A Taste of the Untamed

by Susan Stephens

  What if it didn’t flow?

  It would flow, Grace told herself firmly. Nothing had changed since those nights at the club.

  Everything had changed. Her fingers fumbled over the keys as if she was a toddler let loose on a piano. It didn’t help that the instrument was so badly out of tune. She couldn’t hear what she should be playing. She couldn’t find her way into the tune—any tune. She couldn’t trust her own judgement. Even the simplest nursery rhyme was beyond her reach.

  This was ridiculous. She had to calm down and get over the fear. Dashing the tears away, she thought back to what they’d told her at the rehabilitation centre: she must always give herself time to think. Taking a deep breath, she tried again—first a scale, and then an arpeggio, and now a simple Chopin waltz, one of the slower ones she had always been able to play from memory. She started hesitantly, but her courage quickly grew. Clark Mayhew had been right. The music hadn’t left her. It was still here in her head and in her fingers.

  The hall was a natural amphitheatre, and even the suspect tuning seemed to add a poignant, haunting strain to the melody. The keys that had been sticking to begin with were working now, as if the piano was glad to be played again. Her heart began to soar as she played on. But then a door banged open and she jumped with alarm.

  ‘Nacho?’ She spun round on the stool.

  Angry footsteps pounded across the hall towards her, and she yelped with fright when Nacho slammed the piano lid down, narrowly missing her fingers.

  ‘What are you doing?’ she exclaimed, hugging herself defensively. His rage was buzzing around her like a swarm of angry bees.

  ‘What am I doing?’ he demanded hoarsely. ‘Get away from the piano!’ he roared as she ran her fingers along the edge of the lid with concern, feeling for damage. ‘Get away from the piano, Grace.’

  She was incapable of moving anywhere, and could only sit, stunned, wondering what had happened to her gentle lover from last night.

  He couldn’t believe Grace was still seated at the piano when he had insisted she must move away. His rational brain warned him that he was half mad with anger, grief, guilt, and that all of these were compounded by his concern for Grace, but the other part of him—the dark side that had once driven him to desert those he loved when he should have stayed to save them—said she must go. Just as Grace had made him forget the past last night, and the evil of which he was capable, she had brought it back to him today.

  He would never have come back to the vineyards if it hadn’t been to save his siblings’ inheritance, and now he knew why. One by one he had forced himself to grow accustomed to all the familiar landmarks again, but the piano had always been at the root of the tragedy. And to hear it played again was torment beyond belief. He should have got rid of every piano in every house. Only the fact that if he had done so it would have created suspicion amongst his siblings had stopped him. He wouldn’t do anything that might risk splitting his family when he had devoted his life to keeping that family together.

  And Grace?

  On the way to the house his head had been full of her. He hadn’t been able to wait until this afternoon to see her. His only thought had been to be with her again. He had been aching to see her. But now he couldn’t wait to send her away because he was frightened for her. He was frightened of the man he could be.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said with a helpless gesture. Grace’s face was ashen. ‘I’m not sure what I’ve done, Nacho.’

  How could she be expected to know that when he’d walked into the house it was as if he had been thrown back in time to that fateful day when he’d heard his mother playing the piano? Or that what had happened next would shame him for ever? His brothers and sister would never forgive him if they knew what he’d done, and he was determined to keep their parents’ memory intact. Lucia had been so young when they’d died. He wanted her to remember them like golden icons without fault or blemish, guardian angels watching over them.

  ‘Nacho?’

  Grace’s voice was full of concern. For him. She was so unselfish. What did it matter if she was playing the piano?

  ‘I didn’t know you played,’ he said distractedly.

  ‘I didn’t know I still could play,’ she admitted.

  Fresh guilt overwhelmed him when he heard her voice shaking and saw she was biting her lip. The tears in her eyes were proof enough that he must send her home, and quickly, before he destroyed her as he had destroyed his parents.

