to come up and kiss her goodnight she had fallen asleep feeling happy, but sometimes he’d forgotten and then she had cried herself to sleep.
Salvatore seemed to be unaware of how much his little girl needed him. Darcey glared at him, wishing she could ignore his potent masculinity. He had discarded his jacket and rolled up his shirtsleeves to reveal darkly tanned forearms covered with a mass of black hair. His brooding sensuality was dangerously attractive—but she wasn’t looking for danger or excitement, wasn’t looking for a man at all. And certainly not one who made her feel so acutely aware of her femininity.
‘What could possibly be more important than your daughter?’ she demanded. ‘How could you have left her for several hours with a complete stranger?’
‘You work with children in your professional capacity. I knew you would take care of her. The butler told me that Rosa seemed quite happy with you.’
His casual attitude inflamed Darcey’s temper. ‘So your butler is an expert in child psychology, is he?’ she said sarcastically. ‘You are unbelievable!’
She turned back to the door. It was none of her business that Salvatore was so distant from his daughter, she reminded herself. Rosa was a sweet little girl, but Darcey was not going to allow her soft heart to overrule her common sense, which was telling her she needed to walk out of this marble house and away from Salvatore Castellano and his sad-eyed little daughter.
‘I can’t believe your uncaring attitude to Rosa,’ she said disgustedly. ‘The poor little scrap doesn’t have a mother and, to be frank, from what I’ve seen she doesn’t have much of a father.’
Her words hit Salvatore as if she had physically slapped him, but he revealed no emotion on his chiselled features. He was not used to being criticised and was irritated that he felt the need to explain himself to Darcey.
‘I usually visit Rosa to wish her goodnight, but I’ve already said that unfortunately I was detained this evening.’
‘You were too busy working to spare a few minutes for a lonely little girl?’ Darcey said scathingly, recalling how Rosa said that her father was always busy in his office.
Salvatore’s jaw tightened. ‘Earlier this afternoon there was a fire in one of the warehouses at my winery in Sicily. Hundreds of barrels of prized wine have been destroyed, but much worse than that, three of the estate workers were injured in the blaze. I have been making arrangements for the men to be flown to a specialist burns unit on mainland Italy and organising for their families to be with them. I had not forgotten about Rosa, but I admit I was so involved with the crisis at home that I did not realise how late it was.’
He raked a hand through his hair and Darcey noticed the lines of strain around his eyes. He hid his emotions well, but he was clearly concerned about the workers injured in the fire.
‘The agency that sent Sharon does not have another nanny on their books who is able to use sign language, and I haven’t had time to try a different agency.’ His dark eyes sought Darcey’s. ‘But thank you for taking care of Rosa this evening. The least I can do is offer you dinner here with me tonight.’
‘No, thank you. I have to go.’
The idea of spending another five minutes alone with Salvatore filled Darcey with panic. His explanation about why he had not come up to the nursery to see Rosa was understandable, but she still sensed that there were issues with his relationship with his daughter that she did not understand. She did not want to get involved with this enigmatic man whose seductively husky voice was causing her heart to beat too fast.
Without another word she hurried out of the study. Her jacket and laptop were on the chair in the hall, where she had left them, but as she walked over to them, with the intention of continuing out through the front door, Salvatore’s voice stopped her.
‘Can your conscience allow you to abandon Rosa?’
‘Me abandon her?’ She spun round and glared at him. ‘That’s rich, coming from her father—who can’t be bothered to spend time with her and expects the staff to care for her. My conscience has nothing to worry about.’
As she uttered the words Darcey discovered that her conscience was far from happy. The image of Rosa’s trusting expression when she had tucked her into bed tugged on her heart. She remembered how the little girl had signed that she was afraid of the dark. Many young children shared the same fear, but for a deaf child that feeling of isolation must be worse.
‘I have left notes of my assessment on Rosa which you can pass to another speech therapist when you find one who is prepared to go to Sicily.’
‘My daughter has already bonded with you.’
She tried to ignore the pull his words had on her emotions. ‘I suppose your butler told you that?’ she said sarcastically.
‘No, I saw for myself that Rosa likes you.’
Salvatore hesitated and to Darcey’s surprise a hint of emotion flickered across his face.
‘I came to see her while she was eating her dinner. The two of you were laughing together...’
She gave him a puzzled look. ‘Why didn’t you join us?’
‘Rosa looked like she was having fun, and I did not want to interrupt.’
The truth was he had felt jealous as he had watched his daughter interacting with Darcey, Salvatore acknowledged to himself. Rosa did not laugh very often—not with him, anyway. The only time she seemed truly happy was when she was playing with her cousin, Nico.
He wished he could breach the distance that existed between them. A distance he felt was widening as she grew older. Even though Rosa could now hear with the cochlear implants, he did not know how to reach his little girl. Deep in his heart he admitted that he found her deafness difficult to accept. In his darkest thoughts he wondered if he was to blame for her loss of hearing.
Why was he allowing his mind to dwell on the blackness within him? Salvatore asked himself. He was sure that Darcey’s expertise would enable her to help Rosa learn to talk and, more than that, he felt instinctively that she would be able to connect with his daughter in a way he could not. When he had stood outside the dining room and watched her with Rosa he had been struck by her genuine kindness to his daughter. Somehow he had to persuade her to come to Sicily.
‘Rosa needs you.’
Darcey hesitated, her indecision apparent on her expressive face. Salvatore sensed that she was close to giving in. He glanced towards the butler, who had stepped into the hall.
‘The chef has prepared dinner for you and your guest, sir.’
The timing was perfect. ‘Thank you, Melton. Ms Rivers and I will make our way to the dining room,’ Salvatore said smoothly.
CHAPTER THREE
‘IT IS MY fault you were delayed tonight, and I feel bad at the thought of you driving home to cook a meal this late in the evening.’ Salvatore forestalled the argument he could see Darcey was about to make. ‘Also, my chef is French, and very temperamental. If he is upset he’s likely to serve me frogs’ legs for breakfast.’
Darcey chewed on her bottom lip, disconcerted by the revelation that Salvatore
