The Gold Collection: Taming The Argentinian. Susan Stephens

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      ‘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 to the ground.

      ‘Thank you, but you’ll only confuse Buddy,’ she said tensely, feeling quivers of awareness all over her body as Nacho closed in.

      ‘My apologies,’ he said in a cold voice. ‘I realise your dog can do many things, but can he catch you if you fall?’

      ‘Buddy prevents me falling,’ she pointed out. ‘And we’re fine from here. Buddy? The cottage.’

      She was walking faster and faster now, practically running from one kind of darkness to another, with no landmarks in between. She was frightened of the strange territory, and she was frightened of Nacho. She heard him mount up again and now he was right behind her, his horse almost on top of her.

      ‘We know our way,’ she insisted, fighting off the terrifying sense of being hunted in the dark. She wished he’d speak, so she could tell exactly where he was. She wished she could see his face and know exactly what he was thinking. As long as there wasn’t any pity on it. She couldn’t have borne that. She’d had enough of people treating her as if her brain was faulty along with her sight. ‘Really, we’re fine from here,’ she called out, hating the fact that her voice was shaking.

      ‘Can’t I show you some basic civility?’ he said, giving her some indication that he was keeping his horse a safe distance away. ‘While you’re here in Argentina you’re my guest.’

      While she was there? That sounded ominous, as if she wouldn’t be here very long—which was bad news for Elias. ‘Look, I must apologise,’ she said, drawing to a halt. ‘I realise we haven’t got off to the best of starts. I want you to know that I’m really looking forward to tasting your wines …’ She stood and listened. It had gone very quiet again. ‘Elias spoke so highly of them …’

      She breathed a sigh of relief as she heard Nacho’s horse move and its harness chink.

      ‘I’m sorry if my being here instead of Elias has been a disappointment for you,’ she said.

      Not half as sorry as he was.

      ‘And I realise you must be wondering—’

      ‘Wondering what, Grace?’ he interrupted. Shortening the reins, he brought the stallion under control. ‘Elias has kept me completely in the dark. I feel let down. What am I supposed to think when Elias sends a young girl with little or no experience in his place? If you’re asking me to be blunt, I can’t imagine how you can possibly do the job.’

      She flinched, and he felt wretched, but people’s livelihoods were at stake. And now she was about to fall down a bank.

      ‘Grace, watch out!’ he yelled.

      ‘I’m not going anywhere,’ she said as the dog led her safely back onto the path.

      ‘You nearly did.’

      ‘Buddy wouldn’t let me fall.’

      He admired her confidence and hoped it wasn’t misplaced. This was not the naïve young girl he remembered from Lucia’s wedding. This was a woman with steel in her spine and she intrigued him—which complicated matters.

      ‘How did you find your way to the river in the first place?’ he said, trying to imagine himself blindfolded, with only a dog to lead him.

      ‘Buddy heard the water—smelled it too, I expect. He started barking, and after the long journey I thought we both needed some fresh air.’

      ‘I can’t understand why my sister didn’t mention your illness.’

      ‘Because I asked her not to.’

      ‘Why keep it a secret?’ he said suspiciously.

      ‘Because I’m handling it,’ she said, marching on. ‘Because I don’t want to be treated any differently just because I can’t see. I don’t want to be defined by being blind. I don’t want it to influence what people think about me.’

      ‘I think you’re being overly optimistic, Grace.’

      ‘Well, maybe I am, but I don’t want smothering,’ she snapped. ‘I’m quite capable of looking after myself.’

      ‘Don’t you think it would be more considerate if you warned people in advance, so that they can make the necessary provision for you?’

      ‘What provision?’ she flashed. ‘That’s exactly what I don’t want. СКАЧАТЬ