Читать книгу Rags To Riches Collection - Джанис Мейнард, Rebecca Winters - Страница 43

AN HOUR later, Cesario found Beth in the master bedroom that they had shared since they had become lovers. She did not glance at him as he walked into the room, but continued to fold items of clothing and place them in her suitcase.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Packing, of course.’ Her tone suggested it was a perfectly reasonable activity. ‘I’m afraid I’ll have to take a few of the things you bought me as I no longer have any of my own clothes. But I’ll reimburse you for them as soon as I find a job back in England.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t want you to pay for them.’ He frowned as the meaning of her words sank in. ‘You’re not going anywhere.’

She still avoided looking at him, and in frustration he spun her round and slid his hand beneath her chin to force her to meet his gaze. The shimmer of tears in her eyes made his insides clench. ‘You’re upset.’

‘Of course I’m upset that Sophie doesn’t have a father.’ She swallowed. ‘You would have been a wonderful daddy to her. But now she’ll grow up without a father, just as I did.’

Cesario’s enigmatic expression gave away nothing of his thoughts, but Beth could guess what was going on behind his cool grey stare and she hated the idea that he was judging her.

‘I know what you must be thinking,’ she cried wildly. ‘You think I brought Sophie to Sardinia to try and get money out of you. But I swear I only came because I believed Mel and I thought—if there was a chance that she was yours—Sophie deserved to know the identity of her father.’

‘I know that.’ His quiet statement stopped her in her tracks.

She stared at him uncertainly. ‘You don’t think I tried to con you because you’re wealthy?’

‘No.’ There was no doubt in his mind. ‘I’ve said before that I think you are utterly incapable of lying, cara.’

‘But…in the nursery you looked angry.’

‘I’m disappointed that Sophie isn’t mine,’ he admitted roughly. ‘I’m not good at showing my feelings—it’s not something I was ever encouraged to do.’ He sighed. ‘I think I understand the reason for the confusion. Did Mel actually show you the newspaper photo she said she’d recognised me from?’

Beth shook her head. ‘No. When I visited her in hospital she was excited that she had discovered who Sophie’s father was, but the cleaning staff had taken the paper away and I never saw it. But I believe Mel did see a photo,’ she insisted.

‘So do I—which is why I asked the PR department at Piras-Cossu to check the files for any articles about me or the bank that appeared in English newspapers in the first weeks of November last year. Sophie was born at the end of October, and you told me her mother died two weeks later, so Mel must have seen a photograph of the man she had slept with some time in those weeks.’ Cesario handed Beth a sheet of paper. ‘My PR people just faxed me this. Only one article about Piras-Cossu appeared in the English press during that time—and I’m sure this is what Mel saw.’

Beth stared at the copy of the newspaper page. Below the title High Street Bank Profits Soar was a photo of a group of men in suits who were clearly bank executives.

‘That’s you, in the centre of the picture.’ She frowned. ‘But—if you didn’t sleep with Mel why did she recognise you?’

‘I don’t think she did. I think she recognised someone else. Look at the list of names printed at the bottom of the photograph. They’ve been listed in the wrong order. The name beneath my picture is Richard Owen—who is actually the UK managing director of Piras-Cossu and is standing to the left of me.’

‘And the name Cesario Piras is printed beneath the photo of the man on the right of you,’ Beth said slowly. She snatched a breath, feeling as though she had been winded as she studied the image of a young, good-looking man standing beside Cesario. ‘Anyone who looked at the photo would assume that this man was Cesario Piras. Did he attend the party in London a year ago? Could he be the man Mel spent the night with?’

‘He was certainly at the party,’ Cesario confirmed.

