Behind the Castello Doors (17 page)

Beth found it hard to think of anything but the feel of his big, hard body pressed up against hers as they rode
out of the courtyard—but she could not allow herself to be overwhelmed by him, she told herself firmly.

‘About the clothes that have magically appeared in my wardrobe—I can’t allow you to pay for them so I’m afraid you must send them back.’

‘Well, I certainly have no objection to you walking around the castle naked,’ he murmured, lowering his head so that his warm breath tickled her ear.

Heat flooded through her, and the sweet, urgent throb in her pelvis grew more insistent. ‘Of course I won’t be naked. I’ll wear my own clothes.’

‘Ah—that could be difficult, since I asked the gardener to burn them.’

She half twisted round on the saddle so that she could glare at him. ‘Why on earth did you do that?’

‘Because you are too exquisite to dress like a drab sparrow.’ He smiled at her startled expression. ‘Now, stop arguing and tell me what you think of the view.’

His horse had carried them along a winding path up the mountainside, and now they had reached a flat grassy plateau bordered by a crystal clear stream that babbled and chattered over the rocks. The falcon had been sitting patiently on his shoulder, but at his command she spread her wings and rose into the air with incredible grace and speed. Within seconds she was a speck high in the sky.

‘It’s incredible,’ Beth murmured, turning her head to scan the panoramic view of the mountains, whose pale limestone peaks emerged from the lush green woodland which covered their lower slopes. Far below was the town of Oliena, with its square white-brick houses looking like toy building blocks and their terracotta roofs glinting in the sunshine.

Cesario dismounted and lifted her down from the saddle.
‘I feel closest to Nicolo here,’ he admitted. He spread a rug on the ground and invited her to sit beside him. ‘He would be six years old now. I imagine him riding up here with me on his own pony, or kicking a football around the castle courtyard.’ He stared into the distance, seemingly lost in his thoughts, but then he turned to her.

‘Since we spoke the other night I’ve been thinking about my son, and for the first time since the accident I’ve been able to look at photographs of him and remember him with joy. The sadness is still there,’ he said huskily. ‘I’ll always miss him. But I have so many happy memories of him and I don’t want to push them away any more. I want to share them.’

Instinctively Beth placed her hand over his. ‘Tell me about Nicolo,’ she said softly.

She lost track of time as they talked. He recounted tender memories of Nicolo, and at his prompting she told him about Sophie’s premature birth and her anxious vigil while the baby had been in the special care unit. She revealed her pain and shock at Mel’s death, and spoke of their friendship which had started at the children’s home.

A cool breeze ruffling her hair reminded her of where they were, and she glanced around, startled to see that the sun had disappeared behind dark clouds.

‘Do you think it’s going to rain?’

‘Undoubtedly.’ Cesario looked behind him to the mountain peaks, and Beth gasped as she followed his gaze and saw an ominous black mass rolling across the sky. A thunderclap as loud as cannon-fire made her flinch and then the heavens opened: raindrops the size of pennies falling with such ferocity that they were soaked within seconds.

‘Come.’ He lifted her onto the horse and swung up onto the saddle behind her.

‘What about Gratia?’ Beth asked anxiously.

As she spoke, Cesario blew on a whistle, and moments later the bird of prey flew down and landed on his shoulder.

He urged his horse forward, but instead of heading down the path he took them higher, skirting the forest until they came to a clearing where a wooden cabin stood, half hidden among the trees.

‘Get inside.’ He had to shout to be heard above the torrential rain, but Beth—drenched and shivering—needed no second bidding, and ran for shelter while he took the horse and the falcon into the adjoining stable.

The cabin was basic—just one main room housing a cooking stove, a table and a couple of chairs, and in the far corner an old-fashioned wrought-iron bedstead. Efforts had been made to give the place a homely feel, with brightly coloured rugs on the floor and crisp white cotton sheets on the bed.

‘
Dio
, what a deluge.’ Cesario followed her inside, shaking his wet hair out of his eyes.

