“I have a lot of land in Argentina, and I’m using some of it to open a refuge for retired or injured horses. I thought you might be interested in helping me to set it up.”
“Low blow, Dante. You knew I’d be interested.”
He shrugged. He loved impassioned, temperamental Rose. Life would be dull without her.
~~o0o~~
She’d been bamboozled. Dante had held up her dream and shaken it in front of her face. How could she say no? And he knew that, the virgin-eating pestilence that he was. “But what about all the horses I’m working with on Isla Celeste?” she said, putting up one last argument, and a good one, she thought. “I can’t just desert them. What about Lucifer? I won’t leave him half-trained.”
“He’s waiting for you in Argentina.”
Her jaw dropped. “And Stargazer?”
“He’s nonnegotiable, I presume?”
“You presume right,” she agreed. “You just bought him from my father. He needs continuity.”
“He’ll get first-class treatment on the transporter and onwards to my ranch.”
Rose could only imagine such a place. She’d seen photographs where Dante had posed, rugged and hard and unsmiling for one of his many adoring sponsors, and she’d read every detail she could about his ranch, which was said to be the size of a small country, but not once had she ever thought she’d get the chance to visit.
“You have a special gift, Rose.” Dante was moving in for the kill. She knew this, because flattery didn’t come naturally to him. “You shouldn’t waste it,” he added. “An opportunity like this comes along once in a lifetime. It’s an exciting new project for me—for you too, if you’re interested. You’d be a real help to me. Horses respond to you. People too—”
Just not Dante, Rose reflected. At least, not in the way she wanted him to. Life’s ironies never failed to amaze her. He respected her work, and he respected her ability to keep up with the boys, but beyond that…
“Come to Argentina with me. Share your gift.” He shrugged. “Or don’t. It’s up to you.”
Game, set, and match, she thought. Dante knew exactly which buttons to press. She never could resist a plea on behalf of the ponies, and he knew that. If animals needed her, she’d always be there for them.
Will that be enough?
It would have to be.
Consciously relaxing the tension in her face, she smiled a breezy welcome to her father, who was coming downstairs to join them, looking more optimistic than she’d seen him in years. She’d do anything to keep that smile in place.
“So,” he said, looking from Rose to Dante and back again, “when are you two off to Argentina?”
Chapter Nine
Argentina! She couldn’t believe she was actually here. It was a long flight, but being with the horses in the main body of the jet had distracted her and kept her busy. Closing her eyes, she stepped into the blinding light of a beautiful day. It wasn’t the strength of the light that made her pause after the shaded, temperature-controlled interior of the huge transporter jet, but the desire to savor the scents and sounds of a new land. It was just a shame, Rose reflected with amusement, that aviation fuel was the top note in that perfume. Looking around at the miles of unseen green toward the horizon, she decided that the scent of the pampas wouldn’t be so different from Ireland.
“Can I help you with your cases?”
The deep voice distracted her. “Oh no, that’s okay, but thank you—”
She smiled up at Tom, a polo player she’d traveled over with. Tom was a good-looking guy, but he didn’t rock her boat. Only Dante could do that, and Dante hadn’t traveled with them. He’d come on ahead in a smaller jet. Like she had a bicycle at home, and her dad’s rickety car for longer journeys, Dante had a fleet of private jets.
And a life of his own, Rose reminded herself as Tom went ahead toward one of the SUVs lined up waiting. She turned around for one last glance at the fabulous jet with the Blood and Thunder team’s logo of a black stallion’s head emblazoned on the side, with its state-of-the-art stalls for the ponies and full veterinary section including an emergency operating theatre. There was a separate luxury area where owners could rest up, but Rose had eaten with the grooms and dozed with the horses. They were her charges. That was the only reason she was here.
The jet had landed on a private airstrip in the middle of the pampas. Or, more accurately, in the middle of Dante’s ranch. They’d been flying over his land for hours, one of the grooms on board had explained to Rose’s amazement as they prepared for landing. Her father’s farm had seemed enormous to Rose when she was a little girl, and then she’d marveled at the idea of an island being owned by a polo team, but this was something else. Calling Dante the Romani chieftain seemed more appropriate than ever. His was a land of many contrasts; a land to explore and never travel the same path twice. It made her long to know him better. She wanted to understand his roots, his past, and every significant event that had made him the complex man he had become. Perhaps here, she would stand a better chance. Miguel had hinted at some tragedy in Dante’s past. She’d thought that was the loss of his mother, but no, Miguel had said, there was more, but Miguel protected Dante fiercely, and he wouldn’t tell her anything else.
Shouldering her bag, she stilled as all the tiny hairs on the back of her neck lifted. She didn’t need to turn around to know who was standing behind her.
“Good flight?”
“Perfect, thank you.” Her heart rampaged in her chest as she turned to face Dante. Perfect like Dante. Though how she could find such a forbidding-looking individual perfect defeated Rose. She just had to accept that whatever Dante had—and he had plenty of it, she was addicted. Freshly showered with his thick black hair still a little damp, and his face a deeper bronze than ever, no doubt thanks to riding on the pampas every day, he was dressed in battered jeans protected by worn leather chaps. A heavy-duty leather belt cinched his waist, and he’d parked the shave, so the sharp black stubble that had given her so much wicked pleasure when they’d made love was more evident than ever. It made him seem more overwhelmingly and brutishly physical. And she loved that look on him. Her body responded on cue.