‘But that means he must be Sophie’s father. Mel didn’t know his name, but she thought she had discovered his identity from the newspaper, unaware that the paper had made a mistake. Oh, God, I can’t believe a stupid reporting error has caused so much confusion.’ She sank onto the bed, feeling sick as the implications sank in. ‘I’m so sorry. I should have made more checks before I brought Sophie here and accused you…’

She could not bear to look at Cesario. He had every right to be furious with her, she acknowledged bleakly. What a fool she had been. But she’d had no reason not to take what Mel had told her as the truth. And Mel hadn’t deliberately misled her—she’d made a mistake because of the misprint in the newspaper.

She tensed when Cesario sat down on the bed, but to her relief his voice held no anger. ‘You’re not to blame,’ he said quietly. ‘You were grieving for your best friend and trying to cope with a newborn baby. Mel had asked you to find her baby’s father and you were determined to carry out her last wishes.’

Beth stared back at the photo. ‘So who is this man who we think could be Sophie’s father?’

‘Luigi Santori—he was a junior executive at the bank and had been transferred to work at the London branch.’ Cesario grimaced. ‘He had a reputation for sleeping around, and it wouldn’t surprise me if he’d had a one-night stand with Mel.’

Something in Cesario’s tone made Beth dart him a puzzled look. ‘Why do you speak about him working for the bank in the past tense? Where is he now?’

‘He was killed in a motorbike accident three months ago.’

‘Oh, no…’ A chill ran through Beth. ‘Then Sophie is an orphan.’ For a moment she felt overwhelmed by the realisation that Sophie was entirely her responsibility. ‘Poor little girl,’ she whispered. ‘At least I had my mother until I was twelve. Sophie will never know either of her parents, and I am the only person she has to take care of her.’

‘That’s not true.’

Cesario jerked to his feet and walked over to the window, his hands thrust into his trouser pockets and his shoulders rigid with tension. ‘You could stay here—you and Sophie. And I could…’

To Beth’s frustration he did not finish the sentence. She stared at his back, wishing he would turn around so that she could see his face and maybe understand what he meant.

‘What could you do?’ she said at last, when the silence between them had stretched her nerves to snapping point. ‘I don’t understand. Sophie is not your child—so I’ll take her back to England and make a life for us.’

‘What kind of life can you give her, struggling to get by as a single mother and trying to juggle holding down a job with bringing up a child?’ Cesario demanded. He swung round. ‘I care for Sophie.’ It was so alien to him to express his feelings, but when Beth had said she planned to return to England it had struck him forcibly that he did not want to lose her or the baby girl who had filled the hole in his heart left by the loss of his son.

‘I could pay—’

‘No!’ Beth cut him off instantly.

‘For Sophie to have ballet lessons, holidays—all the things you wished for when you were a child and that you won’t be able to afford to give her on your own.’ He ignored her interruption. ‘Is your pride more important than Sophie’s welfare, Beth?’

‘No, but…’ She shook her head, trying to marshal her thoughts. ‘You don’t have to support me and Sophie. We are nothing to you.’

‘You know that’s not true. I have grown to love Sophie.’

Cesario felt like a blind man, trying to feel his way along a path he’d never travelled before. It was hard for him to expose his feelings, but at least talking about Sophie was easier than facing up to how he felt about Beth. He didn’t know how he felt; he just knew that he had found something with her that he’d never had with any other woman—and he wasn’t ready for their relationship to end.

‘What I’m suggesting is that I become Sophie’s joint guardian and that the two of you live here at the castle. I am a father without a child, and Sophie is a child without a father,’ he said deeply. ‘I want to be a part of her life.’

Beth stared at him, shaken by the strength of emotion in his voice. ‘What about me? You can’t mean you want me to stay here? But I will never leave Sophie. I intend to be a mother to her like I promised Mel.’

‘Why shouldn’t you stay here?’

Cesario strolled back over to the bed where Beth was still sitting. He no longer seemed tense, but beneath his indolent stance she sensed his formidable strength and a determined purpose that worried her almost as much as the glitter in his grey eyes. Her heart suddenly began to beat uncomfortably fast and she jumped up from the bed. She felt an urge to run from the room, from him, but before she could take a step he snaked his arm around her waist and pulled her against him.

