‘Bella?’ he murmured.
‘Could I have another drink?’ She reached for the canister. Their fingers touched as Nero handed it to her and a bolt of electricity shot up her arm.
‘We’d better fill it again before we leave,’ he said as she lowered the container from her lips. Holding her gaze, he removed it from her hand and placed it on the side. She drew in a sharp breath as Nero’s hands rested lightly on her arms.
‘What are you frightened of, Bella?’
She couldn’t look at him even though the temptation to let go just this once was overwhelming. ‘I’m not frightened.’
‘Prove it,’ Nero said quietly, and behind his customary irony Bella sensed a deeper layer of concern.
‘Shouldn’t we be getting on?’ She glanced across the honeyed space—the chasm between them and the door. Nero was like a sleeping tiger, breathing steadily and yet keenly aware at the same time. She had never played the mating game before, but she knew the signs. The look in Nero’s eyes—the attractive tug at one corner of his mouth. Nero liked her. No. It was a lot more than that…
‘Bella, Bella,’ he murmured.
She swayed a little closer.
But something was wrong…something was out of sync. It felt as if she was edging along a tightrope with the promise of the most wonderful reward at the end of it with snapping sharks waiting in the waters below. At no point had Nero touched her—in fact, he had pulled back, and now one brow was raised in sardonic enquiry. ‘What was that about?’ he said.
Softening had been an insane lapse of judgement on her part—that was what it had been, Bella thought. She shared a professional relationship with Nero and that was all.
Until he dragged her close and rasped, ‘You have no idea what you’re playing with.’ And, as she stared up at him in mute bewilderment, he added, ‘I advise you very strongly to think before you act, Bella. You think you know me? You think you can play your schoolgirl games with me?’
‘Don’t worry,’ she flashed, bouncing back onto the attack as she broke free. ‘There’s not the slightest chance I will ever play games with you.’ And, when Nero laughed, she added, ‘You’re not as irresistible as you seem to think you are.’ And that was meant to be her exit line, but Nero snatched her back again. ‘Let go of me,’ she warned him.
‘You don’t want this?’ Nero smothered her cry of protest the most effective way he could. Brushing his lips across hers until the need poured out of her in whimpers of anger and frustrated tears, he took possession of her mouth in a fierce salty kiss.
Balling her hands into fists, she thrust them against his chest. She soon learned that fighting Nero was pointless. She should have hated him for this victory, but how could she when she wanted him, and when every encounter in the past was as nothing compared to this? The taste of him…the spice and scent of warm clean man…the feelings flooding through her veins…the heat pooling in her heart, her body, her senses…the need building up inside her…the urge to claim him as her mate.
When Nero kissed her the world and all its complications fell away. There was nothing left but sensation and the absolute conviction that this was right.
‘Dios, Bella!’ He thrust her away.
Shaken to the core, she was panting, while Nero towered over her, looking down as if he hated her. ‘What if I was a different man, Bella? Don’t you know what a dangerous game this is?’
‘It’s a game you’re playing too,’ she whipped back, hand across her mouth as if that could hide the proof of her arousal. She had to turn away to catch her breath before she could come back at him. Gripping the edge of the sink as if her life depended upon it, she drew a deep calming breath. Nero was right. They were both equally to blame for this. She had wanted him, but this was wrong. They were both wrong.
On the outside at least, she was utterly calm by the time she turned round again. ‘We shouldn’t keep Ignacio waiting,’ she said coolly.
Nero opened the barn door and she walked through. And now it was back to business, Bella told herself firmly. She must forget this as if it had never happened. Or lose her credibility.
Her work provided the lifeline. The sound of churning water saved her. It distracted her and she exclaimed with interest when their route to the polo yard took them past the hydrotherapy spa. ‘Can I take a closer look?’
‘Of course.’ Nero hung back while she went to watch the pony having its treatment. Rubber matting on the floor and side walls prevented accidental injury, and the spa stall was just large enough for the horse to feel safe as the healing salts in the chilly water bubbled around its legs. ‘This is fantastic,’ she commented.
