Читать книгу Rags To Riches Collection - Джанис Мейнард, Rebecca Winters - Страница 37

AFTER 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.

Growling an oath, Cesario lunged towards Beth and caught her as she crumpled. No wonder she had fainted, he thought as he lifted her in his arms and strode into his bedroom. She weighed next to nothing. He glanced down at her and his mouth tightened as he studied her hollow cheeks and the prominent line of her collarbone. What was it with women and dieting? He had never found extreme thinness attractive, which made his reaction to Beth all the more surprising.

She was not his type—so why had a flood of heat surged through him the instant he had swept her into his arms? And why did the brush of her silky brown hair against his bare chest evoke a throb of fierce, primitive lust in his groin? It did not help that her cotton nightgown was so thin he could see the outline of her body through it. The strap had slipped off her shoulder, exposing the upper slope of one small, pale breast, and the darker skin of her nipple was clearly visible through the material.

Her eyelashes fluttered against her white cheeks and then slowly lifted. Huge green eyes focused on him and Cesario felt uncomfortable that he had been looking at her without her knowledge. He felt like a voyeur, and quickly lowered her onto the bed and swung away.

‘Sophie!’ Struggling against the blackness that was threatening to suck her back down, and the horrible sensation that she was going to be sick, Beth hung on to the one thing that mattered. Feeling disorientated, she let her eyes scan an unfamiliar room—a vast room, with dark wood-panelled walls and an enormous fireplace. The four-poster bed she was lying on was ornately carved and draped with swathes of rich burgundy silk.

She remembered the strange, terrifying noises and Cesario’s warning of a possible landslide. If anything happened to Sophie.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed and gasped when a firm hand gripped her shoulder.

‘Let me go. I want to go back to the nursery.’

‘I’ve just been to check on Sophie and she’s still fast asleep. Here—drink this.’

A glass was thrust into Beth’s hand. With Cesario looming over her she had little option but to take a sip of the amber liquid and she choked as fiery heat burned the back of her throat.

‘What is it?’ she croaked when she could speak.

‘Brandy. You fainted,’ Cesario told her tersely. ‘Drink it. It might put some colour back in your face.’

He was so forceful that she did not have the nerve to argue. She took another tiny sip, wrinkling nose in disgust. ‘I never drink spirits.’

‘Or eat food, from the look of you. I can only assume you are the type of woman who is obsessed with her looks and determined to diet until you resemble a skeleton.’

His derisive comment did what the brandy had failed to do and caused angry colour to flare in her cheeks. ‘I told you—I’m naturally thin. I do eat.’ But admittedly not very well, Beth acknowledged silently, thinking of the days when looking after Sophie took up so much of her time that all she could be bothered to cook for herself was toast.

‘Then why did you pass out?’

She sighed, wishing Cesario would let the matter drop. ‘I’m probably still a bit anaemic. I saw a doctor a couple of months ago because I kept feeling dizzy, and a blood test confirmed that my red blood cell count was low. He suggested that I take iron tablets and a vitamin supplement.’

‘And did you take them?’

‘I took the ones the doctor gave me, but I couldn’t afford to buy any more.’ She flushed when he gave her an impatient look. ‘Why are you so interested in the state of my health?’

How could he explain that Beth’s fragile appearance aroused his protective instincts? Cesario did not understand why she triggered such deeply primitive urges inside him. Lust, yes, but also an inexplicable desire to take care of her.

The usual women he met at parties and business functions were brittle socialites who were perfectly capable of looking out for themselves. And there was no reason to suppose that this woman was any different, he reminded himself.

‘Surely you must realise it is important to take care of your health for Sophie’s sake? You insist that you are devoted to her, but what would happen to her if you became seriously ill? If it is proved that she is my child how could you think I would allow you to take her back to England when you plainly cannot look after yourself properly, let alone a baby.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘But perhaps you were expecting me to hand over a big maintenance settlement so that you could pay for childcare and not have to be bothered with her yourself?’

‘I didn’t expect anything from someone who thinks it’s okay to have unprotected sex with a stranger,’ Beth retaliated. It was so out of character for her to lose her temper, but Cesario’s arrogance and his implication that she regarded Sophie as a means to getting her hands on his fortune goaded her beyond endurance. ‘If you want my opinion, I think you’re despicable,’ she told him, her voice shaking with emotion. ‘You must have known there was a risk Mel could fall pregnant. I suppose that’s why you had already disappeared from the hotel room when she woke up in the morning? You didn’t want to take responsibility for the possible outcome of your night of fun and so you didn’t stick around long enough to find out her name or give her details of how to contact you if she needed to.’

