The Gold Collection: Taming The Argentinian. Susan Stephens

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СКАЧАТЬ she was. She was frightened of the way Nacho made her feel … his touch on her body, his breath on her skin; the way she felt so safe, cocooned in the warmth of his arms. She could so easily get used to this—and that would only end in heartbreak.

      At Lucia’s wedding, when Nacho had singled her out, her head had started spinning with wild, romantic nonsense. In the cool light of day she had realised it was pure nonsense without any of the romance. And now Nacho was only being kind to his sister’s blind friend. She shouldn’t read anything more into this riding lesson.

      ‘You’re doing really well,’ he said, loosening his grip. ‘You’re on your own now, Grace.’

      ‘What?’ she exclaimed, a bolt of terror running through her. ‘I’m not ready to go it alone.’

      Nacho said nothing; he just let her go, which was really scary in her darkness. She just had to trust he wouldn’t let her fall.

      It was completely unnerving at first, but she was so determined to do it that gradually she found her balance, and once she’d done that she started enjoying herself. Turning her face to the sun, she sighed with pleasure.

      ‘Buddy’s come to join us,’ Nacho remarked. ‘Shall we give him a run?’

      ‘Oh, please,’ she agreed, sitting up straight again. ‘Let’s go faster.’

      The speed, the wind in her hair, cantering across the countryside with Nacho—all of it was exhilarating. And also a pointed reminder that she was a novice where so much in life was concerned, while Nacho was notoriously the master of all things with risk attached. She was sexually inexperienced. He was not. Yes, she’d had a few attempts at relationships, but had never seen what all the fuss was about. And there had been piano practice in her young life, followed by hard work when she was older, leaving barely any time to spare for thoughts of romance.

      But she could think about romance now. With the stallion’s hooves pounding beneath her it was impossible to think of anything but romance. She could be galloping across the desert with a sheikh, or riding into the sunset with a cowboy. Or, better still, Grace concluded, smiling to herself, she could be riding across the pampas with Nacho.

      He had nudged the horse into an easy canter, knowing the swaying rhythm would be easier for Grace to handle than a high-stepping trot. And it was. But with Grace pressed up against him and all that power harnessed beneath them there was fever in his blood.

      ‘Work your hips back and forth,’ he said, trying to concentrate on teaching Grace to ride. ‘You need to loosen up, Grace.’

      She took him at his word and leaned her head against his chest in a gesture that was both intimate and trusting, surprising him again.

      ‘Is Buddy okay?’ she said, sitting up just as he was getting used to having her resting against him.

      ‘He’s fine.’ Reining in, he slowed the stallion to a walking pace. ‘Did Alejandro mention the grape-treading to you tonight?’

      ‘He did say something about a party,’ she admitted. ‘He also said he hoped I’d be there. But I suppose I’d need an invitation for that …’

      He laughed. ‘Stop fishing, Grace. You know you’ve got one.’

      ‘I know why,’ she said. ‘You’re hoping I might use the event in our forward publicity if Elias decides to go ahead and place an order.’ She laughed. ‘But if you think my attendance tonight guarantees that order, think again. I’ve got a lot more to see.’

      ‘Are you playing hardball with me, Señorita Lundström? Because if you are I shall have to frighten you into submission. Are you ready for more speed?’

      ‘Try me,’ she said. ‘You don’t frighten me, Señor Acosta.’

      As she spoke she turned, and as she turned his gaze slipped to her lips. ‘At least allow me to try,’ he murmured.

      He had to admire Grace when the stallion bounded forward and she started whooping with excitement. ‘Does nothing frighten you?’ he called against the wind blowing in their faces.

      ‘Only the darkness,’ she yelled back, making him rage inwardly against the cruel fate that had left her blind.

      He reined in at the guest cottage, where he told Grace to wait while he dismounted so he could help her down. But, as he might have known, she didn’t wait and somehow managed to slip to the ground without his help, only staggering slightly as she regained her balance.

      ‘Thank you,’ she said formally, holding out her hand for him to shake. ‘That was wonderful, Nacho. And now I’ve taken up enough of your time.’

      She was dismissing him. ‘Alejandro has hung Buddy’s harness on the fence,’ he said. ‘It’s over there to your right—’

      ‘No use pointing, Nacho.’

      ‘Grace, I—’

      ‘I know. You’re sorry.’

      ‘Hanging from the main post,’ he explained patiently.

      ‘What time will you call for me tonight?’ she said, finding the harness.

      ‘Same time as last night.’

      ‘Fine by me,’ she said. ‘Thanks again for the riding lesson.’

      ‘There’s just one thing.’

      ‘Which is?’

      ‘Buddy can’t come tonight.’

      ‘That’s okay,’ she said with a shrug. ‘I was expecting it.’

      ‘Until tonight, Grace …’ He vaulted into the saddle.

      ‘Until tonight,’ she said, turning for the door.

      Being without Buddy for one night wouldn’t be a problem, Grace reflected as she let herself into the house. Even back home there were some places he couldn’t go. She kept the hated stick for those occasions. It was collapsible, and fitted in a suitcase, which was about the best that could be said for it …

      Nacho hadn’t gone yet. She could hear his horse snorting and stamping. Nacho must be watching her. It made her nervous.

      As she took the key out of the lock she stepped back and almost tripped over Buddy. She swore like a trooper and then heard Nacho laugh. ‘All right for you,’ she called out.

      ‘Dios, Grace,’ he shot back, ‘I thought you were so well behaved, but now I realise it must have been you who led my sister astray.’

      She laughed. ‘Sussed. Decorum was never my strong point. Talking of which—what do I wear tonight?’

      Nothing would be his preference. ‘I’ll speak to someone,’ he said, ‘and I’ll have some suitable clothes delivered to the cottage for you to wear.’

      ‘Really?’ she called excitedly. ‘Great.’

      The thought of Grace in traditional clothes suitable for the grape-treading gave him quite a buzz as he rode СКАЧАТЬ