Behind the Castello Doors (6 page)

‘Let me take her.’

Startled by the unexpected request, Beth instinctively tightened her hold on the baby. She had looked after Sophie on her own since she had brought her home from the hospital six weeks after her premature birth, and she felt reluctant
to hand her over to a stranger. But if it was proved that Cesario was Sophie’s father he would have a legal and moral right to help care for his child, she reminded herself.

‘She might get upset if she’s held by someone she’s not used to,’ she mumbled.

‘I doubt she’ll be any more upset than she already is,’ Cesario said dryly, as Sophie’s high-pitched cries intensified.

Beth hesitated a moment longer, and then held out the screaming infant to him.

Cesario tensed, a host of emotions swirling inside him. He suddenly regretted asking to hold Sophie. He did not know if she was his child, so why get involved? he asked himself. But the baby’s cries had triggered an instinctive response deep within him to comfort her just as he had once comforted his son.

Panic gripped him. He did not want to be reminded of Nicolo. The memories hurt too much. But Beth was staring at him, clearly confused because he had not taken Sophie from her. Fighting a strong urge to turn away and stride out of the nursery, he stretched out his arms and lifted the baby against his chest.

She was so tiny, and she weighed next to nothing. Something fierce, almost primitive, unfurled inside him as he acknowledged how incredibly vulnerable she was.

Could she really be his daughter?

He bent his head and rested his cheek on Sophie’s silky-soft dark hair. Her evocatively sweet scent—a mixture of milk and baby powder—reminded him painfully of Nicolo. But as he gently rocked Sophie and her cries subsided a sensation of peace swept over him. Another child could never replace the son he had lost, but if Sophie was
his maybe his life would have meaning once more rather than being simply an existence.

‘Don’t cry,
piccola
,’ he murmured softly.

Perhaps it was the deep timbre of his voice, or the rumble from his chest as he spoke that captured Sophie’s attention. Gradually her cries lessened and she hiccupped, lifting her head to focus on him with huge, unblinking brown eyes. For several seconds she regarded him solemnly, tears still glistening on her long lashes. And then, to Cesario’s amazement, her little rosebud mouth curved into a smile.

Dio mio!
He caught his breath. She was so beautiful. He felt a curious sensation, as though a hand was squeezing his heart. First thing tomorrow he would arrange a DNA test, and if it was proved that Sophie was his daughter he would welcome her into his life, he vowed silently.

Beth watched in disbelief as Sophie snuggled into Cesario’s neck and made the little snuffling noise that she always did when she was dropping off to sleep. The silence was bliss after the baby’s piercing screams.

It was stupid to feel jealous because Cesario had managed to soothe Sophie where she had failed, she told herself. But she could not keep the stiffness from her voice as she commented, ‘You must have a magic touch. I’ve been trying to settle her for more than an hour.’

‘If she had been crying for that long she was probably worn out.’ His gaze still locked on the child in his arms, Cesario walked over to the cot and laid her in it before tucking the blankets around her.

Beth was taken aback by his gentleness. She hadn’t expected this big, stern-faced man to behave with such tenderness as he had shown to Sophie. But before she had
arrived at the Castello del Falco she had been unaware that he already had a child.

She ran her fingers over the polished wooden end-panel of the cot, which was decorated with exquisitely carved rabbits and squirrels, and recalled the second-hand cot she had bought for Sophie. It hadn’t looked too bad once she had repainted it, she thought ruefully. But it was nothing compared to this beautiful antique.

‘Thank you for allowing Sophie to sleep here. This cot is amazing. Is it very old?’

‘It was commissioned by one of my ancestors in the early seventeen hundreds. Documents in the library show that the then master of the Castello del Falco and his wife had been childless for twenty years before she became pregnant and gave birth to a son,’ Cesario explained, keeping his voice low, so as not to wake Sophie. ‘I imagine that my ancestor was overjoyed to finally have an heir, and he requested the most skilled craftsmen to make furniture for his son’s nursery.’

‘The butler told me that this used to be
your
son’s room.’ Beth hesitated when she saw Cesario stiffen but could not contain her curiosity. ‘Teodoro said that he no longer lives at the castle?’