‘The low temperature increases the pony’s circulation and speeds up the curative process,’ Nero explained, coming to stand beside her.
She breathed a sigh of relief. Thank goodness they had found something of interest in common that didn’t put either her reputation or her heart at risk. ‘I don’t have anything like this in England.’ She flashed a glance at Nero, and then remembered how things stood between them.
‘I’m sure you’ll find everything you need here, Bella.’
‘I’m sure I will,’ she said, determined to ignore the shiver of arousal that rippled down her spine.
CHAPTER NINE
AS PART of the final matching process between horse and rider for the upcoming polo game, Nero was mounted and ready to give a riding demonstration. This was primarily for Bella so he could show her each pony’s paces and quirks, though the newly arrived youngsters from the city had been invited to watch too.
This was why they were here, Bella thought as she watched the rapt faces around her. Nero might look like a movie star, but they all knew he wasn’t playing a role, and he was doing more than show the paces of each horse. He was making the kids hungry—making them aspire to do better—to be the best they could be, so they could make a difference in the world in which they lived. But for now, Nero could turn a polo pony on a sixpence. He could gallop, skid to a halt in a cloud of dust within inches of the fence and make them all scream. He could prompt a pony to weave and turn, back up, rear round and change direction constantly, without appearing to move a muscle. And he did all this with the nonchalance of a Sunday ride in the park.
Nero was cool—really cool. He wasn’t just the master of the game or even the horse he happened to be riding. Nero was master of himself, and that was sexy. He was powerful, and yet he coaxed a wild animal to be part of a team, and to do that he had to be sensitive and almost primal in his understanding of the relationship between two living things—and almost preternaturally refined in the delicacy of the adjustments he made to draw differing responses from the horse. It didn’t take much to start wondering how that sensitivity of his might translate in bed.
And she had to stop thinking like that right away. She joined in the applause when Nero cantered round the ring acknowledging the appreciation of his audience with one hand raised. Staring at his strong tanned hand and imagining how it would feel resting on her naked body—firm, yet light and intuitive when it came to dealing pleasure. She had to stop that too.
‘Did you draw any conclusions?’ Nero demanded, reining in his horse in front of her.
‘Plenty,’ Bella managed as her throat went suddenly dry.
‘Good.’ Slipping his feet out of the stirrups, Nero eased his powerful limbs. ‘I look forward to hearing your comments when I’ve helped the boys take the ponies back.’
‘Right.’ She nodded as he wheeled the pony away, but she was still rather more drawn by his muscular thighs straining the seams of his breeches than by any conclusions she had made on the work front. ‘Get real, Bella,’ she muttered impatiently under her breath.
Nero and Ignacio received her comments with approving nods. At least she hadn’t lost it where horses were concerned. But that didn’t address the bigger problem, Bella mused as Nero started to walk off with Ignacio. Staying in the house with him meant she saw Nero every day. She couldn’t affor
d to slip up again like she had in the barn. ‘I’ll see you later,’ she called to the two men as she headed off in the opposite direction.
She could be happy here, Bella realised as she walked along the path between the paddocks and the warm breeze ruffled her hair. It was the type of life people dreamed of, with the added spice of Nero close by. Reaching the house, she was already anticipating the welcoming smiles from María and Concepcion. The warmth of family, she thought as she opened the kitchen door. Kicking off her boots, she lined them up on the mat. Walking across the room, she left her helmet and riding gloves where Nero left his. It was maybe the closest she’d come to him since their kiss…
Seeing her smile fade momentarily, the two beaming women hijacked her with a piece of chocolate cake. ‘Mmm—delicious,’ Bella exclaimed, biting deep.
‘More,’ the two women insisted, cutting her a second slice.