Cesario’s jaw hardened at her accusations, but to his shame he could not refute them. ‘I’ve explained that I have no memory of that night.’

‘That doesn’t excuse what you did.’

‘Or didn’t do,’ he said tightly. ‘Until the results of a DNA test are known we only have your friend’s word that I was the man she slept with.’

‘Mel was absolutely certain when she saw your picture in the newspaper that you are Sophie’s father.’

Beth felt intimidated by Cesario as he towered over her. She slid off the bed, but still had to tilt her head to look at him. She studied him covertly from beneath her lashes and felt a peculiar coiling sensation in the pit of her stomach as her eyes roamed over his naked chest. Seconds ago she had been furious with him, but now it was not anger that was making her heart beat uncomfortably fast.

His body had the sculpted perfection of a work of art, with the powerful muscles of his chest and abdomen clearly delineated beneath his satiny golden skin. Beth had never touched a man’s unclothed torso before, and she was shocked by her urgent longing to skim her hands over Cesario’s rippling muscles and follow the path of dark hairs that disappeared beneath the waistband of his trousers.

He was a callous womaniser, she reminded herself. Either he was lying when he said he did not remember the night he had spent with Mel, or he really had been so drunk that his mind was blank. Neither scenario earned respect. He was not the sort of man she could ever have imagined she would be attracted to, but it seemed that the mysterious alchemy of sexual desire paid no heed to the things she believed were important. Respect and admiration counted for nothing, she discovered, compared with the fierce yearning she felt for him to crush her against his bare chest and plunder her mouth with hungry passion.

The silence in the room was so intense that Beth was conscious of each breath she took. Part of her brain registered that the crashing noise from outside had stopped. She should return to her room and try to sleep before Sophie woke for her next feed, but she seemed to be trapped by invisible bonds and she could not prevent her eyes from straying to Cesario’s face.

Her heart gave a jolt when she discovered him staring at her with a burning intensity that sent molten heat coursing through her veins. Slowly and deliberately he trailed his gaze over her. Glancing down, Beth was embarrassed to realise that her nightdress was so thin from age and frequent washing that he could probably see right through it.

If only she had pulled on her dressing gown before she had rushed out of the nursery. Her breasts felt heavy, and to her horror she saw that her nipples had hardened and were jutting against the almost sheer fabric of her nightdress. Mortified by her body’s betrayal, and confused by the reaction to him that she seemed powerless to control, she stared rigidly at the carpet, sure that he would make a mocking comment.

He exhaled heavily, as if, like hers, his breath had been trapped in his lungs. A hand cupped her chin and forced her head up, and a tremor ran through Beth when she saw the hard glitter in his steel-grey eyes.

‘I would not have forgotten if you had shared my bed,’ he said harshly.

She flushed, recalling that he had made the same statement when she had first spoken to him in the castle’s great hall. The disparaging look he had given her then had revealed what he thought of her.

‘I’m quite aware that I am plain,’ she told him, her voice stiff with hurt pride.

He gave a rough laugh, as if he was surprised by her words. ‘You cannot believe that.’ Almost as if he could not help himself, he traced the delicate line of her jaw with his fingertips, his touch as light as if she were made of fragile porcelain. ‘Sei bella,’ he said huskily. ‘I find you very lovely, Beth Granger.’

His face was so close to hers that she could feel his warm breath whisper across her lips. Time, her heartbeat—both seemed to be suspended. Was he going to kiss her? Did she want him to?

Dear heaven, he was a sorcerer and she was falling under his spell, Beth thought wildly. Was this how he had seduced Mel? Had he murmured sweet lies in his gravelly, sexy accent and mesmerised her with the sultry gleam in his eyes that promised untold delights?

Luckily the sound of her name restored her sanity. Boring, insipid Beth Granger was certainly not beautiful, she thought dully. If she was, she might have been fostered as a child instead of spending all her teenage years in care. She bit her lip as memories surfaced of having her photograph taken at the children’s home. Photos of the kids in care had been kept with their files and shown to prospective foster families, but it had seemed that only the pretty girls got picked.

