The Gold Collection: Taming The Argentinian: A Taste of the Untamed / The Untamed Argentinian / Taming the Last Acosta. Susan Stephens
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his grip. Habit of a lifetime, he reflected.
‘That’s better,’ she said. ‘Now we can both relax and enjoy the party. So long as you describe it to me …’
He was keen to do that. He didn’t want her to miss out on anything. ‘We’re in a big all-purpose barn, constructed from old, mellow wood, I guess it’s a sort of rich golden-brown—’
‘High ceiling?’
‘Very high,’ he confirmed. ‘With a pitched roof. The air is—’
‘Warm, noisy, boisterous, and scented with old wine and anticipation,’ she said, her face illuminated with the eagerness of a child as she raised her chin. ‘Go on—’
‘I was about to say the air smells of dry hay and it’s full of dust motes.’
‘Romantic.’
‘Do you want me to describe it to you or not?’
‘You dare stop. It gives me a lovely warm feeling inside when you describe things. I just think you could use a few more adjectives.’
‘Take it or leave it, Grace.’
‘I’ll take it, thank you,’ she said, grinning up at him.
He smiled too, and dragged her a little closer. There was something so innately good in Grace it made him want to know more about her, and at the same time made him wonder if he would spoil his time with her as he had spoiled so many other things. Would the past haunt him until he had?
‘Come on,’ she prompted, ‘I’m waiting …’
He reordered his mind. ‘Most people are dressed in traditional clothes,’ he explained, determined that Grace wouldn’t miss out on anything. ‘The older women are dressed in black, and some of the older men have big hats on—’
‘And belts with coins dangling from them?’ she said.
‘How did you know that?’
‘Because they’re gauchos,’ she said, as Lucia might. ‘This isn’t just a celebration for the people who work at the vineyard, is it? It’s for everyone who works for you.’
‘And anywhere the Acostas are you’ll find a horse,’ he confirmed.
She laughed. ‘I was about to say that.’
They were guessing each other’s sentences now.
‘Are we anywhere near the grape-treading yet, Nacho?’
‘I’m just getting you out of the way of it so that you don’t get trampled in the rush.’
‘I don’t understand,’ she said, sounding concerned.
‘Don’t worry. When the grape-treading starts we’ll have front row seats.’
‘Do you mean we won’t be taking part? No,’ she said emphatically. ‘I have to do it. How can I possibly report on the grape-treading if I don’t?’
‘It will be too rough for you, Grace.’
‘Nothing’s too rough for me,’ she insisted. ‘And I don’t know how you can even say that when you’re here.’
‘You’ll be able to hear everything that’s going on. I promise you.’
‘That sounds like fun,’ she said in a flat tone.
‘What do you want me to do?’ he said. ‘Risk you getting trampled?’
‘No,’ she said. ‘Why don’t you take me back and lock me away in the cottage, where I’ll be safe.’
‘Grace—you can’t.’
‘Why can’t I?’ There was a pause, and then she said in a soft, angry voice, ‘Don’t you dare …’
He could come up with a whole raft of reasons why a blind woman couldn’t take part in the grape-treading, including the fact that Grace could slip and fall, or could be jostled and hurt herself. But she was right. He was the coward, fearing something might happen to her and allowing the past to throw up obstacles—like the fear that he couldn’t keep those he cared about safe. Grace was strong. She could do anything she set her mind to. He shouldn’t even think of stopping her when he would be there in the vat to protect her.
‘Of course you can do it,’ he agreed.
‘No surrender?’ she said fiercely.
‘No surrender,’ he agreed wryly.
‘Like a sheep?’ she said. ‘So long as that’s the worst I have to do.’ She laughed as he led her forward.
He had to ask himself if he had ever felt such pleasure in a woman’s company before. With most women everything was simply a prelude to bed, but with Grace there was so much more to learn—just being with her felt like a privilege, a gift.
‘What’s that sound?’ she said, shrinking back in alarm.
‘That’s the sound of the grapes being tipped into the vat,’ he explained. It went on and on, but he could see that now she knew what was invading her darkness Grace wasn’t frightened any more. She laughed when he told her she would be up to her thighs in grapes inside the vat.
‘Which means they’ll probably be round your ankles,’ she commented.
He asked himself again: was taking Grace into the vat sensible? He had noticed several of the local youths eyeing her up, and once they were inside the vat there would be no quarter given and no attention paid to status or rank. He was the acknowledged leader of the pack, but tonight there would be challenges to his supremacy. He had seen it in the eyes of the other men when they looked at Grace—not because she was blind, but because she was beautiful, and because she was with him. Combat was in their blood as much as it was in his. Claiming Grace wasn’t so much a rational decision as a primitive compulsion. Those youths would stay away from her if they knew what was good for them.
A young woman showed Grace how to tuck up her skirt. She sounded friendly and kind, and Grace thanked her for her help. She was getting better at that, Grace realised. She wasn’t always pushing people away now, as she had done initially, when she had first lost her sight. She’d also eased up a lot since she’d been in Argentina. Being with Nacho had done that. He was so no-nonsense he had unlocked something inside her. It was something that said everyone needed help sometimes and that it had nothing to do with pity. Nice people liked to help their fellow man, whatever their physical status might be. It had nothing to do with being blind.
‘Do I look okay?’ she asked, smoothing her hands over her naked thighs, feeling a bit self-conscious now.
‘You look great,’ he said.
The hint of a smile in his voice made her feel womanly and sexy for the first time in ages.
‘Stay close to me, Grace.’
As if she had any option—as if she wanted one, Grace thought as Nacho put his arm around her shoulders and drew her close. He made her feel so safe.
‘I’m going to lift you into the vat,’ he said, making her heart race even faster. ‘Wait there for me—I’ll get in first.’
She listened intently when Nacho left her side and heard him vault over the side of the vat. There was a wet, squelching sound when he landed.
‘Reach out—let me guide your hands,’ he said.
Before she knew it she was over the side and knee-deep in grapes.
‘How does that feel, Grace?’
‘Wet!’ she said.
Nacho laughed. ‘Hold on to me so you don’t fall.’
Well, that was no problem.
And then the band started to play,