‘Why not stay?’ he said again, his gaze locked with hers as if he could see into her soul. His voice dropped to a husky growl. ‘The passion we share is beyond anything I have ever experienced before. We both felt an overwhelming awareness of each other on the night you arrived at the castle and even though we both fought it ultimately we could not deny our mutual desire.’

He lifted a hand and smoothed her hair back from her face. ‘We have become friends as well as lovers these past weeks, haven’t we, cara?’ he murmured. ‘We both love Sophie. Let me take care of both of you and help you to give her the happy childhood that we were both denied.’

A hundred questions hurtled around Beth’s mind. How long did he want her and Sophie to stay at the Castello del Falco? Was he really offering the baby a home in Sardinia? What would his role in Sophie’s life actually be—a father figure, a benevolent uncle? She gnawed on her lip, tormented by uncertainty. What role would he expect her to play in his life? They were lovers now, but what would happen in the future when he tired of her as he surely would?

She sensed he was waiting for her to answer, but she was finding it hard to think straight when she was desperately conscious of his big, muscular body pressed so close to hers that she could feel the hard ridge of his arousal nudging between her thighs.

‘I don’t know what to do,’ she whispered.

Cesario cupped her face in his hands. She had such a beautiful face. Even when he closed his eyes her features were imprinted on his mind: her slanting green eyes, the sweep of her long eyelashes, the gentle curve of her smile. He felt a rush of tenderness that seriously undermined his determination to cling to the belief that the reason he wanted Beth to stay with him was because they had great sex.

‘Do what your heart tells you,’ he found himself saying. He—who always followed his head and never listened to his heart. He slanted his lips over hers and kissed her, slowly and sweetly, making him ache inside. She opened her mouth beneath his and he groaned and crushed her to him, sliding his hand to her nape and gently tugging her head back so that he could plunder her lips with heated passion. He was aware that his heart was telling him something, but he was afraid to listen. He told himself that it was just desire he felt for her—just a sexual hunger that had ensnared him and seemed unlikely to fade any time soon.

He hooked his fingers beneath the straps of her top and dragged them down until her breasts spilled into his hands. Tenderly, almost reverently, he caressed the small rounded globes, and then he lifted her up so that he could take first one taut nipple and then its twin into his mouth, suckling her until she gasped his name.

Beth gave up trying to fight her need for Cesario to make love to her. This was where she wanted to be, in his arms, with his hands feverishly stripping them both of their clothes. He tumbled her down onto the bed and she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down onto her and loving the feel of his naked skin on hers, the roughness of his chest hairs against the softness of her breasts.

He slid his hand between her legs and found her already wet and eager for him. Her soft smile shattered any hope he had of a slow, leisurely loving, and he slanted his mouth over hers at the same moment as he eased the swollen length of his arousal into the welcoming heat of her femininity.

He took her fast and hard, and yet with such tender consideration that Beth felt tears sting her eyes as she reached that magical place and her body convulsed in the throes of an exquisite climax. Cesario came almost simultaneously, unable to control the wildfire pleasure that he always experienced with Beth.

Afterwards they lay together in a tangle of limbs while their breathing gradually returned to normal. He propped himself up on one elbow and smiled at the sight of her flushed cheeks and softly swollen mouth.

‘So you’ll stay.’

It was a statement rather than a question, as if there had never been any doubt. But as Beth watched him stand up from the bed and stroll into the en-suite bathroom the reality of the situation caused a host of doubts to gather like black clouds in her mind. They hadn’t discussed the practicalities of her and Sophie living at the castle, but the more she thought about it the more pitfalls she could see.

‘I’ll need to find a job,’ she said when he walked back into the bedroom five minutes later, rubbing his wet hair on a towel. ‘I’m grateful for your offer to help support Sophie financially, but I’m responsible for her myself and I can’t allow you to keep me for.’ She hesitated. ‘Well, for however long I’m here.’ she finished uncertainly.