‘No.’

From his curt response it was clear that Cesario did not wish to continue with the subject. His face was shuttered, and the sudden bleakness in his eyes made Beth wish she had kept quiet. Whatever mystery surrounded his son, it was no business of hers.

But after a moment, to her surprise, he continued harshly. ‘Nicolo and his mother died in an accident four years ago. He was just two years old.’

‘I’m sorry.’ She was stunned by his shocking revelation,
and her response sounded banal and inadequate, but she did not know what else to say. Nothing about Cesario Piras was as she had expected. The impression she had gained from Mel was that he was a womanizer who had not even bothered to ask her name before he’d had sex with her.

Of course Mel had been used to that kind of boorish behaviour from men, she thought heavily. They had never discussed it, but she wasn’t completely naive. She had guessed that Mel had occasionally supplemented her income from her job as a glamour model by offering a more intimate service to men she met at parties.

The idea that Cesario might have paid to sleep with Mel had made Beth reluctant to search for him. She had been convinced that he would not be interested in a baby who had resulted from a cold-blooded sexual encounter, and the only reason she had come to Sardinia was because she had promised Mel.

But Cesario did not act like a heartless playboy. He was a widower who had lost his wife and son in tragic circumstances. And, although it was not yet known if Sophie was his child, his gentleness when he had cradled her in his arms had brought a lump to Beth’s throat and evoked a wistful longing that her own father had cared about her enough to stick around during her childhood.

She stared down at Sophie’s angelic little face. ‘I can’t imagine how terrible it must be to lose a child. I may not have given birth to Sophie but I love her as much as if she was my own baby. I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to her. She’s all I have left of Mel,’ she said huskily. ‘Since I was twelve years old Mel was the only person I cared about and who cared about me.’

She blinked away her tears and lifted her head to meet Cesario’s hooded gaze. ‘What will happen if the DNA
test reveals that you are Sophie’s father?’ she asked desperately. ‘You said that you will want her to live here at the castle. But I have been a mother to her since the day she was born and she needs me. You can’t send me away from her. It would be too cruel.’

The glimmer of tears in Beth’s vivid green eyes had an unsettling effect on Cesario. He knew nothing about her other than what she had told him, and until he’d heard back from the private investigator he’d called an hour ago to check her out he had no reason to trust her or believe her story. But her emotive outburst had struck a chord in him.

‘Nothing can be decided until the results of the test are known,’ he said tersely. He moved away from the cot. ‘For now, I suggest you get to bed. Will Sophie sleep for the rest of the night?’

‘She’ll probably wake at about three for a feed. Because she’s so tiny she still needs a bottle during the night,’ Beth explained. ‘But then she usually sleeps soundly for six or seven hours.’ She could not hold back a yawn. ‘Actually, her sleep pattern works well for me because in England I start work at 5:00 a.m and finish at nine every morning. I leave Sophie with my neighbour.’

Cesario frowned. ‘What work do you do that early in the day?’

‘I clean offices for a big company close to where I live. My neighbour Maureen’s husband is a postman. She’s used to getting up early when he goes to work, and she babysits until I get home from my shift.’

‘You work as a cleaner?’

Something in his tone made Beth flush. ‘It’s not easy to find a job which fits in with caring for a baby,’ she said defensively. She was usually mild-natured, so perhaps it
was because she was tired but his disdainful expression sent a spurt of anger through her. ‘There’s nothing wrong with being a cleaner. It’s a vital service. You must employ dozens of domestic staff to look after this huge castle—it’s not done by magic, you know.’

Cesario’s dark brows winged upwards. So the little brown mouse had a temper. Twin spots of colour briefly flared on Beth’s cheeks, but they faded, leaving her looking deathly pale. His mouth tightened.

‘I was not expressing a criticism of your job—merely thinking that it is no wonder you resemble a wraith when you clearly get little sleep. And from the look of you—’ his eyes skimmed over her slender figure ‘—not enough time to eat regular meals.’

