Читать книгу Rags To Riches Collection - Джанис Мейнард, Rebecca Winters - Страница 42

THE primitive hunger in Cesario’s voice sent a tremor through Beth. The rain was hammering down on the roof of the cabin, but the prickling silence between them was so profound that she was sure he could hear the erratic thud of her heart. He lifted his hand and very lightly traced her collarbone, and then slowly, delicately, almost as if he was afraid she would break, he skimmed his fingers down to her breast.

She caught her breath as he explored the small rounded contour, his tanned fingers contrasting starkly with her creamy flesh. His eyes were hooded but she glimpsed the feral gleam beneath his heavy lids and could not restrain a little gasp when he stroked her nipple. It tautened instantly at his touch, and the sensation of his fingers gently squeezing her tender flesh was so acute that a quiver of intense heat shot from her breast to her pelvis.

‘Sei bella, Beth,’ he growled in a thick, sexually charged tone that caressed her senses like the sumptuous feel of velvet against her skin. With his free hand he cupped her other breast and she made a little choked sound when he rolled its dusky peak between his thumb and forefinger.

‘I want you.’ His voice cracked. ‘Dio mio, you are like a fever in my blood. And you want me too. Your body does not lie, cara,’ he said fiercely. ‘The attraction burned between us from the moment we first met and neither of us can ignore it any longer.’

It was true, Beth acknowledged helplessly. She had felt an intense awareness, an inexplicable connection with him when she had first seen him on the night she had arrived at the castle. She remembered she had felt a curious sensation, like an arrow piercing her heart, and she felt it again now. But now she knew what it was.

Love, she thought shakily. She had looked into Cesario’s granite grey eyes and she had been lost for ever.

Of course she had denied it to herself. Love at first sight only happened in fairy tales, and Cesario was no Prince Charming; he was a heartless playboy who had been too drunk to remember sleeping with Mel. She had told herself she despised him, but as she had learned more about his past her heart had softened and she had understood how his grief for his son had caused him to behave in a way that he regretted.

‘Beth?’

He said her name raggedly, as if he feared her silence meant he had been mistaken to think she shared his desire. She saw the tension in his jaw and lifted a trembling hand to his face, gently tracing the livid scar down to the corner of his mouth.

‘Was I wrong to think, to hope, that the fire inside me burns in you too?’

‘No,’ she whispered, ‘you weren’t wrong.’ And, standing on tiptoe, she reached up and kissed him.

With a savage groan he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her hard against him, so that the tips of her breasts brushed the wiry hairs that covered his broad chest. The sensation was so exquisitely erotic that she gasped; the sound was muffled by his lips as he slanted his mouth over hers and kissed her with a feverish hunger that warned her there could be no going back. He meant to possess her, and she welcomed his passionate urgency, parting her lips so that he could thrust his tongue between them to explore the moistness within.

She snatched a breath when at last he lifted his mouth from hers and trailed a line of kisses down her throat, to capture the pulse jerking erratically at its base. His hands caressed her breasts once more, and then, to her startled delight, he lowered his head and closed his lips around one nipple to suckle the rosy peak until the pleasure was almost unbearable.

She moaned softly and clung to him while he transferred his attention to her other nipple, lashing it with his tongue until it was pebble-hard. She shivered—not with cold, but with a heated desire that was growing ever more frantic. Molten warmth pooled between her thighs and she ached there, ached for him to touch her and give her the sweet release her body craved.

The room tilted as Cesario swept her into his arms and carried her over to the bed. He laid her down on the cool sheets and held her gaze as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of her knickers.

There was something incredibly sexy about Beth’s simple plain cotton underwear, Cesario brooded. His already hardened shaft strained uncomfortably against his trousers as he pulled her knickers down to reveal the neat triangle of curls that hid her femininity.

He wanted her to undress him, for her to stroke his throbbing length with her soft white hands. But the mere thought of her caressing him brought him to the edge of no return, and with more haste than grace he stripped and lowered himself onto the bed.

Her hair felt like silk. He ran his fingers through its length and then cupped her face, bringing his mouth down on hers once more in a sensual kiss, seeking a response that she gave with such sweet eagerness that his heart clenched.

