Behind the Castello Doors (15 page)

‘It’s lovely.’ Beth glanced in the mirror and admired the way the stones sparkled as they caught the light. ‘They could almost be real diamonds.’

Cesario looked amused. ‘They
are
real. What did you think—that they are glass chips?’

She gave him a horrified look. ‘
Real …!
It must have cost a fortune. I can’t possibly accept it.’

He shrugged. ‘Everyone dresses up for first-night performances at the opera house, and I’m sure you don’t want to look out of place.’

Cesario could not rationalise to himself let alone to Beth why he had bought the necklace for her. There had been such sadness in her voice when she had spoken about the death of her friend Mel, and he guessed that her life in the
children’s home had not been happy. He enjoyed making her smile, but now she knew the diamonds were real the look of pleasure in her eyes had been replaced with wariness.

‘Enjoy wearing the necklace tonight,
cara
, but do not worry that it means anything,’ he advised coolly. ‘It is expected that you will wear jewellery, and as you do not have any of your own I have provided you with some. That’s all.’

He watched the play of emotions in her eyes: relief followed by a faint disappointment that she quickly hid beneath the sweep of her lashes.

‘When you look at me like that the only place I want to take you is my bed,’ he rasped.

‘You shouldn’t say things like that.’ Beth began in an outraged tone, but the words died on her lips as he slid his hand beneath her chin and captured her mouth in a searing kiss that left her speechless.

‘Why not, when it’s the truth?’ he taunted her softly.

But instead of kissing her again, as Beth secretly longed for him to do, he opened the door and ushered her into the hall.

‘We’d better leave now, before my will-power is tested any further,
mia bella.
’

CHAPTER EIGHT

B
ETH
was spellbound by the plush red velvet and opulent gold décor of Teatro dell’Opera. The auditorium was horseshoe shaped, with tiers of seating boxes rising up towards a magnificent frescoed dome, and suspended from the centre of the dome was a huge chandelier of breathtaking beauty.

With her eyes focused on the ceiling, she stumbled in her high heels and felt Cesario grip her arm to steady her.

‘Are you all right?’ he murmured in her ear.

‘Overawed,’ she admitted. ‘I’ve never been to a theatre before. This is amazing.’ She glanced around at the crowd filing in to take their seats and gave him a rueful look. ‘I understand now why you insisted that I should dress up. The only other people I’ve seen wearing so much bling are the drug dealers who trade on the estate where I live.’

He muttered something beneath his breath and slid his arm around her waist. ‘Why do you live there?’

‘Because it’s the only place where I can afford the rent.’

‘I don’t want you to go back there,’ Cesario said harshly. ‘Even if Sophie is not my child I’ll help you find somewhere safer to bring her up.’

Beth could not bear the idea of him viewing her and Sophie as a charity case. ‘If it turns out that she is not your responsibility why would you care what happens to her?’

He cared, Cesario realised with a frown. Little Sophie, with her button-round brown eyes and shock of dark hair, evoked a protective instinct in him. When he held her he did not consider whether or not she was his. One thing he was certain of was that, whatever the outcome of the DNA test, he would not allow Beth and the baby to return to a tower block in a crime-ridden area of East London.

They had a private box which offered a perfect view of the stage. From the moment the curtain rose Beth was transfixed by the tragic story of doomed young lovers told through the grace and beauty of ballet. But she was also desperately conscious of the man sitting beside her, she acknowledged ruefully as she darted a glance at his handsome profile. In the dark, hushed atmosphere of the theatre she was aware of the steady rise and fall of his chest, and when he moved position so that his thigh brushed against hers she felt as if an electric current had shot through her.

‘Are you enjoying the performance?’ Cesario asked her in the interval, when he escorted her to the bar and ordered champagne.

‘This is the most magical night of my life.’ Beth flushed when she realised how gauche she sounded, but nothing could diminish her pleasure in the ballet. ‘I’m sorry your PA missed tonight, but thank you for inviting me.’

She stared in surprise when streaks of colour flared along his cheekbones.

‘Okay, I wasn’t absolutely truthful when I said I had originally planned to bring Donata,’ he growled.

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean that I bought the tickets for you.’

