Behind the Castello Doors

by Chantelle Shaw

  ‘Oh, no.’ Horrified, she dropped to her knees beside a dog lying on the ground with its leg caught in a trap. Wicked-looking metal teeth were gripping the animal tightly, and Beth quickly realised that she would be unable to free the wounded creature. Her heart clenched when the dog looked at her with pain-filled brown eyes. Ignoring the fact that a wounded animal might be vicious, she patted it gently, and it gave her hand a feeble lick. ‘I’ll go and get help,’ she choked. She hated to leave the injured animal, but it would die if it was not set free soon.

  ‘You say Beth went out an hour ago?’ Cesario questioned Filomena, raising his voice above the loud cries of the baby, whom the cook was endeavouring to comfort.

  ‘She said she was going for a walk in the gardens, but when I sent one of the staff to look for her there was no sign of her.’ Filomena shook her head as she tried to feed Sophie from a bottle, but the baby spat out the teat and screamed louder. ‘I cannot imagine what has happened. Signorina Beth is devoted to the bambina and would not leave her for long.’

  Cesario’s eyes were drawn to the inconsolable infant in the cook’s arms, and he felt a tug of pity when he saw tears on Sophie’s flushed cheeks. ‘Let me hold her,’ he said, stepping forward to take the baby from Filomena.

  Sophie was so small and vulnerable, and so utterly distressed, that he instinctively cuddled her against his chest and spoke to her softly. ‘Hush, piccola. Don’t cry. Are you hungry, hmm?’

  At the sound of his voice Sophie’s screams gradually lessened, and she stared up at Cesario with huge, trusting brown eyes.

  ‘You were always able to comfort your son,’ Filomena murmured as she handed him the bottle of formula.

  A shaft of pain sliced through Cesario as he was assailed by memories of Nicolo. For a moment he wanted to hand Sophie back and run from the nursery which held so many reminders of his little boy. But when he offered Sophie the teat of the bottle she took it, and made a contented sound as she began to suck.

  There was no doubt she was a sweet little thing. He still found it unbelievable that she might be his child, but if a DNA test proved that she was it would be no hardship to love her, Cesario brooded. Thoughts of the test turned his mind back to Sophie’s guardian, and he frowned when he glanced to the window and saw that it was raining once more.

  Once Sophie had finished her feed he handed her back to Filomena and turned to speak to the maid, Carlotta. ‘Tell the groom to saddle my horse,’ he instructed tersely. ‘I’d better go and search for Signorina Granger.’

  Beth raced back across the field, desperate to find help to rescue the injured dog. As she ran, the rain started again, feeling like sharp needles on her skin and quickly soaking through her skirt and blouse. Seeking what shelter she could from the elements, she kept close to a row of thick bushes. She became aware of a pounding noise, and at first thought it was the sound of her blood pumping in her ears as she ran. But the pounding grew louder. There was a split-second’s silence, and then she screamed when a huge shape, a figure—she did not know what—soared over the bushes and missed her by mere inches.

  Utterly terrified, she stumbled and fell. The grass was wet beneath her cheek and she could smell the damp earth. She heard a male voice swear savagely, and then strong hands gripped her arms and she was lifted and set roughly on her feet.

  ‘Santa Madre! What in hell’s name are you doing?’ Cesario glared at her furiously, his jaw rigid and his unruly hair falling into his eyes. ‘Where have you been? You told Filomena you were going to walk in the gardens, but no one could find you in the castle grounds. Answer me, damn it,’ he growled when Beth made no sound, simply stared at him mutely, trembling with a mixture of fright, shock and an involuntary reaction to her proximity to Cesario’s big, muscular body.

  Behind him she could see his great black horse calmly cropping the grass. The pounding she’d heard must have been the horse’s hooves as it had galloped across the field on the other side of the bushes. If Cesario and his horse had landed on her she could have been killed, she thought weakly. A wave of dizziness swept over her and her lashes fluttered against her cheeks.

  ‘Oh, no, you don’t,’ she heard him mutter. ‘You’re not going to faint on me again, mia belleza.’

