Honeymoon With the Rancher (Harlequin Romance)

by Donna Alward

  More than that, she needed to tell him she was leaving. She was free to do as she pleased—settle up the bill and do what she wanted for the last few days of her trip. It was time for this charade to end and for her to get back to reality.

  Tomas informed Maria and Carlos in Spanish and held out his hand. Sophia took it, more affected than she cared to admit by the feel of his warm, rough palm encompassing hers.

  But if he had ideas of kissing in his head again, he was sadly mistaken. No more kissing, no long looks, no arguments that served to fuel the passion between them.

  No, tonight would be goodbye, and that would be the end of it.

  CHAPTER NINE

  THE evening was waning as they ambled down the lane, Tomas’s stride slow and relaxed while Sophia felt like a bundle of charged nerves beside him. The air held a late summer chill. For several minutes they walked silently, with the sounds of twilight filling the gap of conversation until Sophia understood where they were headed—the gigantic gnarled and twisted tree in the middle of the field.

  It stood, a lone sentinel on the pampas, and Sophia reached out and touched the bark, running her fingers over the odd texture. The leaves made a canopy above their heads, cocooning them in semi-privacy. Tomas stood like a shadow behind her, his steady presence making her stomach tumble over itself.

  She had wanted privacy to talk to him, but not like this. Not with the whisper of the leaves shushing around them, the single ombu tree a life raft in the grassy sea of the pampas. She had to be strong. Definitive.

  “The ombu tree.” She looked up at him, wondering why here, and why now. Did he realize he was making it more difficult for her?

  “You said you wanted to see it,” he said quietly, his hands on the trunk beside hers. “Did you know, some call it the lighthouse of the pampas.”

  “Lighthouse? To guide lost travelers?” Sophia laughed a little at the description, but her attempt at lightness seemed false to her ears. “I guess that works. It was the first thing I noticed when I drove up in the taxi. Big and strong but very solitary.”

  “Like you, Sophia?”

  She nodded, watching her fingers make patterns on the rough surface. She wasn’t that strong, but she was getting better. “I suppose, maybe a little. But I think perhaps more like you.”

  Tomas paused, and Sophia waited for him to say something—anything—significant.

  But he said nothing. Nothing about the picture in the house—he could have pointed it out a dozen times. Or he could have told her that he wasn’t just involved with the estancia but was a full fledged partner. Why hadn’t he wanted her to know?

  “And what about you? Is the ombu a lighthouse for you, too?” She thought about all that Maria had told her today, even if Tomas was infuriatingly closed-mouthed. Was the estancia the beacon in his life, signifying home? Safety? Was it better for him than what had waited for him in the family business?

  “They have shade for when it gets hot.” He deliberately put the focus off himself and back on the tree. “And the trunks are full of water, kind of spongy, see? So they will not burn in a wildfire.”

  Sophia looked up above her at the veil of leaves. “An angel, then, in the middle of the plains?”

  “An angel with bite. The sap is poisonous.”

  Sophia drew her hand away abruptly and Tomas laughed. “Not that poisonous.” He came over and rested against part of the trunk, his feet braced on the gnarled roots as he looked into her face. “Like most things in life, Sophia, the ombu has two sides. The pampas is beautiful, but it is also harsh and unforgiving. It is important to learn to respect both sides.”

  Like Tomas? Perhaps she could, if he’d bothered to reveal his other side. Why hadn’t he trusted her? Surely nothing could be worse than Rosa’s death. But then, perhaps he wouldn’t have said anything if she hadn’t put him on the spot.

  She looked over at him, his dark form silhouetted in the darkness, and softened. Maybe she was being too hard on him. He’d known Sophia mere days. Was she expecting too much, wishing he’d confided in her the way she had in him?

  “The mate has made you especially wise this evening,” she noted, genuinely wanting to lighten the mood and not argue anymore. She simply wanted to understand. But the sight of him, shadowed by the tree, his dark eyes gleaming nearly black in the growing night, did funny things to her insides. Things she thought maybe she had never felt before, or even imagined. More than chemistry. When she left Argentina, she would be leaving a piece of herself behind.

