The Untamed Argentinian

by Susan Stephens

  Finally, the horse was calm enough to lead away. Nero would allow no one but himself to take the risk of leading her and Bella hurried ahead of him to open the stable door. Her heart was stripped bare for Nero to trample on and only her professionalism allowed her to put her own feelings to one side and do what her training, her life had taught her. It was cool and shadowy inside the stable. She had prepared everything for just this eventuality. There was always one horse, sometimes more than one, spooked by the journey and the new surroundings, and Bella’s aim was to soothe the frightened animal with the fresh sweet scent of hay and clean, cool water. Nero was also the consummate professional and, having seen his troupe safely into the yard, he wouldn’t allow himself to acknowledge the world outside until everyone was safe.

  Slipping the harness off the horse, he handed it to her. They hadn’t spoken a word to each other yet, but there was an incredible level of tension between them. It was like an electric current joining them. They didn’t need to speak, Bella realised as they quietened the highly strung horse between them. In this area of their lives, at least, they would always be as one.

  Satisfied that the horse was calm, they left quietly. Bella turned for one last look over the top of the stable door.

  ‘All’s well that ends well. Isn’t that what you say in your country, Bella?’

  Nero’s muscular forearms were resting on the lower half of the door as he turned to look at her. Holding his luminous gaze, she sensed rather than saw the hard mouth soften. ‘Hello, Nero.’

  Warmth stole into his eyes. ‘Hello, Bella…’

  Their naked arms were almost touching, but while Nero might have stepped straight out of the pages of a fashion magazine and smelled divine, Bella was conscious that she smelled of horse and in her workmanlike outfit of faded top and muckers—the boots she wore around the stables—with hoof oil smeared across her stable breeches, she was hardly a contender for groupie of the year. She hadn’t wanted to look as if she was trying too hard when Nero and the Argentinians arrived, but there were degrees, she realised now.

  ‘How are you, Bella?’

  How was she? She had planned to be calm and professional. ‘I’m well… And you?’ Such few words to express a whole world of feeling.

  ‘I’m very well, thank you,’ Nero replied formally.

  Nero hadn’t moved. He was just staring at her as if he wanted to imprint every fraction of her face on his mind. ‘Bella, what you did—’

  ‘I should go. I have all your documentation here,’ she said, clinging to business. She handed him the pack she had prepared earlier. He didn’t even look at it. ‘I’ll come down to the stables later when you’ve had time to settle in,’ she said, turning to go. ‘If you need anything at all before then, please don’t hesitate to call me. You’ll find my number in the folder, along with all the others I thought you might find useful.’ She was looking into his eyes. She should have seen. She should have known.

  The breath caught in her throat as Nero put his hands on her shoulders. ‘No more talking, Bella.’

  She weakened against him. When Nero kissed her it felt so good, so right. The scent of him, the touch, the taste, the strength. She felt protected all over again.

  And knew how dangerous that could be. It was better, safer, to be alone.

  ‘No,’ Nero exclaimed fiercely when she tried to pull away. ‘I won’t let you go this time. I’ve missed you too much, Bella. I didn’t know what I was losing, or what I stood to gain,’ he added with a glint of the old humour.

  She would not—could not—give way to the maelstrom of feelings boiling inside her. ‘You thought I was teaching you something?’ Nero murmured, staring deep into her eyes. ‘But you taught me more, Bella. You made me realise how proud my grandmother would be of the ranch as it is now, how the team she founded has gone on and prospered.’

  ‘How proud she would be of you,’ Bella amended softly. ‘Don’t put yourself down, Nero.’

  ‘Says the expert on such matters,’ Nero observed huskily, brushing her lips with his mouth. ‘You showed me that history doesn’t have to repeat itself, and that a life alone is a lonely life.’

  ‘I’ve missed you,’ she breathed, nuzzling into him.

  ‘Of course you have,’ Nero agreed with all the old confidence, dropping another kiss on her mouth. His eyes were dancing with laughter and the familiar crease was back in his cheek.

  ‘You’re impossible,’ she said.