But although she kissed him with a fervour that made him ache she seemed curiously shy, and did not boldly explore his body as an experienced mistress would do. He sensed her faint wariness, and instinct warned him she had not had many other lovers.

His jaw tensed when he recalled her telling him how her ex-employer had assaulted her. No wonder she seemed tentative. There was a need for restraint, for him to slow the pace and arouse her with gentle care. It would take all his will-power, he acknowledged ruefully. He could not remember ever being so turned on. But from the outset Beth had cast a spell on him with her slanting green eyes and he was utterly lost to her magic.

Beth’s heart thudded when Cesario trailed his hands slowly down her body. He seemed in no rush, and the realisation that he was controlling his urgent desire helped her to relax. The unpleasant memories of Hugo Devington’s clumsy attempts to touch her body faded from her mind. She trusted Cesario completely. He treated her as his equal and she knew he would make love to her with consideration and respect.

Excitement fluttered inside her when he skimmed his fingertips lightly over her stomach and traced the indent of her waist, before moving lower to carefully ease her legs apart. It was new and wondrous, and she held her breath as he brushed his fingers in a gossamer-soft caress up and down her moist opening. She felt no shyness, just a fierce need that made her spread her legs wider and lift her hips as he parted her and slid an exploratory finger between her slick folds.

Slowly her internal muscles relaxed, allowing him to push deeper, and she gave a startled cry of pleasure when he bent his head to her breast and laved one nipple and then its twin with his tongue while he continued his erotic exploration of her body with his fingers.

Reality faded and she entered an almost dream-like state dominated by the incredible sensations Cesario was arousing in her. She curled her hands into the sheet, her whole being focused on the rhythmic pulse of his finger slipping in and out of her and the delicate brush of his thumb pad across the ultra-sensitive nub of her clitoris.

‘Touch me, cara,’ he said roughly.

She opened her eyes and her heart lurched when she saw the feral hunger in his gaze. He took her hand and guided her down to his solid length. Steel encased in velvet, she thought wonderingly, and so big—surely he was too big for her to take him inside her?

She felt a flutter of apprehension, but at the same time her body ached for something more than the delicate caress of his hands. A fierce need was building inside her—a need that she sensed would only be assuaged when he replaced his finger with the hard arousal that was already pushing between her thighs.

He kissed her mouth, deep and slow, and the inherent tenderness of the kiss dismissed her faint fear. She trusted him, and her tense muscles relaxed, so that when he slid his hands beneath her bottom and lifted her she bent her knees and opened for him, her heart-rate quickening as the tip of him pressed against her welcoming moistness.

He groaned, but instead of pushing forward he withdrew and rested his brow lightly on hers, his chest heaving as he fought for control. ‘I must protect you, cara,’ he muttered, lifting himself from her. ‘Don’t go away.’

Mystified, she watched him stride through a door which she saw led into the tiny bathroom. Why was he leaving her? Had he decided not to make love to her? Her body throbbed with unfulfilled desire. But he was back within seconds, pausing to slide a rubber sheath over his burgeoning manhood before he knelt over her and sank between her spread thighs.

‘Carissima,’ he whispered, and surged forward—only to halt again when he felt the fragile barrier of her virginity. ‘Beth?’ He stared into her wide eyes, stunned to see the faint trepidation in their green depths. ‘Your first time?’

There was no point in lying. ‘Yes.’ She felt him pull back and frantically gripped his shoulders. ‘Are you going to stop?’

‘Do you want me to?’ he asked hoarsely.

She shook her head, and driven by innate honesty admitted, ‘I want you to be the first.’

Cesario expelled his breath on a ragged sigh. She was so lovely, his English rose. And now she would be truly his.

‘If I had known I would have taken things more slowly,’ he murmured, bending his head to anoint each of her reddened nipples with his lips. He heard her soft gasp, and with great care he slowly eased forward. He felt the initial restraint of her body and slanted his mouth over hers to catch her faint surprised cry as he pushed through the delicate membrane and surged deep into her.