  “You enjoyed the asado.”

  “I have enjoyed everything about being here.” She smiled and took a step closer to him, knowing this was the perfect lead-in. “Maria and Carlos welcomed me. Do you know we spent the whole day together and we never once thought to get to the bottom of my reservation?”

  “About that…”

  “You were right, Tomas, and I was wrong. I’ll fix it in the morning, don’t worry.”

  He opened his mouth as if to say something and then shut it again, his brows pulling together. Sophia bit down on her lip, wondering if he’d had the words I told you so on his tongue but had held back.

  When she’d first arrived she’d despaired of using her savings for the trip. Now she considered it money well spent. She was going back a different woman. A stronger woman. She couldn’t put a price on that.

  Sophia inhaled, suddenly nervous but needing to say what was on her mind. “Maria and I talked about things, Tomas. A lot of things.”

  Ah, there it was. Even in the shadows she could see the flare of recognition in his eyes. But only for a moment. His face cleared and he smiled politely. “She wanted to make you feel at home. It is her way.”

  Bullheaded man! He knew what she was getting at, and he still deflected. She lifted her chin. “At home in a way you aren’t with your real family?”

  Sophia knew she was taking a chance. But hadn’t he considered she might hear the details from Maria? When he didn’t answer, she took a step forward. “Why couldn’t you have told me, Tomas?”

  He turned away from her so she couldn’t see his face, but she heard the frustration in his voice. “Tell you what, Sophia?”

  “Tell me about being part-owner of the estancia. And what happened to Rosa. Maria wouldn’t tell me. She said I had to ask you.”

  “Why? So you could pity me instead of wallowing in your own ruined life?”

  But she knew that was not true, and what’s more he knew it, too. “That is grossly unfair. I did not wallow. I have never wallowed. Was I hurt? Yes. But I came here to start over, Tomas. You of all people know that. Because I told you. And I did every damn thing you asked. And what did you share with me?”

  “Sophia,” he said, entreating her.

  God, she loved it when he said her name that way. She would never tire of the soft tones of his accent. But the gap between them was wider than she’d ever imagined.

  “Don’t Sophia me. You told me about Rosa, but that was just skimming the surface. You could have told me the rest. When we were out riding, the night that we…”

  She couldn’t finish the sentence. Humiliation burned its way up her cheeks. She had confided in him about her virginity. Now she felt foolish.

  She blinked back tears. He’d given her understanding and gentleness. But he hadn’t given her himself. Not all of himself. Just enough to appease her questions.

  “You should have told me,” she whispered.

  But Sophia wasn’t prepared for the way her heart would crack when he admitted softly, “I know.”

  “Can you tell me now?”

  “I don’t want your pity,” he said sharply, moving away from the trunk of the ombu but staying beneath the protection of its branches.

  “Her picture is on the wall, Tomas. We walked by it many times each day and still nothing. You spoke of Miguel, but never of his sister. Not until that day on the bridge. Maria said something about you blaming yourself. Why?”

  “It doesn’t matter. I’ve mov
ed on.”

  She shook her head. His body was as taut as a wire, a wire that would snap at any moment. “No, you haven’t.”

  He turned on her then, his eyes blazing, his body emanating anger and frustration. “Why couldn’t we just enjoy the week, hmm? We both knew you were only here for a short time. So what difference can it possibly make now?”

  The answer came to Sophia as clearly as the stars hanging in the black Argentine sky. Because she was falling in love with him. That was the strange feeling she kept having, the one she’d never felt with Antoine or with any man before him. It made no sense, but it didn’t need to, did it? It was just there, a complicated, tangled ball of emotions for a most inconvenient man at a most inopportune time. The man who had given her coins to make a wish and had understood that she was afraid to make love for the first time.

  “Because you want to move on and you’re stuck. You’ve withdrawn from the world, Tomas, and you can’t find your way back.” She went to him and put her hand on his arm. It was warm, but hard as a band of steel.