The idea of living on hand-outs from Cesario was abhorrent to her pride. She had grown up in the children’s home, hating the feeling that she was reliant on charity, and since she’d left school she had always worked to support herself. She would have to take a crash course in Italian, she fretted, and then maybe she could find work in Oliena—although who would look after Sophie while she was working?

Cesario pulled on his trousers and took a clean shirt from the wardrobe before he walked over to the bed.

‘We’ll discuss things when I get back,’ he murmured, leaning over her and brushing his lips across hers.

Maybe a few days away from her would clear his mind and help him to decide what he actually wanted, he thought. He knew he had surprised Beth when he’d asked her to stay with him. Hell, he’d surprised himself. It wasn’t unreasonable of her to want to know if he had a timescale in mind, but, strangely, the more he thought about it the more insistently the words for ever pushed into his brain.

The sound of the helicopter landing in the courtyard was almost a relief. He had four days of intense business negotiations ahead and he needed to focus, concentrate—not let his mind wander to a girl with green eyes and a smile that turned his insides to jelly.

He kissed her mouth, lingeringly, and wondered briefly if he could send one of his top executives to Japan in his place. ‘Four days isn’t long.’ He did not tell her it sounded like a lifetime. He picked up his jacket and walked across the room, but hesitated in the doorway and turned back to her.

‘Hurry back,’ she said softly.

‘I will. Tesoro…’

And suddenly everything made sense to Cesario. He stared at her, his heart pounding, but then his phone rang and he knew it was his pilot reminding him he had to leave now if he was going to make it to the airport in time to catch his flight to Japan. This wasn’t the moment to ask Beth about for ever.

His eyes held hers. ‘I didn’t say it earlier, but you make me happy too,’ he said gruffly. ‘I’ll see you soon, mia bella.’

* * *

The castle felt empty without Cesario—and so did Beth. She kept reminding herself that he wouldn’t have told her she made him happy unless it was true, but in the long sleepless hours of the night her doubts multiplied like weeds after a rain shower. She did not doubt that he cared about Sophie. And the way he had looked at her before he had left for Japan made her think that perhaps he even cared about her a little too. But could she really live as his mistress, knowing that one day in the not too distant future he would tire of her?

He phoned once, but sounded distracted. He’d spent a long day in the boardroom, he explained, and now he was relaxing at his hotel. The woman’s voice that Beth heard in the background probably belonged to his PA, she told herself. But the gremlin inside her head reminded her that Cesario hadn’t made any promises of commitment to her and she had no right to ask him who he was relaxing with.

Cesario’s affairs never last for long. Allegra Ricci had told her that the night they had gone to the ballet. So how long was long? Weeks? Months before his desire for her died? Her old insecurities returned. She was the care home kid who had always been overlooked by foster parents. No one had wanted her then, and once Cesario’s sexual interest in her faded she would become an encumbrance, tolerated only because he felt some misplaced sense of duty towards Sophie.

* * *

Cesario felt a cramping sensation in his gut as the car swept into the castle courtyard. Nervous tension was not something he’d ever suffered from before and the experience was not pleasant. He was dog-tired, but that was hardly surprising when he had worked eighteen-hour days in order to push the Japanese deal through early. He ran his hand over the stubble on his jaw and gave a rueful grimace. He needed a shower, a drink, and Beth—in reverse order, he acknowledged as he felt the familiar tug of anticipation in his groin.

He wondered if she had missed him as much as he had missed her. The car drew to a halt, and when his driver opened the door he took a deep breath before he climbed out. He recalled the unguarded expression in Beth’s eyes when she had asked him to hurry back, and he slipped his hand into his pocket to curl his fingers around a small square box.

Dio! Butterflies wearing clogs were dancing in his stomach. But he had never put his heart on the line before—and the prospect of what he was about to do was frankly terrifying.

He nodded to his driver and ran up the front steps. He was disappointed that it was Teodoro who walked across the hall to greet him, not Beth, but, Madonna, the mood he was in he was almost tempted to kiss the elderly butler, who had been more of a father figure to him than his own father had ever been.