Beth’s eyes widened and her heart suddenly beat faster. The bar was packed, but the sound of chattering voices and laughter, the clink of wineglasses, seemed strangely
distant, and it was as if only she and Cesario existed, cocooned in their own private world.

‘Why did you do such a lovely thing?’ she whispered.

‘Because I hoped it would make you smile.’ He held her gaze, his grey eyes gleaming with an expression that made her blood fizz. ‘You have a beautiful smile, Beth Granger.’

As he watched the corners of her mouth lift in that shy smile that had such a profound effect on him Cesario felt his gut ache with desire and something else that he refused to define. He wanted to kiss her, wanted to so badly that he did not care that they were standing in a crowded bar, even though he usually abhorred making a public display. Beth had got under his skin, and at this moment he did not care who knew it. He wanted to taste her, to feel her soft lips part beneath his so that he could slide his tongue into the moist interior of her mouth.

She was watching him, waiting, and he knew from her absolute stillness that she shared his need. He bent his head, his heart hammering as he brushed his mouth across hers in a gossamer-light caress. He heard her swiftly indrawn breath and felt an unexpected flood of tenderness mingle with the fierce hunger that corkscrewed through him.

‘Cesario!’

A woman’s voice sounded from close by and continued in a stream of voluble Italian. Cesario snatched his mouth from Beth’s and cursed beneath his breath, before muttering, ‘I’m sorry,
cara
, but you’re about to meet Allegra Ricci—patron of numerous charities and the biggest gossip in Rome. There’s no malice to her. She just likes to discuss everyone’s business. Her husband is a good friend of mine. Fortunately for Gilberto he is hard of hearing—or
at least he pretends to be when he’s with his wife,’ he said dryly.

He straightened and smiled coolly at the matronly woman dressed in electric-blue too-tight satin who had descended on them.

‘Good evening, Allegra. Is Gilberto with you?’

‘No.’ She waved her hand dismissively. ‘He does not enjoy the ballet so I have come with my sister.’ Following Cesario’s lead, Allegra Ricci now spoke in English, but she barely looked at him. Her bright black eyes were focused intently on Beth.

‘And who is your delightful companion, Cesario? I don’t believe we have met before.’

‘This is Beth Granger.’ Cesario gave the Italian woman a bland look and offered no further information, much to Allegra’s obvious frustration.

‘Are you staying in Rome, my dear—on holiday, perhaps?’

Faced with such a direct question, Beth felt she had no option but to reply. ‘Actually I’m staying in Sardinia. At the Castello del Falco.’

Cesario checked his watch. ‘We’d better make our way back to our seats. Please give my regards to Gilberto.’ He nodded to Allegra and firmly led Beth away.

Her reprieve was short-lived. A visit to the cloakroom was unavoidable, and her heart sank when Allegra followed her through the door.

‘So you are a guest at Cesario’s home?’ the Italian woman murmured. ‘How intriguing. I’ve never known him invite any of his female friends to the castle. He usually conducts his affairs here in Rome—although it’s no secret that he never keeps any of his mistresses for long.’ She met Beth’s eyes in the mirror and gave an unexpectedly
kindly smile. ‘You are so young. Forgive me for saying so, but I fear you are out of your depth with Cesario. I know he is charming, but I’ve heard there is a side to him that is as ruthless as his barbarian ancestors. His wife discovered that when he banished her from his castle and refused to allow her to see their baby son.’

Allegra shook her head. ‘Who could blame poor Raffaella for trying to snatch Nicolo? What mother could bear to be separated from her child? Of course it was a tragedy that they were both killed. And the terrible irony for Cesario is that Raffaella and Nicolo are buried together in the grounds of the castle chapel and he is alone.’

During the second half of the performance Beth tried to concentrate on the ballet, but the magic of the evening disappeared as Allegra Ricci’s insidious comments about the accident that had claimed the lives of Cesario’s wife and son swirled in her mind. Why had Cesario sent Raffaella away from their little boy? Nicolo had only been two years old when he had died. A child of that age had surely needed his mother. The questions went round and round in her head, and her stomach churned with tension.