He fitted perfectly, Beth thought, a sweet languor stealing over as the stinging pain of his possession quickly passed. He filled her, completed her, and she arched her hips to welcome each thrust of his rigid length, discovering as she did so that he was taking her on a journey of such intense pleasure that she hoped it would never end. Urgency replaced her languor, and she twisted her head on the pillow as he drove into her with long, measured strokes, setting a rhythm that took her quickly to the edge of some unknown place and held her there, gasping and sobbing his name, as the first spasms rippled from her central core.

Beads of sweat glistened on his bronzed shoulders and she sensed instinctively that he was fighting to control the insistent demands of his body. His skin was drawn taut over his razor-sharp cheekbones and his eyes glittered with a primitive hunger that sent a thrill of excitement through her. He thrust again, the deepest yet, and she shattered, her slender body arching as spasm after spasm ripped through her in an unending tide of indescribable pleasure.

He gripped her hips and held her tight, increased his pace, faster, harder, while she convulsed around him until with a groan rent from deep in his soul he reached his own release and buried his face in her fragrant hair as his seed pumped from him.

It was a long time before Cesario lifted his head from where he had pillowed it on her breasts. The ragged sound of their breathing had gradually slowed, and Beth became aware that the rain had eased to a soft pitter-patter on the roof of the cabin.

Tension seeped into her when he propped himself on his elbows and stared into her eyes, his hard-boned face as enigmatic as ever. She did not know what he expected. Should she make a witty remark or compliment him on his performance? What was the protocol between two people who had indulged in casual sex? she wondered bleakly.

Her heart leapt with relief when he smiled softly and bent his head to claim her mouth in a tender kiss. ‘So that was your first lesson in making love, mia bella.’ He laughed ruefully at her shocked expression when she felt the unmistakable sign that he was already aroused again, his hardened shaft pushing against her hip. ‘As you can feel, I am an impatient tutor, and my body is eager to give you your second lesson.’

‘Why don’t you, then?’ she invited daringly, feeling a flood of silken heat between her legs.

To her disappointment he eased away from her and stood up. ‘Because I must be patient and allow your body time to recover from any soreness.’ He could not resist dropping another kiss on the slight pout of her lips. ‘We have plenty of time, cara,’ he assured her gently.

Beth did not like to think of time. The results of the DNA test would be known in a matter of days, and if they proved that Cesario was not Sophie’s father she would take the baby back to England and probably never see him again. He had proved how much he desired her, but she was under no illusion that he wanted anything more than a brief affair with her.

Feeling agitated, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and to her horror saw a small, betraying bloodstain on the sheet. Cesario returned from the bathroom and she flushed when his eyes settled briefly on the mark.

‘I’m sorry. I’ll change the sheet.’ A host of confused emotions surged up inside her, and inexplicably she burst into tears.

‘Shh, carissima.’ Cesario swept her into his arms, feeling a curious tug on his heart at the sight of her distress. ‘The sheet is not important. Come.’ He carried her into the bathroom where the bath was filling, and lowered her into the fragrant bubbles.

Beth let out a shaky sigh as she sank into the warm water and felt the tension seep from her body. ‘I don’t know why I’m being so silly.’ She was embarrassed by her tears and quickly rubbed her hand over her face.

‘Not silly,’ he assured her in his deep, velvet-soft voice. ‘Just very lovely, and rather more innocent that I had expected,’ he added wryly.

He knew he should feel guilty that he had taken her virginity, but he could not regret the most profoundly moving experience of his life, Cesario thought fiercely. He felt a sense of honour that she had chosen him and another curious sensation—a golden glow inside him that he hadn’t felt for a long time but which he realised with surprise was happiness.

‘I can manage,’ Beth protested when Cesario tipped shampoo into his palm.

His eyes met hers and his gentle smile made her heart ache with a longing that he. She caught her lip between her teeth and told herself to be sensible. Just because he had made love to her so beautifully it did not mean that he loved her. But when he looked at her as he was doing now, she couldn’t help but believe that he cared for her a little.

‘Humour me, hmm…?’ he murmured, and proceeded to wash and rinse her hair before he lifted her out of the bath and wrapped a towel around her.

It was a novel experience to be taken care of, and Beth gave herself up to the tender ministrations of his hands as he dried her and carried her back to the bed. He stretched out beside her and kissed her, parting her lips and tasting her with little sips that deepened to something innately sensual.

