A Taste of the Untamed

by Susan Stephens

  ‘Then why are you frowning?’ she said.

  ‘Am I?’

  ‘Don’t deny it. I can hear it in your voice, Nacho.’

  ‘I’ll have to frown less,’ he said.

  When she laughed her soft blonde hair, which had only been loosely held, escaped the band she had tied it up in and came to drift around her shoulders like a gold net veil.

  ‘Oh, damn!’ she exclaimed, impatiently grabbing her hair as if it was one of her most annoying features rather than one of her loveliest. ‘Let me tie this back.’

  ‘Leave it loose,’ he said.

  Ignoring him, she made short work of the repair. ‘Smile,’ she prompted, hearing the irritation in his voice. ‘These wines are really good. You should be celebrating.’

  It felt good to be like this with a woman—making some sort of real contact outside of bed and having her stand up to him for once.

  ‘In fact, your wine’s so good,’ Grace went on, ‘I’m going to forgive most of your transgressions.’

  ‘I wasn’t aware that I was guilty of any,’ he said, warming even more to Grace.

  ‘Well, I’m going to move on to the next part of my evaluation,’ she said.

  ‘Which is?’ he said suspiciously.

  ‘Drinking your health,’ she said, disarming him.

  They both reached for the same glass at the same time and their fingers touched. Grace snatched her hand away, as if she’d been burned, while his inner voice warned that he was playing a very dangerous game indeed if he wanted to send Grace home, because he could only wish that touch had lingered.

  ‘This wine would benefit from being in storage a little longer,’ she said, purely business—though she couldn’t know his interest was now drawn to her lips. ‘I can tell you now that we won’t be ordering this one just yet. I’d like to taste it again next year.’

  ‘Next year?’ he repeated with amusement. ‘You’re very sure of yourself, Grace.’

  ‘Why shouldn’t I be?’ she said. ‘Do you think I’ll have left Elias by then?’

  He shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t know.’

  Grace could be enigmatic when it suited her, and at other times be surprisingly frank. He wasn’t used to mystery where women were concerned. He wasn’t used to them holding out on him, either. But Grace was different. Other women had a straightforward agenda that dovetailed nicely with his. They communicated their messages with a glance—an option that wasn’t open to Grace. Would she use that sort of tactic anyway? Grace was so forthright she was more likely to come straight out and tell him exactly what she wanted.

  Could be interesting, he mused as he watched her roll the wine around her mouth.

  ‘I need a moment,’ she said, feeling for a space on the table to put her glass. ‘I’d like to get some preparatory notes down. And while I’m doing that shall I e-mail Elias to warn him I shall be returning home tomorrow?’

  No woman had ever presented him with a veiled threat before, and Grace had done so in such a clever way that he would have to think up some equally elegant punishment for her. He knew just the thing, and his senses roared as he thought about it.

  ‘You mentioned seeing the wine in production,’ he remarked, easing back from the table. ‘So you can’t leave tomorrow. I want that order, Grace. And there’s an event I think you’d be interested in finding out more about.’

  ‘Well, if you want me to stay …’

  Clever girl, he thought, making it seem like his idea. ‘I want you to finish the job,’ he said. ‘And I want a positive outcome.’

  ‘Of course you do,’ she agreed.

  He wasn’t ready to let Grace go yet, he realised, when he saw the corner of her mouth tip up. He wanted to know more about her. He wanted to know everything about her.

  ‘What is this event?’ she asked, distracting him.

  ‘One of the wildest celebrations of the year—and extremely relevant,’ he added in a serious tone, pulling his mind away from its stroll on the dark side.

  ‘And you’re sure it’s important for me to know more about it?’

  ‘Positive,’ he said.

  Teasing Grace was a delight, he decided as she reached for her laptop.

  But as she took hold of it somehow she lost her grip, and as the computer slipped from her hands it sent bottles and wine glasses flying, spraying wine across the room.

  ‘No harm done,’ he said, snatching at Grace with one hand, to stop her falling, and her laptop with the other before it hit the floor.

