Honeymoon With the Rancher (Harlequin Romance)

by Donna Alward

  “So we enjoy it while it lasts.”

  “I don’t have any practice with that. I always plan things out, you see. Weigh the pros and cons.”

  “And how is that working out for you?”

  His voice held a trace of smugness, as if he knew the answer.

  She ran her fingers over a large curve of the ombu tree. “It’s not.” She sighed. “For a long time I sat quietly and didn’t rock the boat. It was easier to go along with what people told me was best rather than do what I wanted.”

  “We all have to live with our choices.”

  “Then respect mine, please, Tomas.” Sophia looked up at him, needing him to understand. “Take me to Buenos Aires tomorrow and let me go.”

  “Sophia…”

  “If you don’t, I will ask Carlos. And he will say yes.”

  Tomas didn’t answer her, but they both knew she was right. His shoulders relaxed and he sighed, giving in.

  He held out his hand and she took it. He led her to a place where the tree root extended, curved and knotted before disappearing into the ground. It was large enough to sit on, and they did, Sophia putting her arms around her knees for added warmth.

  “If you are determined to go…I got you something in San Antonio de Areco.” He reached into his pocket. “I have been trying to find the right time to give it to you. Now it seems this will be my only chance.”

  Sophia’s mouth dropped open. A gift? It was totally unexpected. “You did?”

  “You were admiring the silver jewelry. I had the shopkeeper wrap this up.”

  Sophia felt a curl of pleasure, bittersweet as it blended with the inevitable knowledge that this was their last night together. The trip to town seemed like ages ago, not two days. He had thought of her, even then? Before the kiss on the bridge? “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “I wanted to. Please, just accept it as a token of your trip. A memento.”

  He put the small box into her hand. “Open it,” he suggested.

  Sophia took the simple white box and removed the cover. She gasped at the beautiful necklace inside. “Oh, Tomas.”

  “It matches your earrings. The amethyst ones.”

  She reached inside and carefully lifted the chain so that the pendant swung free. The silver pendant was in the shape of an ombu leaf, an echo of the ones that covered them like a veil. There was a marquise-cut amethyst in the middle. “It is stunning. I don’t know what to say.”

  “Don’t say anything. When you are back in Canada, you can wear it and remember your time here.”

  Her smile trembled as she turned the pendant over in her fingers. And now she would have the necklace to remember. Remember learning to love herself again and remember the precious gift he’d given her, even more precious than Argentine silver. The gift of being herself and knowing it was enough.

  The thought was beautiful and sad all at once, because it really was starting to feel like goodbye. She held out the chain. “Will you put it on for me please?”

  “Of course.”

  He put the box back in his pocket and took the fine silver chain from her fingers. She could feel his body close behind her and the coolness of the metal pendant against her collarbone. His hand swept her hair away from her collar and a shiver went through her body as she reveled in the simple touch. When the clasp was fastened, he kept his hand against the nape of her neck.

  “Don’t go,” he murmured, touching his lips to the sensitive skin below her hairline. “Stay until the end of the week.”

  That she wanted to say yes with every molecule in her body was enough warning. “I can’t, Tomas.” And she couldn’t tell him the reason. The last thing he wanted to hear from her was the L-word. He did not love her, and she would only be hurt in the end.

  CHAPTER TEN

  SOPHIA had her bags all packed when Tomas entered the kitchen the next morning. He stood in the doorway for a few moments, listening to her talk with Maria and Carlos. He’d meant to be up early, to talk to her about her plans, but instead he’d tossed and turned late into the night, replaying their conversation beneath the ombu and wondering if she was really right after all. Had he simply been hiding? Running? He thought of his family back in Buenos Aires, and of Motores Mendoza. He had closed the door to them and had been determined never to open it again. He’d flatly refused to talk to Sophia about it. And why?

  Because it was easier to forget than to face the truth. He’d said goodbye to his old life and started over at Vista del Cielo.

  And what had it fixed? Nothing. And then along had come Sophia.