  Cesario could not explain the irrational fear that had swept through him when he had learned that Beth had disappeared from the castle. There was no reason to suppose she had come to any harm, he had told himself as he had mounted his horse and ridden out of the courtyard to search for her. But he’d been plagued by the image of how she had looked the previous evening: pale and shaking with emotion as she had faced him across the dining table, fiercely refuting the accusation that she had stolen from her previous employers. The memory of her trying to blink back her tears had tugged on his insides, and he had felt uncomfortable with the knowledge that he had upset her.

  Now, as he stared down at her white face, relief surged through him. But when his eyes roamed over her slender body and saw the firm thrust of her breasts clearly out-lined beneath her wet blouse another, far more primitive emotion thundered through his veins.

  Beth sensed a subtle change in Cesario. His voice was no longer harsh with anger but rough, and laced with a seductive huskiness that sent a tremor through her. She opened her eyes and was trapped by his granite-grey gaze. She felt his warm breath on her skin and her senses quivered as she inhaled the scent of him: an intoxicating mixture of his wet leather coat, the evocatively spicy cologne he wore, and something else that was intensely male and uniquely him.

  Her brain registered all those things in the timeless seconds that trembled between them. And then his head swooped and he covered her mouth with his own.

  Starbursts of pleasure instantly exploded inside her, and without conscious thought she parted her lips beneath his. Perhaps she should have been shocked, but in truth she had imagined his kiss from the moment her eyes had locked with his in the ballroom of his castle. She felt as though she had been waiting for him all her life, that she had been born for this moment with this man, and there was no thought in her head to resist him when he plundered her lips with a hunger that touched her soul.

  He was not gentle, but she hadn’t expected him to be, and his fierce desire, the bold thrust of his tongue into her mouth, evoked a desperate longing for him to pull her down onto the wet earth and claim her body with every pagan demand she sensed throbbed in his blood.

  The few chaste kisses she had shared when she’d been on occasional dates with other men had not prepared her for Cesario’s sensual onslaught. His lips grazed hers again and again, drawing a response that she was powerless to deny.

  The teeming rain pounded them, running down their faces and slicking Beth’s shirt to her body. The feel of the sodden material clinging to her breasts was deliciously erotic, and she could not repress a soft moan when he ran his hands down her front and traced her taut nipples jutting through the wet cotton. Sensation arrowed through her and, driven by an instinctive need to be even closer to him, she lifted her arms and curved them around his neck.

  He muttered something in Italian and crushed her to him, so that her breasts were pressed against his chest. She was conscious of his hard sinews and muscles imprinted on her softer flesh, and the solid ridge of his arousal jabbed her belly, causing molten heat to pool between her thighs.

  The dark stubble shading his jaw felt abrasive against her cheek but she did not care. Nothing mattered except that he should never, ever stop kissing her. Some pagan force deep inside her told her that she belonged here in his arms. That she belonged to him. She curled her fingers into his hair and then, like a blind person wanting to imprint his image on her brain, stroked his face, exploring every angle and plane and tracing the sharp edges of his cheekbones.

  Her fingertips fluttered over the raised ridge of his scar. At her touch he stiffened and tore his mouth from hers, his actions so abrupt that she was unprepared and swayed dizzily for a moment. Deprived of the warmth and strength of his
body she felt bereft, and wondered with a flash of despair how she could bear the aching loneliness of her life.

  He dropped his arms to his sides, allowing her to step back from him. As the reality of what had happened sank in she lifted her hand to her mouth and felt its swollen softness, staring at Cesario with stunned eyes.

  ‘Why did you do that?’ she whispered.

  He gave a harsh laugh, his eyes hooded and glittering with a savage hunger. ‘Why? You know why, cara. You feel this intense attraction as strongly as I do. Maybe you resent it, and are shocked by it—just as I am. But you cannot deny the fire that burns between us.’

  She could not deny her awareness of him, but she was startled by his stark admission that he desired her. He cupped her face in his hands and she watched, her heart hammering, as he lowered his head once more. Her lips parted involuntarily in readiness for him to kiss her again, but a sudden memory forced its way into her head and with a cry she pulled away from him.