Her skin was like satin, Cesario thought as he explored her with his mouth, sucking gently on each of her swollen nipples before moving lower to ease her legs apart and bestow the most intimate caress of all. She gave a little gasp, shock quickly turning to delight, and he smiled and set about his self-appointed task, using his tongue and all his skill and patience until she writhed and sobbed his name, and he tasted her feminine fragrance as she climaxed beneath him.

‘Sleep for a while,’ he murmured when he took her back in his arms and brushed his lips across her hair.

She looked at him uncertainly. ‘But don’t you want to.?’

‘That was for you, cara.’ He ruthlessly controlled his throbbing need and watched her eyelashes flutter against her cheeks.

There was plenty of time for him to make love to her fully and experience the pleasure of their mutual satisfaction, Cesario mused as he settled her head on his shoulder. Whatever the outcome of the DNA test, he saw no reason why Beth should not remain at the castle as his mistress. Not for ever, of course. He did not do for ever.

He frowned, wondering why the prospect of ending their relationship—as he surely would eventually—was such an unwelcome thought. But he could not imagine his desire for her fading any time soon. He had been captivated by a green-eyed witch and he was in no rush to escape her magic.

* * *

‘I’m sure Sophie has gained a few pounds,’ Beth remarked as she cuddled the baby before handing her to Cesario. ‘Luisa has a set of baby scales and she’s going to weigh her later.’

They were in the castle gardens, enjoying the spring sunshine that shone from an azure sky, although Sophie—who had been propped up on a pile of cushions on the rug—was protected from the sun by a parasol which provided plenty of shade.

Cesario settled the little girl in the crook of his arm and covered her dark hair with a sunhat before he strolled over to one of the ornamental pools so that she could watch the fountain splashing into the water.

‘I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve put on a couple of pounds too,’ he murmured, when Beth walked over to join him. His gaze dropped to her low-cut strap-top. ‘Not that I have any complaints, cara. Your breasts are definitely fuller. How do you expect me to do any work when you’re such a sexy distraction?’

She laughed and pushed her silky brown hair over her shoulders, her eyes glowing in a face that was no longer pale and drawn but as tanned as the rest of her slim body. A combination of iron tablets and good food meant that she was no longer anaemic. She still did not get much sleep at night, but she could not blame Sophie. The baby now slept through the night, and if she did stir, the nanny, Luisa, now occupied the bedroom adjoining the nursery and was on hand to see to her.

No, her sleepless nights were for a very different reason, Beth mused, feeling the familiar lurch of her heart when Cesario gave her a sultry smile that had the immediate effect of making her blood zing in her veins.

‘Considering how many times we made love last night, I would have thought you would be glad of a few hours shut away in your study while you restore your energy.’

‘I am fully recuperated,’ he assured her dryly, his eyes glinting with amusement and possessive heat. ‘A fact that I intend to prove while Sophie has her afternoon nap.’

He chuckled when Beth blushed furiously. ‘I can’t imagine what the staff must think about the amount of time we spend in bed,’ she muttered.

‘You know all the staff are charmed by you. Even Teodoro smiles when your name is mentioned, and several times I’ve caught him feeding your ugly dog titbits from the kitchen.’

‘Harry’s not ugly—he’s adorable. Aren’t you?’ she said, bending down to stroke the ever-faithful scruffy dog who looked up at her with adoration in his soulful brown eyes.

Was it crazy to feel jealous of the attention Beth lavished on a mutt? Cesario asked himself impatiently. He contented himself with the knowledge that soon he would sweep her upstairs to the master bedroom and lay her down on his huge four-poster bed. He would remove her clothes and she would strip him and run her soft hands over his chest and thighs, before closing her fingers around his swollen shaft.

He glanced down at Sophie and saw she had fallen asleep in his arms. Her long dark lashes curled on her pink cheeks. She was as pretty as a doll, and he felt a gentle tug on his heart as he carried her into the castle and handed her to the nanny. Any day now they should hear back from the clinic. Was it crazy to hope that Sophie was his daughter? Cesario wondered. The circumstances surrounding her conception were not ideal. He still found it hard to believe that, in a drunken state, he’d had sex with a woman he had no recollection of, but he had to accept the possibility that he had slept with Melanie Stewart. If Sophie was his, he would have no regrets about her birth.