It took a few seconds for him to realise something was wrong. Teodoro’s usually inscrutable face was visibly upset.

‘What is this?’ he demanded as the butler handed him an envelope. ‘Where’s Beth?’

‘She left the castle with the bambina yesterday.’

Cesario stared at his name written in Beth’s neat handwriting. The butterflies in his stomach had gone, leaving behind a hollow nothingness. For a moment he was seven years old again, running into the castle to see his mother. Teodoro had handed him a letter then too—a brief note from her, telling him that she was sad she’d had to leave him but promising that she would always think of him. He didn’t know if she had kept her promise because he had never seen her again.

He dragged his mind back to the present. There could be a number of reasons for Beth’s unexpected departure, he told himself. But his hands shook as he ripped open the envelope and skimmed his eyes down the page.

The agency I used to work for phoned to offer me an interview for a job as nanny with a family on the south coast of England. It sounds ideal as they are happy for me to combine caring for Sophie with looking after their two children. The position comes with my own living accommodation, and it will be a wonderful place to bring up Sophie and allow me to be independent. You have no responsibility for either of us, and I could not live as your mistress indefinitely.

Thirty years after reading the note from his mother, Cesario once again experienced a gut-wrenching sense of abandonment—but this time he could not burst into tears and cling to Teodoro. Big boys don’t cry, he reminded himself grimly, and Piras men never revealed their emotions.

Instead, he screwed Beth’s letter up in his fist and avoided the sympathetic expression in Teodoro’s eyes as he strode into his study and took a bottle of bourbon from the drinks cabinet. Clearly, he had been wrong to think Beth had feelings for him, to hope that she loved him. It was lucky he hadn’t revealed his feelings. Lucky he hadn’t made a fool of himself by telling her. He laughed bitterly and stared at the little square box on the coffee table in front of him. He’d chosen emeralds to match her eyes, and diamonds because, like her, they were pure and sparkling and utterly beautiful.

He leaned back and rested his head on the top of the sofa. His throat ached. Maybe he was coming down with a virus? His eyes felt gritty and he squeezed them shut, ashamed of the hot wetness that seeped beneath his lashes.

Maybe there was something wrong with him—something that made him unlovable and drove the people he cared about to leave him? His mother, his wife. He hadn’t loved Raffaella when he’d married her; they had both married for duty. But after their son had been born they had grown closer, and the discovery that she was having an affair had hurt him—although he had never shown it.

He drained his glass, feeling the alcohol seep into his frozen blood. Raffaella and Nicolo were dead, and now Beth had gone, leaving him alone once more.

Something brushed against his leg and he opened his eyes to find Beth’s scruffy dog sitting at his feet. ‘Okay, not completely alone,’ he acknowledged, reaching out to stroke Harry. The dog flopped down at his feet and howled mournfully. ‘You and me both, mutt,’ Cesario muttered, feeling the sound of the animal’s grief slice through his heart. ‘At least you know she cared about you.’

Every time Beth had fussed over the dog and said ‘Love you, Harry,’ Cesario had felt a stab of envy as he’d imagined her saying those words to him.

But why would she have done when he had never given her any real indication of how he felt about her? He poured himself another whisky, but instead of drinking it he swirled the amber liquid around the glass.

It wasn’t surprising that Beth’s unhappy childhood had made her wary and untrusting. Abandoned by her father, she had been devastated by the deaths of her mother and her best friend. Everyone she had ever loved had left her.

Yet she had given herself to him with absolute trust and told him she wanted him to be the first man to make love to her. He couldn’t believe that had meant nothing to her. She had chosen to give her virginity to him, and every time they had made love these past weeks she had given herself so sweetly. so lovingly—as if she wanted to show him with her body what she did not have the courage to say in words.

So why had she left? He raked a hand through his hair. It didn’t make sense. He must be wrong. Maybe he’d imagined that soft look in her eyes because he’d wanted to see it.