He disappeared through a door, returning moments later to throw her a towel. He had already stripped off his shirt, and Beth’s eyes were drawn to the beads of moisture clinging to his dark chest hairs. He frowned when she made no attempt to dry herself. Water was dripping from her dress and her teeth were chattering.

‘Come,
cara
, you need to get out of your wet clothes.’ He strode over to her, his hands reaching for the belt that secured her dress, and began to tug the knot loose.

‘Don’t …’ she said jerkily. The abrupt transition from warm sunshine to freezing rain had been such a shock to her body that she was shivering violently and could barely speak. She tried to push his hands away, but he ignored
her and untied the belt. Desperate to halt him, she muttered, ‘I’m not wearing.’ Her words faded as he pushed the edges of the dress apart and released his breath in a slow hiss. ‘A bra.’

‘So I see.’ Eyes locked on her body, he peeled the wet fabric from her shoulders and allowed the dress to fall at her feet.
‘Santa Madonna,’
he said harshly. ‘You are exquisite.’

CHAPTER NINE

T
HE
primitive hunger in Cesario’s voice sent a tremor through Beth. The rain was hammering down on the roof of the cabin, but the prickling silence between them was so profound that she was sure he could hear the erratic thud of her heart. He lifted his hand and very lightly traced her collarbone, and then slowly, delicately, almost as if he was afraid she would break, he skimmed his fingers down to her breast.

She caught her breath as he explored the small rounded contour, his tanned fingers contrasting starkly with her creamy flesh. His eyes were hooded but she glimpsed the feral gleam beneath his heavy lids and could not restrain a little gasp when he stroked her nipple. It tautened instantly at his touch, and the sensation of his fingers gently squeezing her tender flesh was so acute that a quiver of intense heat shot from her breast to her pelvis.

‘
Sei bella
, Beth,’ he growled in a thick, sexually charged tone that caressed her senses like the sumptuous feel of velvet against her skin. With his free hand he cupped her other breast and she made a little choked sound when he rolled its dusky peak between his thumb and forefinger.

‘I want you.’ His voice cracked. ‘
Dio mio
, you are like a fever in my blood. And you want me too. Your body does
not lie,
cara
,’ he said fiercely. ‘The attraction burned between us from the moment we first met and neither of us can ignore it any longer.’

It was true, Beth acknowledged helplessly. She had felt an intense awareness, an inexplicable connection with him when she had first seen him on the night she had arrived at the castle. She remembered she had felt a curious sensation, like an arrow piercing her heart, and she felt it again now. But now she knew what it was.

Love
, she thought shakily. She had looked into Cesario’s granite grey eyes and she had been lost for ever.

Of course she had denied it to herself. Love at first sight only happened in fairy tales, and Cesario was no Prince Charming; he was a heartless playboy who had been too drunk to remember sleeping with Mel. She had told herself she despised him, but as she had learned more about his past her heart had softened and she had understood how his grief for his son had caused him to behave in a way that he regretted.

‘Beth?’

He said her name raggedly, as if he feared her silence meant he had been mistaken to think she shared his desire. She saw the tension in his jaw and lifted a trembling hand to his face, gently tracing the livid scar down to the corner of his mouth.

‘Was I wrong to think, to hope, that the fire inside me burns in you too?’

‘No,’ she whispered, ‘you weren’t wrong.’ And, standing on tiptoe, she reached up and kissed him.

With a savage groan he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her hard against him, so that the tips of her breasts brushed the wiry hairs that covered his broad chest. The sensation was so exquisitely erotic that she gasped;
the sound was muffled by his lips as he slanted his mouth over hers and kissed her with a feverish hunger that warned her there could be no going back. He meant to possess her, and she welcomed his passionate urgency, parting her lips so that he could thrust his tongue between them to explore the moistness within.

She snatched a breath when at last he lifted his mouth from hers and trailed a line of kisses down her throat, to capture the pulse jerking erratically at its base. His hands caressed her breasts once more, and then, to her startled delight, he lowered his head and closed his lips around one nipple to suckle the rosy peak until the pleasure was almost unbearable.