‘I think we should follow Sophie’s lead and take a siesta,’ he told Beth as he scooped her up and strode towards the stairs.

She wound her arms around his neck and appeared to consider his suggestion. ‘I suppose we could. Or you could give me another riding lesson. Or we could visit the falconry. Or sit in the library and read about the history of the castle and your, I have to say, rather bloodthirsty ancestors.’

Cesario silently reflected on the past two weeks which, if he was honest with himself, had been the happiest time he’d known in the four years since he had lost his son. And it was all down to the woman in his arms.

‘No wonder I get so little work done when I prefer to spend all my time with you.’ He paused on the landing and kissed her with fierce passion, until reality faded and she clung to him, her body pliant and desperate for his possession.

‘I wish you didn’t have to go away later today. Four days is a long time and I’m going to miss you.’ Beth sighed, uncaring that she might be giving too much away. They had barely spent any time apart since they had become lovers, and she hated the prospect of four long days and even longer nights without Cesario.

‘I’m afraid my trip to Japan is unavoidable, cara.’ He hesitated, and then said gruffly, ‘I’ll miss you too.’

How had she slipped into his life without him realising how important she had become to him? he wondered. He wasn’t looking forward to his business trip because it meant four nights when she would not fall asleep in his arms, and he would wake in the mornings to an empty bed rather than to her smile.

‘I may be able to wrap things up quickly and come home early. And I don’t have to leave yet. What would you like to do for the next hour, mia bella?’

‘I would like you to make love to me, please,’ she told him, in an innocent voice that did not match the wicked gleam in her eyes.

Cesario laughed out loud, and then halted abruptly and gave her an intent look. ‘The castle isn’t used to the sound of laughter. It was a rare occurrence when I was growing up here, and since Nicolo died this has been a place of sadness.’

‘There wasn’t a lot of laughter in my childhood, either,’ Beth admitted. ‘I never knew I could feel like this—’ She broke off, afraid he would guess how she felt about him. But it wasn’t in her nature to be secretive. ‘You make me happy,’ she whispered.

Cesario wanted to tell her that she made him happy too, but the lessons of his childhood were deeply ingrained. He had never in his life told anyone how he felt. He was not good at expressing his emotions verbally, he acknowledged. But every time he made love to her he showed her with tender caresses of his hands and mouth that she had crept under his guard, and he could not imagine a time when he would want to let her go.

His mobile rang as he strode into the bedroom and deposited Beth on the bed. He felt a pang of guilt for his PA as he went to switch off the phone. Donata had spent the past couple of weeks postponing his appointments and making excuses for why he was unavailable. But when he glanced at the caller display he saw that it was not his secretary, and his heart lurched.

‘I’m sorry, cara, I need to take this.’

‘I have to pop to the bathroom.’ Beth slid off the bed and Cesario waited until she had closed the door of the en-suite before answering the call.

The bedroom was empty when she re-emerged. Beth assumed his call had been about work and he had gone down to his study. But then she heard voices from the baby monitor—Cesario speaking in a low tone to the nanny. Thinking that Sophie must be awake, she hurried along the corridor and met Luisa coming out of the nursery.

‘Is something wrong? Was Sophie crying?’

‘Oh, no, she’s fast asleep,’ Luisa assured her.

Puzzled, Beth opened the nursery door. Cesario was standing by the cot, looking down at Sophie with a curious expression on his face. Feeling an inexplicable sense of foreboding, she walked quietly into the room.

He glanced at her and moved over to the window, motioning her to join him there.

‘The phone call was from the DNA testing clinic,’ he said without preamble. ‘I am not Sophie’s father.’

‘Not…!’ A host of emotions hit Beth—shock, faint relief that Cesario had no claim to Sophie, followed immediately by disappointment for the baby, whose future would be dictated by this momentous news. Sophie would not now enjoy the comfortable upbringing that being the daughter of a billionaire would have assured her. And more importantly she would never know the identity of her father. She had no daddy to love and protect her, Beth thought sadly. And with her mother dead Sophie was desperately vulnerable and utterly dependent on her.

