She couldn’t be Mrs. James Parker. Any man married to her wouldn’t have felt the urge to turn to Donata or any other woman for that matter.
“If you won’t let me out of here,” she continued in a low voice, “then bring Mr. Montefalco to me. I want to talk to him, and I believe he’ll be anxious to talk to me. We might find we’re a comfort to each other.”
With his body still reacting to the warmth of her breath on his ear, Gino found himself reluctant to put distance between them. But he had to no matter how much the imploring look in her eyes and the haunting appeal in her voice persuaded him to believe she was finally telling him the truth.
He’d just stepped away, rubbing the back of his neck in an unconscious gesture of frustration when the door opened to reveal one of the guards. He informed Gino that Inspector Santi wanted him on the phone.
Without saying a word to her, he strode down the hall to the office, hardening himself against her sound of protest. In truth he was oddly reticent to find out she was the beautiful dust of the enemy.
He picked up the receiver, then turned his back toward the desk sergeant.
Knowing the jail phone was tapped he said, “Inspector? I’ll call you back on my phone.” After replacing the receiver, Gino pulled out his cell and rang him on the other man’s private line.
Keeping his voice low he said, “Carlo? What did you find out?”
“She is Mrs. Parker, Gino.”
While his thoughts took off in a dozen directions, Carlo kept talking. “I guess I’m not surprised. She’s a widow grieving for her husband.”
Gino had proof of that. He’d just come from her cell. She’d claimed that she’d sought out Marcello in the hope of giving and receiving comfort. But if that was true, how did she explain the laptop? Something didn’t ring true.
“She said she’d been in St. Moritz to visit the scene of the accident,” Gino murmured.
“It’s unfortunate she chose this time to come to Italy when the press is just waiting for anything they can do to sensationalize this case. She’s the last person you should be seen with.”
Gino agreed. All it would take was a photo of the two of them together caught by one of the lurking paparazzi, and the hellish situation would escalate overnight.
“You need to leave the jail and let me handle this, Gino. I’ll instruct the sergeant to free her. One of the guards will escort her to Rome by train and put her on the next plane for the States.”
Gino grunted a response as he listened to his friend. Though Carlo made a lot of sense, Gino couldn’t forget that Mrs. Parker had come all this way with that laptop to see Marcello for a specific reason. Since she’d put herself in jeopardy to accomplish her objective, Gino couldn’t let her go until he’d found out what was so important she’d risked everything, even jail, to make contact.
“I’m sure you’re right, Carlo. I’ll leave it up to you.”
“That’s good. You need to stay as far removed from her as possible.”
He would as soon as he’d had time to talk to her away from other people. “Grazie, Carlo. It seems that’s all I ever say to you.”
“Forget it. Ciao, Gino.”
Ally had been sitting on the cot wondering what was going on when the door flew open.
It was the same guard as before.
“Come, signora. You’ve been released. Please to follow me.”
Hardly able to believe it, she grabbed her purse and started after him.
“What about my suitcase?”
“It is here,” he said once they’d reached the reception area of the jail.
Convinced her abductor had confiscated the laptop, she leaned over to open the catches and sure enough, she discovered it was gone.
For some inexplicable reason, which was absurd considering her circumstances, she wished he were still here so that in front of his colleagues, she could accuse him of absconding with it.
She shut the lid and lifted her head. “What about my passport?”
“You’ll be given it after you board your flight for the U.S.”
She almost blurted that she couldn’t leave Montefalco yet, but she stopped herself in time. All she needed was to make that mistake and then be shuffled back to her cell for defying him.
She took a deep breath to calm down. When she boarded her jet, she would claim to be ill and ask to be put on a later flight. Once she found a hotel room in Rome, she would figure out another plan to reach Mr. Montefalco.
“Very well. I’m ready whenever you are.”
The jail door swung open. Another guard stood outside in front of a white police car and held the rear door open for her. Unlike her captor, he didn’t help her with her luggage. No doubt he considered her a lowlife reporter who didn’t deserve common courtesy.
She pushed her case across the seat and climbed in.
When their car emerged from the alley, throngs of tourists filled the walkways. The guard wound his way through the charming streets for the short ride to the depot.
She hated the thought of another hot train ride, but there was no help for it.
“Come, signora.”
The guard had parked the car in a VIP zone. He escorted her through the crowded station and out to the quay.
After a brief talk with one of the conductors, he boarded the train with her and put her in a second class compartment already filled except for one seat in the middle. She had to put her suitcase on the shelf above without his assistance.
“I’ll be in the corridor until we reach Rome, signora.” The warning that she shouldn’t try anything to escape was implicit.
Her cheeks hot with anger, she sat down, trying to avoid the interested stares of the other passengers.
No sooner had the guard stepped out of the compartment and disappeared than the train began to inch forward.
Ally was so exhausted after spending a wretched night in that jail cell, she rested her head against the back of the seat. Dispirited by everything that had happened, she closed her eyes for a few minutes, needing sleep. The first thing she would do when she could finally be alone in a hotel room was to crash.