‘I’ll miss you both so much when I go home,’ she told them both in halting Spanish whilst fending off their attempts to force-feed her. She’d tried to learn more of the language, wanting to get closer to the people she was living with. She had only been in Argentina a short time, but it had made a huge impression on her. It wasn’t just the facilities here, or even the challenging ponies…
It must be something in the air, Bella decided wryly, sucking crumbs off her fingers as she headed for the door. Nero and the pampas? That was quite a combustible combination for anyone to handle…
So she’d leave it for someone with more relationship smarts than she had.
And now she was jealous of that unknown someone.
She must remember not to let her feelings show, Bella realised as María chased her to the door in an attempt to feed her more reviving chocolate cake. Laughing and holding up her hands in submission, she took the cake, dropped a kiss on María’s cheek and ran upstairs to her bedroom.
Trailing her fingertips across the beautiful handworked quilt, Bella’s gaze was drawn as it had been the first time she’d walked into the room, to an oil painting over the fireplace. Bella’s mother had been soft and kind, but the woman in this portrait had Nero’s fierce stare and was dressed like a gaucho in men’s clothes. The only nod to femininity was the froth of chiffon at her neck.
Bella lay on the bed, staring at the portrait. The strong character of the woman in the painting blazed out at her. That must have been one formidable lady, Bella thought, taking in the determined set of the woman’s jaw, the unflinching gaze, and the line already cutting a cruel furrow down one side of her full red lips. The likeness to Nero was uncanny. And I bet she had a sardonic smile too, Bella mused. The woman in the painting looked as if she could cut any man down to size with either a whip or her tongue. It pleased Bella to recognise the countryside in the background, though the estancia appeared much smaller. No wonder the ranch had grown, she thought, smiling as she took in the woman’s planted fist on top of the sturdy fencing. The portrait spoke volumes about Nero’s ancestry and why he was so attached to the estancia. With people like that in his family, how could he not be?
Nothing much had changed, Bella reflected as she went to take a shower. Estancia Caracas might be huge now and home to a very rich man, but Nero was as much a warrior as the woman in the painting. Had no softening influences touched him? What about his parents? Had they been written out of the picture? He never spoke about them. What sort of childhood had he had? And would she ever know?
It seemed unlikely, Bella thought as she soaped herself down. Nero wouldn’t confide in her, and she could hardly question his staff.
One idyllic day melted into another, with Bella growing ever closer to Nero’s staff until she felt like a real member of the team, and the youth scheme was going even better than she had dared to hope. Ignacio lightened everything, making her laugh and drip-feeding her information about Nero, as if the elderly gaucho wanted her to know what made his boss tick. The portrait in her bedroom was Nero’s grandmother, he explained.
No surprise there, Bella thought dryly. She only had one regret left. She hardly saw Nero. They ate at different times, and he never seemed to be around when she was teaching. Whether he was too busy preparing for the polo match or whether he was avoiding her, she had no idea. It was none of her business what Nero was doing with his time. If she had any sense at all, she wouldn’t miss him.
But she did.
The night before the ponies were due to arrive from England Bella slept fitfully. When she did manage to doze off, the young woman in the portrait seemed to come alive. With a fist planted on her hip and her strong jaw jutting at a determined angle, it felt as if she was sizing Bella up.
At one point Bella shot up with a start and switched the lights on. The room was empty. Of course it was empty, but when the cockerel crowed she realised it was time to get up. Leaping out of bed, she pushed back the heavy curtain. Excitement flashed inside her at the sight of a dust cloud that could only herald the horseboxes arriving from England.
Nero was already out in the yard.
If there was one thing guaranteed to bring Nero out, it was horses.
Heedless of how she looked or what she was wearing, Bella tugged her old dungarees over her pyjamas, adding a baggy sweater for extra warmth. There was no time to scrape her hair back, though she did pause in the bathroom to run a toothbrush over her teeth before racing out of the room and pelting downstairs. Tearing through the kitchen, startling María and Concepcion along the way, she burst through the door just in time to jog alongside the lead vehicle until it slowed to a stop in the stable yard.