  Nero shrugged. His mouth curved. ‘I won’t deny it, but I’ve missed you, Bella—more than you know.’

  For the first time in his life he felt a little up in the air. He’d put his heart on the line and Bella had been called away. He knew she wasn’t a woman to be ordered around or someone who would fit in to suit—not that he wanted that, but Bella was at the other extreme. This was a woman with her life totally mapped out.

  Was there a place for him in that life? He had never thought to ask the question before. It was clear that Bella belonged here as much as he belonged in Argentina. Could two lovers half a world apart ever be together for longer than the polo season? With a vicious curse under his breath, he watched her stride away. And then he shook his head a little ruefully. She was cool. He had to give her that. He admired her composure, just so long as the Ice Maiden didn’t make a bid to come back.

  ‘Hey, Ignacio,’ he called. His face lit up at the sight of his closest ally and dearest friend.

  ‘Can’t stop,’ Ignacio informed him in rapid Spanish. ‘I’m going to see Bella. Can’t be late; she’s expecting me!’

  He was jealous of Ignacio now? He felt shut out, Nero realised as Ignacio hurried off in the same direction Bella had taken. At least he knew where he stood in the pecking order now. Try nowhere for size.

  ‘Can I help you?’

  He looked down into the concerned face of an older woman he remembered from previous visits. ‘Agnes,’ he said, remembering her name. They shook hands. ‘It’s good to see you again. Bella has made sure I have everything I need, thank you.’ Except for the one thing he wanted, Nero thought as his glance strayed after Bella.

  He was still grinding his jaw with frustration when he went to check on the ponies. He had wanted to say so much more to Bella, but she hadn’t given him the chance. He had wanted to thank her for the movie she’d left for the kids and tell her how they had used it for each new intake—and that they would need a new film for next year. He had thought about their reunion constantly since she’d left, but he had pictured something very different—fireworks, not business. It was always duty first for Bella.

  But now duty called him too. Work soothed him. The ponies always soothed him. And Bella would be back at his side as soon as she had finished whatever it was she had left him to do.

  Bella wasn’t back at his side, later that day or the next. Having made discreet enquiries, he learned she was evaluating the fitness of borderline match-ready ponies. Ignacio was his usual taciturn self and, in spite of Nero’s subtle and not-so-subtle prompting, Ignacio refused to let anything slip about his own reunion with Bella. So had they talked about him at all? Or was work really all that mattered to Bella? And why was he feeling so indignant when it was the same for him? He had a week of non-stop training and preparation until the match ahead of him.

  The day of the game matched his mood, with grim grey skies and rolling clouds of ink-lined pewter. He had only dozed on and off through another lonely night. How was Bella? Had she slept well? Selfishly, he hoped not. He hoped, like him, she hadn’t slept properly all week.

  Peering out of the window of his hotel, which was located on the fringes of the polo club, he had a good view of the pitch. Slippery, he determined, and the weather wasn’t going to get better any time soon. He let the curtain fall back.

  Drying off after an ice-cold shower, he switched on the news in time to catch the weather forecast. Thunder predicted later. Brilliant. Just what the horses didn’t like. Bella would need all the help she could get to keep t
hem calm. Sensing electricity in the air, they would be restless. It was one thing staying out of Bella’s private life, but where work was involved her safety was his concern. And at work was the only time he’d seen her this week, at a joint team briefing. And each time when tension snapped between them she found some excuse to hurry away.

  The time had come to change that for good.

  Bella enjoyed her time with Ignacio, asking him questions about Nero’s wild youth. Of course, she knew there were areas where she shouldn’t trespass. Nero had told her about his parents—his father, in particular, and she wouldn’t stretch the elderly gaucho’s patience by delving into a past that he wouldn’t care to remember, but he did give one reason why Nero had difficulty expressing his feelings. ‘It’s the gaucho’s way,’ Ignacio told her.

