Behind the Castello Doors by Chantelle Shaw Read Free Book Online Page A

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.
    Frowning at the unexpected train of his thoughts, he crossed the nursery and stared down at Sophie, whose cries were reaching a crescendo. ‘Perhaps she’s hungry?’
    ‘I tried to give her the rest of her bottle a few minutes ago but she refused it. More likely she’s full of wind. I think she gulps in air when she feeds during the day, and that makes her feel uncomfortable,’ Beth said, unable to disguise the weariness in her voice.
    ‘Let me take her.’
    Startled by the unexpected request, Beth instinctively tightened her hold on the baby. She had looked after Sophie on her own since she had brought her home from the hospital six weeks after her premature birth, and she felt reluctantto hand her over to a stranger. But if it was proved that Cesario was Sophie’s father he would have a legal and moral right to help care for his child, she reminded herself.
    ‘She might get upset if she’s held by someone she’s not used to,’ she mumbled.
    ‘I doubt she’ll be any more upset than she already is,’ Cesario said dryly, as Sophie’s high-pitched cries intensified.
    Beth hesitated a moment longer, and then held out the screaming infant to him.
    Cesario tensed, a host of emotions swirling inside him. He suddenly regretted asking to hold Sophie. He did not know if she was his child, so why get involved? he asked himself. But the baby’s cries had triggered an instinctive response deep within him to comfort her just as he had once comforted his son.
    Panic gripped him. He did not want to be reminded of Nicolo. The memories hurt too much. But Beth was staring at him, clearly confused because he had not taken Sophie from her. Fighting a strong urge to turn away and stride out of the nursery, he stretched out his arms and lifted the baby against his chest.
    She was so tiny, and she weighed next to nothing. Something fierce, almost primitive, unfurled inside him as he acknowledged how incredibly vulnerable she was.
    Could she really be his daughter?
    He bent his head and rested his cheek on Sophie’s silky-soft dark hair. Her evocatively sweet scent—a mixture of milk and baby powder—reminded him painfully of Nicolo. But as he gently rocked Sophie and her cries subsided a sensation of peace swept over him. Another child could never replace the son he had lost, but if Sophie washis maybe his life would have meaning once more rather than being simply an existence.
    ‘Don’t cry, piccola ,’ he murmured softly.
    Perhaps it was the deep timbre of his voice, or the rumble from his chest as he spoke that captured Sophie’s attention. Gradually her cries lessened and she hiccupped, lifting her head to focus on him with huge, unblinking brown eyes. For several seconds she regarded him solemnly, tears still glistening on her long lashes. And then, to Cesario’s amazement, her little rosebud mouth curved into a smile.
    Dio mio! He caught his breath. She was so beautiful. He felt a curious