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Like a wild horse he charged back through the house, powering through doors, changing direction. Back to the snug, where the scent of fresh paint cut through the air. Where could she be? Where the hell could she be?
The main doorway was still open as he passed the ticking clock and stepped out into the sunshine, stared out all around. In the distance the grass-cutting tractors were trailing like giant beetles around the cultivated lawns surrounding the lakes. To the left horses grazed, staying near the trees for much-needed shelter.
And then his feet knew where to go, even if his mind didn’t. In less than two minutes he’d skirted the house, run past the back terrace to the yard and the stables. Straight to the stalls of Roisin and Orla.
Dante might have chosen them for his string for today’s match, but if he hadn’t …
He stepped inside.
His heart stopped.
There she was.
Roisin’s nose nuzzled into her hand as she turned her huge watchful eyes on him.
Frankie looked up, smiled.
‘Hello, Rocco.’
He swallowed. ‘Frankie.’
‘Hope you don’t mind me coming out here to see the ponies.’ She ran the backs of her fingers down Roisin’s white star. ‘I never got a proper chance to get to know them last time.’
She turned her attention fully on the horse, smiled again and kissed her bobbing head, clapped her strong silky neck.
He watched her, transfixed. She was exactly as he remembered—but so different. Her sleek bobbed hair dipped over each cheek, almost obscuring her perfect petite nose and huge honest eyes. Her lips were parted as she murmured a reassuring string of soft words to Roisin. Then they tilted into another smile, which she turned to gift to him.
‘You were right. I didn’t come here for the horses last time. I thought I had. But it turns out there was a bigger attraction.’
His face eased into a smile. ‘I knew it.’
She smiled, so softly, nodded in the half light of the stable.
‘It’s funny how things turn out, isn’t it? Who would have thought that my grumpy old goat of a father would be the one to give me the best advice about love?’
‘What advice was that, then?’
He moved closer, cutting out the sunlight that bathed her, casting her slightly into shadow. But she didn’t need any sunlight. She was sunlight.
Even in the gloom he saw her smile deepen and her eyes sparkle with humour. She turned back to the pony, soothing her with slow, soft strokes.
‘He said men can be very stupid sometimes. You in particular.’
He kept pacing towards her.
‘Is that right?’
The pony whickered, looking for more affection, but she trained her eyes on his and kept them steady.
‘Definitely.’
‘He said I’m stupid? But I’m not the one who’s fallen in love with a bad-tempered, jealous porteño with more bumps and scars than a beat-up car.’
She made a face, as if perusing him for the first time. Nodded. ‘True, true … You could do with a new paint job.’
The heartbeats that passed were the sweetest of his life. He felt his cheeks almost split as a smile burst right across his face. He took another step closer.
‘But he’s right. I’ve been very stupid—falling in love with the cheekiest, most smart-mouthed little minx who ever climbed into my bed. Naked.’
‘I was looking for something …’ This time it was her turn to smile from ear to ear.
‘Tell me you found it.’
She smiled coyly. ‘Oh, yes. I found it, all right.’
‘I think that’s the first time I’ve seen you blush, Frankie Ryan.’
That crackle of heat began.
‘It’s too dark to see in here.’
‘Maybe I just need to get a little closer to be sure, then.’
He was right beside the horse’s withers.
‘You’ll have to wait in line. I came to see Roisin.’
He stepped right up, so they were almost toe to toe. He saw her chest rise as she drew in a sharp breath. Her lips parted slightly. His appetite for her roared into life. The hunger that would gnaw at him forever.
‘You’ll have all the time in the world to get to know her.’
He scooped his hand around her neck, felt the warm, supple skin and silken hair. Sweet heaven, how had he lived these days without her?
‘Oh, really?’ she whispered, tilting her head back, her perfect wet lips opening in invitation.
He accepted. With the slowest, softest, sweetest kiss.
‘Oh, yes,’ he murmured, against her mouth. ‘I’m not stupid enough to let you go for a third time.’
Thoughts of everlasting days and nights with his woman, his wife, swirled in his head—made him dizzy with his love for her.
Roisin stamped her foot. He grabbed Frankie by the hand, led her out into the sunlight.
‘Come on. We’ve got two hours until we need to be at Palermo. It’s Dante’s first match as captain. He can help us celebrate.’
She stopped, narrowed her eyes at him. ‘Celebrate? What …?’
He bumped his brow. ‘Of course. How stupid of me.’
There in the middle of the yard she planted her feet like a stubborn mule. Folded her arms and scowled a grin at him.
And he did the thing he never dared hope he would do, but in his mind had been practising for twenty years. He dropped to one knee, held her pale skinny fingers in his hand, slipped the Ipanema ring off her right hand and looked up into that darling face. Her eyes, filled with trust and hope, and now glistening with tears, stared down.
‘Frankie Ryan. Sexiest, smartest, kindest woman alive. Will you marry me?’
He touched her ring finger and held the tiny silver Ipanema band poised.
She cocked her head to one side. ‘Can I think about it?’
‘Will you do what you’re told for once? Please?’ he said, staring up into her smiling, crying face.
She pursed her lips, wiped her hand over her soaked cheeks, nodded her head. ‘I actually think this once I can.’
Then he stood and swooped her into his arms. He clutched her to his chest and she clambered to straddle him even as he strode back across the yard to the house and the rest of their lives together.
ISBN: 978-1-472-09890-0
THE PLAYBOY OF ARGENTINA
© 2015 Bella Frances
Published in Great Britain 2015
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of Harlequin (UK) Limited
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