  ‘Come away from the piano,’ he said, as gently as he could.

  ‘Of course,’ she said, feeling for the edge of the seat.

  Every action she made now reminded him of how vulnerable she was, and how close he’d come to drawing Grace deeper into his dark world. He couldn’t risk another tragedy.

  ‘I’ll ask Maria to help you collect your things so you can move back to the guest cottage,’ he said. ‘We have work to do this afternoon.’ And thank goodness for it, he thought, longing for a return to something like normality.

  ‘A tour of the vineyards?’ she said, with some steel back in her voice.

  ‘That’s right,’ he said, relieved that she seemed to have got over his shocking behaviour. ‘And then, if you have all the information you need …’

  ‘I can leave?’ she said.

  Her bewilderment stabbed him. ‘Of course, if there’s more research you have to do …’

  ‘No,’ she said, shaking her head. Drawing herself up, it was almost as if she drew a protective ring around herself. ‘I’m sure I can complete my preliminary investigations this afternoon.’

  But she couldn’t sustain her composure and he found himself flinching when she seemed to fold in on herself.

  ‘Can I ask you something, Nacho?’ she said quietly.

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘What happened between last night and now?’

  She didn’t want to ask the question, but believed she deserved an answer, and when Nacho remained silent she drew the conclusion for herself. She could imagine him staring at her in bemusement. He was a man of the world who’d had sex with a woman. She was a woman who had made love with a man.

  ‘What are you smiling about?’ he said.

  ‘I’m not smiling. I’m laughing at myself because I’m stupid.’

  ‘You’re not stupid, Grace.’

  ‘Really?’ she said. ‘So I didn’t read too much into last night, and imagine that we meant something to each other? Or is my piano playing just really bad?’

  ‘This isn’t funny, Grace.’

  ‘You’re telling me.’ Her pain echoed round the hall. ‘I think you owe me one thing,’ she said. ‘Can you tell me how you can be one person last night and another today? What have I done to make you so angry, Nacho?’ She was all fired up and, turning to the piano, she made the lightest pass of her hand across the lid. ‘I respect this instrument. I know it was your mother’s, and I would never abuse her memory. I can’t believe you think I would—’

  ‘It’s not that.’

  ‘What, then? What have I done that’s so terrible?’

  Shaking her head, she let her anger burn out, and rested both her hands on the lid, bowing her head over them. He wished them both a million miles away. He wished he could be different. He wished Grace had never had to see him as he really was.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, so softly he had to strain to hear her. ‘I only wanted to find out if I could still play. You welcomed me into your home and I took advantage of your hospitality—no,’ she said, stopping him with a raised hand when he tried to speak. ‘I’m really sorry, Nacho. I didn’t mean to remind you of such a difficult time in your life.’

  A difficult time? It had been a murderous time, when he’d had murder in his heart.

  ‘You weren’t to know,’ he said stiffly, cursing the day he had ever heard his mother play the piano.

  Silence fell then, and a muscle flicked in his jaw as he stared at Grace. Her lips were still swollen from his kisses and her eyes were full of
tears—tears he had put there. He had never wanted to comfort a woman more, but he knew that if he did that he would never let her go.

  And he destroyed those he cared about.

  ‘Nacho?’

  Grace’s voice brought him back.

  ‘Are you all right?’ she asked him with concern.

  She could still be concerned for him, he realised with incredulity. ‘I’m fine,’ he said brusquely, but his thoughts were in turmoil. He had been meaning to call Elias this very morning, to make some excuse so that Grace could stay. But now he knew he must send her away.

  ‘At least speak to me,’ she said.

  ‘There’s nothing more to say. You couldn’t know about the piano,’ he said stiffly. ‘The lid should have been locked—’

  ‘It was locked,’ she said. ‘I asked permission first, but please don’t blame Maria.’

  ‘It’s no one’s fault,’ he managed somehow to grate out.

  ‘Come on, Buddy.’ Grace stood up.

