Touch had served her well again. If they had found this infestation in time, Grace had potentially just saved the vineyard. As the silence lengthened between them his gaze slipped to her lips. He could still taste her on his mouth and remember how she had felt beneath his hands—
‘I’ll make a call,’ she said, crunching another leaf to powder in her hand.
Grace called a scientist who was an expert in viticulture the moment they got back to the house.
‘She’ll be here tomorrow,’ Grace confirmed, ending the call.
‘Then what?’
‘If I’m correct, she will prescribe the correct spray to use, and then we wait.’
‘For how long?’
Grace hesitated. ‘A month or so.’
‘Will you stay on?’
‘I think I have to, don’t you?’ she said, in the same business-like tone. ‘The result of the final survey will be crucial to both sides. Don’t worry, I’ll book into a hotel. Did I say something funny?’ she demanded when he began to laugh.
‘Only that the nearest hotel is around three hundred miles away. You’ll have to stay here, Grace.’
She said nothing to this, and he felt bad laughing when Grace couldn’t know the extent of the land they were standing on. She couldn’t see that it stretched to the horizon, where it was bound by the snow-capped Andes, or that it extended for hundreds of miles on either side.
‘You can stay on at the guest cottage.’
‘Not if I’m in your way.’
‘You won’t be in my way, Grace.’
No, because Nacho would steer clear from now on, she imagined.
‘That’s settled, then,’ she said, acting as if her heart hadn’t been trampled on and business was all that mattered.
The expert arrived the next morning, as Grace had promised, flying in on Nacho’s jet to the Acostas’ private landing strip. He shook the woman’s hand with relief and they strolled through the rows of vines deep in conversation.
‘This is in no way finished yet,’ the expert informed him. ‘Grace has been correct in every detail, but we won’t know for some time if the spray I have prescribed is effective. I suggest you keep Grace here and I’ll come back in about a month—unless Grace needs me to return sooner.’
The irony of Grace suddenly being in charge didn’t escape him. The thought of her staying on was both a relief and a concern, because he still wanted her desperately—even though he believed he was an inherent risk to her.
‘At least the damage to the vines isn’t irreparable,’ Grace pointed out.
‘And nowhere as bad as I feared,’ he agreed, wondering if those dark circles beneath Grace’s eyes meant she had tossed and turned all night like him.
‘But you were right to call me,’ the forensic viticulturist assured him, distracting him as she came to shake him by the hand again before leaving. ‘It could have been a lot worse without Grace’s prompt action, but if you remove those rogue vines and spray, the rest the problem should be eradicated.’
‘And we should know this in around a month?’ he confirmed, glancing at Grace, who showed no emotion.
‘That’s correct,’ the scientist told him. ‘Well … your jet’s waiting to take me back,’ she said, ‘so I’ll leave you two to organise the spraying and see you both again in a month.’
This was turning out to be the longest month of her life. Concern for the vineyards competed with the ache in her heart, resulting in a constant nagging pain. If it hadn’t been for horse riding, and the kindness of Alejandro and Maria, she would have gone stark, staring mad, Grace concluded.
Nacho avoided her for much of the time, though every morning when she got up to check the vines to be sure the spray was doing its job she would invariably find he was already there before her. He had organised teams of workers to examine each plant, and she wouldn’t have been surprised to discover that he came here each night to bathe each individual leaf in spray. The vineyard meant so much to him.
This morning was no different from the rest, she realised, patting his grazing horse as she walked past. ‘Nacho?’ she said, feeling her way along the row of vines. She’d left Buddy with Nacho’s horse to keep it company. She found she moved faster on her own now she knew every inch of the vineyards intimately.
‘I won’t let my people down,’ Nacho exclaimed fiercely, without pause for hello, good morning or how are you today? ‘This might have started as a project to ensure the financial future of my brothers and sister and their families, but these people …’
When Nacho paused, Grace guessed he was making a gesture that encompassed all of the land and the cottages on it.
