She was lost in her own thoughts when Alej pointed out the soaring shape of a distinctive mountain.
‘They say it resembles the shape of a reclining woman. There’s the curve of her breast and the—’
‘I don’t need a lesson in anatomy,’ she cut in quickly.
‘Well, any time you change your mind about that, I’m prepared to help you, Emily,’ he taunted softly.
Blushing, she cleared her throat, aware of the chauffeur’s dark gaze in the driving mirror and wondering if he spoke any English. ‘So what made you buy a place out here?’ she said, with a deliberate change of subject, as the luxury four-wheel drive began to descend into a green valley.
There was a pause before he spoke. ‘If you look down there you can see exactly why.’
Emily blinked and then her eyes widened. She could. Nestled in a glorious dip and surrounded by beautiful mountains, she watched horses grazing happily in the lush emerald pastures, and the silver ribbon of a winding river as it meandered along. As the car bumped its way up the track towards the simply built wood-and-stone building, Emily felt her heart wrench with a powerful kind of longing. Because before her she could see something which she’d never really had. Something which felt like home.
The breath caught in her throat. ‘Oh, Alej,’ she said. ‘It’s beautiful.’
It was even more beautiful inside. Not eye-wateringly sumptuous like the apartment in Paris, but it had an air of quiet comfort, which was equally luxurious. The solid-looking furniture was designed to be used, not looked at, and the views from the giant windows were to die for. There were big skies with gusting clouds and rich, fertile soil with bags of space to run around in. Stupidly, she suddenly imagined children here, making joyful shouts as they played or rode their little ponies...
‘The staff live in a house a little way down the track,’ he explained, his deep voice butting into her suddenly painful thoughts. ‘They leave me everything I need and only come if I call them, which isn’t often, because this is a place for solitude—not people.’ He nodded towards the kitchen. ‘I’ll make some coffee. You might want to take a trip upstairs. I’ve left a wedding present for you in the bedroom.’
She stared at him in surprise before a mild stab of panic hit her. ‘I haven’t bought you anything.’
But he had already turned away. ‘It doesn’t matter. Go and see if you like it.’
Emily’s heart was pounding as she ran upstairs and quickly found the master bedroom, which commanded the best views of all. And lying on the bed were a number of garments, which made her stop in her tracks. An exquisite pair of jodhpurs, a cream shirt of finest silk and a pair of brown riding boots in leather as soft as melted butter. And all in exactly her size. She didn’t see the note at first, written in Alej’s distinctive writing, and as she did she felt her heart clench with something like hope.
Put these on.
Her fingers were trembling as she did just that, not daring to dream that his gesture might mean what she wanted it to mean. Because the other night in bed—in those quiet and intimate moments after the heady hunger of sex had been satisfied—hadn’t she told him that, yes, she missed riding, but that living and working in London made the pastime difficult. Just as she’d told him how much she missed the sweeping majesty of his homeland—and how it had been there, for the first time in her life, that she’d felt truly free. Had her words reminded him of the connection they’d once shared? Despite his immense power and wealth, was it possible that he yearned to recapture some of that connection—or at least discover if such a thing were feasible?
She pulled on the soft leather boots and ran back downstairs to where the pungent aroma of strong coffee was wafting from the kitchen. Alej turned to watch her final descent, his eyes narrowing with a look she’d never seen there before, and didn’t some imperceptible flicker in their verdant depths send a brief shiver tracking down her spine? She sucked in a deep breath, desperate to know what had prompted such a thoughtful gesture but terrified of saying the wrong thing.
‘Thank you,’ she said simply, because she couldn’t really go wrong with that, could she?
He nodded as his gaze skated over her. ‘You look...amazing.’ He nodded towards the steaming pot, his words uneven. ‘Help yourself to some coffee while I go and change. I thought we could ride out together. I have two horses saddled up and ready in the stables. That’s if you’re not too tired after the trip?’
Emily shook her head, unable to stem her rising feeling of anticipation. ‘Not tired at all,’ she said eagerly. ‘I’m tired of being cooped up inside and it’s a long time since I was in the saddle.’
She drank her coffee and waited for Alej. He reappeared soon enough in jodhpurs which clung to his narrow hips and a shirt as fine as hers, which outlined the shadowy musculature of his torso, and Emily had to fight the urge to touch him. He led her out to the stables, where she saw a gleaming black stallion and beautiful golden mare, all saddled up and waiting to go, and her heart leapt with excitement at the thought of riding again after so many years. And then the groom appeared from within the gloom of the stable and his face was one she seemed to recognise. It was like a flashback, she thought—as past and present became confusingly combined, because he reminded her of her stepfather’s elderly groom, Tomas.
‘It’s Tomas’s son, Gaspar,’ explained Alej, as if he had read her mind. ‘He and his wife work for me now.’
Gaspar smiled and greeted her in Spanish before going back into the stable and when he returned, he was leading an old bay horse who began to whinny with pleasure as it came trotting across the yard towards her. Emily felt the prick of tears in her eyes as she threw her arms around his dear, familiar neck.
