and when he turned his head she was watching him, her dark eyes wide and worried. Her skin was creamy and her hair was a mass of flaming waves. But it was the concern, the gentle way she touched him and his reaction to it that caused pain and resentment to rip through his insides.
“Did I say something wrong?”
He shook his head, knowing she was not to blame. It was him, all him. Take a breath, he commanded himself. Sophia was a guest. That was all. He should still be grieving. He shouldn’t be thinking of her this way.
“I think it is time we got back. I wanted to get the boxes moved into the boutique this afternoon.”
She bit down on her lip and his gaze was drawn to it, unerringly, inevitably. Soft and pink, it regained its shape as her teeth released it.
He got up from the rock and straightened, staring unseeingly at the creek. He would not touch her. He would not kiss her or take her in his arms.
“Why do you shut people out all the time, Tomas? Or is it just me? For a few moments I think you’re going to relax and then you wrap yourself in layers again.”
She was right, and he refused to respond. What could he possibly say that would be appropriate? That he was contemplating how soft her skin might be beneath her blouse? The only thing he could do was remain silent.
“Did she hurt you that badly?” Sophia pressed him. “I asked about you before, but maybe it was the other way around. Did someone cheat on you the way that Antoine cheated on me?”
“What?” He swung his head around. “No. Never!”
But the question had revealed a chink in his armor. “So there was someone else,” Sophia prodded.
She would not let this go, and what had begun as a relaxing afternoon changed into something painful and raw. Why was he finding it so hard to treat her like a guest? He should be pointing out landforms and local history and instead they were talking about failed relationships. How had he lost control so easily? How had she managed to get under his skin?
She thought he was some romantic gaucho figure, someone honorable and upright. But he wasn’t. She had to stop looking at him this way—with a soft understanding, as if she knew … She didn’t know.
He’d made peace with what had happened. He’d accepted the blame. And he’d moved on to the kind of life he’d wanted, throwing himself into developing the estancia. Good, honest, put-your-back-into-it work. So why did Sophia have to show up now and make him want things he had no right wanting?
Two days. Two days and Maria and Carlos would be back. His duty would be discharged and he could be back behind the scenes where he belonged.
He retrieved Sophia’s horse and brought the mare to her, holding the reins while she used the height of the rock to get her feet in the stirrups. “Hold her steady,” he commanded, going to get his gelding and swinging up into the saddle.
Even with her own set of troubles, he still saw Sophia as naive. She’d had a rude awakening with this Antoine, but he knew deep down she still believed in a forever kind of love. In happily-ever-afters. Tomas had known for a long time how the world worked. Those who succeeded at love and marriage and happiness … they were just lucky. The majority of people wandered through life trying to figure out how they’d gotten so lost.
“Let’s get back,” he said tersely, nudging his horse forward and up the hardened slope. They needed to move on before he said something he’d really regret.
Like the truth.
Sophia gripped the reins in fingers slippery from the afternoon heat. Her thighs already ached from exercising unused muscles. She nudged the mare with her heels and followed Tomas up the slope and on to the level table of the pampas. He was already a bit ahead, and Sophia gritted her teeth.
She had done just fine during the first part of the ride, so she nudged the mare into a trot and hoped for the best. First he had clammed up when she’d asked a simple question. Now he had deliberately gone ahead and he hadn’t looked back to check on her once. That particular fact agitated her. His bossiness was just another way of keeping that stoic, annoying distance. If he thought he could shake her that easily, that he could just ride off without another word, he had another think coming.
Her thighs burned as she tried to hold on to the saddle. Don’t let me fall off, she prayed as she jounced along at a trot. Finally she caught up with Tomas.
“You might have waited.”
Tomas looked over, his dark eyes shaded by his campero. Sophia felt a momentary flash of annoyance and attraction together, which only served to irritate her further. She should not find him attractive at all. He was a closed-mouthed, stubborn man who kept setting her up to fail. She was just about to tell him so when a puff of wind stirred up a dust devil in front of them.
Tomas’s gelding shied and Tomas quickly settled him, but Sophia’s mare took a scare and bolted, Sophia clinging helplessly to saddle and reins. Hooves pounded against the earth. She tried to keep her posture, but her feet bounced in the stirrups, bumping against the mare’s side, unintentionally prodding her to go faster. Then Sophia heard Tomas shout in Spanish as the mare leapt forward, heading straight for the estancia at breakneck speed.
Sweat poured down her spine now and she could see the gate in front of her. If they didn’t slow down soon …
Tomas shouted again. Desperately she pulled on the reins but their length was uneven in her damp palms and the mare shifted abruptly to her right. Everything seemed to slow as she felt the horse plant its feet, throwing her from the saddle. There was a sense of weightlessness as she flew through the air and a fear in knowing she was likely to be hurt.
When Sophia hit the ground, every last breath of air was forced from her lungs and she felt several seconds of panic as they refused to work. Finally new oxygen rushed in, painful and a blessed relief all in one.
Tomas reined in beside her and jumped off his horse, leaving the reins dangling from the bridle.
“Sophia!” Tomas knelt beside her and she felt his hands behind her shoulders as she tried to sit. “No, lie down,” he commanded, gently placing her on the grass. “Catch your breath, and tell me you’re all right.”
His face swam before her eyes as she inhaled and exhaled, trying to steady her breathing to somewhat near normal even though her chest felt as though someone was stepping on it. Lying down helped. Tomas’s hat was on the grass beside them and she saw a slight ring around his scalp where the band and sweat had flattened his short dark curls. He was beautiful, she realized. In an unreal sort of way—dark and mysterious and perfect. She felt horribly dirty, provincial and awkward. She’d tried to fake knowing what she was doing, but she’d been unequal to the task, just as she’d been at painting this morning. She’d failed yet again. All she’d had to do was stay in the saddle for another fifteen minutes and she would have been home free.
Now she looked like a prize idiot next to Tomas’s stunning looks, self assurance and.
Oh Lord. The way he was looking at her right now. Like he cared. His lips were unsmiling, his eyes dark with anxiety. How long had she wished for someone to look at her in just this way? As though if something happened to her it would be a catastrophe? Antoine certainly never had. He’d acted as if her feelings, her needs, counted for nothing.
And