‘They mean everything to me, Grace,’ he went on, the passion mounting in his voice with every word. ‘They are fighting alongside us to keep this place running and we can’t let them down, you and I.’
The thought that they were fighting side by side made her more determined than ever to see this through. She could sense his desperation to preserve the livelihoods of his staff, and for a brief moment they stood together—one mind, one determination, one goal.
‘What do you think of the progress so far?’ he said.
She ran her hands over the nearest vine. The signs were good, but she had to tell him honestly, ‘It’s too soon to be sure yet.’
‘You won’t tell Elias?’
‘I haven’t yet.’ Though putting off the moment was getting harder as Elias grew ever more impatient for her report. ‘I’ll check the rest,’ she said, moving past him as she reminded herself that checking the vines was what she was here for this morning.
‘I won’t get in your way,’ he said.
And so another day without Nacho in her life passed, followed by another long, lonely night. A whole month of waiting anxiously, watching the vines and keeping their distance from each other with plenty of longing, yearning and worrying as they gave the spray time to work, interspersed with bouts of frustration and bewilderment on Grace’s part at the change in Nacho. This last concern usually culminated in jaw-grinding anger. She wasn’t a saint, and she didn’t have a clue what she’d done wrong. Was playing the piano such a sin? Nacho had given her no inkling as to why he had changed so completely towards her between one day and the next. The end result? More sleepless nights, more anxious days.
And now, quite suddenly, or so it seemed, the expert was due back tomorrow.
They stood together as the scientist left, waiting until Alejandro had driven the Jeep away to the airstrip before either of them showed any emotion.
Nacho was the first to speak. ‘Dios, Grace, I can’t believe it.’
‘A clean bill of health,’ Grace murmured, feeling her legs might give way with relief as she sent up fervent thanks.
Inside she was rejoicing, whilst still feeling the exhausting effects of a month of tension—not all of it brought about by waiting for the spray to work. A month of keeping her distance from Nacho hadn’t lessened her feelings for him, but they couldn’t go on like this. She’d be leaving soon, but if everything went well Elias would insist she made regular visits. She had to make her peace with Nacho even if she still wasn’t sure what she’d done wrong. Whatever it was, she couldn’t balk at this last hurdle.
‘Truce?’ she said, extending her hand in his general direction.
‘Truce,’ Nacho agreed, clasping it.
He seemed reluctant to let her go, and she couldn’t bring herself to let him go. Moments passed—it could only have been a split second in reality—before they broke apart.
‘So we’re free for what’s left of the day,’ she said, feeling awkward suddenly. They hadn’t had any spare time on their hands for a month. Every day since she had discovered that bug in the leaf had been ruled by hourly walk-pasts, checking, testing, spraying again, and waiting. Now they could relax and turn the maintenance programme over to Nacho’s staff.
‘I’m hungry,’ he said.
She heard the frown in his voice and realised that this return to
normality wasn’t easy for either of them. ‘We do need to eat,’ she confirmed, thinking of the snatched meals both of them had taken in the kitchen whenever they got a chance.
‘And I should say thank you to you,’ Nacho remarked.
‘Well, thank goodness you’ve got something to thank me for,’ Grace said, smiling. She sensed they were both smiling for the first time in a month.
‘Alejandro rode here with you?’ he said as they walked back towards the horses.
‘Yes, and then he went back for the Jeep. Could you hold Buddy’s harness while I mount up?’
‘Why don’t I buckle Buddy’s harness onto my saddle and then help you mount up?’ Nacho suggested.
She smiled again—ruefully this time. ‘I thought you’d know better than to ask by now.’
‘And I thought you’d know better than to refuse,’ he said.
She was still smiling when he helped her into the saddle.
‘So where are you planning to take me?’ she said, gathering up the reins.
‘To eat.’
‘That’s not very helpful. Do I need to change?’
‘You’re fine as you are,’ he said, thinking that Grace was more than fine, she was beautiful—a fact he had fought to ignore for the past month and lost. ‘This is the first time I’ve taken you out,’ he said, springing into the saddle.