‘Joya!’ she said, burying her face in his well-groomed mane, and for a moment she thought she might cry. ‘Oh, Joya. You look so...so well.’ She lifted her face to meet Alej’s hard green gaze, her voice shaky with gratitude. ‘How can I ever thank you, Alej?’
His smile was brief as he shook his head, the firming of his mouth non-committal. ‘No thanks are needed. I take pleasure myself in witnessing Joya’s recovery, although, as he is too old for you to ride, you must be content with this palomino. Now let me see if you can remember what to do before I join you,’ he said as he helped her up onto the saddle.
At first, Emily felt nervous and then exhilarated as she mounted the beautiful golden horse, but the main feeling which dominated was one of safety. Safe beneath Alej’s watchful gaze, with his hand firmly on the rein as she trotted around the paddock. And wasn’t it amazing how quickly it all came back—with confidence flowing through her by the second as she went through her paces? It wasn’t long before Alej jumped on his own horse and Emily felt momentarily winded as she watched him ride. Because here was poetry in motion, she thought hungrily. Here was his skill and his gift perfectly demonstrated in a masterclass of strength and symmetry, as he put the stallion through his paces.
They rode for an hour and Emily would have gone further, but Alej shook his head.
‘Don’t be greedy,’ he said, his eyes as green as the lines of grass which bounded the silver river. ‘That’s enough for one day.’
So she dismounted, hot and a little sweaty, and as she did so she thought about what else she was greedy for. Her senses had been stimulated by the ride and now she wanted to make love. She wanted it with an urgency which never failed to take her by surprise, but today it felt more intense than usual. And once the groom had taken the horses and they had returned to the house, Emily reached for the man who had been a part of her life since she was twelve years old.
For the next couple of weeks, it was as if she’d found the life she’d always been secretly looking for. A simple life and a good life. Up early and out on the horses before being quickly swallowed up by the sweeping landscape as they breathed in the fresh, Argentinian air. They ate al fresco and dangled their feet into the cl
ear waters of the river and lit fires and barbecued fish. And whenever the opportunity arose, they explored each other’s bodies—and each time was so intense that it was sometimes difficult for Emily to bite back the words of love she was longing to whisper in his ear.
Give it time, she urged herself, as he slid his rocky thigh between hers. Don’t rush it. Let things settle, and heal, and who’s to say what could grow between us if we nurture it? Maybe Alej wanted the same as her, though it was impossible to know what he was thinking or feeling and she didn’t dare ask him and risk shattering the magic which seemed to have sprung up between them.
Afterwards, she found herself wondering how long that false state of affairs might have continued. How long it would have taken her to discover the horrible truth, if Tomas and Rosa hadn’t decided to visit their only son, Gaspar. At the end of their two-day stay, Emily insisted on cooking them lunch, followed by yerba maté and sweet alfajores biscuits served on the veranda and, shortly before they left, she took Tomas down to the stables to see Joya.
‘He is happy here,’ the elderly groom pronounced, a huge grin splitting his creased face as the ancient bay came up to nuzzle him.
‘Very happy,’ Emily agreed.
‘As are you.’
She wasn’t going to deny it, not even to herself. And maybe the smile on her face told its own story. ‘Yes,’ she said quietly. ‘I am.’
‘Just as I am to see Señor Sabato settled and married at last,’ said Tomas quietly, before giving a rueful shrug. ‘And to think that if he hadn’t decided to come to your stepfather’s house that day, it might never have happened.’
Emily was in such a dreamy state that it took a moment or two for Tomas’s words to sink in and when they did, she couldn’t work out what he was talking about. ‘But you were the one who emailed Alej,’ she said.
‘No, no,’ Tomas negated, with a shake of his head. ‘Señor Sabato contacted me first, to find out what time you would be visiting Joya.’
It didn’t seem to make any sense at all and yet it made perfect sense. Or should that be imperfect sense? Emily wondered bitterly as an icy shiver ran down her spine.
It took every bit of concentration she had to say her farewells to Tomas and Rosa and to wait until she and Alej had returned to the house, before she dared confront him. And wasn’t there a part of her which didn’t want to confront him? Which wanted to carry on exactly as they were, no matter how false a situation it might be? She waited until he had pulled a beer from the fridge—declining the one he offered her.
‘Tomas told me something strange today, just before he left,’ she began slowly.
He flicked the top off the bottle, taking a long swallow before fixing her with his hard, green gaze. ‘Oh?’
She licked her lips. ‘He told me that he didn’t contact you to ask for help with Joya. That you were the one who got in touch first.’
He raised his dark brows. ‘And?’
‘Why did you do that, Alej?’ Her brow furrowed. ‘Why were you the one who instigated the meeting?’
‘Because I wanted to see you again.’
Still she clutched at straws—but then, wasn’t it natural to grab at anything you could, when it felt as if you were drowning? ‘To hire me, you mean? To use my PR skills to salvage your reputation and enhance your political ambition?’ she added, just in case she hadn’t made herself clear.
There was a pause. A long pause which suddenly felt like a shotgun being loaded.
‘But I don’t have any political ambition,’ he said slowly.
