The Gold Collection: Taming The Argentinian. Susan Stephens
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journey to Argentina was so much easier than Grace had imagined. A chauffeur-driven car picked her up at home, and her transit through the airport was seamless. Maybe that was something all private plane passengers experienced but, blind or not, she thought it was quite something to be escorted and fussed over.
The moment she stepped out of the plane she noticed how warm it was, and how good it felt to have the sun on her face instead of the prickly chill of a damp English winter. The smell of jet fuel still caught in her throat, but there was spice in the air too, and the foreign language sounded musical and intriguing.
There were interpreters on hand to lead Grace to yet another chauffeur-driven car, and the driver was chatty, spoke perfect English, and took a very obvious pride in his country—which led to an illuminating travelogue for Grace. Apparently there were billboards of the Acosta brothers all the way down the main road, and as they travelled across the flat expanses of the pampas he told her about the jagged mountains there, with eagles soaring on the updrafts around their snowy peaks.
The driver showed no surprise that Grace was blind. Nacho’s PA had made all the arrangements with Elias, he explained, when Grace made a casual comment. It was just the great man himself who didn’t realise he had a beautiful woman coming to taste his wine, as Nacho had been away on a business trip, the driver joked.
Ha-ha, Grace thought weakly, but the driver went on to tell her about the broad river that flowed like a sinuous silver snake through emerald-green farmland until it passed the hacienda, where it roared down to a treacherous weir. Even if she could have seen everything the driver was describing to her, Grace began to think that she might have rested back after the long journey anyway, and allowed him to colour in the scenes outside the window for her.
It was a long drive to the vineyard, and she fell asleep after a while. When she woke she felt rested in mind and body, knowing the first hurdle—travel—was behind her. This was the first time she’d been abroad since losing her sight and she’d travelled halfway across the world! That should give her some confidence.
Remembering Elias’s enthusiastic description of the vineyards, Grace realized she was looking forward to discovering them for herself. She might not be able to see all those wonderful sights, but she would hear the river the driver had told her about, and she would smell those lush emerald-green farmlands. She smiled, convinced that in spite of all the Nacho-sized problems ahead of her she was going to like it here.
His schedule had been ridiculous recently—one business trip on top of another—but when he visited this particular stretch of the river he began to relax.
It was like visiting a grave and speaking to his long-dead parents, Nacho reflected darkly.
When he had first returned to the vineyards every inch of the estate had taunted him with one painfully familiar scene after another, but he had continued to ride the paths until he had conquered the demons and made some sort of peace—enough, at least, to revive the vineyards. Perhaps he gained a sense of perspective in the shadow of the Andes, and all the small irritations in his life could be swept away in the broad silver river as it flowed to the sea.
Murmuring reassurances to his newly broken horse, he slapped the proud, arched neck with approval. When his stallion stilled to listen to his voice he wondered, not for the first time, if he didn’t prefer animals to people. As the stallion struck the ground aggressively he was reminded they were both experiencing great change. The horse had lost his freedom, while Nacho had gained his after years of caring for his siblings. But the shallow life of a playboy had not been for him, and his freedom had soon proved disappointing. So Nacho had returned to Argentina full of renewed determination to turn the failing vineyards into a valuable asset for his family.
‘We both need something to distract us,’ he murmured as the stallion’s muscles balled beneath him.
Keen to inspect the vines, he urged the horse forward. Under his rule order had been restored and another considerable asset added to the Acosta family fortune.
The sun on his back after the chill of London was an almost sensual pleasure, and he couldn’t have been in a better mood. Until he saw the dog. Unleashed and unattended, a big yellow mutt was relieving himself on his vines. And then a flash of movement drew his attention to the riverbank. Filled with fury at this unauthorised intrusion, he kicked the horse into a gallop, closing the distance at brutal speed.
‘This is private land!’ he roared, drawing the stallion to a skidding halt.
Grace hugged herself in terror. That voice, the raging hooves—this was everything she had been dreading and more.
And everything she had hoped for, Grace’s inner voice insisted.
Had dreaded, Grace argued firmly. She had planned to have a businesslike first meeting with Nacho, in the calm surroundings of his office—not the furious drum of steel-shod hooves crashing to a halt only inches away. His horse’s hot breath was on her face, and she could feel Nacho glaring down at her. Being this close to him slammed into her senses and memories flooded back, colouring in the void behind her eyes. Nacho was bigger, stronger, darker—more intimidating than any man she had ever known before.
So had she wilfully courted danger? Hadn’t Nacho’s housekeeper warned her that the master might be back home soon? Hadn’t she mentioned that he always liked to ride along the riverbank when he came home?
Nacho wheeled his snorting stallion to a halt within a few inches of the girl’s back. She didn’t flinch, as he had expected. She didn’t move at all. She kept her back to him and ignored him. Her dog showed more sense, sinking to its belly and baring its teeth.
‘This is a private land,’ he repeated harshly, ‘And you are trespassing.’
‘I heard you, Nacho.’
Dios! Dear God! No!
As 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