  ‘Wait—’

  ‘No,’ she said calmly. ‘I’m here on business for Elias. So if you wouldn’t mind …?’

  He moved out of her way and the dog led her past. He watched Grace walk up the stairs with her head held high to collect her things. The irony occurred to him then. Unlike every other woman he had ever known, Grace really didn’t need him.

  As if to confirm this, she called back, without slowing her pace, ‘Vineyards at two-thirty, Nacho.’

  It was his turn to be on the back foot and wondering what last night had meant to Grace. ‘I’ll pick you up at two,’ he said, calming the storm inside him.

  ‘I’ll make my own arrangements, thank you,’ she called back.

  She was confused by the piano incident, but wouldn’t dwell on it. She knew from past experience that when she was as confused as this, as low as this, the only thing that would save her was launching herself straight back into life. It would be a life without Nacho in it, maybe, but she was going to do it by achieving one of her goals. Not a business goal, but a personal goal, and she would need Alejandro’s help to do it.

  What better time could there be to learn to ride independently, away from the safety of the corral, than when she was on her way to meet Nacho at the vineyard? Grace reflected, and she listened to Alejandro’s instructions as he rode alongside her, with Buddy trotting at their heels.

  To reassure both of them, Alejandro had explained, he was putting Grace’s pony on a lead rein. ‘So there are no unexpected hurdles for you to jump,’ Alejandro had said, in the warm tone that always made her smile.

  As if she hadn’t jumped enough hurdles in Argentina already, Grace concluded, still feeling crushed and bruised after her encounter with Nacho. She had no answers for his behaviour, but now, with the breeze on her face like rare champagne, clean and clear with the fresh scent of blossom and lush green grass, she knew it was going to be a good day. She was determined it would be. The birds were singing, the frogs were croaking, and the wind played tag in the trees. What a great day, she told herself firmly. There was so much to enjoy. Why dwell on things she couldn’t change?

  If her heart would stop aching, maybe she could forget what had happened with Nacho.

  ‘Nacho is also on horseback,’ Alejandro explained, as if picking up her thoughts. ‘That’s why your pony’s playing up. He can smell the stallion.’

  Oh, good. Just when she thought she could forget Nacho for five minutes he was back full force. ‘Right,’ she said, nodding her head sagely, as if the information Alejandro had just given her was useful rather than electrifyingly, terrifyingly and painfully upsetting.

  ‘I called ahead to explain that you would be riding to meet him with me.’

  Grace nodded her head, anxious now, although the whole purpose of this afternoon was to visit the vines with Nacho. But somehow, meeting him on horseback, surprising him that she was riding alone outside of the corral and without him behind her, felt a bit like waving a red rag to a bull. And she couldn’t bear any more confrontation. If they couldn’t be lovers then at least let them be friends—or, failing that, business associates who were capable of being civil to each other.

  ‘Are we close?’ she said, feeling her pulse speed up.

  ‘Grace.’

  Very close, she realised.

  ‘Hello,’ she said, taking care to strip her voice of all emotion.

  ‘Adiós, señorita!’

  ‘Are you leaving us, Alejandro?’ Grace called out, feeling a sudden moment of panic at being left alone in her darkness with memory of Nacho’s anger so fresh in her mind. The sound of galloping hooves was her answer, though Alejandro called something back as he left. ‘What did he say?’ she asked, not even sure Nacho was still there to answer her.

  ‘Alejandro hopes that when you return to England you will leave your heart in Argentina.’

  There was no emotion in Nacho’s voice as he said this, and she couldn’t see his expression to work out what he was thinking. ‘Who knows?’ she said, feeling stung. ‘If the tour is successful today I might be back next year. It would certainly be a pleasure to see Alejandro and Maria again.’

  Another silence lengthened between them, and Grace found herself wishing for Nacho to break it. The horses were standing perfectly still for once, and she had lost track of where Nacho was in relation to her. There was nothing worse than this sense of being stranded somewhere she wasn’t familiar with, and with a man who had shown such anger when she had done no more than play piano in his house.

