A Taste of the Untamed. Susan Stephens
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the girl turned around, shocked curses without number or form flooded his head. When he saw who it was … when he saw her unfocused eyes … he knew her.
Of course he knew her. But not like this.
‘Grace?’ he demanded.
‘Of course it’s Grace,’ she said—with false bravado, he suspected, noticing how she quivered with apprehension like a doe at bay. ‘Didn’t Elias e-mail ahead to warn you I was coming?’
‘My PA said something about his replacement.’ His brain was racing to find the right words to say. There were none, he concluded. He was angry at this obvious deception by Elias, but he was shattered at seeing Grace like this.
‘And you can’t believe I’m that replacement?’ she said. ‘Is that it?’
‘How can you be,’ he demanded, ‘when Elias is the best in his field?’
She fell silent and he took a better look at her. It felt strange to be staring at someone who couldn’t see—as if he were taking advantage of her, almost. But apart from the vague, unfocused eyes Grace hadn’t changed that much at all.
He didn’t need this sort of distraction in his life. He had marked Grace out as interesting at Lucia’s wedding, only to find her disappointingly immature and naïve.
‘I’m sorry to disappoint you,’ she said, crashing into his thoughts. ‘I felt sure that Elias would have mentioned that I work for him when you came to see him in London.’
‘The subject never came up,’ he said brusquely. ‘Why would it?’
‘Well, please don’t be angry with Elias. He trained me well, and he has every reason to trust my judgement.’
‘And you expect me to?’ Nacho cut in with scorn.
His horse had started stamping its hooves on the ground, as if the big beast had had enough of her too. She could smell it and feel its hot breath. She could hear the creak of leather and the chink of its bridle as it danced impatiently within inches of her toes.
‘I can’t believe Elias would send a young girl in his place when I was expecting a master vintner,’ Nacho said from somewhere way above her.
‘And you’re wondering what I can possibly know about fine wine?’ she said, determined to keep her voice steady.
‘I’m wondering what you’re doing here at all. Did you learn about wine at the club?’ he suggested scornfully.
The wine they had served there, by Elias’s own admission, had been his cheapest brand, Grace remembered.
‘There’s definitely been some mistake,’ Nacho insisted.
‘There’s no mistake,’ Grace insisted, growing angry. ‘I can assure you I’ve been very well trained.’
Nacho laughed. ‘So has my horse.’
She looked as if she’d like to unseat him, her jaw fixed and her hands balled into fists. She was angry. So what? But what should have been a simple solution—send Grace home on the next flight—was immeasurably changed by the fact that she was blind. And she was his sister’s best friend. How could he rage against a girl scrabbling around on the ground searching for her dog’s harness?
‘It’s over there—to your left,’ he said impatiently.
Dios! What had he said now? Grace couldn’t see anything to her left or her right.
‘Thank you, but Buddy will find it for me,’ she snapped, still angry with him.
Sure enough, the big dog put the harness in her hand.
The last time Nacho had seen Grace had been at Lucia’s wedding, where he’d felt a connection between them he couldn’t explain. Wanting to pursue it, he’d found her as nervous as a fawn. Perhaps she had sensed something of the darkness about him? he’d thought at the time. She had certainly changed since then—because she’d had to, he realised. There was a resolve about Grace now that piqued his interest all over again.
‘I realise that my coming here must be a shock for you, Nacho,’ she said. She deftly fastened the harness while the big dog stood obediently still.
‘Somewhat,’ he conceded, with massive understatement. ‘What happened to you, Grace?’
‘A virus,’ she said with a shrug.
However casually she might treat it, he felt angry for her. ‘How long do you plan to stay?’ Before she had a chance to answer he gave his own reading of the situation. ‘I expect you’ll take a few notes, have a look around, and then report back to Elias. Shouldn’t take long—say, a day?’
‘A day?’ she exclaimed. ‘I’ll need to do more than take a few notes!’
In spite of his outrage at the trick Elias had played on him, his overriding feeling was of dismay when Grace turned her head and her lovely eyes homed in on the approximate direction of his voice.
‘I’ve brought a Braille keyboard and a screen with me,’ she explained matter-of-factly. ‘I expect to be here for around a month.’
‘A month?’ he exploded.
‘Possibly a couple of days more,’ she said, thinking about it. ‘Please don’t be concerned,’ she said briskly. ‘I am a trained sommelier, with a diploma in viticulture—’
‘And how much experience?’ he demanded sharply. What the hell was Elias playing at? He would just have to send someone else to evaluate his wine.
Sensing his growing anger, the stallion skittered nervously beneath him. Grace had started walking up the path ahead of him, with her dog at her heels.
‘Aren’t you going to put your sandals on?’ he called after her
‘I’m not a child, Nacho.’ Without turning she dangled her sandals from one finger and waggled them at him in defiance.
She couldn’t let Nacho see that she was as tense as a board, and that she couldn’t stand his scrutiny a moment longer. She just had to get back to the guest cottage where she was staying and regroup. She hadn’t anticipated feeling that same stab of excitement when was she near him, but nothing had changed. Nacho couldn’t have made it plainer that she was not only the last person he wanted to see but an unwelcome intruder on his land—and a fraud. At the wedding she had allowed her head to fill with immature fairytale notions and had had her bluff well and truly called when he had sought her out. But she was here now, and she was staying until she got this job done.
They walked on in silence. She felt as if Nacho were tracking her like a hunter with his prey. She could feel his gaze boring into her back, flooding every part of her with awareness and arousal. It made her recall his touch on her arm at the wedding and the brush of his lips on her mouth. She remembered the terrifying way her body had responded—violently, longingly. Common sense had kicked in just in time, reminding her that she was inexperienced and Nacho Acosta was not, and that any more kisses would only lead to heartbreak in the end. As far as Grace was concerned, love and lovemaking were inextricably entwined, while Nacho, according to the popular press, was a notorious playboy who drank his fill at every trough around the world.
But he was right about one thing. If only she could see.
The path was stony. She stopped to put her sandals on.
‘Please don’t,’ she said, hearing Nacho move as if he might dismount to help her. ‘Buddy will stop me falling,’ she insisted—which should have been true. But for the first time in ages she was stumbling around like a blind woman. She hadn’t felt so unsure of herself since the shadows had closed in, Grace realised, beginning to panic. She even missed when she went to grasp Buddy’s harness.
‘Here—let me,’ Nacho said brusquely.
It was too late to say no. He had already sprung