Beneath his scrutiny Beth was conscious that her faded old dressing gown was fit for the bin. Looking down, she realised that the front was gaping open and she quickly drew the edges together. Not that her body was very exciting, she acknowledged ruefully. Cesario looked distinctly unimpressed by her lack of curves. She guessed he favoured voluptuous blondes. Presumably it had been Mel’s provocative sex-appeal that had attracted Cesario to sleep with her a year ago.

For some reason the thought evoked a corrosive burning sensation in the pit of Beth’s stomach. How on earth could she feel jealous of her best friend who was no longer alive? she asked herself disgustedly.

It suddenly seemed to have been a very long day and she was desperate to be alone. ‘I do eat,’ she told him curtly. ‘But I’m naturally scrawny. I admit I’m very tired, though, so I’ll say goodnight, Mr Piras.’

Scrawny
was not the word he would have used to describe Beth Granger, Cesario brooded. He could not understand
why her fragile figure and elfin features were having such a profound effect on him, but the stirring of sexual desire in his groin was as insistent as it was unexpected.

Irritated with himself, he strode towards the door. ‘My name is Cesario,’ he reminded her. ‘
Buonanotte
, Beth. I hope you and Sophie both sleep well.’

CHAPTER FOUR

A
FTER
checking on Sophie, Beth went straight to bed. She resolutely pushed all thoughts of Cesario to the back of her mind and fell asleep almost instantly.

A strange rumbling noise dragged her from a disturbing dream where she had been running down a long corridor lined with evil-looking stone gargoyles which turned into living creatures. She sat up, her heart racing, and switched on her bedside lamp.

Her watch showed that it was 2:00 a.m. The castle was silent, and she wondered if the noise had been part of her dream. But then it came again, as loud and violent as thunder. The storm must have moved closer. But she had never known thunder to growl continuously for so long. Going back to sleep was impossible when the noise was so loud.

Another booming crash seemed to make the walls of the castle shake. She leapt out of bed and hurried through to the nursery. Sophie was still sleeping peacefully and Beth was loath to disturb her. It seemed safer to leave the baby in the sturdy wooden cot while she went to investigate what was happening.

The corridor outside the nursery was illuminated by wall lamps which cast long shadows and flickered over several portraits housed in ornate frames. The haughty-looking
men and women must be Cesario’s ancestors, she guessed. Their black eyes seemed to follow her, and she could not repress a little shiver as she walked towards the head of the stairs.

There were no signs of life. Cesario and his staff must all be in bed. A terrible noise, louder than anything that had gone before, resounded through the castle. Panic-stricken, she screamed, and at that moment a door on the other side of the landing flew open.

‘What’s happened?’ a gravelly voice demanded.

Cesario stood in the doorway, his big broad-shouldered frame silhouetted in the light that streamed from the room behind him. He must have been in bed and on hearing the noise had dragged on his trousers. But his chest was bare, and in spite of her terror Beth felt a little tremor of something that was definitely not fear run down her spine.

He was devastatingly sexy, with a toned, muscular physique that made her feel weak at the knees. Darkly tanned skin gleamed like burnished copper in the lamplight. His black tousled hair brushed his shoulders and his chest was covered with a mass of wiry hairs that arrowed down over his abdomen.

‘Are you hurt?’

Suddenly conscious that she was staring at him, Beth hastily dropped her gaze.

‘No. I … I was scared. That noise—what is it?’

‘I don’t know.’ He walked towards her, frowning when another thunderous crash rent the air.

‘At first I thought it was the storm, but it sounds as though the mountain is falling down,’ Beth said shakily. ‘Should we leave the castle?’

‘Definitely not. The Castello del Falco has stood for seven hundred years and we’re safer here than anywhere.’
Cesario looked grim. ‘You may be right about the mountain, though. The heavy rain that has been falling for the past few days could have triggered a landslide.’

Beth gasped. ‘But if part of the mountain is falling surely the castle will fall too?’ Her heart was racing so fast that she found it hard to breathe, but her mind was focused on one thing. ‘I left Sophie in the nursery. I must go and get her.’

She spun round, intent on racing back to the nursery, but a wave of dizziness like the one she had experienced when she had climbed the stairs earlier swept over her. The walls of the corridor seemed to be closing in on her, and she cried out as she fell forwards into black nothingness.