And she could get that rogue thought out of her head right away, Grace informed her inner voice firmly. This was nothing like a first date.
Unfortunately, her heart refused to agree with this premise, and insisted on thundering painfully in her chest. She tried persuasive tactics: lunch would be a really great opportunity to cement their fledgling business relationship.
Oh, really?
Her heart went wild as her pony fell in step with Nacho’s stallion. The relief and sheer exhilaration they both felt now the vineyard had been saved made this feel exactly like a first date.
‘Is it far?’ she said, hoping there would be a chance for her to calm down before they arrived.
‘Not far at all. I hope you’re not going to be disappointed. It’s not much of a place for celebration. It’s just a little cantina up in the hills, with a lot of local atmosphere attached.’
‘Just as long as the food is good,’ she said, suddenly realising how hungry she was. Had she even sat down long enough to eat a proper meal in a month?
‘The food is excellent and the wine is even better.’
‘From the Acosta vineyards?’ she guessed.
Nacho confirmed this. ‘And there’s music, should you feel like dancing.’
As he spoke, Grace’s dog positioned itself between them like some self-appointed chaperon.
‘Okay, Buddy. Safety’s always at the forefront of my mind, too.’ He started to clip the lead rein on to the pony’s bridle.
‘If that’s the rope,’ Grace said, hearing the click of the catch, ‘I don’t need it.’
‘Grace—’
‘Alejandro says so,’ she insisted, batting his hand away. What do you think I’ve been doing for the past month? I’ve ridden to the vineyards every day. I have to do this on my own. Alejandro trusts me. Don’t you?’
Leaning over, he removed the rope. ‘No cantering and no surprises, Grace.’
‘I certainly hope not,’ she agreed.
As Grace turned to say this and her gaze missed his face he remembered again everything she was, and everything he had been missing this past month while they’d been working. One thing was for sure: Grace never allowed anything to hold her back. He’d missed their verbal jousting.
‘Hey, hold up,’ he warned when Grace took off. ‘If you trot as fast as that he’ll bounce you right off.’
‘And if you won’t let me canter what else am I supposed to do? I’ll be a mile behind you at this rate.’
He looked at the fixed set of Grace’s mouth and realised it probably matched his own. ‘Infuriating woman,’ he muttered, bringing both horses to a halt. ‘What part of no don’t you understand?’
‘Am I going too fast for you, Nacho?’ Grace said with a defiant smile, lifting her chin.
‘I think I can keep up,’ he murmured. The look he gave her had stopped grown men dead in their tracks—but then he remembered. Nothing about Grace made it easy to remember she couldn’t field those looks and bounce them straight back at him.
‘Well?’ she pressed. ‘Are you ready to canter yet, Nacho?’
He barked a laugh. ‘You’re not good enough to take the lead yet.’
‘But soon,’ she said, laughing as she tossed the hair out of her eyes.
He saw no reason to doubt her.
CHAPTER TWELVE
‘ARE you still there?’ Grace mocked him.
‘I’m still here,’ he confirmed, noting how well she was managing the horse. Just seeing her in the saddle was enough to fire his blood. So much for not allowing Grace to get too close. He had always said half stubbornness and half instinct made a good rider, and Grace had both. ‘You’re making good progress,’ he granted. If he gave her any more encouragement, knowing Grace, she’d bolt for the hills. ‘Loosen the reins and make your hands softer. That’s better.’
She blushed at his praise—which took his mind back to the last time he’d seen her face flushed, and led on seamlessly to how it had felt to have Grace’s hands on his body. Thinking about that was enough to shake his resolve about sending her home now the vines had a clean bill of health.
‘I told you it would be all right,’ she called back to him. ‘You have to start trusting me, Nacho.’
‘And you have to learn to walk before you can canter.’
‘Gallop, don’t you mean?’ she said, urging her pony on.
