A Taste of the Untamed

‘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.