  Did she really have any idea of what she’d done?

  She was folding something—was that her receipt?—and tucking it into her purse. She was really leaving, then. Sticking to her guns.

  He admired her for it, but he couldn’t let her go. Not yet.

  He pushed off the door frame and came into the kitchen. “Oh, Tomas,” Maria said, giving him a good-morning smile. “Sophia just told us of her plans. I’m sure she’ll have a wonderful time. Iguazú is so beautiful.”

  “So you’ve straightened out the bill?”

  Sophia looked up, met his gaze with her own. Firmly, no shyness or evasion. Dios, when had she become so strong? He swallowed as his throat felt dry. Today she was back in one of her tidy designer dresses, bronze shoes on her feet that seemed to be constructed of threads—how could something that flimsy hold someone’s weight? And yet he couldn’t deny how the criss-cross pattern drew his gaze to her ankles and the smooth calves leading to her hemline.

  “I’ve paid Maria for my time here,” Sophia explained. “The mix-up is fixed. Thank you—especially you, Tomas, for a lovely stay.”

  She was far too composed and Tomas felt annoyance build, tensing his shoulders. Lying awake meant he’d slept longer than he’d expected. He’d intended on speaking to her this morning. The idea of her paying for the week didn’t sit well with him. He had expected an argument, but he also wanted her to know that he would look after the costs of her stay.

  This way made it seem like she was no more than a guest, and she was. Much more.

  “So that’s it?”

  She gave him a cool look. “What else is there?”

  And yet she wore the necklace he’d given her around her throat, and the earrings, too. They’d shared things, personal things. It was wrong to have such a cold goodbye, as though none of it mattered.

  “I told Miss Hollingsworth I would take her to the city,” Carlos said quietly, and Tomas shook his head.

  “No,” he said firmly. “I will do that.” He stood up straight and met Sophia’s gaze. “I will do more than that. I will take you to Iguazú.”

  He was aware of Maria’s mouth dropping open and the smile blooming on Carlos’s face. And he was aware of the consternation twisting Sophia’s features. This was not part of her plan, and he was damned glad to complicate things for her. She’d certainly done enough complicating of her own. She’d waltzed in here and turned his whole life upside-down.

  “I don’t recall inviting you,” she replied. She kept her expression friendly but he heard the vinegar behind the words.

  “You didn’t. But you’ll waste a lot of time going to Buenos Aires, then finding transportation, then sorting out touring the park on your own…it’s just easier if I take you.”

  Every single word he’d said was true. She would face those difficulties, but his reason for going with her had nothing to do with travel time at all.

  He refused to let her go. Even if it meant leaving the estancia and driving across country to the waterfalls that attracted hordes of tourists, he’d do it.

  Because he was in love with her.

  The knowledge seeped into him like rain into dry ground, making everything expand and grow. What a hell of a situation. He did not know what he was going to do about it, but he knew to say goodbye now would be a mistake.

  He stood his ground. For long moments their gazes clashed—his determined, hers resisting. He was
vastly relieved when she relented, dropping her gaze to her handbag. “All right, fine,” she said irritably. “I’m ready when you are.”

  “Ten minutes,” Tomas replied, disappearing back into his room to throw some clothing in a bag.

  When he came back out, Maria and Carlos were waiting with Sophia. Maria gave him a hug and her eyes were suspiciously bright. “You come back to us,” she said, and Tomas had to pull away. He knew why. Sophia had been right when she’d accused him of hiding out at the estancia. For him to volunteer to leave for even a few days was unusual behaviour. Maria understood him more than most. She knew that taking Sophia there himself was important. And it was more important than any of them knew.

  “Don’t worry,” he murmured, accepting a bag of alfajores for the road. “I’m just taking a few days off.”

  But it was a few days with a woman—something he’d never done before. Not since Rosa, and they all knew it.

  Maria hugged Sophia. “You have the recipe, yes?”