Soon she lost track of time and was almost out for the count when she felt a hand on her arm.
“Signora?” sounded a deep male voice with a vaguely familiar timbre.
She came awake with a cry of alarm.
When she saw her striking captor still dressed in black, standing there bigger than life carrying her suitcase, the breath rushed from her lungs. She blinked up at him, wondering if he was real, or if she was dreaming.
“W-what’s going on?”
His hooded eyes played over her features, awakening her senses in spite of her fatigue, or maybe because of it.
“I relieved the other guard. We’re getting off at the next stop. Come with me.”
Though she felt so groggy she didn’t know how she’d be able to walk, she realized this man was her only chance to get Jim’s laptop back, and maybe find an entrée to Mr. Montefalco.
Clutching her purse, she got up and followed him out of the compartment and down the corridor. The train had already begun to slow down.
When it came to a stop, several people were waiting to climb on board. But he stepped off the stairs first, and held out his hand to help her. Feeling distinctly light-headed from sleep deprivation, she found his strong grasp oddly reassuring.
To her surprise he kept hold of it as he led her out of the small station to a truck parked along the road. It wasn’t anything like the black sedan from the palazzo she’d ridden in last night.
Heavens—was it only last night? Ally felt all mixed up and confused. She had to be confused to be happy this enigmatic stranger had rescued her from that awful train.
“Where are you taking me?” she asked once he’d turned on the engine.
“To a place where you can eat and sleep in that order.”
That sounded so wonderful, she wanted to cry.
“Why would you do that for me when y
ou had me jailed for false credentials, trespassing and impersonating someone else?” her voice trembled.
His hands tightened on the steering wheel. She could tell because his knuckles went white.
“I’ve found out you’re who you said you were.”
She jerked her head away from him so he wouldn’t see her eyes smarting.
“You mean you now believe I’m Mrs. Parker…”
“Yes.”
“I see. So now that you know my name, what does Mr. Montefalco call you?”
There was a curious silence, then, “Gino.”
She stirred restlessly in the seat.
“Which may or may not be your real name, but at least it’s something to call you.”
“Besides bastard you mean?” he interjected in a wry tone.
Caught off guard, Ally laughed softly. She couldn’t help it.
“Actually that’s what I felt like calling the guard when he wouldn’t help me with my suitcase on the train. Even at your worst, you were more of a gentleman.”
She heard him draw in what sounded like a tortured breath. “I owe you an apology.”
She flicked him a covert glance. “If I ever get to meet your employer, I’ll be able to vouch for your fierce loyalty to him. It’s no wonder he keeps you on his payroll. Every man who’s a target should have such a trusted bodyguard.”
By now they’d left the little village of Remo and were driving through fields of sunflowers with a hot Italian sun shining down.
“How do you know so much about him?”
She studied her hands. “I know very little apart from the obvious facts.”
“Which are?” he prodded.
“He’s rich, titled and has lost his wife. If he loved her desperately, then my heart goes out to him.”
“What about your heart?” he whispered.
“If you’re asking if it was shattered by my husband’s death, then yes.” If you’re wondering if his probable infidelity has wounded me, then yes. But because she’d waited too long to try to fix what was wrong between them, Jim’s unexpected death had brought on guilt she couldn’t seem to throw off.
Gino drove along the maze of country roads with what appeared to be long accustomed practice and expertise.
Once upon a time she would have loved traveling through the countryside, but right now she was numb to the world around her.
The next time he stopped, her bleary eyes took in a yellowed, three-story farmhouse that looked quite ancient.
“Where are we?”
“My home,” he announced before helping her from the car.
He carried her suitcase and told her to follow him. She didn’t question him as they entered the foyer and climbed some stairs to the next floor.
He opened a door on his left. “You’ll be comfortable in here, Mrs. Parker. The en suite bathroom is through that door. I’ll ask my housekeeper Bianca to bring you a tray. Sleep well. We’ll talk later.”
“Yes, we will. I’d like my husband’s laptop back.”
“All in good time.”
As she was coming to find out, it was his favorite saying.
He placed her suitcase on the aged hardwood floor, then left and shut the door behind him.
Straight ahead of her was a four-poster double bed with a comfy looking white quilt. She was so tired, she removed her outer clothes and climbed under the covers. Ally didn’t remember her head touching the pillow.
CHAPTER THREE
ON GINO’S way down to the kitchen, Sofia met him in the dining room. “Who’s that lady you brought home with you, Uncle Gino?”
Gino had to think fast. “An acquaintance of mine who wanted to see the farm. She’s flown all the way from the States, and is so tired, I told her to sleep before I introduced her to you.”
“Oh.”
“Where’s Bianca?”
“Out on the back terrace with Luigi and papa.”
That was just as well. He tousled Sofia’s hair. “Our guest needs food. Do you want to help me fix it?”
“Yes.”
She started walking to the kitchen with him.
“What does she like?”