She could not bring herself to talk on the way back to his apartment. Cesario too seemed lost in his own thoughts as the limousine whisked them through the brightly lit Rome streets—still bustling with traffic even though it was nearly midnight.

Sophie hadn’t stirred all evening, the nanny reported when Beth hurried straight to the nursery. ‘I’ll head off to bed now that you’re home,’ Luisa whispered.

Beth remained leaning over the cot, listening to the soft whisper of Sophie’s breathing. Earlier in the day she had felt reassured by Cesario’s promise that he would not
separate her from Sophie if the paternity test proved she was his child. But after her conversation with Allegra Ricci she felt sick with worry. Allegra had described Cesario as ruthless. And when she pictured him at the Castello del Falco, a dark figure riding his great black horse, his falcon perched on his shoulder, a shiver ran through her. He was as uncompromising as the granite walls of his castle and she would be a fool to forget it.

She was tempted to grab Sophie and flee the apartment, but her common sense quickly reasserted itself. She was a stranger in Rome; she did not speak Italian or have money or their passports. She was trapped here, just as she had been trapped at the castle. But even if she could escape, what kind of life could she give a child in the rough area of London which was the only place she could afford to live? It would be far better for Sophie if Cesario was her father. He could give the little girl a much better life than-
she
could, she acknowledged bleakly. Sophie’s welfare was the only thing that mattered, Beth reminded herself. But she could not dismiss her fear that Cesario might send her away from the baby in the same way that he had apparently separated his wife from their son.

She found him in his study, a brandy glass in his hand as he stood at the window looking down at the late-night revellers who were still milling around the
piazza.
He had discarded his jacket and tie, and despite Allegra Ricci’s warning that he was a ruthless womaniser Beth felt a familiar weakness in her limbs that had nothing to do with her being anaemic and everything to do with the smouldering sensuality of the man whose enigmatic expression gave no clue to his thoughts.

He turned his head when she hovered in the doorway. ‘How is Sophie?’

‘Asleep. Luisa says she hasn’t heard a peep out of her all evening. I’m going to bed now.’ For some stupid reason she blushed, and her heart-rate quickened when he strolled over to her.

‘Can I get you a nightcap?’ When she shook her head, he said softly, ‘Did I tell you how beautiful you look tonight?’

‘Several times.’ She smiled, but her voice shook slightly and she caught her breath as he reached out and idly wound a lock of her long hair around his finger. The gleam in his gaze sent a tremor through her, and she closed her eyes for a moment while she sought to fight her fierce awareness of him.

‘I came to return the necklace, but the clasp seems to be stuck.’

‘Turn around and lift up your hair.’

She did as he bade, standing rigidly as his fingers brushed lightly against her neck. His warm breath whispered across her skin, and she trembled when he bent his head and pressed his lips to the sensitive place behind her ear. The silence was so intense that she was sure he must hear the frantic thud of her heart. She sensed he was waiting for a sign from her, that if she turned her head a fraction towards him his restraint would shatter and he would seize her in his arms and plunder her mouth with a primitive hunger that could only have one outcome.

Dear heaven, the temptation to give in to the molten desire flooding through her veins was so strong. Her heart missed a beat when he slid the strap of her dress a little way down her arm and trailed his lips over her shoulder. She knew he could see the swollen peaks of her nipples jutting against the clingy silk of her dress, and she imagined
him peeling the material away and cupping her breasts in his hands.

She bit her lip. Was this how he had tempted Mel into his bed—with the practised ease of a skilled seducer? What would happen if she gave in to the desperate clamour of her desire? And afterwards? Would he treat her with the same callous disregard with which he had treated Mel?

She recalled Allegra Ricci’s warning.
‘As ruthless as his barbarian ancestors … Poor Raffaella … Banished her from his castle and refused to allow her to see their son …’

He released the clasp and caught the necklace as it slipped from around her throat. She lowered her hands so that her hair tumbled down her back and quickly stepped away from him.

Her eyes fell on a photograph on his desk, and with a shaking hand she picked it up.

‘Your son?’ The resemblance to Cesario was obvious, even though the little boy in the picture was just a toddler. With a mass of unruly black curls, striking grey eyes fringed by long lashes and a happy grin, the child was enchanting.