  ‘The dog! I found a dog caught in a trap,’ she explained when he stared at her uncomprehendingly. ‘We have to set it free or it will die. Please.’ She caught hold of his arm. ‘Will you come?’

  ‘Where?’ Cesario demanded tersely, fighting the temptation to snatch her back into his arms and finish what they had started, here and now on the sodden grass. He had never felt such a primitive urgency to possess a woman, but this woman with her fey beauty and slanting green eyes had surely cast a spell on him, he thought self-derisively.

  ‘In the woods at the edge of the field.’ Feeling desperately guilty that she had forgotten about the injured dog during those moments when she had been in Cesario’s arms, Beth turned and started to run. She had only gone a short distance when he came alongside her, sitting astride his horse.

  ‘Give me your hand,’ he ordered. Reaching down, he ignored her shocked gasp and lifted her up onto the saddle in front of him as easily as if she weighed nothing. ‘Show me where to go.’

  Beth disliked heights, and a cautious glance over the horse’s head revealed that the ground was a long way down.

  ‘You’re safe. I won’t let you fall.’ Cesario’s deep voice sounded close to her ear. And, strangely, she did feel safe with her back pressed against his chest and his arms on either side of her as he flicked the reins and urged the horse into a gallop.

  CHAPTER SIX

  ‘DO YOU think you can force the trap open with something—maybe a stick or tree branch?’ Beth asked Cesario anxiously as he knelt by the injured dog.

  ‘It should release if I step on the spring mechanism,’ he told her, after studying the contraption for a few minutes. ‘I imagine a shepherd has had a problem with foxes worrying his sheep and has set traps to try and protect his flock. Move away. An injured animal can behave unpredictably and the dog might turn on you.’

  She looked into the dog’s pained eyes. ‘I don’t think he’ll bite me,’ she said softly. As she knelt down she heard a ripping sound, and gave a rueful sigh when she saw that her skirt had snagged on a bramble. ‘Oh, well—like all my clothes it only cost a few pounds from a charity shop.’

  ‘I imagine the dress you were wearing last night cost considerably more than a few pounds,’ Cesario said dryly.

  ‘Actually, no. That dress is my best bargain find, and I was pleased that the money I paid for it went to a charity supporting multiple sclerosis sufferers, because my mother had the illness for many years and eventually lost her life to it.’

  With her eyes focused on the dog, Beth did not see the intent glance Cesario gave her. He stepped on the spring and the trap jaws shot apart, releasing its victim. ‘Careful,’ he warned, when she immediately lifted the dog up, but the animal was clearly grateful to be free and lay quiet and utterly trusting in Beth’s arms.

  ‘Its leg is cut,’ she noted worriedly, seeing blood on the dog.

  ‘A flesh wound.’ Cesario gave the animal a cursory inspection. ‘Set it down and I expect it will find its way back to its owner.’

  He frowned when Beth turned her almond-shaped eyes on him and gave him a look that seemed to imply he was as callous as a mass-murderer.

  ‘I’m not going to abandon the poor creature—although I suspect its owner might have done,’ she said regretfully. ‘It looks half starved.’

  ‘It is a he.’ Cesario studied the dog’s matted coat. ‘And he’s certainly not the most attractive dog I’ve ever seen.’

  ‘Just because he isn’t beautiful is no reason not to give him a home,’ Beth said fiercely, thinking of all the times she had been disappointed not to have been chosen by foster parents when she had lived in the children’s home. ‘Please can we take him back to the castle? I’m sure Filomena will allow him to stay in the kitchens—at least until his leg is healed. I’ll pay for his food.’

  Cesario muttered a curse beneath his breath and strode over to his horse. For all her elfin fragility Beth was incredibly determined—and deeply compassionate, he brooded as he watched her tenderly stroke the ugly dog.

  ‘We need to get out of the rain before we drown,’ he growled. Not giving her the chance to argue, he put his hands on her waist and lifted her and the dog up onto the saddle. She was soaked to the skin and shivering. ‘Take these for a second,’ he ordered, dropping the reins into her hand while he shrugged out of his coat and draped it around her shoulders.

  The leather coat still retained the heat from Cesario’s body, and the lingering male scent of him teased Beth’s senses. ‘I’m already wet. It doesn’t make sense for you to get soaked too,’ she mumbled, but received an impatient look.

