put it,’ Nacho agreed, and this time there really was some warmth in his voice.
Her first compliment, Grace registered—not that she was looking for any. Especially as they made her cheeks burn red.
‘I’m only sorry you won’t be able to see the old buildings we’ve been restoring,’ Nacho commented.
She was taken aback for a moment, but then she realised she appreciated his frankness. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘I process loads of mental images through my other senses. And don’t forget I have a whole library of images to draw on from the days when I could see. I’m lucky in that respect.’
‘Yes, you are,’ he agreed.
For the first time she began to relax. Nacho’s candour suited her. To be treated normally was exactly what she wanted.
‘So, what are your impressions of Argentina so far, Grace?’
‘Well, it’s certainly lovely weather after a freezing cold British winter, and the people are very kind. And there are all sorts of wonderful new scents and sounds here.’
‘Horses?’ he suggested dryly.
‘Different,’ she said. ‘And there’s a sort of samba rhythm in the air.’
Nacho laughed. ‘Still the romantic, Grace?’
Was she?
‘Still mining for choice pieces of information to add to our forward promotion for your wines—if Elias places an order,’ she said coolly.
They fell silent after that sally, each rebalancing their opinion of the other, she thought.
Cocooned in darkness, she was given a chance to think back to the first time she’d seen Nacho. She’d found him frighteningly attractive, and in particular had seen something incredible about his eyes. He had such a keen stare it had seemed to suck information from her brain, while Nacho’s own thoughts remained guarded. She remembered he rode with a bandana to keep his unruly hair from his eyes. When she had first seen him dressed for polo, with that bandana instead of a helmet, she had thought he looked exactly like the king of the brigands as he led his team out. He was clearly the boss and everyone accepted his leadership.
Maybe it was that edge of danger about Nacho, that sense of him having seen things and done things that might shock her if she knew about them, that perversely made him all the more attractive. An inconvenience she would have to get over if she wanted to appear businesslike tonight.
‘Grace?’
‘Sorry.’ She rejigged her thoughts. ‘I was just thinking—I mean, I was just trying to imagine your wine facility.’
‘I’ll describe it to you.’
‘That would be great,’ she said, surprised to find him so amenable. ‘Is the river close by?’
‘Why do you ask?’
His voice had changed completely. She could have kicked herself. Of course she knew about the tragedy—everyone did—but there was something in Nacho’s voice she hadn’t heard before. Something that suggested that although his parents might have drowned in a flood there years ago the tragedy still affected him. What really surprised her was that Nacho had always appeared to be the ultimate in grounded men, but there was a strand of defensive anger in his voice, along with what could only be described as guilt and raw grief.
‘So, I gather you like it here?’ he said, changing the subject.
She guessed that was a welcome relief for him, and needed no encouragement to enthuse about her experience so far.
‘Like it here? I love it,’ she said impulsively. ‘What was it like growing up on the pampas, Nacho?’
She had said something wrong again, Grace realised when the silence thickened.
‘It was all sorts of hectic chaos,’ he said at last.
‘Go on,’ she prompted, eager to keep the faltering conversation going.
‘There was no privacy,’ he said, revealing the other side to Lucia’s coin.
It probably hadn’t ever occurred to Lucia that her brothers had been fighting to express their individuality too.
‘Not nearly as much freedom as you might expect,’ Nacho went on. ‘And nowhere to go. When you’re young all you want is the city and the nightlife, and what you get here is miles of wilderness, mountains and the stars.’
‘And because you were the oldest you always had to look after your brothers and sister?’ Grace guessed. Grasping the nettle, she dived back into the past, where she suspected Nacho’s ghosts lay. ‘Lucia said that after your parents were killed you worked very hard at looking after them.’
‘I did my best,’ he said, clearly not willing to be drawn on this point.
‘That must have been hard for you,’ she probed.
‘Not really,’ he said, shifting restlessly in his seat. ‘Lucia had the worst of it,’ he said after a few moments. ‘Growing up must have been hell for her, with four brothers looking over her shoulders.’
‘God help her if she got a boyfriend, I suppose?’ Grace suggested with a grin.
This time she could imagine Nacho’s ironic expression as he murmured, ‘So she told you?’
As the tension eased a little she decided she would have to be patient. They’d get around to talking about Nacho eventually—she’d make sure of it. ‘What about your brothers?’
‘Ruiz was the perfect student,’ Nacho explained with a shrug in his voice. ‘He was also the perfect son and the perfect brother. In fact Ruiz never put a foot wrong. He always knew how to get on with everyone and how to get his own way. Diego was the dark side of that coin—dangerous, some said, though I always thought that was overstated. Diego was just deep.’
‘And what about the youngest? Kruz?’ she pressed.
She heard Nacho scratch his cheek, the stubble resistant against his fingernail. ‘Kruz was a handful …’ He sighed. ‘Kruz was always in trouble.’
‘And you?’ she slipped in, sensing that talking about Kruz was opening up a whole can of worms. Nacho would probably prefer talking about himself—as difficult as she knew he found that.
‘Me?’ he said. ‘I spent most of my time getting Kruz out of trouble.’
‘That’s not what I meant and you know it,’ she chided, realising he’d eluded her again.
‘I know what you meant,’ Nacho assured her. ‘And all I’m prepared to say on that subject is that what you see is what you get with me, Grace.’
Right up to that moment she’d had no reason to disbelieve a word Nacho said, but now she did.
‘The gates,’ Nacho explained as the Jeep dropped a gear and began to slow. He brought it to a halt.
‘They