  ‘I feel such an idiot!’ she exclaimed angrily.

  ‘Nothing’s damaged except your pride,’ he pointed out, but as he settled everything back in place, including Grace, he noticed that she was close to tears.

  Recovering fast, she sniffed noisily. ‘Did I get you?’ she said.

  He ruffled his hair. ‘Will it disappoint you too much if I say no?’

  When she smiled his heart nearly exploded. He reached forward on impulse—to say something, to reassure her, maybe—but as Grace turned to look at him with a rueful expression on her face, and he knew she couldn’t see him, a touch or an explanation of how he felt no longer seemed enough.

  He leaned forward and kissed her instead. It was a crazy, impulsive thing to do—and more telling than he could have imagined.

  ‘I’ll get a cloth,’ he said as she gasped, ‘and some soda water,’ he added, pulling back.

  ‘Please don’t worry,’ she said tensely, feeling the extent of the damage with her hands. ‘I can always soak my clothes overnight.’

  Something inside him snapped. ‘Do you always have to be so damned independent?’ he exclaimed with frustration.

  There was a pause, and then she said softly, ‘Yes, I do.’

  CHAPTER SIX

  SHE’D made such a mess of everything. That was the only conclusion she could draw when she woke the next morning.

  For a moment she couldn’t move or think for her embarrassment. Her head was full of the wine flying everywhere and Nacho’s consoling kiss. It was a gesture he might have made towards Lucia in one of his softer moments, and there had been nothing more said about it when he had brought her home. He’d simply seen her to the door and then left.

  Grace’s only consolation was that she knew she had done a good job with the wine. Elias was right. The Acosta vineyards were producing wine of exceptional quality now. The only question was, could they sustain it? What condition were the vineyards in, for instance. At least she could take some pleasure in knowing she had the edge over Nacho at the tasting. It could take ten years or more to become a master sommelier, but she had such a passion for the work she was getting there quicker than most. But that could never be uppermost in her mind now, because Nacho occupied that spot.

  Swinging out of bed, she padded across the warm wooden floor in the direction of the open window, following the breeze. Opening the window a little more, she leaned over the sill to enjoy the sunshine. It was going to be a lovely day. She could smell the grass, its scent intensified by the dew, and the blossom that Nacho’s housekeeper had explained twirled in big fat loops around the window. She dipped her fingers into the cool damp petals, enjoying both the feel of them and their scent.

  She could smell horses too, Grace realised, raising her head. And hear them—along with a group of men’s voices.

  Conscious that she was only wearing pyjamas, she pulled back and stood to one side of the window, where she hoped she wouldn’t be seen. Those older, gruffer voices must belong to the gauchos who worked with the horses. She smiled to think they must be herding ponies right past her bedroom window. What an experience! Wild Criollas from the pampas, she guessed. The noise was growing louder and dust was tickling her nose.

  ‘I’d love to ride one,’ she informed Buddy, who had come to snuggle at her legs, no doubt as keen as she was to explore outside.

  The horses sounded like a crowd of naughty schoolchildren just set free for the holidays, Grace thought, listening hard for the distinctive prance of
Nacho’s stallion. But even without him this was kind of exciting, with the gauchos whooping and whistling as they rode past. If only she could see them …

  The pain of loss almost doubled her over. She had been warned about this at the hospital, and though she knew that grieving for something that couldn’t be changed was a pointless exercise it didn’t stop it hurting.

  She would just have to wait it out, Grace reasoned, biting hard on her lip. She refused to let it spoil her day.

  A day without Nacho was already ruined, she reflected, wishing she could go home and forget all about this stupid mission.

  But that was the last thing she really wanted to do, Grace realised, calming down. She had earned her right to be here, and she was going to stay until the job was done. She was going to take a shower and get dressed, and then she was going to take Buddy for his walk. She had always known that repairing the damage to her confidence when she’d lost her sight was never going to happen overnight. She just had to get used to these setbacks and accept that in the scheme of things two years was only a blink on her journey to recovery.