‘You make me happy,’ she’d once told him. Surely she wouldn’t have said it unless she’d meant it? Beth was fiercely honest; it was one of the qualities he loved most about her—that and her gentle smile and her beautiful green eyes, the way she stroked his hair in those moments of sweet lethargy after they had made love.

Love! Cesario gave a hollow laugh. It was an emotion he had been denied during his childhood and it had been missing for most of his adult life. He had loved his son, but Nicolo’s death had nearly destroyed him and he had vowed never to love anyone again when he knew how much pain it could bring.

He was in pain now; there was a terrible ache in his chest, a wrenching sensation of loss. But one thought drummed in his head. He had made Beth happy once and he was not going to let her go without trying to find out what had gone wrong. Determination replaced his despair and he jumped to his feet and strode to the door to call Teodoro.

‘I need to fly to England tonight. See if you can book me onto a flight, and arrange for the helicopter to take me to the airport.’

* * *

The road that twisted up the mountainside was dappled gold from the setting sun, and the great jagged peaks all around were stained fiery orange. As the taxi turned a bend the Castello del Falco appeared, ancient and mellow in the fading light, its gates flung wide open as if they were welcoming Beth home.

The taxi drew up in the courtyard and the driver unloaded her bags while she lifted Sophie in her baby-carrier from the car. He was the same man who had driven her from the castle down to Oliena the previous day, and he was clearly intrigued.

‘You will stay here for long?’ he queried in broken English.

Beth gave him a tremulous smile. ‘I hope so.’ She did not add that if the master of the Castello del Falco refused to see her she would need the taxi driver’s services again. There was a good chance that Cesario would not want to listen to her, but she had to try.

Waiting for her flight at the airport yesterday, she had finally faced up to why she had left him. She had been too scared to stay. The job opportunity had provided a good excuse for taking Sophie back to England. But the real reason she had run away was because she was afraid to accept the relationship Cesario had offered her, with all the uncertainty that being his mistress would mean.

Like a spoilt child, she had been disappointed that he hadn’t offered what she had secretly hoped for. He hadn’t acted like Prince Charming in the fairy tale and declared his undying love for her, then swept her off to a church to put a ring on her finger. But he was a man, not a fantasy character. A man, moreover, who had known pain and loss and who had been taught to hide his emotions.

Despite his past and his self-acknowledged difficulty in revealing his emotions Cesario had admitted that she made him happy. He had said he wanted a relationship with her, and just because he hadn’t said it with hearts and flowers she had put her pride before her love for him and gone away to sulk.

She had never told him how she felt about him, Beth thought guiltily. Maybe he wouldn’t want to hear her confess her feelings for him, and maybe he would tell her he did not want a mistress who was in love with him, but that was a risk she would have to take—because she wasn’t ashamed of loving him and she was no longer prepared to hide her feelings.

* * *

Teodoro could not hide his surprise when he opened the front door and saw Beth. ‘The master is at the stables,’ he told her as she handed him the baby carrier in which Sophie was fast asleep. ‘You should hurry to find him,’ he called after her as she ran down the castle steps. ‘He is due to leave for England this evening.’

The way to the stables was familiar to her now, but when she arrived Cesario wasn’t there. Heart thumping, she continued up the mountain path—but stopped dead when a figure hove into view.

He was astride his great black horse, a dark silhouette against the setting sun. But as he approached his features became visible; his face was as hard as if it had been carved from granite, the scar running down his cheek half hidden by his long dark hair. From the proud set of his shoulders and the arrogant angle of his head he might have been a king from ancient times, powerful, inscrutable and as uncompromising as the mountains behind him.

He halted on the path a little way ahead of Beth, and even from a distance she could see the fierce tension that gripped him.

‘You came back.’

The words sounded as though they had been torn from his soul. For a few moments he regarded her silently, before he dismounted and strode towards her.