  Ignacio had been a huge influence on Nero’s life, stepping in and teaching him all his grandmother’s tricks, as well as a few of his own. But there were other reasons for Nero’s solitary path through life, his horrific childhood for one. When he should have known love and protection, Nero had faced cruelty and uncertainty. But if she could put her past behind her—

  ‘Are all the ponies match-ready?’

  She jumped guiltily at the sound of Nero’s voice. ‘All the ponies on this side of the yard have been passed by the vet.’

  Without a word, Ignacio gathered up his grooming tackle and left them.

  ‘What do you think, Bella?’ Nero pressed.

  ‘I think the weather conditions are treacherous and likely to get worse,’ she said, holding Nero’s fierce stare. ‘I think the ponies are in great condition, but you need to take care. The ground will be slippery and your ponies don’t like the wet, whereas our English ponies are used to damp conditions.’ Her heart was pounding with concern and with longing.

  ‘And your English ponies are unlike every other breed on the planet in that they’re used to thunder, are they?’ Nero demanded. With a sceptical huff, he flicked a look at the sky.

  ‘We’ll just have to hope the storm holds off.’

  ‘Well, whatever happens, no more heroics from you. No more straying onto the pitch. For whatever reason,’ Nero insisted, dipping his handsome head to stare her in the eyes. ‘Do you understand me?’

  ‘I thought we had that squared away.’

  ‘We have, but I haven’t forgotten.’

  She let out a shaking breath as he strode away. Would things ever be relaxed and easy between them again? Since his return it felt as if Nero had seized hold of her life and tossed it into the path of a hurricane.

  Yes, and when he left she’d be in the doldrums again. Even if they hardly spoke now, she dreaded him leaving. She dreaded facing another endless span of unbearable longing. Resting her face against the warm, firm neck of the pony she’d been grooming, Bella vowed not to waste another second of her life thinking about Nero. Time was such a fragile, fleeting thing, and he would soon be going home to Argentina.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  THE thunder held off, though Bella had been right about the ponies. The ground was wet and more than one pony had gone lame after skidding to a halt. The pony Nero was riding in this chukka had cast a shoe. ‘Where is she?’ he demanded when he rode in. ‘Where’s Bella?’

  ‘She’s with the grooms, warming up the ponies,’ Agnes explained as he swung down from the saddle.

  ‘She should be here.’ He gazed up and down the pony lines, searching for her. ‘It’s her job to be here.’ He pulled off his helmet as the horn sounded, announcing the end of the first half.

  Meanwhile, Agnes was wringing her hands, which was most unlike her. ‘What’s the matter, Agnes?’

  ‘We’re short of horses, or I’d have another one brought up for you right away.’

  ‘Don’t worry; it’s not your fault. These are unusual weather conditions. The match should have been cancelled.’

  ‘Such an important match?’ Agnes appeared horror-struck.

  ‘Why not?’ he said. ‘It’s only a game.’ Words he thought he’d never hear himself say twice in one lifetime. He turned to see Bella leading Misty towards them. ‘What are you doing?’ he said suspiciously. ‘I heard you’d run out of horses.’

  ‘Not quite,’ Bella said as she patted the pony’s neck.

  ‘You have to be joking. I’m not risking Misty. I brought her back to England where she belongs—with you. Have you seen the weather conditions? It’s carnage out there.’ And his emotions were all over the place. Bella was offering him her pony, a symbol of everything she cared about. ‘I won’t ride her,’ he said decisively.

  ‘She’s equal to anything out there.’

  ‘The brutality?’

  ‘She’ll keep you safe, Nero.’

  There was so much in Bella’s steady gaze, he seized her in front of everyone and brought her close. They stared into each other’s eyes for a moment, for a lifetime, for eternity. ‘Don’t you ever stay away from me again,’ he ground out.

  ‘It’s been a week,’ she teased him.

  ‘A week too long,’ he argued, kissing her with hungry passion. He cursed impatiently as the horn sounded, calling him back onto the field.

  ‘I’ll be waiting for you,’ she called after him, levelling that same steady stare on his face.

