The Gold Collection: Taming The Argentinian: A Taste of the Untamed / The Untamed Argentinian / Taming the Last Acosta. Susan Stephens
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you always had to look after your brothers and sister?’ Grace guessed. Grasping the nettle, she dived back into the past, where she suspected Nacho’s ghosts lay. ‘Lucia said that after your parents were killed you worked very hard at looking after them.’
‘I did my best,’ he said, clearly not willing to be drawn on this point.
‘That must have been hard for you,’ she probed.
‘Not really,’ he said, shifting restlessly in his seat. ‘Lucia had the worst of it,’ he said after a few moments. ‘Growing up must have been hell for her, with four brothers looking over her shoulders.’
‘God help her if she got a boyfriend, I suppose?’ Grace suggested with a grin.
This time she could imagine Nacho’s ironic expression as he murmured, ‘So she told you?’
As the tension eased a little she decided she would have to be patient. They’d get around to talking about Nacho eventually—she’d make sure of it. ‘What about your brothers?’
‘Ruiz was the perfect student,’ Nacho explained with a shrug in his voice. ‘He was also the perfect son and the perfect brother. In fact Ruiz never put a foot wrong. He always knew how to get on with everyone and how to get his own way. Diego was the dark side of that coin—dangerous, some said, though I always thought that was overstated. Diego was just deep.’
‘And what about the youngest? Kruz?’ she pressed.
She heard Nacho scratch his cheek, the stubble resistant against his fingernail. ‘Kruz was a handful …’ He sighed. ‘Kruz was always in trouble.’
‘And you?’ she slipped in, sensing that talking about Kruz was opening up a whole can of worms. Nacho would probably prefer talking about himself—as difficult as she knew he found that.
‘Me?’ he said. ‘I spent most of my time getting Kruz out of trouble.’
‘That’s not what I meant and you know it,’ she chided, realising he’d eluded her again.
‘I know what you meant,’ Nacho assured her. ‘And all I’m prepared to say on that subject is that what you see is what you get with me, Grace.’
Right up to that moment she’d had no reason to disbelieve a word Nacho said, but now she did.
‘The gates,’ Nacho explained as the Jeep dropped a gear and began to slow. He brought it to a halt.
‘They must be big gates,’ Grace observed, noting the length of time it took for them to open.
Nacho confirmed this, and then the Jeep growled and they drove on.
‘We’re approaching the old buildings down a long, tree-lined drive,’ he explained.
‘It’s brilliantly lit,’ she said. ‘One of the things I can still detect is a big change in light.’ She felt she had to explain this as she sensed his surprise that she should know anything about the light levels. ‘I’m really lucky in that I can still detect light. It has helped me to work out which way round I’m facing on many occasions. When you can’t see anything much, you’re happy to take what you can get.’ She laughed, but Nacho was silent.
They drove in silence. She could imagine Nacho steering with just his thumb on the wheel at this low speed, perhaps sparing her a glance from time to time. She sensed he was totally relaxed and yet thoroughly observant—as he was on horseback, and as he had been at the wedding where they had kissed. Even when he was still she thought he gave off about the same level of threat as a sleeping tiger.
‘The building is old—mellow stone,’ he explained, breaking the silence as he brought the Jeep to a halt again. ‘It’s beautifully preserved. Right now the moonlight is making the stone glow a silvery-blue.’
‘And the sun will turn it rose-pink in late afternoon,’ she guessed. ‘There’s more light now,’ she said with interest, sitting up. ‘A different light.’
‘Wrought-iron lanterns hanging either side of the main doors,’ Nacho explained. ‘They give off quite a strong glow. It makes the mullioned windows on either side of the door glitter. How am I doing, Grace?’ he said with a hint of amusement as he applied the brake.
‘Not bad,’ she said with a small smile. ‘And how about the front door? No, don’t tell me. It’s huge and arched … stout oak with iron studs?’
‘Argentine sandalwood,’ he explained. ‘But otherwise that’s not a bad description, Grace. Welcome to Viña Acosta.’
Where my trial by wine begins, she thought, releasing her safety belt.
She climbed down carefully when Nacho opened the door, guessing his hand was there to help her if she needed it. She avoided it in the interests of independence, but she did feel it brush her back, where it lit a series of little fires she couldn’t ignore.
Nacho let Buddy out of the back of the Jeep and when the guide dog came to her side she attached the leash to Buddy’s harness. ‘We’re all set,’ she confirmed.
Nacho led her into a pleasantly warm entrance hall with a stone floor. It wasn’t large. She could tell that by the way their voices bounced off the walls and were very quickly muffled. The smell was distinctive and familiar. It reminded her of the tasting room at the warehouse, but here she guessed the woodwork would be impregnated with centuries worth of fruit and must and skins and juice.
‘This is the tasting room,’ Nacho explained as he opened another door. ‘There aren’t any steps.’
Grace had already guessed as much from the way Buddy was leading her, but she thanked Nacho for the warning.
‘If you’d like to sit down, Grace?’
Recognising this request, Buddy led her across an uneven stone floor to a wooden bench. He stopped when Grace felt it nudge her legs. She reached forward to feel for the table she knew must be there and, gauging the space in between bench and table, she slid into the seat. While she was unhitching Buddy’s harness she heard a rug hit the floor.
‘He might as well be comfortable while we do this,’ Nacho explained.
She smiled, remembering Lucia telling her that where animals were concerned nothing was too much trouble for her brothers. But if you were human …? Basically, forget it.
Now she could hear glasses chinking, and bottles being moved around. ‘Are we alone?’
‘Absolutely,’ Nacho confirmed as he put bottles on the table. ‘I had some of these wines opened earlier.’
‘Good idea,’ she said, and knew that just when she should be at her most professional she was feeling disorientated again. This was a familiar feeling in new surroundings, and one she would have to conquer, but there wasn’t time tonight. At least she was sitting down. It wouldn’t be the first time she had tripped over something. Even with Buddy’s help, she sometimes forgot her restrictions and went flying.
But that wasn’t going to happen tonight, Grace reassured herself firmly.
‘Buddy?’
Hearing the big dog shift position, she was pleased to note he wasn’t too far away. Buddy knew he was still on duty, but he hadn’t heard the imperative note in her voice that called him to action. She mapped the table in front of her, feeling for glasses and bottles and other hazards. She always put down mental markers so she could understand her surroundings better. She listened intently as Nacho poured. Even the sound wine made as it glugged from the bottle told a story.
As the sound of her rapid breathing compared to Nacho’s steady inhalations told another, Grace realised, consciously steadying herself.
‘Right. Are we ready?’ he said. ‘I’ve labelled the bottles and glasses on the bottom, so that I can’t see them when you swap them round.’
‘An even playing field,’ she agreed.
She