Beth watched him—the master of the Castello del Falco, the only man she would ever love. She had planned to remain calm and discuss their relationship sensibly. But as Cesario came closer and she saw the haunted expression in his eyes her composure cracked, and with an agonised cry she flew along the path and into his arms.

‘Dio, if you ever leave me again.’ Cesario’s voice broke as he crushed her against his great chest and threaded his fingers in her hair.

His eyes blazed with an expression she was afraid to define. How had she ever thought them cold? she wondered. But then all her thoughts were obliterated when he claimed her mouth with savage possession and kissed her endlessly, passionately, and yet with such exquisite tenderness that tears slid down her face.

‘Tesoro…’ He tasted salt on her lips and his hands shook as he brushed away the trails of moisture from her cheeks. ‘Why did you leave? I was about to fly to England tonight to find you.’

His words brought Beth crashing back to reality and she pulled away from him. It was time to be honest. But her voice faltered when she spoke.

‘I got to the airport before I realised I couldn’t run away,’ she admitted.

‘Why did you feel you needed to run from me?’ Cesario demanded in a driven tone. ‘You told me I made you happy, and we both know you are incapable of lying, carissima. Are you really interested in the job as a nanny, or is there another reason you want to go back? Tell me, is there some man in England you care about?’ He voiced the jealous thought that burned like acid in his gut. ‘If so, then why did you choose me to be your first lover?’

Beth’s heart ached at the raw emotion in his voice. She stared at his scarred, beloved face and could not deny her feelings to herself or to him.

‘There is no one else. And there never will be—because I love you,’ she told him fiercely, ‘with all my heart. For the first time in my life I have felt special. I was always the care home kid—unimportant, unloved. But since I came to the Castello del Falco you’ve treated me with kindness and respect and trust. You made me feel beautiful and. and proud of who I am.’ Her voice shook. ‘For all those things, and more, I will love you for ever.’

Whatever else she might have said was lost beneath the pressure of Cesario’s mouth on hers as he held her so close that she could feel the thunderous beat of his heart echoing in time with her own. He kissed her until she sank weakly against him, parting her lips beneath his and kissing him back with beguiling sweetness, so that Cesario did not know if it was her tears he could taste or his own.

‘Ti amo, Beth. I love you with my heart and soul and everything I am,’ he said roughly, his voice shaking with the force of emotions storming through him.

He felt as if a dam had held back his feelings for so many years, but now the dam had burst open, allowing the healing power of his love for the woman in his arms to sweep away all the pain that had gone before.

‘You really love me?’ she whispered, and the half-wondering, half-fearful expression in her eyes made his heart clench.

He knew what it was like to grow up without being loved, and he vowed that he would tell Beth every day how much she meant to him.

‘Will you stay with me, carissima?’ He paused for a heartbeat and then, to her startled surprise, dropped down onto one knee. ‘Will you marry me, Beth Granger? I love you, and you love me, and we both love a little girl who needs us to be her parents.’

He felt in his shirt pocket for the little square box he had been carrying next to his heart, and heard her startled gasp when he opened the lid and took out the teardrop emerald surrounded by diamonds that glittered in the golden rays of the sunset.

‘With this ring, I promise to love you and cherish you for eternity,’ he said softly as he slid the engagement ring onto her finger. ‘I will repeat that vow in the chapel on the day you become my wife.’ He looked into her eyes, his own blazing with his love for her. ‘Will you, Beth?’

The faint note of uncertainty in his voice brought a lump to Beth’s throat. Beneath the strong and powerful man she glimpsed the vulnerable boy who had been taught that love was a weakness. She knew how hard he found it to reveal his emotions, but she would make sure he knew every day that he was loved.

‘I will,’ she assured him.

And there was no need to say anything more as Cesario swept her up and carried her back to the castle, pausing on the steps to kiss his soon-to-be bride—much to the satisfaction of Teodoro, who hurried to inform the rest of the staff to prepare for a wedding.

* * * * *