Argentinian Playboy, Unexpected Love-Child

‘Six—I’ve been jumping him for two years.’

‘He’s a fine animal. What did you say you call him?’

‘Piran. He comes from a stud in Cornwall, and his name means “dark”—rather appropriate for his colouring,’ Rachel said softly, running her fingers through Piran’s jet-black mane at the same time as Diego reached out to stroke the horse. His hand brushed against hers and she caught her breath at the brief touch of his warm skin, and then blushed furiously at the sudden gleam in his eyes that told her he had noticed her reaction to him.

His voice was so gravelly that it seemed to rumble from deep in his massive chest as he spoke again. ‘So…the horse is Piran…and his rider is…?’

‘Rachel Summers,’ she answered briskly. She was head groom at Hardwick Polo Club, and it was likely that she would be in charge of Diego’s horses at the upcoming polo match, where he would be the star guest. She wanted him to think she was a professional and experienced stable-hand, not a simpering idiot. She unfastened the strap under her chin and removed her riding hat. ‘And you are Diego Ortega,’ she said politely. ‘Everyone here at Hardwick is excited about your visit, Mr Ortega.’

Dark eyebrows winged upwards and Rachel cringed. Why hadn’t she said everyone has been looking forward to your visit or talking about your visit—instead of using the word ‘excited’? She sounded like a naïve teenager and Diego must have thought so too because he gave her an amused smile.

‘In the same way that the meaning of Piran suits your horse’s colouring, I see that your name matches the shade of your hair. It is the colour of ripened wheat in mid-summer, Miss Summers,’ he murmured, his eyes drawn to the wisps of gold curls that framed her face and the long braid that had slipped forwards over one shoulder. She was tiny—probably not more than a couple of inches over five feet tall—and when he had lifted her in his arms she had weighed next to nothing. Remarkably, she seemed relatively unscathed by her fall, although he could tell she was in pain around her ribs. But, despite her delicate appearance, she was as feisty and spirited as one of the prize colts from his stud at the Estancia Elvira, back home in Argentina.

‘You look as though you are barely out of high school,’ he drawled, his mouth twitching when she glared at him. ‘How old are you?’ he asked her.

‘Twenty-two,’ Rachel snapped, drawing herself up and wishing heartily that she was six inches taller. She knew she looked younger than her age and, as she rarely bothered to spend more time on her appearance than it took to wash her face and braid her hair, she accepted that it was her own fault Diego Ortega had probably mistaken her for a teenager. She did not care about his opinion of her looks, she told herself irritably, but she was proud of her riding skills and she was incensed that he had questioned her ability to control Piran.

She was breathing hard, her chest lifting and falling erratically, and she felt a jolt of shock when Diego’s dark eyes trailed slowly over her body and focused deliberately on her breasts. Rachel swallowed and reminded herself that there was nothing much beneath her shirt to excite him. Riding was more than just her passion—since she was a teenager it had been an obsession that exceeded any vague interest in her appearance, and it had never bothered her that she had failed to develop a big bust. Now, for the first time in her life, she wished she looked more feminine and possessed curves rather than boyishly slender hips and a couple of minuscule bumps that did not require the support of a bra.

Diego’s gaze caused the tiny hairs on Rachel’s body to stand on end. Her legs suddenly felt weak and her breath seemed to be trapped in her chest—the same feeling she’d experienced a few moments ago when Piran had thrown her and she had struggled to her feet—winded and wobbly and strangely light-headed.

During her adolescence she had been so busy with her riding that she’d had no time for boys, and although she’d had a couple of relationships since she had left school they had quickly petered out through a lack of interest on her part. Diego Ortega was nothing like the men she had dated—and he was looking at her in a way that no man had ever done before. Her experience of the opposite sex might be limited, but she sensed Diego’s interest. Some primal instinct inside her recognised the chemistry between them, and she could not restrain the little shiver of awareness that ran down her spine.

Diego’s eyes narrowed. Rachel wasn’t wearing a bra—he could clearly make out the darker flesh of her nipples—and as he watched they hardened into tight little peaks that jutted provocatively towards him. Heat surged through him, shocking him with its intensity. He hadn’t felt this aroused for years. He did not understand why he was so acutely aware of her but, to his intense irritation, his heart was pounding and his jeans suddenly felt uncomfortably tight.

It was time for him to move, to break out of the sensual web that entrapped them both. A glance at his watch warned him that he should return to the Hall and change in time for dinner with the Earl and Lady Hardwick and their attractive but tediously overeager daughter, Felicity. He wondered if the idiot son who had nearly caused a serious accident would be present. He certainly intended to inform the Earl that he would not permit noisy motorbikes to be ridden near to the thoroughbred polo ponies he had been invited to Hardwick Polo Club to train.