She moaned softly and clung to him while he transferred his attention to her other nipple, lashing it with his tongue until it was pebble-hard. She shivered—not with cold, but with a heated desire that was growing ever more frantic. Molten warmth pooled between her thighs and she ached there, ached for him to touch her and give her the sweet release her body craved.

The room tilted as Cesario swept her into his arms and carried her over to the bed. He laid her down on the cool sheets and held her gaze as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of her knickers.

There was something incredibly sexy about Beth’s simple plain cotton underwear, Cesario brooded. His already hardened shaft strained uncomfortably against his trousers as he pulled her knickers down to reveal the neat triangle of curls that hid her femininity.

He wanted her to undress him, for her to stroke his throbbing length with her soft white hands. But the mere thought of her caressing him brought him to the edge of
no return, and with more haste than grace he stripped and lowered himself onto the bed.

Her hair felt like silk. He ran his fingers through its length and then cupped her face, bringing his mouth down on hers once more in a sensual kiss, seeking a response that she gave with such sweet eagerness that his heart clenched.

But although she kissed him with a fervour that made him ache she seemed curiously shy, and did not boldly explore his body as an experienced mistress would do. He sensed her faint wariness, and instinct warned him she had not had many other lovers.

His jaw tensed when he recalled her telling him how her ex-employer had assaulted her. No wonder she seemed tentative. There was a need for restraint, for him to slow the pace and arouse her with gentle care. It would take all his will-power, he acknowledged ruefully. He could not remember ever being so turned on. But from the outset Beth had cast a spell on him with her slanting green eyes and he was utterly lost to her magic.

Beth’s heart thudded when Cesario trailed his hands slowly down her body. He seemed in no rush, and the realisation that he was controlling his urgent desire helped her to relax. The unpleasant memories of Hugo Devington’s clumsy attempts to touch her body faded from her mind. She trusted Cesario completely. He treated her as his equal and she knew he would make love to her with consideration and respect.

Excitement fluttered inside her when he skimmed his fingertips lightly over her stomach and traced the indent of her waist, before moving lower to carefully ease her legs apart. It was new and wondrous, and she held her breath as he brushed his fingers in a gossamer-soft caress up and
down her moist opening. She felt no shyness, just a fierce need that made her spread her legs wider and lift her hips as he parted her and slid an exploratory finger between her slick folds.

Slowly her internal muscles relaxed, allowing him to push deeper, and she gave a startled cry of pleasure when he bent his head to her breast and laved one nipple and then its twin with his tongue while he continued his erotic exploration of her body with his fingers.

Reality faded and she entered an almost dream-like state dominated by the incredible sensations Cesario was arousing in her. She curled her hands into the sheet, her whole being focused on the rhythmic pulse of his finger slipping in and out of her and the delicate brush of his thumb pad across the ultra-sensitive nub of her clitoris.

‘Touch me,
cara
,’ he said roughly.

She opened her eyes and her heart lurched when she saw the feral hunger in his gaze. He took her hand and guided her down to his solid length. Steel encased in velvet, she thought wonderingly, and so big—surely he was too big for her to take him inside her?

She felt a flutter of apprehension, but at the same time her body ached for something more than the delicate caress of his hands. A fierce need was building inside her—a need that she sensed would only be assuaged when he replaced his finger with the hard arousal that was already pushing between her thighs.

He kissed her mouth, deep and slow, and the inherent tenderness of the kiss dismissed her faint fear. She trusted him, and her tense muscles relaxed, so that when he slid his hands beneath her bottom and lifted her she bent her knees and opened for him, her heart-rate quickening as the tip of him pressed against her welcoming moistness.

He groaned, but instead of pushing forward he withdrew and rested his brow lightly on hers, his chest heaving as he fought for control. ‘I must protect you,
cara
,’ he muttered, lifting himself from her. ‘Don’t go away.’

Mystified, she watched him stride through a door which she saw led into the tiny bathroom. Why was he leaving her? Had he decided not to make love to her? Her body throbbed with unfulfilled desire. But he was back within seconds, pausing to slide a rubber sheath over his burgeoning manhood before he knelt over her and sank between her spread thighs.