As the implication of the news sank in she stared anxiously at Cesario. ‘Mel must have been mistaken. Unless.’ A terrible doubt crept into her mind as she thought back to that day in the hospital when Mel had told her she had recognised a photo in the newspaper of the man she had slept with months before.

‘The paper says he is Cesario Piras, billionaire owner of the Piras-Cossu Bank. He is Sophie’s father and she has a right to a huge maintenance allowance from him.’

Surely Mel couldn’t have made up the story that she had slept with Cesario? It wouldn’t have made sense for her to lie when a DNA test could prove paternity. But what if Mel hadn’t considered a DNA test? What if, seriously ill, perhaps even sensing that she did not have long to live, she had seen the picture of Cesario, remembered that he had been drinking heavily at the party, and guessed he wouldn’t remember anything of that night?

‘Unless what?’ Cesario demanded.

Beth’s mind reeled. Had Mel taken a desperate gamble to try and arrange financial security for her baby daughter by dishonestly claiming that Cesario was the father of her child? If so, it meant she had knowingly involved Beth in what amounted to a scam, with the intention of getting money from him.

No wonder he looked so grim, she thought sickly. From the coldness in his granite-grey gaze he clearly believed that Mel had lied, and that she had been part of the subterfuge.

‘Unless what?’ he said again.

His hooded gaze hid his thoughts, but Beth sensed he was angry.

‘Nothing,’ she whispered. ‘It’s obviously all been a huge mistake.’

She could not bear the hard look in his eyes when only a few minutes ago—before he’d had the call from the clinic—he had looked at her as if. as if he cared for her a little. She swallowed. Stupid thought. Of course he didn’t care for her; he simply enjoyed having sex with her. But now there was no reason for her to remain at the castle. Their affair would end, she would take Sophie back to East London, and within a short time Cesario would no doubt forget that either of them existed.

‘I don’t believe Mel lied,’ she said fiercely. ‘She was my best friend and we were always honest with each other. I don’t understand why she was so sure you were the father of her baby.’

He shrugged. ‘I’ve always found it difficult to believe that I could have spent the night with a woman and have no memory at all of her. Now I know I didn’t sleep with Melanie Stewart. The results are indisputable. They show probability of my paternity to be nought percent—meaning it is one hundred percent certain that Sophie is not my child.’

The words settled like lead weights in Cesario’s chest. He did not have a daughter. The angelic little girl who was sleeping peacefully in the cot, blissfully unaware of the furore surrounding her, was not his.

He walked back across the room and stared down at Sophie. Beth was right; she had grown in the past two weeks. She was lying with her arms outstretched, the tiny fingers on one hand curled around the silk ribbon attached to her favourite teddy. Her pink cheeks were petal soft and her mass of dark hair still reminded him of Nicolo, even though he now knew that any resemblance between her and his son had been purely in his imagination.

Dio, he hadn’t expected to feel so gutted that she wasn’t his, he thought painfully. Sweet little Sophie, with her button-round eyes and gummy smile, was adorable. Only a person with a heart of stone could not love her—and he had discovered recently that his heart had the consistency of a marshmallow, he acknowledged derisively.

How vulnerable she was, this tiny child who would never know her real father or mother. She had a guardian, of course. He knew Beth loved Sophie. But Beth lived in a run-down tower block in a part of London where crime and drug dealing were rife. It was no place to bring up a child.

He could not allow them to go back there, Cesario thought adamantly. Sophie had slipped into his heart and helped ease the pain of losing his son. He wanted to protect her—and Beth too, he admitted. He hated the thought of her scraping a living and struggling to bring up her friend’s child on her own.

He would give her money, he brooded. He would set up a fund for Sophie and buy a house in England so that Beth could care for the baby in pleasant and safe surroundings. Although, knowing her stubborn pride, he would have his work cut out to persuade her to accept financial help from him, he thought ruefully.

There was no need for him to do more than offer his assistance. The child and her guardian were not his responsibility. So why did he hate the thought of Beth and Sophie leaving the castle? Why did he feel, Cesario thought savagely, that his heart had been torn from his chest and the happiness he’d felt these past few weeks was trickling away as fast as sand in an egg-timer?