Mel had been fostered a few times, but none of her foster parents had been able to cope with her challenging behaviour and after a few months she’d been sent back to the care home. Like an unwanted Christmas present, she’d joked. But at least Mel had been given the chance to be part of a family, Beth thought. It had been a salutary lesson to realise that she was being judged by her appearance—and found wanting.

She had reached adulthood firmly believing that she was unattractive. It was just another of life’s disappointments, she’d told herself. Her best attribute was her common sense. But she was ashamed to admit that for a few breathless moments she had been fooled by the look of desire in Cesario’s eyes. A handsome playboy like him was not going to be interested in an unremarkable office cleaner like her, her prosaic mind pointed out.

But maybe he did not care what she looked like. Maybe he just wanted sex with any woman he believed was available—like he had with Mel. Feeling sick at the idea that he might think she was an easy lay, she jerked away from him and folded her arms across her chest to hide her body’s shameful response to his potent masculinity.

‘There is no chance of me ever sharing your bed, so you won’t have to worry about your memory lapses,’ she informed him, with an icy dignity that was somewhat spoiled by the tremor in her voice. ‘I think you should concentrate on trying to remember the night you spent with Mel—the night I believe your daughter was conceived.’

His eyes gleamed dangerously. She sensed she had angered him, and steeled herself for his caustic retaliation, but the simmering silence was broken by the sound of a baby’s cries.

Her brow wrinkled. ‘How can I hear Sophie when she is in the nursery?’

‘I switched on the baby monitor.’ Cesario nodded towards the device plugged into a wall socket. ‘I always used it when Nicolo was…here.’ He had been about to say alive, but the stark reminder that his son was no longer alive caused a shaft of pain inside him. ‘I knew you were tired and I thought if you were deeply asleep you might not hear Sophie if she stirred.’

‘I always hear her, so you needn’t worry.’

Beth stared at Cesario and caught her lower lip with her teeth. She did not know what to make of him. His concern for Sophie was unexpected, and did not fit in with the man she had supposed him to be. A few hours ago he had been unaware that he might have fathered a daughter. But, far from rejecting Sophie, he had made it clear that if she was his child he would take responsibility for her.

But what about her? Beth wondered fearfully. What place would she have in Sophie’s life if Cesario decided he wanted the baby to live here at his castle? She wished now that she had not come to Sardinia—wished that she had kept Sophie’s existence a secret. But it was too late for regrets. A DNA test would determine the truth, and if necessary she would fight for her right to be Sophie’s mother—as Mel had wanted.

Another wail from the baby monitor jerked Beth into action. ‘I must go to her,’ she muttered, and hurried from Cesario’s room, thankful to escape his brooding gaze.

What in hell’s name was the matter with him? Cesario asked himself furiously as he stood staring through the doorway long minutes after Beth had fled from him, a fragile wraith in her wispy nightgown that did little to conceal her slender figure. Why had he come on to her like that? No wonder she had looked at him with such wariness in her wide green eyes.

But it had not been fear that had made her tremble for those few moments when he had stood so close to her that he had been aware of the erratic thud of her heart. There had been a fierce, inexplicable connection between them, and he knew she had felt it just as he had. He swore savagely. He had not desired a woman for months. So why was his body burning up for a pale, elfin woman whose reasons for seeking him out were highly suspect?

First thing in the morning he would arrange for the DNA test to be done and determine if the baby that Beth had brought to the castle was his, he decided as he strode into his en-suite bathroom and set the shower setting to cold in the hope of cooling his heated flesh. He did not share Beth’s conviction that he had slept with her friend—it seemed unlikely that he had retained no memory of having sex with Melanie Stewart, however drunk he had been.

There was a good chance Sophie was not his child. If that was the case he would ensure that Beth Granger and her tiny charge were on the first flight back to England, and he would no longer be disturbed by the slanting green eyes that he was convinced had cast a spell over him.

He frowned as he recalled how she had told him she worked an early-morning shift as a cleaner and left Sophie with a neighbour. It was obvious from her shabby clothes that she had little money. His thoughts turned to the beautiful baby girl in the nursery and something tugged on his insides as he remembered Sophie’s gummy smile. If she was not his child perhaps he would make a financial arrangement so that Beth could give up her job and concentrate on caring for the baby, he brooded. After all, he had more money than he knew what to do with, and losing Nicolo had made him realise that he cared nothing for the things that had once been important to him, such as wealth and power. Everything seemed meaningless—including his own life.

