Rags To Riches Collection. Rebecca Winters

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СКАЧАТЬ the curtains indicated that it was morning—which meant that she had overslept and missed her cleaning shift. Horrified, she threw back the sheets—and then took a steadying breath as her brain caught up. She had spent the night at Cesario Piras’s castle, and without her alarm clock to wake her at four-thirty, as it did every other morning, she had slept embarrassingly late.

      Sophie had settled straight after her 3:00 a.m. feed, and now, when Beth stole into the nursery, she found the baby still sleeping peacefully. As she moved away from the cot there was a light knock on the door, and a moment later a woman whom she guessed was one of the castle staff entered the nursery, bearing a tray.

      ‘Ah, you are awake and the bambina is still asleep—that is good. My name is Filomena,’ the woman introduced herself in a loud whisper. ‘I am cook for Signor Piras and I look after his castle. All the other staff—they do what I tell them.’

      Beth could well believe it. Filomena was short in stature, and cosily plump, but her flashing black eyes warned of a fiery and formidable personality. However, her smile was welcoming, and when she peeped at Sophie her face softened.

      ‘Angioletto,’ she breathed before she set the tray down on the table by the window. ‘You can eat breakfast while the bambina sleeps,’ she told Beth. ‘If she wakes I will hold her while you finish.’

      The aroma of coffee and freshly baked rolls made Beth’s stomach rumble appreciatively, and the bowl of peaches and cherries looked as inviting as the dish beside it containing creamy yoghurt. But if Sophie acted true to form she would undoubtedly stir the minute Beth started eating, she thought ruefully.

      She smiled shyly at Cesario’s cook. ‘That’s very kind of you, but I’m sure you must be busy…’

      Beady black eyes fixed her with a stern look. ‘Signor Piras say to Filomena that you must eat—so you eat.’ She gave Beth a cursory inspection and sniffed. ‘You are too thin. You will never find a husband.’

      Beth did not explain that following her father’s devastating betrayal of her mother she had decided she never wanted a husband. Instead, she deemed it wiser to subside into a chair and help herself to a roll. ‘Is Signor Piras’s word law?’ she murmured.

      ‘Of course,’ Filomena said cheerfully. ‘He is the master of the Castello del Falco. He is il capo. How you say? The boss.’

      ‘Yes, I imagine he is,’ Beth said dryly, recalling his hard features and granite-grey eyes. Cesario was king of his castle, and his position as head of one of Italy’s biggest banks must mean that he was immensely powerful. But she had witnessed a gentler side to his nature when he had rocked Sophie off to sleep and could not help but be intrigued by him.

      Her mind lingered on those few heart-stopping moments in his room when she had thought that he was going to kiss her, and a little tremor ran through her. Of course she hadn’t wanted him to. Not a man like him—a man who slept around and was careless of the consequences. She stared at the tray in front of her. He was also a man who had instructed his cook to bring her breakfast. He was probably just being a polite host, she told herself firmly, he was not interested in her welfare.

      * * *

      The torrential rain of the previous night had eased to a fine drizzle which continued to fall from the leaden sky. Beth had spent the morning in the nursery with Sophie, but now, after lunch—which Filomena had brought, and then watched her like a hawk while she ate—a glimmer of sunshine broke through the clouds outside the window.

      ‘We’ll go for a walk,’ she told the baby as she dressed her in an all-in-one suit. At home she tried to take Sophie out in the fresh air most days. The one-bedroom flat she rented in a grim tower block in East London was cramped, especially now that it was filled with baby paraphernalia, but luckily the Hackney Marshes were close by, and provided an oasis of green in a busy part of London.

      Teodoro carried the baby buggy down the castle steps, and once Beth had strapped Sophie into it and tucked a blanket round her she strolled around the courtyard. The Castello del Falco was much less forbidding in daylight, she noted. Built on a plateau close to the summit of the mountain, it was surrounded by higher mountains which rose towards the sky, their lower slopes covered in dense woodland and their grey peaks resembling jagged teeth.

      The castle was like something from a fairy tale, Beth mused. Even the stone gargoyles looked impish and mischievous in the sunlight, rather than wickedly cruel as they had when she had arrived during the storm last night. Lulled by the motion of the pushchair, Sophie had drifted off to sleep. There seemed no point in disturbing her by carrying her back inside, so Beth explored the well-tended gardens at the rear of the castle, arranged in a series of terraces. Each tier was beautifully formal, with clipped yew hedges bordered by gravel pathways, ornamental fountains splashing into pools, and graceful marble statues standing serenely amid the lush greenery.

      It would be an amazing place for a child to grow up. Beth gave a rueful sigh as she recalled the graffiti-strewn stairways, which were the haunt of local drug dealers, and the acres of concrete on the estate where she lived. How much better it would be for Sophie if she was Cesario’s daughter and the castle became her home. But where would she live? she wondered fretfully. Would it be possible for her to move to the nearby town of Oliena and find some sort of job so that she could still be a part of Sophie’s life?

      Lost in her thoughts, she followed the path round to the front of the castle—and halted when she saw Cesario on horseback, riding into the courtyard. He was an imposing sight, and she felt her heart jolt beneath her ribs. Sitting astride a huge, powerful-looking horse, he was dressed almost entirely in black: black boots, jeans, and a leather jerkin worn over a dark grey loosely woven shirt. Curiously, on one hand he wore a thick leather glove that reached almost to his elbow. His dark hair was windswept around his hard-boned face, and even from a distance the livid scar on his cheek was clearly visible. But it did not detract from his rugged good-looks.

      There was a tough, untamed quality about him that touched something deep inside Beth. He was the man of her fantasies: a pirate, an adventurer, undoubtedly a dangerous adversary and a passionate lover. She drew a ragged breath, shocked by the train of her thoughts. He was out of her league, she reminded herself. But that knowledge did not stop her traitorous body from reacting to his potent virility.

      As her eyes met his glinting grey gaze she felt lightheaded, and she knew she could not blame her sudden breathlessness on her low red blood-cell count.

      He walked his great black horse forward, and as he did so a shadow swooped over Beth’s head. Startled by the beating sound, and the sudden rush of air that moved her hair, she glanced up to see a bird of prey circle the courtyard and land on Cesario’s gloved arm.

      His stern features lightened a fraction when he noticed her stunned expression. ‘This is Gratia,’ he told her, in the deep, gravelly voice that brought her skin out in goose-bumps. ‘You are honoured. Often she will not come to the glove if a stranger is near.’

      ‘She’s beautiful. What kind of bird is she?’

      ‘A peregrine falcon—the fastest of all birds of prey. Grazia means grace, and she is not just swift and powerful in the air but incredibly graceful.’ Cesario gave a low laugh. ‘To be honest, she is the only female I have ever truly loved.’

      Beth eyed the big grey and white speckled bird with its hooked beak and vicious-looking talons and wondered if he was joking. ‘But. surely you loved your wife?’ she faltered.

      His gaze became hooded. ‘If I had perhaps I would still have my son,’ СКАЧАТЬ