecdotes that made everyone laugh, Gaby only went through the motions of responding. It was like being in a strange dream, with Luke her one reality.
“Giovanni, mio figlio,” his mother called to him. “You will accompany me to the dining room. Luca will help Signorina Holt to her seat.”
Giovanni chose that moment to take her hand and kiss it. “You’re trembling,” he whispered against her hot cheek. “Do not be afraid of my brother. I’d trust him with my life.”
Gaby could understand Giovanni’s devotion. Luke had a natural presence that inspired confidence as well as other more disturbing emotions she didn’t dare admit to feeling. Giovanni must never learn of her attraction to his brother.
“Enjoy your dinner,” he continued to murmur. “I asked the cook to change tonight’s menu. He has prepared all your favorite dishes.”
She felt like laughing hysterically. Giovanni’s behavior left no doubt in anyone’s mind that he was a young man in love. Worse, his reference to the dinner specially prepared in her honor was guaranteed to alienate his mother.
Gaby would choke on food right now. Luke must have sensed her traumatic state. Her heart thudded at his approach. “La nostra madre is waiting,” he said in an aside to his brother.
For once, Giovanni’s eyes did not smile at Luke. “Take good care of Gaby. She’s a little fearful of all of us.”
After he let go of her hand, he walked across the salon to escort his mother to the dining room. Gaby had no choice but to wait for Luke who seemed disinclined to follow the others out of the room.
“A word of warning, signorina. The seating arrangements have been prearranged. You will be placed between me and Efresina Ceccarelli. Until you appeared on the scene disrupting our mother’s carefully laid plans, Efresina had every hope of becoming the next duchess.”
Gaby thought back to the pretty young woman with fine brown hair who had snubbed her during the introductions.
“Just so you know, Efresina has loved Giovanni from childhood, so be kind to her.”
“As if I wouldn’t—” Gaby’s voice shook with pain and indignation. She started to turn away from him when a hand of steel closed around her wrist, holding her in place.
Her startled gaze flew to his dark, intelligent face. It was the first time he’d touched her. She wished he hadn’t.
The sensation of skin on skin drove all coherent thought from her mind, leaving her body an aching mass of nerves, of wanting for things she shouldn’t be entertaining under any circumstances.
She must have communicated something of what she was feeling because he suddenly let go of her arm, as if her skin had burned him alive.
“I o
nly said that because you can afford to be gracious. You’re the one Giovanni wants, and no other. He made it undeniably clear when he asked me to safeguard you a moment ago.”
But I don’t want him, Gaby moaned inwardly. She’d never truly known the meaning of the word, want. But just being in Luke’s presence had awakened something in her which she sensed could burst out of control given the opportunity.
Afraid he would devine her feelings, she tore her eyes from his face. She couldn’t just stand there, and finally hurried past the piano to gain the next room. But her footsteps came to a standstill when she realized she’d entered the dining room where everyone’s eyes registered surprise at her precipitous entry.
She could see two empty places at the end of the banquet-size dining table and headed in that direction. Giovanni and his mother sat at the opposite end.
Luke appeared at her side to pull out one of the Queen Anne-styled chairs so she could be seated. The grandeur of the room was illuminated by a groin-vaulted ceiling frescoed in the quadratura style, but Gaby couldn’t appreciate it, or the lavish appointments of the dining table.
The ornate gold candelabras, crystal, silver and hand-painted china, all displaying the family crest, had little impact because her awareness of the disturbing male at her side had rendered her witless. It was impossible to concentrate on anything else.
She turned in Efresina’s direction to make an effort at polite conversation, then gasped because she found herself staring into a pair of familiar, piercing black eyes beyond the other woman’s shoulder.
They belonged to the tall, magnificent, whiterobed figure depicted in the huge oil painting dominating the room. Without the mitre and other accoutrements of his holy office, the famous fourteenth-century pope of Provere lineage could be Luke incarnate.
His imposing stature, the strength in the jawline, the shape of the straight nose, the width of shoulder, the midnight hair, all his superb male attributes had been handed down through the genes to live five hundred years later in Giovanni’s brother. Except for the fact that Luke wore black, the two could be twins. Incredible.
“Signorina Holt has already noted the strong resemblance between me and my illustrious ancestor.” Luke spoke to the woman at Gaby’s other side. “Since my mother insists on keeping the painting in here, rather than the museum, it would be impossible not to notice it, isn’t that true, Effie?”
The woman warmed to his use of her nickname, but Gaby was still reacting to the uncanny likeness of the two men.
“Surely the public could never appreciate it the way we’ve done over the years, Luca.”
After a small pause, she faced Gaby. “Do you have any idea of his importance in Urbino’s history, signorina?” Her brittle question asked in excellent English warned Gaby to tread carefully.
“I’ve learned something about his prominence in my classes here at the university, Signorina Ceccarelli.”
“Oh, yes. You’re a foreign student. Why did you come here to study? Le March is not well known abroad. Most Americans flock to Florence or Sienna.” She said her words loud enough that she’d caught the attention of everyone at the table.
Silence reigned as Gaby lifted her wineglass and took a sip, hoping it would help fortify her for the onslaught ahead. Apparently Giovanni had not told his relatives anything about her.
“My great-grandmother used to say the same thing. She lived to be ninety-nine. Before she died, I had to promise her that when I grew up, I would go visit her birthplace.”
“Your great-grandmother was Italian?” Efresina’s shock seemed as profound as Signora Provere’s.