* * *

The hands on Beth’s watch showed that it was nine o’clock, and the stream of light filtering through the gap in the curtains indicated that it was morning—which meant that she had overslept and missed her cleaning shift. Horrified, she threw back the sheets—and then took a steadying breath as her brain caught up. She had spent the night at Cesario Piras’s castle, and without her alarm clock to wake her at four-thirty, as it did every other morning, she had slept embarrassingly late.

Sophie had settled straight after her 3:00 a.m. feed, and now, when Beth stole into the nursery, she found the baby still sleeping peacefully. As she moved away from the cot there was a light knock on the door, and a moment later a woman whom she guessed was one of the castle staff entered the nursery, bearing a tray.

‘Ah, you are awake and the bambina is still asleep—that is good. My name is Filomena,’ the woman introduced herself in a loud whisper. ‘I am cook for Signor Piras and I look after his castle. All the other staff—they do what I tell them.’

Beth could well believe it. Filomena was short in stature, and cosily plump, but her flashing black eyes warned of a fiery and formidable personality. However, her smile was welcoming, and when she peeped at Sophie her face softened.

‘Angioletto,’ she breathed before she set the tray down on the table by the window. ‘You can eat breakfast while the bambina sleeps,’ she told Beth. ‘If she wakes I will hold her while you finish.’

The aroma of coffee and freshly baked rolls made Beth’s stomach rumble appreciatively, and the bowl of peaches and cherries looked as inviting as the dish beside it containing creamy yoghurt. But if Sophie acted true to form she would undoubtedly stir the minute Beth started eating, she thought ruefully.

She smiled shyly at Cesario’s cook. ‘That’s very kind of you, but I’m sure you must be busy…’

Beady black eyes fixed her with a stern look. ‘Signor Piras say to Filomena that you must eat—so you eat.’ She gave Beth a cursory inspection and sniffed. ‘You are too thin. You will never find a husband.’

Beth did not explain that following her father’s devastating betrayal of her mother she had decided she never wanted a husband. Instead, she deemed it wiser to subside into a chair and help herself to a roll. ‘Is Signor Piras’s word law?’ she murmured.

‘Of course,’ Filomena said cheerfully. ‘He is the master of the Castello del Falco. He is il capo. How you say? The boss.’

‘Yes, I imagine he is,’ Beth said dryly, recalling his hard features and granite-grey eyes. Cesario was king of his castle, and his position as head of one of Italy’s biggest banks must mean that he was immensely powerful. But she had witnessed a gentler side to his nature when he had rocked Sophie off to sleep and could not help but be intrigued by him.

Her mind lingered on those few heart-stopping moments in his room when she had thought that he was going to kiss her, and a little tremor ran through her. Of course she hadn’t wanted him to. Not a man like him—a man who slept around and was careless of the consequences. She stared at the tray in front of her. He was also a man who had instructed his cook to bring her breakfast. He was probably just being a polite host, she told herself firmly, he was not interested in her welfare.

* * *

The torrential rain of the previous night had eased to a fine drizzle which continued to fall from the leaden sky. Beth had spent the morning in the nursery with Sophie, but now, after lunch—which Filomena had brought, and then watched her like a hawk while she ate—a glimmer of sunshine broke through the clouds outside the window.

‘We’ll go for a walk,’ she told the baby as she dressed her in an all-in-one suit. At home she tried to take Sophie out in the fresh air most days. The one-bedroom flat she rented in a grim tower block in East London was cramped, especially now that it was filled with baby paraphernalia, but luckily the Hackney Marshes were close by, and provided an oasis of green in a busy part of London.

Teodoro carried the baby buggy down the castle steps, and once Beth had strapped Sophie into it and tucked a blanket round her she strolled around the courtyard. The Castello del Falco was much less forbidding in daylight, she noted. Built on a plateau close to the summit of the mountain, it was surrounded by higher mountains which rose towards the sky, their lower slopes covered in dense woodland and their grey peaks resembling jagged teeth.

The castle was like something from a fairy tale, Beth mused. Even the stone gargoyles looked impish and mischievous in the sunlight, rather than wickedly cruel as they had when she had arrived during the storm last night. Lulled by the motion of the pushchair, Sophie had drifted off to sleep. There seemed no point in disturbing her by carrying her back inside, so Beth explored the well-tended gardens at the rear of the castle, arranged in a series of terraces. Each tier was beautifully formal, with clipped yew hedges bordered by gravel pathways, ornamental fountains splashing into pools, and graceful marble statues standing serenely amid the lush greenery.