  Sophia nodded, and Tomas watched a curl droop over Sophia’s cheek as she hugged Maria back. “I sure do. Thank you, Maria.”

  Carlos shook her hand. “You come back any time,” he said, his accent thick, but his smile more easy than Maria’s had been, not quivering around the edges like hers.

  Tomas’s stomach clenched. He knew as well as they did that Sophia would not be back.

  “We’d better get going,” he stated, moving past the group to load the bags in his truck. “It’s a long drive.”

  They were halfway down the dusty lane when Sophia spoke up.

  “You do not have to go with me. Just drop me in the city and I will be fine.”

  “You don’t want me to come?” He kept his eyes on the road, knowing if he looked at her now he might just pull over and kiss that stubborn set of her mouth until it was pliable beneath his.

  “I…”

  “You what?”

  She huffed out a gigantic breath of air. “I didn’t want to have to say goodbye twice, all right?”

  “Maybe I am not ready for you to leave,” he said, turning on to the main road in a cloud of dust. “But I am leaving, Tomas. We both know it.”

  “Not yet,” he replied. “I know what you said last night, but not yet, okay?” He reached over and turned on the stereo. “Let me show you Iguazú.” And what else, he wondered. What more did he want? It was all impossible. They were from two very different worlds. If he had to content himself with forty-eight more hours, then that was what he’d do.

  He would simply keep his feelings to himself. She never needed to know. Sophia had been so angry with him last night, and as much as he would not admit it, he knew she had a right. He hadn’t been totally honest with her. She would never love him, he was sure of it. He’d worked too hard at making himself unloveable.

  So he would love her, for the last moments they had left together.

  Sophia finished the last of her coffee and put the empty paper cup in the cup holder as Tomas pulled into the parking lot at the Iguazú National Park and killed the ignition. “This is the best time to get started, before all the tour groups come in,” Tomas said, sliding out of the driver’s side and hefting a day pack on his shoulder. “Later this morning it’ll be packed.”

  Sophia hopped out, clad in jeans and sneakers and a cotton T-shirt. The air was heavier here, rich with moisture and the scent of the rain forest. She followed Tomas to the entrance of the pathways and wondered if it were possible to absorb each detail, cataloguing each sight and scent and sound into her brain so she could recall it perfectly later.

  They hadn’t arrived in Puerto Iguazú until after dinner last night and Tomas had booked them into a hotel. She’d expected awkwardness, but he’d assumed she wanted separate rooms and had booked them next to each other. He’d handed her the keycard and she had tucked it into her pocket, reaching for her carry-on to avoid looking into his face. She would have insisted on her own room anyway, but it still stung that there hadn’t even been a hint of indecision in his eyes. He’d helped her with her bags and without so much as a peck on the cheek or a squeeze of her hand he’d left her to freshen up.

  Over dinner he’d given her a little history of the area and this morning he’d pulled out a park map and they’d planned their day while grabbing a quick breakfast.

  Absolutely nothing personal. No talking about Rosa, or his family, or the hour of her departure that was racing towards her faster than she wanted to admit. No words about their kisses or anything remotely intimate.

  It was driving her absolutely, completely crazy.

  She grabbed his arm as they walked down the pathway, sidestepping to avoid a group of German tourists who, like them, were getting an early start.

  “Tomas, please,” she whispered, her fingers digging into his arm.

  He stopped, looked down at her. Waited.

  She had to swallow back the hitch in her breath as she gazed up at him. When had he become everything? Why did this have to happen now, a world away? Even if she did admit her feelings, what good would it do? His life was here. Her family—her life—was in Ottawa. Worlds apart. Tomorrow she’d say goodbye to him forever. The very thought made her feel empty inside, as though a great cavern had opened up, her emotions echoing off the sides. There was no sense fighting her feelings now. The damage was already done.

  “What is it?” He reached for her arm, gripping it just below her shoulder, his gaze plumbing hers, searching for answers she didn’t have.

  “I just can’t take this…this impersonal way you are with me. Are you angry with me? Did I do something wrong?”