  ‘I’ll take care of her,’ he promised, vaulting onto Misty’s back. As he settled his helmet on his head he was suddenly aware that Bella and he were the focus of everyone’s attention, from the grooms to Ignacio, and from the stick chicks to the prince, who had come to inspect his horses. ‘I love you, Bella Wheeler,’ he called out as everyone cheered. ‘I’ve always loved you and I always will.’ And he didn’t care who heard.

  ‘I love you too,’ she said, her face as bright as the sun peeping through the clouds. ‘Stay safe!’

  Removing his helmet, he saluted her with a bow. He’d won the only match he cared about. He hadn’t a clue how Bella and he were going to make it work; he only knew they would.

  They drank a toast to the victory of Nero’s team. It was a massive victory, as the prince was the first to admit. He could hardly blame Bella for allowing the captain of the Argentinian team to ride her best pony, when it was the prince who had suggested that the best polo player in the world ought to be matched with Misty. He just hadn’t factored the timing into his thinking, the prince admitted wryly. Just as he hadn’t realised what a wonderful job Bella had done in Argentina, he added, thanking her for the portfolio of her stay she’d compiled for him. ‘You must go back there,’ the prince insisted. ‘Agnes and my team can hold the fort for you here.’

  ‘You’re too kind, Sir,’ Bella said, glancing at Nero.

  The moment the prince’s back was turned, Nero grabbed hold of her hand. ‘You, me. Quiet time, now,’ he insisted, leading Bella away. ‘You can’t refuse a royal command,’ he reminded her, tongue in cheek, ‘though I don’t need the prince to prompt me.’

  Bella curbed a smile. ‘I’ve got something for you,’ she said softly.

  ‘And I’ve got something I want to tell you,’ he said, drawing her to a halt in the grand, ornately plastered hallway of the Polo Club.

  ‘Present first,’ Bella insisted. Ignacio had told her that although Nero was the most generous of men, he frowned on his staff spending their hard-earned money on him. And, as he had no living relatives, Nero didn’t exactly get a full Christmas sack. Bella intended to change that.

  Nero looked suspicious. ‘Is Ignacio in on this?’

  ‘If he is I wouldn’t tell you.’

  ‘Will I like it?’

  ‘Oh, I think so,’ she said confidently.

  He must be patient, Nero thought as Bella led him back across the polo ground towards the stables. What he had to say to her had waited long enough—it could wait a little longer. Bella touched him more than any woman ever had. Like now, when she was clutching her breast above her heart as she took him across the yard towards an emerald-green paddock that stretched down to the river. The paddock was home
to a herd of spirited young colts, currently racing around, testing each other.

  ‘The grey,’ Bella said, pointing. ‘That’s Misty’s first colt. He was born before I even met you, but he’s two years old now, ready to start polo training.’

  She stared up at him. ‘He’s a fine pony.’ Nero’s eyes narrowed as he watched the young horse go through his paces. ‘A little wild, but courage and daring is what I always look for.’ His gaze was drawn to Bella. ‘You’ve done well,’ he said, ‘really well.’

  ‘I named him Tango. For you.’

  He inhaled sharply. ‘For me?’

  ‘It’s my gift to you,’ she explained, ‘for your…hospitality in Argentina.’

  He was incredulous. No one had ever given him anything of such great value before. He threw her a crooked smile. ‘I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.’

  ‘Oh, I did. And now at least you can breed some decent animals from those Criollas of yours,’ she teased him, tilting her chin at the familiar challenging angle.

  ‘Cheeky,’ he warned, but he was laughing too. He wondered if he had ever been so happy in his life.

  ‘Hopefully, a few years down the line your polo ponies will be able to keep their feet when they come to England.’ She turned serious. ‘Tango has a great bloodline, Nero, and I think he’ll be happy with those pretty mares of yours on the pampas.’

  ‘Bella, I don’t know what to say.’

  ‘Don’t say anything.’

  ‘What can I give you in return?’

  ‘I don’t want anything in return—I never have.’

  ‘May I give you my heart?’ He stared down, realising that this was the single most important question he had ever asked in his life, and that Bella’s answer would change both their lives for ever.