It would be an amazing place for a child to grow up. Beth gave a rueful sigh as she recalled the graffiti-strewn stairways, which were the haunt of local drug dealers, and the acres of concrete on the estate where she lived. How much better it would be for Sophie if she was Cesario’s daughter and the castle became her home. But where would she live? she wondered fretfully. Would it be possible for her to move to the nearby town of Oliena and find some sort of job so that she could still be a part of Sophie’s life?

Lost in her thoughts, she followed the path round to the front of the castle—and halted when she saw Cesario on horseback, riding into the courtyard. He was an imposing sight, and she felt her heart jolt beneath her ribs. Sitting astride a huge, powerful-looking horse, he was dressed almost entirely in black: black boots, jeans, and a leather jerkin worn over a dark grey loosely woven shirt. Curiously, on one hand he wore a thick leather glove that reached almost to his elbow. His dark hair was windswept around his hard-boned face, and even from a distance the livid scar on his cheek was clearly visible. But it did not detract from his rugged good-looks.

There was a tough, untamed quality about him that touched something deep inside Beth. He was the man of her fantasies: a pirate, an adventurer, undoubtedly a dangerous adversary and a passionate lover. She drew a ragged breath, shocked by the train of her thoughts. He was out of her league, she reminded herself. But that knowledge did not stop her traitorous body from reacting to his potent virility.

As her eyes met his glinting grey gaze she felt lightheaded, and she knew she could not blame her sudden breathlessness on her low red blood-cell count.

He walked his great black horse forward, and as he did so a shadow swooped over Beth’s head. Startled by the beating sound, and the sudden rush of air that moved her hair, she glanced up to see a bird of prey circle the courtyard and land on Cesario’s gloved arm.

His stern features lightened a fraction when he noticed her stunned expression. ‘This is Gratia,’ he told her, in the deep, gravelly voice that brought her skin out in goose-bumps. ‘You are honoured. Often she will not come to the glove if a stranger is near.’

‘She’s beautiful. What kind of bird is she?’

‘A peregrine falcon—the fastest of all birds of prey. Grazia means grace, and she is not just swift and powerful in the air but incredibly graceful.’ Cesario gave a low laugh. ‘To be honest, she is the only female I have ever truly loved.’

Beth eyed the big grey and white speckled bird with its hooked beak and vicious-looking talons and wondered if he was joking. ‘But. surely you loved your wife?’ she faltered.

His gaze became hooded. ‘If I had perhaps I would still have my son,’ he said harshly.

‘What do you mean?’

He shook his head. ‘Forget it—it doesn’t matter. I have other news that will be of far more interest to you. As I suspected, the noises we heard last night were caused by a landslide farther down the mountain.’

Recalling recent news reports of the devastating mudslides in India caused by the monsoon, Beth gave him a worried look. ‘Was anyone hurt?’

‘Fortunately there are no houses on that part of the mountain. But it is a significant slide, and the road to Oliena is blocked—which means that we are temporarily cut off. We cannot get down to the town and no one can reach us here—including the doctor who I arranged to carry out the DNA test.’

She stared at him as the implication of his words sank in. ‘So what can we do?’

He shrugged. ‘We can’t do anything except wait for the road to be cleared. And that could be several days at least.’ He anticipated her next question. ‘I rode out to take a look. Heavy machinery will have to be brought in to move the boulders.’

‘But if the test can’t be done for days, and it takes time for the results to come back, I could be stuck here for weeks.’ The boss of the cleaning company where she worked would not keep her job open indefinitely, Beth thought worriedly.

Cesario glanced around the sunlit courtyard, and then up to the mountains which encircled the castle. ‘I can think of worse places to be stuck,’ he drawled. ‘Look at it this way—our enforced captivity will give us the chance to get to know one another better, which could be important if it turns out that Sophie is my child.’

His words evoked a flare of fierce excitement in Beth that her sensible nature quickly quashed. Cesario’s only interest in her was because of her role as Sophie’s guardian. She would be a fool to allow her fascination with him to continue. But her heartbeat quickened when he glanced down at her and his mouth curved into a slow, sensual smile.

‘Dinner will be at eight o’clock tonight. I look forward to your company, Beth,’ he murmured, before he urged his horse on and rode out of the courtyard.