His eyes strayed back to Rachel Summers’s face and focused on her soft mouth, his stomach clenching when he imagined crushing those moist lips beneath his and exploring her with his tongue. She would taste as sweet as a light summer wine, and she would respond to him willingly—he noted how her eyes were now the colour of wood-smoke, her pupils dilated with sensual promise.

She could prove an interesting diversion over the next couple of months, he mused idly. He wondered who she was. He knew that the aristocratic Hardwick family had many offshoots, and he assumed that Rachel must be a relative.

‘Are you staying up at the Hall?’ he demanded abruptly, forcing himself to step away from her.

‘Earl Hardwick isn’t in the habit of inviting his stable-hands to live in,’ Rachel replied dryly. ‘Not even his head groom.’

‘So you work here.’ Diego frowned. ‘Do you own Piran?’ He knew that most yards paid low wages, but the stallion was a thoroughbred and must have cost several thousand pounds.

‘No, I have him on loan. His owner is Peter Irving, from the farm adjoining the Hardwick estate. Peter used to be a world-class showjumper, and he’s my sponsor.’

‘Irving—the name is familiar.’

‘Three times Olympic gold medallist and top rider with the British Equestrian team for many years. Peter is my inspiration,’ Rachel explained.

Diego caught the note of fierce determination in her voice and glanced at her curiously. ‘You hope to be selected for the British team?’

‘The next Olympics are my dream,’ Rachel admitted, blushing and wondering why on earth she had revealed her life’s ambition to a man she had never met before. She had never told anyone, apart from Peter Irving, of her hopes of competing at the highest level—not her friends, and certainly not her family. Since her parents had divorced when she was nine, they had both been too wrapped up in their lives with their new partners and children to take much interest in her, and the few times she had mentioned her riding to her mother it had led to the old argument about getting a proper job, somewhere decent to live rather than an old caravan, and a boyfriend.

‘The Olympics are a long way off,’ she murmured. ‘For now I’m working hard in the hope of being picked for the team for the European championships next year. Peter and Earl Hardwick both think I have a good chance. The Earl has been very supportive of my career,’ she added. He allows me to stable Piran here, and he always gives me time off to go to competitions. The facilities at Hardwick are excellent, and working here is a fantastic experience.’

‘But not quite so fantastic when your horse refuses a jump,’ Diego said dryly, his sharp gaze noting how she had crossed her arms over her chest and was surreptitiously rubbing her ribs. ‘I’ll ride Piran back to the stables for you.’

Without giving Rachel time to argue, he deftly adjusted the stirrups and swung into the saddle with a lithe grace and expertise. Piran did not usually take to strangers but, to Rachel’s annoyance, he stood as docile as a lamb while Diego spoke to him in Spanish. The deep-timbred voice was strangely hypnotic; Piran’s ears pricked up and he whinnied—almost as if he were talking back, although that was just fanciful imagination, Rachel told herself irritably. It was a pity that the Argentinian horseman did not have such a soothing effect on her. She felt decidedly rattled, and she knew it was not only because of the fall.

She opened the paddock gate and Diego took Piran through, but then halted and waited for her. ‘I still think I should call a doctor,’ he said, his mouth thinning when he noted how she winced with every step she took. ‘You’re as pale as a ghost and clearly in agony.’

‘I’m just bruised, that’s all,’ Rachel argued stubbornly.

Diego gave her a hard stare. ‘You’re going to be black and blue and you’ll ache tomorrow. To be on the safe side, you shouldn’t ride for the next week.’

‘Are you kidding?’ Rachel looked scandalised. ‘I’ve got a competition coming up and I’m going to take Piran round the course again tomorrow. He’d have managed that last fence fine if he hadn’t been startled by the bike.’

Diego let out a curse, torn between impatience and admiration at her mulish determination. ‘You are the most argumentative woman I have ever met, Miss Summers.’ He moved before Rachel could guess his intention, and she gave a startled cry when he reached down and lifted her effortlessly onto Piran’s back, placing her at the front of the saddle and clicking his tongue so that the horse immediately began to walk. One arm remained around her, holding her against his chest, while he held the reins in his other hand and controlled the stallion with impressive ease.

Attempting to scramble down would be futile, Rachel acknowledged as she stared at Diego’s muscular forearms. She would just have to sit still until they reached the stable block, but she absolutely would not give in to the temptation to relax and lean her head against his chest. He was too close as it was, and the feel of his hard thighs pressing against her bottom seemed shockingly intimate. She was agonisingly aware of him—of the heat that emanated from him and the sensual musk of his cologne mixed with another subtle scent that was excitingly male and utterly intoxicating.