“No trouble with the horses?” he enquired.
“None,” she confirmed.
There were more questions in Dante’s eyes. Alongside concern for the horses was a flare of victory. She was in his world now. His lust hadn’t waned. She wanted him too. Mutual attraction leapt between them like a living force. It was almost a relief when he turned away to check that all the horses were safely loaded up.
“You’ll ride with us,” he said when he was done.
She followed his glance to the group of gauchos waiting beneath the shade of some trees. They were all, without exception, mounted on magnificent horses. One of them was guarding a particularly challenging-looking black stallion that wasn’t taking too well to confinement. Dante’s mount, she guessed. The only other horse without a rider was mild and much older. Contentedly cropping grass, he didn’t appear to have a care in the world. This would be her mount, Rose concluded.
“This isn’t a holiday, Rose—”
Dante was halfway to his men when he called back to her. She was instantly alert, and then angry. She’d only just arrived. This was all new to her. Couldn’t he wait even a minute for her to get her bearings? This was—
Her job, Rose accepted as she started to jog.
The leathered gaucho who was holding on to the old horse’s reins had a world of experience in his eyes. His sharp stare said he wouldn’t take anything or anyone on face value.
And why should he? Rose thought. Thanking him, she mounted up.
Without so much as a glance her way, Dante cantered to the head of his small posse, and he and his men galloped away.
Welcome to Argentina, Rose.
Persuading the old horse to stop munching, she turned him in the direction of what was no more than a dust cloud by now. Urging him into what turned out to be a surprisingly eager ca
nter, she grinned as she leaned over his neck—and grinned some more when the canter transitioned into an enthusiastic gallop. There was no magic involved. It was just the thought of the food waiting for him in the stable.
With the airstrip and the smell of the jet falling behind them, she exulted in the warmth of the sun on her back and the scent of lush meadow grass and wildflowers beneath her horse’s hooves as she chased after the hard-riding men. If this was to be her first test, no way was she going to fall short.
~~o0o~~
Seeing Rose in Argentina had affected him more than he’d expected. She belonged here why? He had no answer for that. Just that she did. He turned again to check she was still following them.
Did he doubt it?
No. He wouldn’t have left her if he had. He’d made sure she had the safest mount in the stable, a horse that could find his own way home blindfolded and knew how to avoid all the hazards—the snake holes, the prowling jaguars. Calisto was bomb proof. The old horse’s only goal, now he was on the move again, would be to return to his stable to eat.
Why had he left her?
Riding with a hard-on wasn’t a great experience. Did he need another excuse?
“She’ll surprise you all,” he told his men when they expressed concern about Rose’s age and experience.
Of course they laughed. Of course they asked him why she was here at all. These were men he’d grown up with. He was one of them. Their comments concerning Rose’s true value were crude and to the point. The stony look he gave them only made them laugh all the louder.
“You’ll bring her to the party,” one suggested, sliding him a look.
“The gaucho party?” He raised a brow. He was damned if he did and damned if he didn’t. Gaucho parties were heated events. If he invited her, Rose would either have to get with the program or face being shunned on the estancia. If he didn’t invite her, it was as good as telling these men that she wasn’t up for it—and if that were true, how could she keep up with them?
For once, his decision was easy. “I won’t be inviting her.”
He held up his hands as the expected roar of laughter rose about the thunder of horse hooves. “I won’t be here,” he reminded them. “I’ll be out inspecting the boundaries. You can invite her if you want her there.”
“You’d be happy for us to do that?” one of the men yelled as he exchanged amused glances with his friends.
“What do you think?” he yelled back. He was confident none of them would approach Rose.
He turned in the saddle one last time as they reached the towering gates marking the boundaries to his estate. His men turned too. Rose wasn’t far behind them. Rose was never far behind anything, he reflected with a wry shake of his head. His men were surprised she’d kept up with them. He was somewhat less so.
~~o0o~~
“A party? I’m definitely coming,” Rose confirmed. She was standing in line with Tom at the counter in the cookhouse. Tom wasn’t a threat of any kind. She was as aware as anyone on the ranch, with the notable exception of Miguel, Costanza’s father, that Tom and Costanza had something going on. Rose had been working on Dante’s ranch for ten days now and was beginning to get a feel for how things worked. Would Dante be back in time for the party? No one seemed to know. The only thing Rose could be sure about was that she had received a curt note forbidding her from attending the gaucho party. That seemed incredibly high-handed to Rose, and in a fit of pique, she’d torn it up and thrown it away. She worked for Dante. Her free time was her own. He probably wouldn’t make it back in time for the party anyway. That depended on which part of the boundary he was checking, the gauchos had told her. He could be away a couple of weeks, a couple of months, or as much as a year—though everyone doubted that, as there were polo matches pending, and his vigilante work took up a lot of his time too. At this point, everyone clammed up. The loyalty shown to Dante was extraordinary, which only made her more curious about him. She wished he would open up to her, but as there was no reason why he would…
“Hopefully, Dante won’t make it back in time,” Tom commented dryly as he lifted his tray of food. “It’s got to be the turn of visitors and grooms to thrash his team, and we stand a much better chance of doing that if he’s out of the way.”
