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.’
THE 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