A Taste of the Untamed

‘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. Why should I—?’

‘Compromise?’ he suggested as he battled to keep the stallion in check.

The horse was bored with inactivity, and it didn’t like the turn this conversation was taking. Animals could sense tempers rising faster than humans, and Nacho was determined that passions of any kind would not be roused between him and Grace.

Passion could kill, as he knew only too well, and he never made the same mistake twice.

CHAPTER THREE

‘SURELY compromise is all part of adapting to your new situation?’ Nacho insisted as he continued to follow Grace along the riverbank. He caught a glimpse of her face as she strode along. Her jaw was firm and the set of her face was still angry. He could almost see her thinking, What would you know about it? And the answer to that, for once in his life, was absolutely nothing.

‘Why should I compromise?’ she said, confirming those thoughts. ‘That sounds too much like defeat to me.’

‘Grace! Watch that branch—’

‘I’m okay,’ she fired back, and the big dog adjusted direction seamlessly to lead Grace safely round the fallen branch.

But she still couldn’t know she was so very close to the edge of a steep bank, or that from there it was just a short fall into the fast-flowing river. Nacho’s head reeled with sudden dread as he thought back to another time and a tragedy he should have been there to prevent.

‘I might not be able to see the river,’ Grace said, as if she could read his thoughts as well. ‘But I can hear it. And with Buddy to guide me and keep me safe—’

‘There’s absolutely no danger of you falling in?’ he demanded sarcastically as the ugly memories continued to play out in his head. ‘And if such a thing were to happen, your dog would, of course, leap in and save you.’

‘Yes, he would,’ she said, ignoring his sarcasm. ‘Buddy has more ability than you can possibly imagine.’

His imagination was all too active, unfortunately, and while Grace was staying here she was his responsibility. ‘Next time you feel like putting your life at risk, call me first.’

He ground his jaw when she laughed. It would be better if Grace left immediately.

‘I’m sorry if I shock you with my independence,’ she said. ‘Would you have preferred me to remain cowering in the guest cottage until you arrived?’

‘If you expect to do any sort of business with me you should think firstly about being more polite, and secondly about being more compliant.’

‘More compliant? What do you think I am? And if you speak like that to everyone you meet, no wonder they’re not polite to you. My job, as I understand it, is to independently judge your wine—so I would have thought that for your sake, and for the success of your business, my compliance would be the last thing you should want.’

She had an answer for everything. His practised gaze roved over Grace’s slender frame. She had changed completely in all ways but one—physically she was every bit as attractive as he remembered.

‘Elias has been very good to you,’ he observed, curious about this new Grace.

‘Yes,’ she said, relaxing for the first time. ‘He took me on when no one else would even give me a job. And he paid for my training.’

It was interesting to see her open up, though the training must have been recent, which was hardly what he hoped for in an expert. ‘I’m surprised Elias was less than frank with me. He only had to pick up the phone to explain what he intended to do.’

‘And would you have allowed me to come if he had done that?’

He had no answer to that.

‘And please don’t blame your PA,’ Grace insisted. ‘You must have been in the air when Elias e-mailed. Your housekeepers have made me very welcome, so it would seem she has done her job to perfection.’

His PA had called him, but he’d hardly been listening. One of the old-timers at the business meeting he’d been attending had been telling him that Nacho’s visit to London had reminded them all of the old days—when his father had gone tomcatting around Europe, he presumed. Nacho had wanted to defend himself, to protest that that might have been his father’s way but it wasn’t his, but he wouldn’t betray his father. The conversation had taken him back to being a boy, standing tall and proud in front of his parent, and being told that Nacho would be in charge of the family while his father was away.

It was only at school that he had learned the truth. His parents weren’t the only ones who had been good at keeping secrets. Nacho had kept secrets most of his life.

‘You won’t blame your PA for this, will you?’ Grace pressed him.

‘No, of course not,’ he said, frowning as his thoughts snapped back to the present and Grace.

She nodded her thanks as she continued to walk confidently behind the dog.

She might have been on a footpath in London rather than a remote trail in the shadow of the Andes.