  “Maybe I have. Maybe I just decided that this was what I wanted. I am happy here.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  Sophia was surprised at her temerity in saying that, even if it was true. She was more convinced than ever that his silence was his way of handling his grief.

  “You don’t have to believe me.”

  She couldn’t help the smile that sneaked on to her lips, turning them up as she conceded the point. “I guess I don’t. Perhaps I realize how much being here has helped me move past a lot of things, Tomas. It isn’t just being here that has done it, either. It has been being with you. You challenge me, and force me to see things I’d rather ignore. But it is good. I need you to do that. And I have no idea how to show my gratitude.”

  “When have I needed gratitude?”

  She raised her eyebrow at him.

  He nodded. “That’s right. Never.”

  “But you have it just the same. And of all the things you’ve said to me this week—all the difficult things to hear—it has been your silence that has hurt me most.”

  “Hurt you?” He turned his head to stare at her. “How could I hurt you?”

  “When people care about each other, they share things. They don’t keep secrets.” She swallowed thickly. “I cared about someone once, and he kept secrets from me. Secrets that ended up hurting me very much. He betrayed my trust, and you knew that. Why would you think I would let you do the same?”

  “But Antoine was with another woman.”

  “And you were…”

  She let the end of the sentence hang, unsaid, but both of them knew the last two words were with Rosa. What she didn’t expect was the way Tomas came forward and gripped her fingers in his. The pressure on her knuckles was nearly painful, until he released one hand and reached up to cup her jaw.

  “Not with another woman,” he denied. “You need to understand. I loved Rosa, and a person never truly gets over losing someone they love. But I wanted to keep Rosa out of it. I was with you, Sophia.” He sighed, the sound intimate in the dusky night. “Only with you. No one else.”

  Hope, she realized, was a treacherous thing. It made her heart lift at his words, and she leaned her cheek into the wide palm of his hand. Had he truly not mentioned Rosa because he didn’t want it to interfere with them? It seemed impossible.

  And if it were true, then what on earth was she to do now?

  “Tell me about polo. Tell me about the Mendoza family business.”

  He turned his head. “I can’t. I can’t go back. I won’t. I’m sorry.”

  Resignation filled Sophia like a heavy weight. She had given him ample opportunities. Had flat-out asked him and still he refused, ensuring there was always that barrier between them. Leaving was still best, before she got in any deeper. Before she did something she would regret.

  “You must be cold,” he murmured. “You should have worn a sweater.”

  “I’m fine,” she whispered. If she admitted she was cold, he would suggest they go back, and she wasn’t ready to give up her time alone with him yet. These might be their last private moments together.

  “But you are shivering.”

  She couldn’t tell him the reason why. She could admit it to herself, but she could not verbalize it. He would think she was silly. He chafed her arms with his hands, the friction sending delicious warmth down to her fingertips.

  “It has been a memorable week,” Sophia said, knowing she had to tell him of her plans now, get it over with.

  “Si,” he replied. “More eventful for some of us than others.”

  “I seem to create chaos wherever I go.” Sophia smiled.

  “But I didn’t take good care of you. Some things…” he paused, frowned. “Some things never should have happened.”

  It would hurt her desperately if he meant kissing her, or spending the night together. She couldn’t bear for him to say it, so she took his hand in hers. “You didn’t ask me to go racing across the pampas with my hair on fire, did you? My fall was hardly your fault.”

  He looked at her head, lifting his hand and twining a curl around his finger. “But, querida,” he said softly, “Your hair is on fire. Gorgeous flames, like sunrise.”

  His hand was threaded into her curls now and her body swayed closer to him. She knew he was trying to distract her, and it ceased to matter.

  “I bet you sweet-talk all the señoritas,” she whispered, desperately trying to keep herself on an even footing with him and failing beautifully. But she regained her balance quickly. “And the other night you said my hair was like sunset, not sunrise.”

