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