  ‘In the space of forty-eight hours you’ve turned my life upside down and landed me with a baby and a flea-bitten mutt. The last thing I need now is for you to catch pneumonia,’ Cesario told her grimly before he hooked his foot in the stirrup and swung himself up onto the horse’s back behind her.

  When they reached the castle ten minutes later, Cesario rode round to the stables, dismounted and lifted Beth down, gritting his teeth when her slender body briefly brushed against him. He bitterly resented his overwhelming awareness of her. Clearly he’d gone too long without sex, he thought sardonically. In Rome there were a number of women he could call—casual mistresses who understood he was not in the market for commitment and who would be happy to satisfy his libido knowing that he would be a generous lover in return.

  Taking the dog, he strode into an empty horse box and set it down in the straw. The cut on its leg was not too deep, and while he cleaned the wound Beth knelt beside him and stroked the animal’s head to keep it calm.

  ‘Do you think he’ll be okay? Poor creature. He must have been so frightened in the trap,’ she said softly.

  Her innate gentleness touched something deep inside Cesario. He stared at her pale fingers as she fondled the dog’s ears and imagined her touching him, caressing his naked flesh and encircling his manhood with those delicate white hands. Her hair smelled of rain and the faint scent of lemons. His eyes were drawn lower, and through her wet blouse he could see the outline of her dusky pink nipples.

  He swallowed and said roughly, ‘I’m sure he’ll be fine. I’ll tell the groom to give him plenty of food.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Her shy smile caused a cramping sensation in Cesario’s gut. But then her expression became anxious. ‘I must get back to Sophie. I’ve been out for ages and she’s bound to be awake by now.’

  ‘She was crying before I came to look for you. But after I fed her she settled and seemed happy enough when I left her with Filomena,’ Cesario told her.

  ‘You fed her?’ Beth chewed on her lip. ‘Was she all right? I mean, she’s only used to me, and.’

  ‘She didn’t choke when I gave her a bottle of formula, if that’s what you mean,’ Cesario said dryly. ‘I’m quite capable of caring for a baby. I used to regularly feed my son.’

  ‘You must miss your little boy.’

  He stiffened at Beth’s gentle comment. ‘I think of him every day,’ he admitted roughly.
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  To his relief she did not offer the unhelpful platitude that time was a great healer, as so many people did when they learned that he had lost a child. Instead, she tentatively reached out and placed her hand over his as they knelt on the stable floor next to the stray dog, and her silence soothed his ragged soul far more than meaningless words of sympathy.

  ‘I miss Mel terribly,’ she said at last. ‘I feel so sad that she’s not here to watch Sophie grow up.’ She sighed. ‘I still miss my mum, too, even though she’s been dead for twelve years.’

  ‘You said she was ill for a long time?’

  Beth nodded. ‘She was diagnosed with MS when I was about five, and as her condition degenerated she wasn’t able to walk and was confined to a wheelchair. She never complained, though, she just tried to get on with life. But it can’t have been easy. My father had to give up work to look after her, so we didn’t have much money. Mum used to get upset that I had to miss out on things like birthday parties and school trips.’

  Cesario glanced at her curiously. ‘You told me you became friends with Melanie Stewart when you lived in a children’s home. Is your father dead too?’

  ‘No.’ She hesitated. ‘He … went away. He had an affair with another woman and left Mum and me to move in with his girlfriend.’

  ‘Dio!’ Cesario did not know how to respond. As a boy he had been devastated when his mother had left the castle to be with her lover, but his feeling of abandonment was nothing compared to how Beth had surely felt at her father’s callous behaviour.

  ‘Who took care of your mother after he left?’

  ‘I did, for a while. I didn’t mind,’ Beth assured him. ‘I wanted to stay with Mum. But when her MS got worse she had to go into a specialist nursing home and she died soon after. Social Services asked my dad if I could live with him, but he had decided to emigrate to Australia with his new partner and didn’t want me.’ She gave a casual shrug, hoping to disguise the hurt she had felt at her father’s rejection. ‘That’s when I went into care.’