  She couldn’t tell if he was blushing in the dark, but the abashed expression on his face was gratifying enough. This was the Tomas she wanted to remember, the one she wanted to hold in her dreams when she returned to Canada.

  “That is a bet you would lose,” he responded. “I am not in the habit of sweet-talking, as you call it. Not at all. As you can see.”

  His other hand sank into her hair. “I don’t know what to do about you, Sophia. I can’t seem to stay away, but on the other hand this seems pointless.”

  “There’s nothing pointless about feeling this way,” she whispered. “It feels wonderful, Tomas.” She blinked slowly, opening her eyes again, almost to make sure he was really there holding her. One last chance before leaving. “Don’t stop.”

  Her arms hung by her sides as her breath caught. The rising moon cast shadows on his face that had her heart knocking about like crazy. Was he going to kiss her?

  “What am I going to do with you?” He whispered it, his voice silky and with the gorgeous Spanish lilt.

  “I don’t know,” she replied. “But I wish you’d do it soon, Tomas. Por favor.”

  He didn’t need further invitation. As the breeze fluttered through the ombu leaves, he placed his lips on hers, tasting, savouring. The air came out of Sophia’s lungs in a soft, breathy sigh. He tasted like all the best things of the day—the rich Malbec, the caramel sweetness of the alfajores, even the tang of the mate, all combined with a flavour that was Tomas. Gentle and persuasive, he guided her until her body was pressed against his. He was strong and solid, an unmovable wall next to her softness. And she did feel soft and delicate and feminine next to his strength. She tilted her head and slid her hands up over his chest to rest on his shoulders as she kissed him back.

  With a groan, Tomas spanned her ribs with his hands and lifted her as if she weighed nothing. His gaze held her captive as he moved them back and to the side, and then braced himself back against part of the ombu tree. Gravity worked to his favour and her body rested against his, feeling all the ridges and planes of his body. She sank into him, losing herself in the kiss, letting everything from her past stay a continent away.

  His hands skimmed down her ribs and desire rushed through her as she pressed against him.

  A door slammed up at the house, the dull sound echoing through the stillness and Soph
ia pushed away. This was why she had to go. Another few days with him and leaving would be even more difficult. This could go nowhere. They both knew it. Now they needed to accept it.

  “I’m leaving tomorrow,” she announced, her voice clear and abrupt in the soft night.

  “Tomorrow?” Tomas reached for her, but she stepped back.

  “No, please don’t.” She held up a hand, knowing if he reached for her again she might change her mind. “I can’t go on this way, Tomas. There is nothing holding me here—not even a reservation now. What are we doing exactly? Flirting? Kidding ourselves? I’m going to square up with Maria in the morning and go back to Buenos Aires. I’ve been thinking and I’d like to see Iguazú before I go home. I can do that if I leave tomorrow.”

  “Iguazú? But that’s hours away.”

  It was, and she knew it. “There are tours that leave all the time. Or I can rent a car and drive. I can read a map, Tomas.”

  She realized her attitude was quite a change from the frightened, defensive girl who had arrived at Vista del Cielo and she stood tall. “All I will need is a drive back to the city.”

  “Sophia, this is silly.”

  “No, it is not,” she replied. She wished he’d stop looking at her that way, his dark eyes soft and his hair rumpled and sexy. He couldn’t possibly know how hard it was to say no to him. But what other choice did she have? She didn’t belong here. She never had. She had only pretended because it had suited her. They were all wonderful, but this was not home. Home was a place she needed to make for herself.

  “I care about you,” he said. “It’s the first time I’ve cared for someone in a long time. I know it’s a passing thing. You have always been going to leave.”

  Her heart began to crack just a little, knowing this had to be the inevitable let-down. He was speaking nothing but the truth. He couldn’t know how deep her own feelings ran, so why did it actually hurt to hear it?

  “But I’m not ready for it to be over.”

  And just like that, her heart leapt. “You see? You say things like that and I don’t know what to do with it. We’re from two different worlds, Tomas. On borrowed time.”