How could she know the difference?

Whatever he thought of Grace arriving in Elias’s place, it was impossible not to rage against her fate.

‘The air’s so good here,’ she enthused, oblivious to his thoughts as she sucked in a deep, appreciative breath. ‘It’s like the finest wine: crisp and ripe, laced with the scent of young fruit and fresh blossom.’

His expression changed. Perfect. A romantic. Wasn’t that all he needed in a business associate? Not that Grace would be around long enough to do business with him. As soon as he could politely get rid of her he would.

But as the wind kicked up, lifting her glossy blonde hair from her shoulders, he felt exactly the same punch in the gut attraction he’d felt at the wedding.

Turning towards the mountains, he searched for distraction. The Andes were always a glorious sight—a towering reminder of the majesty of the land entrusted to him. It was a trust that even the most bitter of memories couldn’t alter. The rugged peaks sheltered his vines from the worst of the weather, while the glacier-melt flowing down the slopes of those peaks sweetened the glistening purple grapes.

And Grace could see none of it …

Meeting a beautiful young woman in the first flush of her beauty and wanting her, and then barely two years later seeing her like this, was a stinging reminder that nothing in life remained the same.

‘Your housekeeper mentioned you had business in South Africa?’ Grace said, obviously in an attempt to get the conversation going again.

‘I was there on business,’ he said curtly.

No wonder Nacho had a reputation for being the most difficult of the Acosta brothers. But Grace thought she could see a reason for it. As the oldest child, responsible for his siblings, Nacho hadn’t had much time for himself. Even on the polo field he was the leader of the pack, with all the responsibility that involved.

She tried again. ‘I hope my using your family jet didn’t leave you slumming it on a scheduled flight?’

‘I’m not that precious, Grace.’

As she laughed Grace turned her head in the direction of his voice. Another solid blow to the gut hit him when he saw that gaze, so lovely, yet so misty and unfocused, miss his face. He stamped on the feeling it gave him. Grace was his responsibility only while she was here. Once she was gone that was an end of it—and she wouldn’t thank him for his pity.

‘Are you still there?’ she called out.

‘Battling to keep up,’ he mocked, riding with the reins hanging loose. He had kicked his feet out of the stirrups some way back.

‘You’re very quiet,’ she said, marching on.

‘You’ll know when I’ve got something to say.’ He stared at her back—the upright stance, the pitch of her head, chin lifted. He couldn’t get over how confident she had become.

Because she’d had to.

‘Just let me know if I’m going too fast for you,’ she mocked.

She made it hard for him to remain angry for long. In fact she reminded him in some ways of his sister, Lucia. Lucia was always pushing the boundaries, always testing him, and he could see now why the two girls were such good friends.

‘I can see you have picked up some very bad habits from Lucia. And as you’re not my sister, and merely work for me—’

‘With you,’ she flashed.

‘As you’re not my sister,’ he repeated patiently, ‘your privileges do not extend to goading me while you’re here.’

‘So you have accepted that I am going to be here for a while?’

‘I didn’t say that.’

‘You didn’t have to.’

This time when she turned her head in his direction he saw the smile hovering round her mouth. His gaze remained on her lips for quite some time.

‘Can I ask you something, Nacho?’ she said, turning back again.

‘Of course,’ he said, feeling the loss now he had to content himself with a view of the back of her head.

‘Will you give me a list of all the places that are out of bounds so I don’t make any more mistakes? In Braille, of course,’ she added, tongue in cheek.

A muscle worked in his jaw. He wasn’t used to this sort of insubordination. Most people obeyed him gladly. ‘I’ll tell you what I’ll do,’ he said, realising that he was going to have to play Grace’s game for the short time she was here. ‘I’ll get a translator for you. Or you could learn my rules by rote, if you prefer.’

‘Are you smiling?’ she said. ‘I can’t tell.’

No. He was learning fast and had kept his voice carefully neutral.

‘If this visit is going to be a success,’ she said, bearing out his theory, ‘we’ll both have to make adjustments—won’t we, Nacho?’

‘Will we?’ he said.