  ‘Nacho?’ Her heart had begun to race with panic.

  ‘I’m here,’ he said. ‘Let me help you to dismount.’

  His voice was gentle, but though it reassured her, she wasn’t ready to forgive him yet. She heard him spring to the ground close by, and now he was walking towards her, no doubt expecting her to wait until she could slide into his arms with relief. ‘I know what to do,’ she said. ‘If you would just hold the pony steady for me?’

  Her foot was not supposed to catch in the stirrup leather!

  ‘Easy.’ Nacho caught her before she hit the ground, but his only comment was, ‘Swing your leg wider next time.’

  So that was how it was going to be. She pulled herself together fast. ‘Where are these new vines you want me to check?’

  ‘This way,’ he said.

  ‘Which way?’ she said, furious to feel her eyes welling up. ‘I can’t see where you’re pointing.’

  ‘So follow me,’ he said. ‘Here’s Buddy’s harness.’ Freeing it from the saddle, where Alejandro had told her he had secured it, Nacho handed it to her. ‘Would you like me to fasten it for you?’

  ‘No, thank you. I can manage.’

  ‘I dare say you can, but I don’t have all day, Grace.’

  She blinked, taken aback, but then realised she was so determined to do everything by herself it had never occurred to her that she might be holding other people up. ‘I’ll be as quick as I can,’ she said, dipping down to secure the harness.

  Forget heartache. Forget regret. Forget her feelings for the owner of this vineyard. They were irrelevant. She had always wanted to be accepted for who she was, with no allowances made for her being blind. Well, guess what? Nacho supported that wish of hers wholeheartedly. So, okay, now they understood each other. All that mattered now was making a successful survey of the Acosta vines for Elias. All that mattered now was business.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  GRACE was about ten minutes into the tour when she found a problem with the vines.

  ‘What do you mean, you’re not happy with the vines?’ he demanded when she continued to frown.

  ‘I mean you’ve got a problem,’ she said.

  ‘Well, I can’t see anything wrong,’ he argued impatiently as he scanned the lush wall of green vines.

  ‘Neither can I,’ Grace reminded him with an edge.

  ‘So what is the problem?’ he said, frowning as he imagined some small alteration to the hydration system, possibly. He exclaimed
when she yanked off a yard of vine.

  ‘This is your problem,’ she said. ‘You’ll have to destroy this area and isolate it, then spray the rest of your vines with an organic pest control.’

  ‘What the hell are you talking about? They look fine to me. A little dry, perhaps—’

  ‘A little dry?’ she said, crumbling one of the leaves in her fist and tossing the dust into the air. ‘If I’m right, this leaf is providing bed and board for a bug. But as I can’t see it I’ll need you to confirm my suspicions. Well?’ Unfurling another withered leaf, she held it out on her palm.

  He cursed beneath his breath when he saw the tiny bug nesting inside. ‘You’re right,’ he confirmed. ‘How could this have happened without anyone noticing?’

  Grace’s slender shoulders lifted in a shrug. ‘This sort of infestation is practically impossible to detect in a forest of green until it takes hold—by which time it’s usually too late to do anything about it. But if you run your hands over the vine you can feel the rogue leaves quite easily. I’m guessing your people have been checking them with a ride-by, or on foot?’

  His jaw clenched as he accepted she was right.

  ‘Well?’ she said. ‘Is that what they do?’

  He had to shake himself. He had been staring into Grace’s upturned face, thinking she would be gone soon and safe from him, but now he was thinking, Dios! She’ll have to stay and see this thing through. Torture for him, danger for her.

  ‘Nacho?’ she prompted.

  ‘Yes, that’s what they do,’ he confirmed. ‘I realise we’ll have to change our procedures. It seems I owe you an apology, Grace.’

  ‘It seems you do,’ she agreed.