Behind the Castello Doors. Chantelle Shaw

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 day, when she’s older, I will tell her about her real mother, but for now I’m the only mother she knows and nothing on this earth could persuade me to give her up.’

      Cesario was almost convinced that the tremor of emotion in her voice was genuine. Almost—but not quite. He could not forget the fact that Beth had sought him out because she wanted a financial settlement for her friend’s child. He was still stunned by the possibility that Sophie might be his, but if she was then he had a duty towards her, and there was no question in his mind that she should do anything other than live in Sardinia with him.

      As for Beth Granger. To his annoyance his gaze was drawn to her face and he felt an unbidden flicker of compassion when he noted the shimmer of tears in her green eyes. For a heartbeat they stared at one another, before she dropped her head and a swathe of her gleaming brown hair fell across her cheek.

      A hot, fierce throb of desire flared in Cesario’s groin, taking him by surprise so that he drew a sharp breath. For a few crazy seconds he imagined leaning down and slanting his lips over Beth’s, tracing their moist softness with his tongue.

      The thoughts in his head were totally inappropriate, he told himself angrily. Fighting a strong urge to reach out and tuck the silky strands of her hair behind her ear, he strode over to the door.

      ‘A discussion on the child’s future is premature until a DNA test has been done,’ he said coolly. ‘Until then I hope you will be comfortable at the Castello del Falco. I will instruct my staff to prepare the nursery. Teodoro will escort you upstairs and ensure you have everything you need. But now I must ask you to excuse me while I return to my guests.’