The breeze was on Grace’s side. Catching hold of the hem of her flimsy summer dress, it flicked it, giving him a grandstand view of her smooth, tanned legs. Arousal fired inside him, but he instantly damped it down.

‘Do you remember when we first met in Cornwall?’ she said, pulling his attention back to her hips as she strode along. ‘You had just arrived for that polo match on the beach. You rolled down the window of that monster Jeep, and—’

‘And what, Grace?’ he pressed, seeing her cheeks had flushed bright red. A very masculine hunger filled him at the thought that she had wanted him back then.

‘I was just wondering if you remembered, that’s all,’ she said casually, closing the topic with a flick of her wrist.

He remembered.

When Grace fell silent it gave them both a chance to think back. She broke the silence first. ‘I could see you properly then.’

Very cleverly, she gave him no clue as to whether that had been good or bad. ‘You’ll be pleased to know I haven’t changed—’

‘Hard luck,’ she flashed.

How was it possible to ignore a woman like this? Or ignore the way she made him feel? No woman had made him laugh in what seemed like forever. He was glad the so-called appeal of the Acosta brothers was lost on Grace, and he would be happy if he never had to hear again in his life that he looked like his father. His gaze returned to Grace’s slender hips, swaying to a rhythm that was all her own. One thing was certain: if this banter between them was a ruse to keep his interest, she had succeeded where many had failed.

‘I was over-awed by you,’ she admitted.

‘Why?’

‘Because you were so famous and seemed so aloof. And even compared to the other polo players you were huge—and so confident.’

‘And at the wedding?’

‘You frightened me half to death,’ she admitted bluntly.

He laughed for the second time in who knew how many years. ‘So how do you feel about meeting me again, Grace?’

‘Well, at least I can’t see you this time,’ she said.

Laughter was becoming a habit he would have to break if he was to retain his title as the hard man of the Acostas. ‘And does that help?’

‘It certainly does,’ she said.

It was a good, brave answer, but he was suspicious and couldn’t resist asking, ‘So, are you here to pick up where we left off?’

‘As I recall,’ she countered, ‘when we met at the wedding I was the one to leave.’

Correct. ‘Touché, Señorita Lundström.’

A blast of white-hot lust ripped through him when she angled her head as if to cast him a flirtatious glance—though of course she could do no such thing. He liked this verbal jousting. He liked the way Grace stood up for herself. And he liked Grace. A lot.

‘Is something wrong?’ she called back to him. ‘You’ve gone very quiet …’

‘I’m enjoying the day,’ he said, thinking it wise to confine himself, as the British so often did, to talk of the weather.

‘It is beautiful,’ she agreed, stretching out her arms.

Her arms were beautiful—slender and lightly tanned. Grace was beautiful. He only wished she could see how beautiful the day was—but that was a ridiculous investment of concern on his part. As was his growing admiration for Grace. Far better he got this conversation back to business, where Grace was sure to fall short and disappoint him. Then he could send her packing, and that would be the end of a fantasy where he changed from a hard, unfeeling man into the sort of hero Grace might admire.

‘Buddy’s certainly enjoying the weather,’ she said.

‘Oh, good,’ he said without enthusiasm.

He stared at the dog. The dog stared back at him. He loved animals, and they normally gravitated towards him—but not this one. The big dog’s loyalty was firmly fixed in stone. Nacho’s attention switched back to Grace. From the back you wouldn’t know anything had changed about her. Life could be very cruel sometimes, but that didn’t change the facts. What the hell had Elias been thinking? What use was a blind sommelier?

‘So, tell me about your job, Grace,’ he said, starting to seethe as he thought about how he’d been duped by the wily old wine importer. ‘How does that work?’

‘What do you mean, how does it work?’ she said without breaking stride. ‘I might be blind, but I can still taste and smell.’

‘And what about the clarity of the wine?’ he pressed with increasing impatience. ‘What about the sediment—the colour, the viscosity?’

‘The colour I have to take on trust, when people describe it to me, but like most people I can detect sediment on my tongue. And I wouldn’t expect to be offered thin or cloudy wine by anyone who took their wine seriously.’

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