“I’d love to try polo one day,” Rose admitted.
“We won’t be playing polo.” Tom laughed in a way that immediately caught her interest. “These are gaucho games,” he explained. “Dangerous and fiercely competitive.”
Which was probably why Dante had wanted her to stay away, Rose concluded. He wouldn’t want to risk losing the team’s horse whisperer to injury. “What do I have to do to take part?”
“You?” Tom stared down at her with surprise.
“Yes, me. Why not?” she asked, frowning.
“Dante would kill me if anything happened to you. Is that good enough reason?”
“Only for my value to the team, but I’m not going to get hurt.”
“I’ve seen you work with difficult horses,” Tom admitted, “and you are the ideal size for a jockey…”
“So stop thinking about it and tell me what I’ve got to do,” she insisted.
“I’d better warn you that the gauchos can hang on to a horse by their fingertips, or even by their teeth—and they don’t care too much who they ride off. The one thing they’ll never do is to admit defeat.”
“And you would?” she countered with a speculative glance at Tom. His slow smile told her everything she needed to know. “And neither will I,” she promised.
~~o0o~~
The party was as crazy and wonderful as Rose had hoped. She stared up at the moon as she warmed her hands in front of the huge, crackling bonfire. Cliché alert: it was the same moon that shone down on Dante—wherever the hell he was tonight.
He liked to be alone, the gauchos had told her. He liked to ride out with just a bedroll and no fixed destination. Dante’s men were slowly coming to accept her. That made her happy because she admired them so much. They appeared intimidating but had hearts of gold, and their aim was the same as hers—to work long hours, and to spare nothing in their care of their horses.
“Are you going to sit on the magic carpet, or am I?” she asked as Tom strode toward her. The gaucho game they had agreed to take part in required one of them to ride their horse at a flat-out gallop while the other sat on a cowhide, or a magic carpet, as it was optimistically known. The hide was then towed around the course at breakneck speed and the first pair back won the prize. First pair to survive won the race, Rose had decided with a flutter of apprehension as they walked toward the start.
“You ride. It’s safer. I’ll take the magic carpet,” Tom offered. “The less weight for the horse, the better,” he pointed out when Rose began to argue.
The gauchos welcomed her with nods and sympathetic looks. They thought she was well outclassed. And she was. Once the race began, there would be no allowances made for the fact that she was half their size—and yes, a woman. The gauchos had centuries of horse lore between them, and she respected that, but it didn’t mean that she wasn’t going to give this race everything she had. She was riding Stargazer. It was almost as if he’d been waiting for the freedom of the pampas. He loved his training to become a polo pony, and he loved the regular attention. The gauchos had singled him out as a horse with real potential. Anyone who said animals didn’t understand when they were admired was so wrong. She could swear Stargazer had grown a couple of inches since he’d been here, and Rose was confident that by the time Dante returned, the horse would have earned his place on the Blood and Thunder team. Meanwhile, her aim was to bring him back from this race in one piece and uninjured—the same hope she had for herself and for Tom.
What would Dante say if he knew she was here? The thought alone made her stomach clench with alarm. Then her imagination got to work. Was he really checking the boundaries of his land? Or was Dante with a woman? Wherever he was, what could she do about it? She had a race to
run and needed all her concentration on that now.
Jostling around at the start with twenty other pumped-up horses and riders was dangerous enough, even before the race began. She might work with these men, but they were competitors now, and there was no eye contact between them. She glanced around to check that Tom was firmly settled on the mat and exchanged a grim smile of reassurance with him.
When the starting pistol fired, there was no time to think. Stargazer plunged into a storming gallop, and it was only thanks to his outstanding agility they avoided a collision. He had a natural instinct to stay out of trouble, and soon they were galloping for home. More importantly, Tom was still attached to the magic carpet, and Rose was still firmly seated in the saddle when they rode in a respectable third.
Tom was laughing and groaning and complaining about his bruises, which Costanza had offered to bathe, while Rose was smiling as she checked her horse’s legs when the unmistakable sound of a Harley signaled the fact that Dante had chosen this precise moment to come back. Great. She braced herself for the inevitable confrontation. She had ignored his instruction, and like it or not, he was still her boss.
Dante skidded to a halt and parked the bike. She stiffened as he came toward her. Looking as commanding as ever in battered jeans and a formfitting top, he was unmistakably The Boss, and everyone, without exception, stopped what they were doing to welcome him home. She lifted her chin, ready to defend herself and Tom.
Staring past her, Dante walked on. Going up to his men, he congratulated them on their win. From the set of his muscular back, which was firmly turned against her, Rose got the impression that retribution was suspended rather than canceled.
She was right. When Dante’s men peeled away, he turned to face her, and judging by his expression, he was not too happy.
Argentinian Billionaire (Blood and Thunder 2) Page 9