  ‘Yes, I’m out riding,’ he informed Lucia impatiently. ‘I’ve been out since dawn. Why didn’t you tell me about Grace? And don’t tell me she asked you not to, because you’re my sister and this is family.’

  ‘And Grace is my friend,’ Lucia fired back. ‘And there is such a thing as loyalty to your friends, Nacho. Didn’t you teach me that?’ his sister added sharply. ‘I don’t know what all the fuss is about. Grace is making a great recovery, and I hate it when people treat her differently. I never thought you would.’

  ‘I never said I had—’

  ‘So what’s your problem, Nacho? Why are you calling me in the middle of the night?’

  ‘Is it?’ he said, only now realising that with his head full of Grace he hadn’t considered the time difference. ‘Don’t you have a baby to feed? What are you complaining about?’

  ‘You’re all heart, Nacho. Thanks to you, said baby is now wide awake and howling.’

  ‘So go feed him,’ he said as lusty screams threatened to deafen them both. ‘But before you go tell me more about Grace—’

  ‘What do you want to know?’ his sister demanded impatiently. ‘That Grace is the bravest woman I know? That she copes with what’s happened to her without complaint? I hope you’re not being mean to her, Nacho. She needs our love—’

  ‘Your love, maybe.’

  ‘Just try and be kind to her, Nacho.’

  ‘What do you take me for? I’m curious about her, that’s all, and if I can’t ask you—’

  ‘If this is curiosity you’ve picked a strange time to call. Your interest in Grace sounds more like unfinished business to me.’

  ‘Dios, Lucia. I hardly know the girl.’

  ‘And you hardly want to take on more responsibility—which is how you must see it,’ his sister said more gently.

  ‘My interest in Grace is purely professional. I need to know if she can do the job or if I must call someone else.’

  ‘Right,’ Lucia agreed sarcastically. ‘You usually canvas my opinion on a member of your staff in the middle of the night. How could I have forgotten that?’

  ‘All I’m saying is, you could have warned me.’

  ‘What?’ Lucia snapped, all fired up now. ‘That my blind best friend is now a sommelier, working for one of the most respected wine merchants in the world?’

  ‘There’s no need for you to be like that.’

  ‘And there’s no need for you to sound so prejudiced when I know you’re not.’

  ‘I didn’t call you for a lecture, Lucia. As it happens, Grace did very well with the wine tasting, but how can she be expected to inspect a vineyard when she can’t even see it?’

  ‘I’m no expert, Nacho, but I think you should give her a chance.’ There was a pause, and then Lucia said, ‘Grace has really got to you, hasn’t she?’

  He huffed an incredulous laugh. ‘In twenty-four hours?’

  ‘Is that how long you’ve been back?’ Lucia exclaimed. ‘If you hadn’t told me I would have thought you and Grace had been together for months.’

  ‘Goodbye, Lucia.’

  ‘You’d better not hurt her, Nacho …’

  ‘Who do you think you’re talking to?’

  ‘My uncompromising brother. Just don’t ruin things before they have a chance to begin—’

  ‘I can assure you that nothing’s starting,’ he cut in, and as the infant’s wails reached a crescendo he judged it the perfect time to end the call.

  Was he prejudiced against Grace?

  No. He was a realist, Nacho concluded, loosening the reins to allow his stallion to pick its way downhill.

  Could he work with Grace?

  Of course not. But the annual grape-treading celebration was a valuable sales tool. She should not miss it. There weren’t many vineyards left that stuck to the old ways, and in today’s competitive market they needed all the differentials they could get. He was confident she’d be impressed. Each year at Viña Acosta a small amount of fruit was held back and processed in the old way. For luck, the old timers always said, and who was he to argue? It was good for morale, and everyone loved a party.

  Now they were back on level ground he urged the stallion into a gallop. As he leaned low over the big horse’s straining neck he wondered what Grace would make of such a high-octane event being used as an excuse for every type of excess. Would Grace loosen up and join in, or would she hold back and resist getting half-naked and drenched in juice?