“Can you imagine her not liking anything Bianca cooks?”
“I guess not.”
His morose niece needed her friends. Now that he was home, he would arrange for it. Together they made a plate of ham, fresh bread, salad, fruit and hot tea.
“Can I go with you to take it to her?”
“Of course.”
“What’s her name?”
“Signora Parker.”
“Does she speak Italian?”
“No.” Not according to the taxi driver. “It will give you a chance to practice your excellent English with her.”
“Is she a farmer, too?”
Gino was equally curious about the wife of Donata’s lover. “Why don’t you ask her later?” It would be interesting to hear her answer.
They went up the stairs. He tapped on the door. “Signora?”
“I’ll peek,” Sofia offered and opened the door a crack. After tiptoeing inside, she came back out again.
“She’s sound asleep.”
Gino wasn’t surprised. “We’ll fix her another plate later.”
Once back in the kitchen, they worked together to clean things up while he devoured the meal meant for the intriguing woman sleeping beneath his roof.
“She has pretty hair. It looks like the color of fairy wings.”
That was as good a description of gossamer as you could get. He eyed his brunette niece he loved.
“Not many people we know have hair that particular shade do they?”
“I don’t know any,” she declared.
Neither did Gino.
“What do you say we call Anna’s mother and see if your friend can stay over with us for a few days.”
“She likes me to play at her house.”
He frowned. “Why not at yours?”
“I don’t know.”
He put a hand on her shoulder. “I think you do. Tell me what’s wrong?”
Her eyes filled with tears. “I think she’s scared of Papa.”
Pain shot through him. “Did she tell you that?”
“No. But the last time she came to the palazzo, Papa suddenly started walking around the rooms. He kept doing it over and over again, and—” Sofia couldn’t finish.
Gino crushed her in his arms, absorbing her sobs while he let her cry her heart out. Deep inside he cried with her to think of the brother he idolized reduced to this state so early in his life. But even worse, to realize Sofia had been robbed of a normal childhood. God give him the strength to help his precious niece find some happiness before her childhood was gone.
“Would you like me to drive you to Anna’s?”
“No. I don’t want to go anywhere. I just want to stay with you.”
That’s what Gino had been afraid of. Sofia was crawling deeper and deeper inside her impenetrable shell. It was up to Gino not to let that happen. But how to prevent it when he was having trouble enough holding body and soul together?
When Ally first woke up, it took a minute for her to remember where she was.
She checked her watch. It was almost 8:00 p.m. She’d slept nine hours!
Someone must have just come in the room and brought her a tray of food. She was so grateful, and so ravenous, she ate every crumb, then drained the cup of hot tea in one go.
Her suitcase was still where Gino had left it. She carried it to the bed and got out clean clothes before hurrying into the bathroom to shower.
When she walked in the bedroom ten minutes later freshly shampooed and dressed in a clean pair of jeans and a blue cotton top, she felt a little more human again.
Delighted with her cheerful yellow room, she opened the green shutters to look outside. In the twilight she could see fields of flowers under cultivation. Incredible.
After brushing her damp hair until it formed natural curls, she applied lipstick, then
left the room and went downstairs in search of her host.
A tall, slender girl about eleven or twelve with long brown hair and large, sad brown eyes met her at the bottom of the stairs. Gino’s daughter?
Ally slowed down. Of course he would have a family. Why would she even question it?
“Hello.”
“Hello, Mrs. Parker,” the girl said.
Ally was charmed by her manners. “What’s your name?”
“Sofia.”
“I love it.”
“You do?”
“Yes. There was once a very important queen ahead of her time with that name.”
The girl eyed her solemnly. “What’s yours?”
“It’s Ally. But I like yours much better.”
“What does your name mean?”
“I don’t think it means anything, but I got teased a lot because of it.”
“How come?”
“Do you know what a cat is?”
“Yes. Uncle Gino got me one a couple of months ago. It’s black with white feet.”
Uncle Gino. That explained the superficial likeness to him.
“Lucky you. What’s its name?”
“Rudolfo.”
“That sounds quite magnificent.”
“It’s Uncle Gino’s real name.”
How apropos. He more than fulfilled the expectation of such a name.
“I see. Well, in my case the kids called me ‘alley cat’.”
“What’s that?”
“A cat that lives on the streets because it doesn’t have a home.”
“But you had a home.” She sounded worried.
“Yes, darling.” The endearment just slipped out. There was a wistfulness about the girl that caught at Ally’s heart strings.
“Where do you live in America?”
“Portland, Oregon. Have you heard of it?”
“I think so. Uncle Gino said you came to see his farm. Are you a farmer?”
That was as good an explanation as any for Ally’s presence in the home of Mr. Montefalco’s bodyguard.
“Not exactly, Sofia. But my grandparents used to have a small farm at the base of Mount Hood in Oregon. It’s an old volcano.”
“We have volcanoes here,” Sofia confided.
“I know. Very famous ones. Someday I’d like to see them.”
The Princess Bride Page 4
