Behind the Castello Doors. Chantelle Shaw

be better for Sophie if he played a role in her life as he had stated he would want to do.

      So all the guests had driven away, and now the courtyard was deserted except for the hideous stone gargoyles whose evil faces were illuminated by the moonlight. Once again the thought that she was trapped in Cesario’s forbidding fortress sent a shiver through Beth. She had no reason to fear him, she reminded herself. But the image of his scarred face seemed to have been burned onto her retinas, and the memory of his hard grey eyes had a strangely unsettling effect on her.

      Sophie had quietened for a few minutes when she had been picked up, but now she started to cry again and would not be pacified. Singing to her sometimes helped, and Beth was on the second verse of ‘Golden Slumbers’ when a deep, gravelly voice from the doorway made her spin round.

      ‘What’s wrong with her?’

      For some reason Cesario seemed even taller and more commanding here in the nursery than he had downstairs in the library. Beth’s eyes flew to his face and she caught her breath, her heart suddenly racing.

      His sharp gaze noted her reaction and he gave a grim smile. ‘It’s not pretty, is it?’ he said, touching his scar. ‘I apologise if you find my appearance disturbing.’

      ‘I don’t—of course I don’t.’ Colour flared on her cheeks. She was mortified that he thought she had been staring at him. The truth was she did find him disturbing, she acknowledged ruefully, but not in the way he meant. She could not seem to prevent her eyes from focusing on his mouth, and once again she imagined him slanting his lips over hers and kissing her with the kind of searing passion she had read about in books but never experienced personally.

      ‘Nothing is wrong with Sophie, exactly,’ she explained hurriedly. ‘She’s always unsettled at this time of night. The health visitor said that lots of babies suffer from colic in the first few months, and that she’ll grow out of it. But I hate seeing her like this,’ she admitted as she cradled the inconsolable baby in her arms. ‘I wish I could help her. I’ve tried walking up and down and rocking her but nothing’s working tonight.’

      There was no hint of impatience in Beth’s voice even though she was clearly dead on her feet from tiredness, Cesario noted. She looked even paler than when she had first arrived at the castle, and the purple shadows beneath her eyes added to her air of fragility.

      She had changed out of her shabby clothes into an equally shabby dressing gown, which had probably once been pale pink but through age and washing was now an unbecoming shade of sludge. The belt tied tightly around her waist emphasised her extreme slenderness. She looked as though she would snap in half in a strong wind, Cesario thought impatiently. She was not the type of woman he was usually attracted to, yet something about her kept drawing his gaze back to her face.

      Her skin was bare of make-up and as smooth as porcelain, and her almond-shaped green eyes were captivating. There was an intriguing air of innocence about her, he mused, and although when he had first seen her he had dismissed her as ordinary-looking he saw now that she possessed an unassuming beauty that he found beguiling.