“Yes. She was born Gabriella Trussardi, from Loretello. I was given her name because I inherited her red hair.”
Immediately there was an explosion of excitement around the table. His mother looked as if she’d gone into shock, but Giovanni smiled at Gaby across the expanse. He seemed to have a penchant for doing the unexpected and was enjoying the little bomb she’d dropped on his family.
“Your connection to Marchigiani blood, as well as your red hair, has taken our mother by complete surprise,” Luke muttered in thick tones.
“But surely Giovanni told you.”
“My brother laughs and teases to cover up his emotions. The truth is, his innermost thoughts run very deep and no one is privy to them unless he chooses otherwise.”
As far as Gaby was concerned, Luke wasn’t that different from his brother. Did anyone have access to his soul?
Just then another relative sat forward and addressed her. “What did your great-grandmother’s people do, signorina?”
The man at her side was waiting, listening. It robbed her of breath. “From what I understand, they were poor farmers.”
Another blow for Giovanni’s mother to sustain, but he had placed Gaby in this untenable situation. She couldn’t be rude and not answer their questions, even if the answers were unpalatable.
“Tell us more.”
Gaby tortured the end of the napkin lying across her lap. “She fell in love and ran off with an impoverished artist from New York who would give away his paintings in exchange for board and room during his travels. They got married somewhere in Europe, living hand-to-mouth.
“Before World War Two broke out, my grandmother was born. At that point he decided to take his family back to the States, to the West where his artist’s eye became enamored with the desert. They ended up in Nevada, my home.”
As if coming to her relief, the uniformed servants began bringing food to the table, suspending conversation until everyone was served.
Through veiled eyes Gaby watched Giovanni’s mother receive her second shock of the night. Instead of five courses, the entire meal had been put on one plate. All Gaby’s favorite foods—buttered tagliatelle—noodles—veal cannelloni, a rich flatbread known as crescia, and peach gelato in a crystal dessert bowl. Hers had two large scoops, drawing everyone’s attention.
While Gaby blushed, Signora Provere spoke in rapid Italian to her younger son, most likely telling him that nothing like this had ever been done before. His mother was being put through needless torture. Gaby groaned in pain. Food was anathema to her right now.
“Giovanni has risked our mother’s displeasure by countermanding her orders to the cook. You can’t refuse to eat when he has gone to so much trouble for you.”
“I won’t,” she whispered, knowing what she must do without his prompting. Though she might have to run to the bathroom later, she would do justice to her meal.
Everyone did the polite thing and carried on with the dinner as if nothing untoward had happened, but Gaby noticed that the dainty Efresina only toyed with her food. Luke didn’t bother to make a pretense of eating. But Giovanni wasn’t watching him.
Being a taller woman with a fuller figure than the other females present, Gaby felt like a glutton eating everything including her last spoonful of ice cream.
“How did you like your dinner, Gaby?” Giovanni’s voice spoke to her across the long expanse.
She took a deep breath. “It was wonderful. You were right. This is the best food in all Italy. Thank you for being the perfect host, Giovanni.”
His face broke out in a broad smile. “More gelato?” He had done everything in his power to please her.
She was on the verge of being sick, but didn’t want to disappoint him. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Luke’s full plate and it prompted her to say, “If I want more, I’ll finish your brother’s.”
The moment the words were out, Luke’s hand tightened into a fist on his hard-muscled thigh.
Giovanni grinned, oblivious to the undercurrents. “Normally Luca loves sweets, just like you. Since living in Rome he probably doesn’t get them as often, and is a little out of the habit. Isn’t that true, fratello?”
CHAPTER THREE
AS IN the car on the drive to the castle, Giovanni enjoyed teasing Luke. She presumed it was because he missed his brother so much, this was his way of showing affection. Bu
t at the same time it created a strange kind of tension in Luke. She could tell it disturbed him on some elemental level not easily discernible to the others.
“Have you had an opportunity to visit Loretello yet, Signorina Holt?” one of Giovanni’s uncles addressed her. His question didn’t allow her to dwell long on Luke’s private torment, whatever it might be.
“Yes. I went a few days after my arrival in Urbino. Before her death, my great-grandmother described it to me, but nothing I’d pictured in my mind prepared me for my first look at that tiny, fortified town.”
He smiled. “You like Italy?”
“I love it so much that when I get back to Las Vegas, I know I’m going to be horribly ‘homesick.’ My family will wish I’d never gone away.”
“Tell us about them,” his uncle persisted in a kindly voice. Gaby could feel Luke’s unsettling glance. He made it difficult for her to gather her thoughts.
“There are six children, five boys and myself.”
Everyone expressed surprise over so many boys. “Are you the oldest?”
“No. I’m number four. Scott, my brother who is two years my senior, is the only one married so far.”
“Are your parents living?”
“Yes. Mother teaches resource at a local junior high school.”
“Resource?”
“Her mother helps students who have behavior problems, Zio,” Giovanni explained.
“That must be difficult work.”
“It is,” Gaby agreed. “But very rewarding.”
“And your father?”
“Daddy is a commercial artist who works in advertising.”
“Are you an artist, too?” The older man appeared genuinely interested.
“Oh, no.” She shook her head. “Daddy says I’m a dabbler. I have too many interests and will never master any of them.”
“Don’t be modest, signorina,” a deep voice inserted. “There must be at least one subject you excel in.”
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