  As soon as the words left her mouth she closed her eyes. She was still afraid, after all the progress she’d made. Tomas had been distant and polite ever since the night under the ombu. Her lip quivered. The very moment she had realized her true feelings, he had locked his away.

  “No, querida. I am not angry.”

  “But you…”

  He placed a finger over her lips, halting her words, and then gently touched his mouth to hers, hovering, tasting, their breaths mingling in the humid air of the rain forest.

  Tomas felt his heart pound against his ribs as he forced himself to go slowly, gently. Now her lips were parted beneath his and he drank in her flavour, soft and sweet and tasting like strawberry lip gloss.

  Reluctantly he pulled away, but he couldn’t shift his gaze away from her face. Her dark eyes were dreamy, the pupils dilated and her lips were full and puffy.

  “Tomas…” She murmured his name and he watched, mesmerized, as a bright yellow butterfly paused and perched on a burnished curl of her hair.

  “Wait,” he whispered, releasing her. He let the backpack slide from his shoulder and reached in to take out a small camera. “Smile,” he commanded, and he was instantly gratified as her lips curved in a slow, sexy smile.

  He snapped the photo and looked at it in the viewfinder, struck by the vivid colours. Her auburn hair, the bloom in her cheeks from being freshly kissed, the depths of her eyes that made her look as if she was sharing a secret with the camera, the shocking yellow hue of the butterfly and the vibrant green of the jungle forming the backdrop. This was how he wanted to remember her—still soft and flushed after his kisses. Full of colour and light and life. The person who had brought such colour back to his own life.

  “Come on,” he said, uncomfortable at the strength of his reaction to a simple snapshot. Sophia shook her curls and the butterfly flitted off. “We have to catch the train, or we’ll miss it and have to wait another half hour.”

  They caught the train that took them to the Garganta del Diablo—the Devil’s Throat. Tomas had made this trip before, and knew what to expect, but he loved watching Sophia’s face as they went deeper through the rain forest toward the most famous part of the falls. Her eyes danced and she twisted in her seat, looking out of the open window and trying to see everything. His kiss had stopped her questions, but for how long? What if she knew the whole truth? Woul
d she feel the same? Or would that light in her eyes dim just a bit knowing he wasn’t the man she thought he was?

  Tomas would not let it ruin their day. He pointed out birds as they went along, and cautioned Sophia to put on her poncho unless she favoured getting wet. “The day is clear, but the mist never goes away,” he explained. “And Sophia—you will get wet,” he promised, as they followed the rest of the throng to the boardwalk.

  The roar of the water was deafening as their shoes clunked along the metal structure. They hadn’t gone far when Sophia clutched at his hand, her eyes huge as she looked up at him. “The water is moving so fast.” The shore was behind them and a thick cloud of mist indicated their destination—the cusp of the Devil’s Throat. Right now the only thing standing between them and the rushing water was a metal grate.

  “It’s safe,” Tomas assured her, keeping her hand in his. “And the view is so worth it. Come on, Sophia.” He pulled her along, keeping her close as he sensed her unease. The vibration of the water shimmered up through the soles of their shoes. It was impossible to ignore the river’s power.

  When they reached the end of the boardwalk, the mist hovered, a filmy cloud settling on their clear ponchos. As they approached the rail, Tomas heard her gasp with pleasure, her hesitation temporarily forgotten. “Tomas, look! A rainbow!”

  The sun was shining through the mist and an arc of colour decorated the view. “See the birds?” he called to her above the falls’ roar as they tumbled and crashed to an invisible bottom. The birds were dark darts, flitting in and out of view. “It’s incredible.”

  Tomas took out his camera, wanting to capture her this alive, looking so free and vibrant. Did she know how brave, how gutsy she was to come on this trip alone, to gamely take on anything he suggested? Sometimes even foolishly. She was the kind of woman a man would be proud to call his. A woman who would walk beside her man so they could face things together, given the chance. Her ex had to be the biggest fool on earth to throw that away.