a far more important problem. ‘But where will Sophie sleep? I have her buggy with me, but although she naps in it during the day it’s not suitable for her to sleep in all night.’
‘The castle has a nursery which is fully equipped with everything you might need.’
It was a long time since he had visited the room which had once been his son’s, and for a moment Cesario struggled with the idea of allowing another child to sleep in the antique hand-carved cot that Nicolo had slept in until only a few months before his death, when he had moved into a ‘big bed’. But he could not deny a baby a safe place to sleep, he reminded himself.
‘I don’t want to be a nuisance,’ Beth mumbled, her heart sinking as she acknowledged she could offer no other reason for her and Sophie not to stay at Cesario’s home. She could hear the wind howling around the castle turrets, and the rain hammering against the windows sounded even heavier than when she had arrived. For Sophie’s sake it would be better to remain here, but she wished the enigmatic master of the Castello del Falco did not have such a strange effect on her.
Throughout their conversation she had been intensely aware of him. Her eyes seemed to have a magnetic attraction to his tall, imposing figure as he leaned against the fireplace. His close-fitting black trousers moulded his muscular thighs, and his white shirt was made of such fine silk that she could see the faint shadow of dark chest hairs beneath it.
She lifted her head and flushed when she met his hooded gaze, embarrassed that he had caught her staring at him. He was probably used to women being fascinated by him, she thought ruefully. The livid scar on his cheek did not detract from his incredible good-looks. Ruggedly handsome, he possessed a dark, smouldering sensuality which evoked a curious sensation in the pit of her stomach—an ache of longing for something she did not understand but that she sensed this man, with his earthy virility, could appease.
What was the matter with her? she asked herself impatiently, as a shockingly vivid image came into her mind of being kissed by Cesario Piras. She could not help wondering what it would be like to be crushed against his broad chest and feel his lips on hers. She knew she was sexually naive for a woman of nearly twenty-four, but after her father had walked out when she was a child—leaving her and her seriously ill mother to fend for themselves—she had found it hard to trust any man. She had dated a few men, but nothing had ever been serious and she’d never felt any desire to take things further than a goodnight kiss at the end of an evening.
She sensed instinctively that Cesario would want more than a few chaste kisses. He would be passionate and demanding, and undoubtedly a skilled lover.
Horrified by her wanton thoughts, she hastily sought to break the silence that stretched between them. ‘Hopefully it won’t take long to arrange the test. We’ll probably only need to stay for a few days.’
Cesario shrugged. ‘I wish for you to remain here until the results of the test are known, which I believe can take a week or more.’
He could not take his eyes off the baby. He felt a sense of incredulity that she might possibly be his, but if she was then there was no question he would deny responsibility for her.
‘If it is proved that Sophie is my child, she will live with me here at the castle,’ he stated decisively.
‘Live here!’ Shock, followed almost immediately by a sense of wild panic paralysed Beth’s vocal cords so that her voice emerged as a faint gasp.
‘Where else would she live?’ Cesario queried, sounding surprised by her reaction. ‘If Sophie is a Piras, then the Castello del Falco is her home and her heritage.’
‘But I am Sophie’s legal guardian. I promised Mel I would be a mother to her baby. And I live in Hackney,’ Beth added desperately, clutching Sophie tightly to her, as if she feared Cesario would snatch the baby from her arms.
‘If I am her father she will have no need of a guardian.’
Cesario’s eyes narrowed speculatively on Beth’s tense face.
‘You clearly went to a lot of trouble to find me,’ he said after a moment, ‘and you were prepared for Sophie to undergo a DNA test. What do you expect me to do if it is established that she is my child? Surely you do not think I would simply allow you to take her back to England?’
‘I …’ Beth floundered, not knowing how to answer. The truth was she had assumed that Cesario Piras would want nothing to do with his daughter. Perhaps the fact that she had been abandoned by her own father had made her cynical. But a man who had had casual sex and carelessly did not use protection did not seem likely to accept responsibility for the baby who had resulted from a one-night stand. Cesario hadn’t even told Mel his name, she thought disgustedly. If it hadn’t been for the newspaper photo the identity of Sophie’s father would have for ever been a mystery.
‘It didn’t occur to me that you might want to be involved with your baby,’ she admitted.
‘Then why go to the effort of tracking me down?’
Cesario’s granite stare was so unnerving that Beth hurriedly looked away from him. ‘I hoped to persuade you to make a financial settlement for Sophie,’ she muttered.
She felt her face flood with colour. The statement sounded so cold-blooded, but she was innately honest and could not deny the truth. The idea of asking for money was abhorrent to her, but the harsh reality was that she could not afford to bring up Sophie on the low wage she earned from her cleaning job. She was a qualified nanny, but after she’d been unfairly sacked from her last position she had lost confidence and became wary of looking for another placement. Even if she could find a better job, the cost of childcare, rent and bills would leave nothing for all the things she wanted Sophie to have: music lessons, ballet classes, new clothes rather than hand-me-downs—all the things she had longed for when she had been a child.
The atmosphere in the library had become tangibly tense. Beth darted Cesario a nervous glance and discovered that his granite gaze had turned to steel: cold and hard and edged with a mocking contempt that caused her stomach to cramp.
‘So you want money?’
‘For Sophie,’ she insisted sharply, stung by his scornful tone. ‘If it is proved that she is your child, then it’s only fair that you should contribute towards her upbringing.’
‘And, as her legal guardian, you assumed you would have control of any allowance I might provide.’ His lip curled. ‘I understand now why agreeing to bring up your friend’s daughter after you had learned that Sophie’s possible father was a billionaire was such an attractive proposition,’ Cesario drawled.
‘It had nothing to do with that,’ Beth denied hotly, appalled by the implication. ‘What a horrible thing to suggest. My only consideration is for Sophie. I love her—and I loved Mel,’ she said thickly. ‘We were best friends. More like sisters. I didn’t expect her to die, but she did. I intend to keep the promise I made to her to take her place as Sophie’s mother, but I don’t think it is unreasonable to ask for a little financial assistance so that I can give Sophie a happy childhood.’
‘If Sophie is my child then she will want for nothing,’ Cesario said harshly. ‘But you will be superfluous. You will no longer be required to act as her guardian and you’ll be free to return to England.’
Fear gripped Beth. ‘What do you mean—superfluous?’ she asked shakily. ‘I’ve cared for Sophie since the day she was born. I took her home from the hospital. One