  He’d hold her back, he concluded as his senses roared. His imagination was enough to tell him that he couldn’t possibly expose Grace to the sultry light of evening in the grape-treading vat, where everyone was wild and free. Grace, with her long blonde hair gleaming in the moonlight and her skin damp from her endeavors and sweet grape juice? Never …

  Grace, her face flushed with anticipation as she moved into his arms …

  She was here, he told himself impatiently, blanking the X-rated images from his mind as he straightened up and reined in, and Grace wanted research. He’d give her research. And, if he was looking for more excuses, escorting Grace to the celebration was the least he could do for Lucia’s best friend while she was here.

  Okay, she was going to be sensible. Well, most of the time. But when the darkness grew heavy and weighed her down she knew from bitter experience that the only way to rise up and find the light again was to do something different—something that really challenged her and took her mind off things. And she desperately wanted to ride a horse. She always had.

  So what was stopping her? When would she get a chance like this again? What was the harm in asking? The head honcho could only say no, Grace reasoned as Buddy led her across the road towards the corral, where the men were talking. She couldn’t hear Nacho’s voice, so that was good. She wasn’t going to make a complete fool of herself in front of him, and the banter between the men sounded good-natured.

  ‘Buenos Diás,’ she called out with a smile.

  ‘Buenos Diás, señorita. How may I help you?’

  An older man was speaking, and what her shadowy vision couldn’t see her mind supplied. He didn’t stand too close, which she liked, and when he shifted positions she heard the chink of spurs. Her keen nose picked up the scent of tobacco and horse, along with leather and the smell of clean clothes dried in the sunshine. She could feel the older man’s stare, steady on her face, and sensed it lacked opinion or censure. He was merely interested and friendly, and she thought he seemed kind.

  ‘I’d like to ride a horse,’ she said, coming right out with it. Angling her head, she put a wry expression on her face as she braced herself for refusal.

  ‘No problem,’ he said. ‘Have you ever ridden a horse before?’

  ‘A donkey at the seaside,’ she admitted with a grin.

  The elderly gaucho laughed at this. ‘Then it will be my honour to teach you how to ride one of our gentle Criolla ponies, señorita
.’

  ‘Do you mean you’re all right with it?’

  ‘Why shouldn’t I be?’ he said.

  Grace exhaled shakily. ‘No reason at all,’ she said.

  He had just crested the hill when he saw Grace riding in the paddock. His heart took a leap as he quickly evaluated the risk at the scene. Having reassured himself that Alejandro, his head man, was riding shotgun alongside Grace, while Buddy rested patiently in the shade, he realised he hadn’t felt so anxious for a long time.

  He didn’t slow his pace until he was close enough for Grace’s pony to smell the stallion, at which point he reined in because he didn’t want to spook it. Grace was concentrating, her mouth fixed in a determined line, as Alejandro issued instructions. As she squeezed her knees, urging the pony from a brisk walk to a bouncing trot, he grimaced, imagining that at any moment she might be thrown off.

  Dismounting at speed, he lashed his reins to the fence.

  ‘Nacho … Is that you?’

  He felt a rush of pleasure, he was forced to admit, at the fact that Grace knew him immediately. ‘You caught me out,’ he said in a neutral tone. Alejandro had it all in hand, he realised, checking again. Propping one booted foot against the fence, he leaned his chin on folded arms and settled in to watch.

  ‘Did you think you could stand there watching without me knowing?’ she said, bouncing by.

  ‘I thought I could try,’ he admitted wryly.

  ‘With a tread that’s so distinctive I could never mistake it, and the snorts of your fire-breathing stallion to confirm what I already know? Yep, you could do that,’ she teased him as she bounced past again.

  The first thing he noticed was that she was smiling, and that she was radiant. ‘You seem to be enjoying yourself,’ he said.

  ‘I am,’ she enthused. ‘Alejandro is such a wonderful teacher!’

  He exchanged a look with his elderly friend. Alejandro shrugged as if to say, I was here—where were you?

  ‘I want to ride your horse next,’ Grace called out to him from the far side of the corral.

  ‘In another universe,’ he called back. ‘My stallion’s far too big for you.’