Behind the Castello Doors. Chantelle Shaw

room was empty, so that she could appreciate its architecture and soak up its history. She possessed a vivid imagination and pictured knights in armour and an age of chivalry that had long since passed. But the room was full of people, and as she moved forward she was conscious of heads turning and curious glances cast in her direction from many of the party guests.

      The buzz of chatter faded as people stepped back to allow her to continue. The music had stopped. Ahead of her a figure strode onto a raised platform at the far end of the room. It seemed that he intended to address the guests, but he halted when he caught sight of Beth and even from a distance she could sense his surprise.

      How long was this room? Beth wondered frantically. The black-and-white chequered marble floor seemed to go on for ever, and she wondered if she would ever reach the end of it. The silence and the stares made her feel agonisingly self-conscious. Her heart was thudding beneath her ribs but she could not turn back now. Something about the arrogant stance and the air of authority of the man on the dais made her certain that he was the man Mel had asked her to find.

      Santa Madre! Cesario stared in disbelief at the woman walking towards him. At least he assumed it was a woman. It was difficult to tell the identity of the figure beneath the huge grey coat with its hood that half concealed the wearer’s face. But this could only be the visitor whom Teodoro had explained had arrived at the castle a short while ago and demanded to see him.

      What Teodoro had failed to mention was that Beth Granger was not alone. The baby in her arms could not be more than a couple of months old, Cesario estimated. The infant was wrapped in a shawl, but a tuft of silky dark hair was visible. He inhaled sharply, struck by poignant memories of his son when he had been newborn.

      He did not know who the woman was, but he wanted her to leave, he thought grimly. Tonight he was impatient for everyone to be gone so that he could be alone with his memories.

      Teodoro burst into the ballroom, looking uncharacteristically harassed as he hurried towards the dais. ‘Signor Piras, I apologise. I was arranging transport for the signorina …’

      ‘It’s all right, Teodoro.’ Cesario held up a hand to silence the butler. ‘I will deal with our unexpected visitor.’

      The woman had faltered for a moment when Teodoro had spoken, but now she quickened her pace. Cesario jumped down from the dais and in two strides stood in front of her.

      ‘I hope you have an excellent reason for gatecrashing my party, Ms Granger,’ he said coldly. ‘You have thirty seconds to explain why you are here before I order my staff to escort you from my home.’

      Forced to an abrupt halt, Beth opened her mouth to speak. But her brain seemed to have stopped functioning and she was bereft of words. She had never appreciated the meaning of the word dumbstruck until now, she acknowledged dazedly. She had been relieved when the butler had confirmed that the man standing in front of her was indeed Cesario Piras. But she was unprepared for her reaction to him.

      He towered over her, so that she was forced to tilt her head to study his face. Her eyes were drawn to the jagged scar which slashed across his left cheek. She could not deny that it marred his otherwise perfect features, causing his eyelid to droop fractionally and zig-zagging over his smooth olive skin to the corner of his mouth. But the disfigurement did not lessen the impact of his raw sexual magnetism; rather, it gave him the look of a pirate, or a knight from ancient times.

      He was nothing like Beth had imagined a banker would be. His hair was jet-black and fell in a tousled mane almost to his shoulders. The dark stubble shading his jaw was dangerously sexy, and his razor-sharp cheekbones and aquiline nose gave him an autocratic appearance. But it was his eyes that trapped her gaze. Slate-grey, and as hard as granite, they regarded her intently from beneath heavy brows and gave Beth the unnerving feeling that he could see into her very soul.

      He was waiting for her reply. She sensed that everyone in the room was waiting, and the silence pressed on her eardrums. She licked her suddenly dry lips. ‘I’m sorry for my intrusion, but I need to speak with you, Mr Piras.’ Conscious of the curious stares of the party guests she added, ‘Alone.’

      His frown deepened, his expression so forbidding that Beth instinctively tightened her arms around Sophie.

      ‘How dare you come here uninvited and disturb my privacy?’

      He spoke in perfect English but with a strong accent. His voice was deep and husky, and caused tiny pinpricks of sensation to dart across Beth’s skin.

      In the lengthening silence Cesario studied the woman. If she had been alone he would have had no compunction in ordering his staff to remove her from the castle. Certainly if Beth Granger was a journalist he had every right to throw her out. But he could not deny he was curious about why she had brought a baby out on such a wet and wild night.

      His eyes were drawn to the child in her arms and his gut clenched. Once he had held his son and marvelled at the perfection of his tiny features. Once he had cradled Nicolo against his heart and promised to protect him. His failure to keep his promise would haunt him for the rest of his life.

      A discreet cough broke into his thoughts, dragging him back to the present. He glanced around the crowded ballroom. Three hundred of Piras-Cossu’s senior staff had been invited to the party and all of them, it seemed, were riveted by the scene unfolding in front of them.

      ‘Come with me,’ he ordered the woman abruptly. ‘Teodoro, tell the band to continue playing.’

      Beth hurried after Cesario Piras as he strode across the room and disappeared through an arched doorway. She followed him into what seemed to be a small storeroom, where bottles of wine and champagne were stored on shelves that lined the walls from floor to ceiling. The thud of the door closing made her spin round and she eyed him warily, even more conscious of his height and imposing presence in the confined space.

      He did not bother to conceal his impatience. ‘State your business, Ms Granger. Why have you come here? I hope for your sake you are not a member of the press,’ he added harshly.

      Startled, Beth quickly shook her head. No … I’m not … I …’ Her voice trailed away. She had rehearsed this moment over and over in her mind, but now that it was here for real she was beset with doubts. It did not help that Cesario Piras was so formidable. Maybe she should say nothing and take Sophie back to England, she thought, unconsciously gnawing on her bottom lip as she struggled to make a decision. But she had given her word to Mel.

      She lifted her eyes to meet his hard grey gaze and felt her heart slam against her ribcage. A medieval castle suited him perfectly, she thought ruefully. He exuded an air of power and authority, and she sensed that he was as strong and uncompromising as the granite walls of his castle.

      Perhaps he was a sorcerer who had trapped her in his spell? She could not look away from him, and in that moment something happened—something unexpected and impossible to explain. She felt a sharp pain beneath her ribs, as if an arrow had pierced her heart. Don’t be ridiculous, she silently berated herself. How could she feel a connection to a complete stranger? Especially a stranger who was staring at her with grim impatience etched onto his scarred face.

      She looked down at Sophie and took a deep breath. ‘I have come, because the child I am holding is yours, Mr Piras,’ she said quietly.

      CHAPTER TWO

      WAS this some kind of obscene joke? Cesario wondered savagely. What did this unknown woman who kept her face hidden beneath the hood of her coat mean?

      ‘Explain yourself,’ he ordered. ‘I do not have a child.’ The words scraped a raw wound inside him.

      ‘Sophie is your baby. She was conceived on this night a year ago.’

      With an impatient oath Cesario shot out an arm and wrenched Beth Granger’s hood back from her face, sending a button flying in the process.

      He did not recognise her.

      He had slept with a few women since he had been widowed, but she was not one of them. Anger seared him. He was aware