She was thankful when they reached the yard. Diego dismounted first and then carefully lifted her down. He seemed to think she was the rag doll he had described when he had witnessed her flying out of the saddle, she thought irritably as he strode into the barn, still holding her in his arms. His heart was beating steadily beneath her ear, but hers was thudding erratically and she was supremely conscious of his hands holding her beneath her knees and around the upper part of her body so that his fingers brushed lightly against the side of her breast.

She was pink-cheeked when he sat her down on a hay bale, and she glared at him when he leaned over her to prevent her from jumping to her feet. ‘I need to see to Piran,’ she said angrily.

‘I’ll ask one of the other grooms to rub him down. Every breath you take is agony—I can see it in your eyes, even if you are too stubborn to admit it,’ Diego said grimly.

Rachel stared at his hard-boned face and it slowly dawned on her that she had finally met someone whose determination to have his own way matched her own. ‘I’ve told you I’m fine,’ she muttered. ‘And Piran doesn’t like anyone else to groom him.’

‘Well, he’s going to have to get used to it because I don’t want to see you around these stables until you’ve had your ribs X-rayed and been thoroughly checked over by a doctor. My chauffeur, Arturo, will drive you to the hospital,’ Diego informed her coolly. ‘I would take you myself, but Lady Hardwick is giving a dinner party this evening—and I believe I’m the star guest,’ he added dryly.

‘Don’t waste your breath arguing with me, Miss Summers,’ he warned, placing his finger beneath her chin and exerting gentle pressure so that she had no option but to shut her mouth and swallow the angry words that were bursting to escape. ‘I will be in charge of the stables for the duration of my stay at Hardwick Hall, and I refuse to have anyone working here who can’t pull their weight. If you’ve broken your ribs, or sustained other injuries today, you’ll be a liability I can do without.’

Unfazed by her furious expression, he smiled, revealing his gleaming white teeth that contrasted with his bronzed skin. ‘I can’t keep on calling you Miss Summers all summer—can I, Rachel?’

His voice had altered, and was now as thick and sensuous as molten honey, but Rachel was determined not to be impressed. Clearly he was an outrageous flirt, as well as the most arrogant man she had ever met, and she was furious with her treacherous body for responding to him. She was aware of a tingling sensation in her breasts and a shocking yearning for him to push her down into the hay, lower himself onto her and kiss her like she had never been kissed before.

‘What do you mean by “all summer”?’ she croaked. ‘I know you’re here for the polo tournament, but surely you’ll be going back to Argentina straight afterwards.’

Diego shook his head, his smile widening at Rachel’s look of dismay. ‘As a matter of fact, I usually spend a couple of months—when it is winter in Argentina—at my polo school just outside New York. But this year the Earl has invited me to Hardwick to train the polo ponies.

‘So you see, Rachel,’ he drawled softly, moving his finger from under her chin and gently tracing the shape of her lips with his thumb pad, ‘for the next month or so I will be your boss, and you will have to abide by my rules. Go to the hospital with Arturo, get yourself checked over, and when you can come back to me with a clean bill of health you will be welcome here. Until then, if I catch so much as a strand of your pretty blonde hair near Piran’s loose box, there will be trouble. Entiendes?’

There was a hint of steel behind his mocking tone that warned Rachel he would be a dangerous man to cross. Incensed by his high-handedness, she jerked her head away, disgusted to find that she was trembling. The feather-light caress of his thumb over her lips had been shockingly intimate, and the idea that she would be working for him over the summer was downright disturbing.

‘Earl Hardwick personally appointed me as head groom, and I’m sure he’ll have something to say when I tell him you’ve banned me from doing my job,’ she said furiously.

‘The Earl had a hard job persuading me to come to Gloucestershire rather than New York, and I think you’ll find that he’ll go along with anything I say,’ Diego replied with a breathtaking arrogance that made Rachel itch to slap him. ‘Besides, you are not banned, Rachel. I am very much looking forward to working with you once I am assured that you suffered no serious injuries today. I have great plans for Hardwick Polo Club, and I have a feeling that you and I will be spending a lot of time together.’

The sensuous gleam in his eyes was unmistakable, and a quiver ran down Rachel’s spine. She wanted to jump up and tell him to get lost—tell him that she’d rather work for the devil than him. But she couldn’t move. For one thing, her ribs were seriously painful—but the real reason, she acknowledged dismally, was that she was trapped by his magnetism and utterly captivated by his raw masculinity. He was the most potently virile man she had ever met; she could not tear her eyes from his sensual mouth and when he lowered his head slowly towards her, she ceased thinking, almost ceased breathing, her heart hammering with frantic excitement when it seemed that he was going to kiss her.

To her intense disappointment, he did not. Instead, he straightened up abruptly and moved away from her, giving her a mocking smile that added to her humiliation.

‘Wait here for Arturo,’ he ordered. He strode across the barn and halted in the doorway to glance back at her. ‘It promises to be an interesting summer, don’t you think, Rachel?’ he taunted softly.