The Argentinian's Solace

‘Parrish,’ he repeated.

‘Dream Events is the name of the company, isn’t it?’

Ruiz remarked vaguely, clearly far more interested in his bride-to-be than anything else. ‘Her references checked out. Even I was impressed. There must be thousands of girls with the surname Parrish, Diego. And, anyway, you should be over that.’

Maybe he should be, but he wasn’t.

‘It can’t be the same family,’ Ruiz said confidently.

‘And you know this for a fact?’

But Holly had seized the phone again. ‘Have I done something wrong?’ she said. ‘Please tell me if I’ve done something wrong, Diego.’

‘You have done nothing wrong,’ he soothed.

Where could he begin? And why rake up the past and ruin Holly’s romantic moment? She wasn’t to blame for a tragedy Diego had set in motion all those years ago.

‘Would it be better if we rang you some other time?’ Holly was asking with growing concern.

‘No,’ he said, making a conscious effort to gentle his tone. ‘Tell me about the plans you’d like for your wedding, Holly.’

He felt bad when he realised all the fizz had left her voice, but she soon recovered, and as Holly started telling him her exciting news he drifted back to a black time in his life when he had taken one too many risks with tragic consequences. His time out now, with his injury from the polo field, could only be a relief for his opponents—for when Diego played he remembered what he’d done, and when he remembered he cared for nothing. Which made him a danger not only to himself but to everyone around him.

‘You should get back to the game,’ Holly told him softly, as if she could read some of these thoughts. ‘You’re needed, Diego. Your brothers need you. The team isn’t the same without you.’

He hummed. ‘I’m trying, Holly.’

‘I know you’re training every day. Things will get easier, Diego—trust me. And if it’s my wedding that’s bothering you—’

‘There are other places you could get married,’ he pointed out as Maxie’s face flashed into his mind.

‘But none as beautiful as Isla del Fuego,’ Holly argued.

He gazed in silence across the paddock towards the sea, seeing the view as if through Maxie’s camera lens. It was a scene of almost theatrical grandeur, he conceded. The pewter sea, in perfect accord with his mood, thundered against the black lava cliffs, casting diamond spray into the air. And when the sun shone …

‘Are you still there, Diego?’ his brother demanded, having taken the phone from Holly.

‘I’m still here,’ he confirmed. In body that was true, but his mind had strayed back to the past.

‘How many people in the world have the surname Parrish?’ his brother demanded. ‘I know that’s what’s worrying you. Come on, Diego,’ Ruiz insisted impatiently. ‘You’re the numbers guy in the family. You should know.’

This was true, and was thanks mainly to their elder brother Nacho, whose foresight and love had saved Diego from the blackest despair. Back in his arrogant youth Diego had lost money in a deal gone unimaginably bad, and it was Nacho who had told him that if Diego wanted to handle money he should learn how. Diego had gone on to train as an accountant, and now controlled all the family finances.

‘Are you still there, Diego?’ Ruiz pressed.

‘I’m still here,’ he confirmed.

‘You’re far too tense,’ Ruiz commented dryly. ‘And I think we both know the reason for that. According to Holly, Maxie Parrish is a good-looking woman, and you are on the island together—practically alone. Have you lost your edge, Diego?’

He stared down at the receiver as if this was news to him, and then said, ‘Maybe I’m not that interested?’

‘And maybe you’re kidding yourself!’

‘And maybe you’re in danger of sharing the same rose-tinted spectacles as your bride.’

‘Leave Holly out of this,’ Ruiz warned.

‘All I need is a sound leg, a good mount and a chance to get back to the game I love,’ he thundered.

‘We’ll talk again when you’ve come to your senses,’ Ruiz said, leaving him staring in frustration at the phone.

‘What a wonderful home!’ Maxie exclaimed, turning full circle to soak up the atmosphere in the elegant and welcoming hallway as Maria bustled round with pride.

‘This house has been in the Acosta family for generations,’ Maria explained.

‘What a marvellous heritage,’ Maxie said, thinking back to her own, very different family home. The father who had been so unkind to her mother when she was young had been broken by her mother’s illness. It had been a struggle for him to keep up with all the extras her mother had needed, so, understandably, home comforts had been low on his list. When a hole had appeared in the sofa Maxie had thrown a rug over it, and on one famous occasion she had deconstructed a carpet sample book to patch the stairs. ‘My mother would have loved this,’ she said wistfully, turning slowly to take everything in. She hardly realised she’d been speaking out loud until she felt Maria’s compassionate touch on her arm.