‘Leave this to the drivers, Bella,’ Nero said sharply as she began to reach for the locks.
She was elated at the sight of Nero and feeling purposeful at the thought of the horses so close at hand. And determined to have her own way.
‘I said leave it,’ Nero snapped.
Moving in front of her, he said, ‘This is men’s work.’
‘Men’s work?’ Bella demanded. ‘Would your grandmother have said that?’
Nero’s face froze and in that split second Bella said firmly, ‘Excuse me, please,’ and moved past him.
Bella was certain his expression could put a layer of ice on the lake, but Misty was in the back of this transporter and no one was getting in her way.
‘Why don’t you go back to the house and let us handle this?’ Nero suggested in a more persuasive tone. She looked at his hand covering hers. ‘I’ll let you know when Misty’s settled.’
‘I’d like to do that myself. I want to welcome my own horse and check her over. I won’t be going back to the house until I’ve checked all the ponies over,’ she assured him. Planting her fists on her hips, she stared at him and he stared at her, neither of them moving.
‘Shall we get on with this?’ Nero suggested dryly as the back of the trailer was unhitched.
‘Together,’ she insisted.
Nero’s lips tugged a little as he stretched the ironic stare. ‘Together,’ he agreed finally.
Good. This might be Nero’s estancia, but the ponies were her responsibility too. They’d had a long drive, and a transatlantic flight and—
And standing up to Nero excited her. Her heart was pounding. And, much as she loved her work, she couldn’t put all this excitement down to the arrival of her favourite horse.
Nero took charge of the lead horse, a towering bay called Colonel, one of his favourites, Bella remembered, while she took happy charge of Misty. It was inevitable they walked to the stables together—or, more accurately, walked to the small paddock outside the clinic where the ponies would wait their turn to be checked over by the vet.
‘They’ll be here for a few days of observation,’ Nero explained as Misty whickered and nuzzled Bella. ‘We’ll keep her close for a few days, allow her to get acclimatised, and then you can ride her whenever you want.’
Bella’s jaw must have dropped. It was the first time anyone had ever stepped in and told her what she could or couldn’t do with her ponies. ‘When I
judge it right, I’ll ride her.’
‘With the vet’s approval.’
‘In consultation with the vet.’ She had her hand balled into a fist, Bella realised, and it was resting on the top of the fence in a disturbing mirror pose of the woman in the painting in her room. And, just like Nero’s grandmother, she wasn’t about to back down.
The sight of Bella, even in those wretched dungarees, stirred all sorts of unwelcome feelings inside him. Those feelings had only increased when she’d drawn battle lines between them. Why must Bella make his life so complicated? Why couldn’t she just fall into line?
Like the girls who put him to sleep? The girls who had nothing to talk about? The girls who might as well have lived on another planet? Was that the type of person he would like to change Bella into?
Okay. He’d felt her passion in the barn. It was all or nothing for Bella. Sex without commitment would never be enough for her. Sex with commitment was something he had never contemplated. That didn’t stop his happy contemplation of her naked body beneath the shapeless clothes as they led the horses towards the veterinary station. On the surface, Bella was ignoring him, but there was a current snapping between them as she whispered sweet nothings in her pony’s ear. She was probably instructing Misty to obey no one but Bella—
And who could he blame for bringing Bella here?
No one but himself.
By the eve of the polo match all the horses had passed the vet’s stringent tests, which was a relief. Bella had taken it upon herself to exercise Misty the moment the small mare was given the all-clear and now Nero was down at the corral with the other men, with his boot lodged on one of the wooden struts of the enclosing fence as he watched some of the new yearlings being put through their paces. He was aware of Bella coming up on his right. He felt her presence the moment she left the house and walked across the yard. He could feel her quiet determination and confidence. Both were justified. When it came to her job, Bella had no equal—other than himself, and Ignacio, of course. When it came to caring for the ponies, Bella’s energy, intuition and love for them was second to none—except, perhaps, his.
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