‘Enthusiasm is great, but I’m still going to curb you.’
‘I wish you luck with that,’ she said, flinging the challenge at him as she rode even faster.
And risk her safety? Never, he determined as he urged his stallion to chase Grace’s pony down.
‘Spoilsport,’ she said as he drew level.
‘I’m saving you from yourself, Grace,’ he said, taking charge of her reins.
She was excited and breathing heavily, and she stirred his blood like no one else. But he’d lived with his barriers too long to break them down now, despite how much he wanted her. ‘Do as I say,’ he warned, ‘or this riding lesson is over. Do I make myself clear?’
‘Perfectly,’ she said, in a voice still full of defiance.
Was she supposed to like Nacho’s stern tone quite so much? Grace wondered. She liked standing up to him. She liked having a wall to kick against and had missed it during their long month of separation. She settled for riding sensibly, knowing Nacho was probably right. They were both high on victory after the expert’s verdict on the vines and feeling invincible right now.
She heard the cantina long before they arrived. She could hear the clop of shoes on a raised wooden floor and plates clashing above the racket of good-natured chatter. And just as Nacho had said, there was music—rustic and catchy. A local group, she guessed.
‘Okay for you, Grace?’ Nacho said, seeing her interest as he sprang down.
‘The sounds take me back to the days when I was a waitress,’ she admitted.
‘Happy days?’ he asked, taking her pony’s reins over its head.
‘Very,’ she said, thinking about it. ‘I miss the people—and don’t forget I met Lucia while I was working as a cocktail waitress. Are you sure I don’t look too scruffy?’
‘You look great,’ he said, helping her to dismount. ‘I’ll take the horses and we’ll leave Buddy here in the shade. I’ll have some water and a steak sent out.’
She laughed. ‘Are you trying to get round my best friend?’
‘Could be …’
While they waited for their food they talked business—not as bad as it sounded, as they were two equals talking now. Grace had earned Nacho’s respect, and their shared interest in saving the vineyard gave them plenty to
talk about. And then they didn’t talk business. They laughed—something neither of them had done for ages. Laughter shared was closeness too, Grace thought as they relaxed into each other’s company. It had been far too long since they’d had a chance to relax.
And then the elderly owner of the cantina took Grace by surprise by suggesting that she dance with Nacho, forcing her to make up a couple of golden rules on the hoof: laughter? Yes. Dancing? No. She would never be ready for that. Dancing with Nacho? Being close to him again?
‘I’m not sure that’s wise,’ she said diplomatically. ‘I’ve got two left feet.’
‘Fortunately I’ve got one of each,’ Nacho murmured, drawing Grace away from the table.
And now she was on the dance floor, with Nacho’s arms around her, remembering … remembering everything, Grace realised as she tried to catch her breath. The only certainty was that his remembered touch was nothing like the real thing. This was so much better, and she was instantly responsive to Nacho’s sensitive hands.
To the music, Grace told herself firmly.
‘Relax, Grace.’
How could she relax when she was remembering the morning after they’d made love, when Nacho had grown so cold and remote? How could she relax when she didn’t have to see the effect Nacho had on other women to know he would be the centre of attention now? How could she relax when she felt like this about him?
‘You dance well, Grace.’
How could anyone not dance well in Nacho’s arms? Even locked in darkness she could feel the rhythm flowing through them. She moved instinctively with him, gaining courage with every step, though it was nothing short of a miracle that she could concentrate at all now she had discovered Nacho was wearing a tight-fitting shirt that left very little to the imagination of her all-seeing hands. It was a struggle to keep a clear head, and a struggle to know what to think when Nacho remained tantalisingly elusive. When she wanted him to drag her close he held her at a safe distance, and when she contrived to let the music bring them together naturally, his touch remained frustratingly impersonal. But, however clever Nacho might be at keeping them just that little bit apart, even he had no answer for the electricity between them—and that was as real and as exciting as it had ever been.
A Taste of the Untamed Page 13