‘Come,’ Maria insisted, shepherding her towards a magnificent mahogany staircase.

There was no patching here. An impeccable runner in mellow earth tones climbed the polished stairs and was held in place by gleaming brass stair rods. The effect was both impressive and cosy.

It was too late to help her mother now, or to wish that her parents’ lives could have been easier, but at least her work allowed her to earn enough to make her father’s last years comfortable.

‘Please,’ Maria encouraged, pointing to Maxie’s camera.

The Acosta home was so much more than a sum of its parts, Maxie realised as she looked at everything through her lens. The rugs were a little faded, and had been worn thin by the passage of many feet, but they were all the more attractive for that. Everything was a little rough around the edges, she noticed now, but that only added to the ambience of a much-loved home. It was a warm, happy home, and she could feel the influence of previous generations all around her.

‘I love this house!’ she exclaimed impulsively. She loved the grand piano sitting discreetly beneath the sweeping staircase, with a stack of music to one side as if the pianist had just stepped out for a moment. She loved the family photographs clustered on top of it, and the scent of beeswax in the air. ‘There couldn’t be a better setting for a family wedding,’ she said to Maria.

‘Perfecto,’ Maria agreed, nodding and smiling as if she and Maxie were as one.

‘I’m going to call Holly right away and confirm her choice of venue,’ Maxie enthused, remembering that first there was another call she had to make …

Her first evening with Diego loomed. Oh, good, Maxie thought wryly, wondering how that would turn out as she brushed her waist-length hair for the umpteenth time. Blue-black and gleaming now she’d washed the salt out of it, her hair lifted and floated around her shoulders in most un-Maxie-like abandon. She usually tied it back for business. She had intended to tie it back tonight, but for some reason she wanted Diego to see her looking relaxed, for him to know that he didn’t scare her.

Though goodness knows what they’d talk about, Maxie mused as she studied her perplexed reflection in the mirror. What she knew about polo could be safely inscribed on the top of a pin, while Diego was hardly the typical wedding cake fanatic. But this was work, and she’d get on with it. Replacing the silver-backed hairbrush on top of the lovingly polished French antique dressing table, she stood and frowned, remembering the news from the nursing home hadn’t been good. Every day she hoped for improvement, knowing deep down it would never come.

She must remain focused on her work, Maxie reflected, firming her jaw. Work kept her grounded. Work paid the bills. Work kept her father safe.

Walking across the faded Aubusson rug to the beautiful old armoire, she picked out one of her ‘all occasions’ dresses. In pale cream silk it was equally suitable for an up-town business meeting or supper with friends. It was the dress she chose when she didn’t want to look as if she was trying too hard. She teamed it with a pair of discreet nude-coloured sandals, then applied some shadow to her eyes, and some lipgloss. Now she was ready to face the tiger in his lair.

It was hard to remain tense in such a beautiful setting, Maxie realised as she walked across the room. Mellow evening light was streaming through the French doors dressed with filmy white muslin, while the open windows brought the scent of the beautifully tended gardens into the room. The bedroom was incredibly feminine, with several flower arrangements she had no doubt Maria had arranged, while a grand old four-poster bed took centre stage. Draped with floating ivory fabric, it had a beautiful hand-stitched quilt that picked up all the various pastel shades. She would never choose to decorate a room so prettily herself, but she loved it so much it made her wonder if she’d grown up practical because she’d had to be, or if practical was her nature. The only certainty was that tonight she was having supper with an unpredictable man, Maxie concluded. And he was probably counting down the seconds until she left.

‘Diego!’ It took her a moment to gather herself when she found him standing outside her room. ‘Are you waiting for me?’

He was leaning against the wall, and the look he gave her suggested Maxie was in serious danger of flattering herself. ‘I was on my way down to supper,’ he said, giving her a lazy once-over. ‘I presume that’s where you’re heading too?’

She was burning from his scrutiny while he looked amazing. How was it that some people only had to throw on a pair of jeans and any old top to look good? She could smell the soap from his shower, and his thick black hair was still a little damp and curling wildly round his swarthy face, catching on his stubble. But when he straightened up and she saw the cane propped against the wall she knew he had probably stopped outside her room because his leg was hurting him, and as they walked towards the head of the stairs she tried to measure her step to his without making it seem too obvious. His leg seemed stiffer than ever tonight, and she wondered if the damp weather had affected it. Hanging back, she could see how heavily he was relying on his cane.