The Gold Collection: Taming The Argentinian: A Taste of the Untamed / The Untamed Argentinian / Taming the Last Acosta. Susan Stephens

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      ‘Still mining for choice pieces of information to add to our forward promotion for your wines—if Elias places an order,’ she said coolly.

      They fell silent after that sally, each rebalancing their opinion of the other, she thought.

      Cocooned in darkness, she was given a chance to think back to the first time she’d seen Nacho. She’d found him frighteningly attractive, and in particular had seen something incredible about his eyes. He had such a keen stare it had seemed to suck information from her brain, while Nacho’s own thoughts remained guarded. She remembered he rode with a bandana to keep his unruly hair from his eyes. When she had first seen him dressed for polo, with that bandana instead of a helmet, she had thought he looked exactly like the king of the brigands as he led his team out. He was clearly the boss and everyone accepted his leadership.

      Maybe it was that edge of danger about Nacho, that sense of him having seen things and done things that might shock her if she knew about them, that perversely made him all the more attractive. An inconvenience she would have to get over if she wanted to appear businesslike tonight.

      ‘Grace?’

      ‘Sorry.’ She rejigged her thoughts. ‘I was just thinking—I mean, I was just trying to imagine your wine facility.’

      ‘I’ll describe it to you.’

      ‘That would be great,’ she said, surprised to find him so amenable. ‘Is the river close by?’

      ‘Why do you ask?’

      His voice had changed completely. She could have kicked herself. Of course she knew about the tragedy—everyone did—but there was something in Nacho’s voice she hadn’t heard before. Something that suggested that although his parents might have drowned in a flood there years ago the tragedy still affected him. What really surprised her was that Nacho had always appeared to be the ultimate in grounded men, but there was a strand of defensive anger in his voice, along with what could only be described as guilt and raw grief.

      ‘So, I gather you like it here?’ he said, changing the subject.

      She guessed that was a welcome relief for him, and needed no encouragement to enthuse about her experience so far.

      ‘Like it here? I love it,’ she said impulsively. ‘What was it like growing up on the pampas, Nacho?’

      She had said something wrong again, Grace realised when the silence thickened.

      ‘It was all sorts of hectic chaos,’ he said at last.

      ‘Go on,’ she prompted, eager to keep the faltering conversation going.

      ‘There was no privacy,’ he said, revealing the other side to Lucia’s coin.

      It probably hadn’t ever occurred to Lucia that her brothers had been fighting to express their individuality too.

      ‘Not nearly as much freedom as you might expect,’ Nacho went on. ‘And nowhere to go. When you’re young all you want is the city and the nightlife, and what you get here is miles of wilderness, mountains and the stars.’

      ‘And because you were the oldest you always had to look after your brothers and sister?’ Grace guessed. Grasping the nettle, she dived back into the past, where she suspected Nacho’s ghosts lay. ‘Lucia said that after your parents were killed you worked very hard at looking after them.’

      ‘I did my best,’ he said, clearly not willing to be drawn on this point.

      ‘That must have been hard for you,’ she probed.

      ‘Not really,’ he said, shifting restlessly in his seat. ‘Lucia had the worst of it,’ he said after a few moments. ‘Growing up must have been hell for her, with four brothers looking over her shoulders.’

      ‘God help her if she got a boyfriend, I suppose?’ Grace suggested with a grin.

      This time she could imagine Nacho’s ironic expression as he murmured, ‘So she told you?’

      As the tension eased a little she decided she would have to be patient. They’d get around to talking about Nacho eventually—she’d make sure of it. ‘What about your brothers?’

      ‘Ruiz was the perfect student,’ Nacho explained with a shrug in his voice. ‘He was also the perfect son and the perfect brother. In fact Ruiz never put a foot wrong. He always knew how to get on with everyone and how to get his own way. Diego was the dark side of that coin—dangerous, some said, though I always thought that was overstated. Diego was just deep.’

      ‘And what about the youngest? Kruz?’ she pressed.

      She heard Nacho scratch his cheek, the stubble resistant against his fingernail. ‘Kruz was a handful …’ He sighed. ‘Kruz was always in trouble.’

      ‘And you?’ she slipped in, sensing that talking about Kruz was opening up a whole can of worms. Nacho would probably prefer talking about himself—as difficult as she knew he found that.

      ‘Me?’ he said. ‘I spent most of my time getting Kruz out of trouble.’

      ‘That’s not what I meant and you know it,’ she chided, realising he’d eluded her again.

      ‘I know what you meant,’ Nacho assured her. ‘And all I’m prepared to say on that subject is that what you see is what you get with me, Grace.’

      Right up to that moment she’d had no reason to disbelieve a word Nacho said, but now she did.

      ‘The gates,’ Nacho explained as the Jeep dropped a gear and began to slow. He brought it to a halt.

      ‘They must be big gates,’ Grace observed, noting the length of time it took for them to open.

      Nacho confirmed this, and then the Jeep growled and they drove on.

      ‘We’re approaching the old buildings down a long, tree-lined drive,’ he explained.

      ‘It’s brilliantly lit,’ she said. ‘One of the things I can still detect is a big change in light.’ She felt she had to explain this as she sensed his surprise that she should know anything about the light levels. ‘I’m really lucky in that I can still detect light. It has helped me to work out which way round I’m facing on many occasions. When you can’t see anything much, you’re happy to take what you can get.’ She laughed, but Nacho was silent.

      They drove in silence. She could imagine Nacho steering with just his thumb on the wheel at this low speed, perhaps sparing her a glance from time to time. She sensed he was totally relaxed and yet thoroughly observant—as he was on horseback, and as he had been at the wedding where they had kissed. Even when he was still she thought he gave off about the same level of threat as a sleeping tiger.

      ‘The building is old—mellow stone,’ he explained, breaking the silence as he brought the Jeep to a halt again. ‘It’s beautifully preserved. Right now the moonlight is making the stone glow a silvery-blue.’

      ‘And the sun will turn it rose-pink in late afternoon,’ she guessed. ‘There’s more light now,’ she said with interest, sitting up. ‘A СКАЧАТЬ