Emily gazed at him with a feeling of desperation, as if they were both looking at the same picture on the wall but each seeing something different. As if she could see a boat and he could see a tree. ‘Of course you do,’ she said briskly.
‘I don’t,’ he said simply.
‘But you said—’
‘I told you that to get what I wanted.’
‘To get what you wanted,’ she repeated, like someone learning a new language. She shook her head. ‘You’ve lost me, I’m afraid. I haven’t got a clue what you’re talking about, Alej.’
‘Then maybe I should tell you.’
‘Maybe you should.’
Alej drank another mouthful of beer, leaning back against one of the worktops, his gaze fixed on the sudden stillness of her pale face. A shaft of guilt pierced at him, but he forced himself to disregard it. Why should he feel guilty? She’d treated him like a stud. Hell, she was still treating him like a stud. Even if the last few weeks had been good, the only reason she was here was because he’d offered her money and because he turned her on.
So tell her. Tell her just how gullible she’s been.
‘It started back in March, when I heard you were in town for the reading of your stepfather’s will,’ he began softly. ‘And I can’t deny I was curious.’
Not just curious. The very mention of her name had stirred up all kinds of stuff inside him—stuff he’d thought he’d forgotten. Stuff he’d wanted to forget. Anger and resentment and bitterness, too. But most of all—when he had clicked onto the photo on the internet and seen her smiling face and golden hair—he had felt lust. That same powerful lust which had always overwhelmed him whenever he saw her. He remembered the kick to his heart and the way his mouth had dried as he’d stared at the sapphire glitter of her eyes.
‘Okay,’ she said cautiously, but her voice was still filled with confusion. ‘You were curious. That figures.’
He shrugged, his fine silk shirt whispering against his torso. ‘I saw your photo and I was intrigued. I decided I wanted to see you again. I’m sure you can imagine why.’ He paused as he flicked her a look. ‘So I had to work out a way of doing that.’
‘Please tell me I’m not hearing this, Alej,’ she said quietly.
‘Oh, but you are,’ he said, steeling his heart to the sudden tremble of her lips. ‘I read that you were part-owner of a modest PR agency and figured you would probably find it difficult to turn down an obscenely well-paid project if it was offered to you on a plate. And so I decided to employ you, but first I had to work out a good reason for doing so. I was known for my playboy lifestyle and avoidance of commitment—but neither of those things had ever impacted negatively on my career before. So I decided I needed a new career, one where image did matter—and that’s when Alejandro Sabato, the would-be politician, was born.’
Her lips opened into an expression of disbelief. ‘You mean...you mean you never intended to run for office?’
He put the half-empty beer bottle down on the counter. ‘Never. Politicians have never been my favourite people. Oh, I’ve been approached often enough in the past to get involved, but I’ve always preferred to channel my energies and money directly into my charitable foundations. The politician is just the middleman who takes his cut along the way.’
She walked over to the window and stared out in silence. ‘And the marriage?’ she questioned eventually, her back still to him. ‘What was the point of that?’
‘It guaranteed that you would stay for as long as I wanted you,’ he said. ‘In fact, I quite enjoyed watching your enthusiasm as you planned it all, reinforcing my opinion that all women are suckers for a wedding. And on a practical level, a marriage of convenience meant I could rid myself of the tiresome playboy handle, once and for all.’
She turned around then and her cheeks were even paler than before, making her eyes look like two huge sapphires which dominated her face. ‘So you were lying to me all the time?’
He didn’t flinch at her accusation. Why should he? Yet the clench of his heart was uncomfortable—as uncomfortable as acknowledging the pain which was glittering from her big blue eyes. ‘Yes, I was lying,’ he grated. ‘Now you know how it feels.’
Emily didn’t move from the window as a flood of conflicting emotions rushed through her, making her feel faint and light-headed. There was
hurt, of course there was. Bitter hurt. And she felt foolish, too—for having walked straight into his cruel trap to get her into his bed and wreak some sort of revenge on her.
But she’d gone willingly, hadn’t she? There had been no coercion on his part, and that chemistry of old had exploded as if they’d never been apart. Only this time, their relationship had been on a deeper level than before. Or so she’d thought. It hadn’t just been about first love and sexual awakening. He’d confided to her about his mother. He’d laid his soul bare for her to see all the darkness there. And yes, he had lied—but he was right: she had done exactly the same. Did it matter? she wondered suddenly. Could their lies have simply cancelled each other out so that they could forget all about them and start over?
And then she shook her head as if to clear it, wondering if she was in danger of going completely mad. Because of course it mattered. She’d told him lies because she’d been young and scared and had been backed into a corner. She hadn’t cold-bloodedly worked out some torturous form of revenge, as Alej had done. He’d plotted to get her back into his bed but he’d played with her emotions, too. All these days here when she had been lulling herself into a sweet and romantic dream about a tentative future—while Alej must have been quietly laughing at how stupid she was.
Had he let his defences down in order to manipulate her—to try to get her to fall in love with him all over again?
And hadn’t he succeeded?
Bought Bride For The Argentinian (Conveniently Wed!) Page 14