this, and then the Jeep growled and they drove on.
‘We’re approaching the old buildings down a long, tree-lined drive,’ he explained.
‘It’s brilliantly lit,’ she said. ‘One of the things I can still detect is a big change in light.’ She felt she had to explain this as she sensed his surprise that she should know anything about the light levels. ‘I’m really lucky in that I can still detect light. It has helped me to work out which way round I’m facing on many occasions. When you can’t see anything much, you’re happy to take what you can get.’ She laughed, but Nacho was silent.
They drove in silence. She could imagine Nacho steering with just his thumb on the wheel at this low speed, perhaps sparing her a glance from time to time. She sensed he was totally relaxed and yet thoroughly observant—as he was on horseback, and as he had been at the wedding where they had kissed. Even when he was still she thought he gave off about the same level of threat as a sleeping tiger.
‘The building is old—mellow stone,’ he explained, breaking the silence as he brought the Jeep to a halt again. ‘It’s beautifully preserved. Right now the moonlight is making the stone glow a silvery-blue.’
‘And the sun will turn it rose-pink in late afternoon,’ she guessed. ‘There’s more light now,’ she said with interest, sitting up. ‘A different light.’
‘Wrought-iron lanterns hanging either side of the main doors,’ Nacho explained. ‘They give off quite a strong glow. It makes the mullioned windows on either side of the door glitter. How am I doing, Grace?’ he said with a hint of amusement as he applied the brake.
‘Not bad,’ she said with a small smile. ‘And how about the front door? No, don’t tell me. It’s huge and arched … stout oak with iron studs?’
‘Argentine sandalwood,’ he explained. ‘But otherwise that’s not a bad description, Grace. Welcome to Viña Acosta.’
Where my trial by wine begins, she thought, releasing her safety belt.
She climbed down carefully when Nacho opened the door, guessing his hand was there to help her if she needed it. She avoided it in the interests of independence, but she did feel it brush her back, where it lit a series of little fires she couldn’t ignore.
Nacho let Buddy out of the back of the Jeep and when the guide dog came to her side she attached the leash to Buddy’s harness. ‘We’re all set,’ she confirmed.
Nacho led her into a pleasantly warm entrance hall with a stone floor. It wasn’t large. She could tell that by the way their voices bounced off the walls and were very quickly muffled. The smell was distinctive and familiar. It reminded her of the tasting room at the warehouse, but here she guessed the woodwork would be impregnated with centuries worth of fruit and must and skins and juice.
‘This is the tasting room,’ Nacho explained as he opened another door. ‘There aren’t any steps.’
Grace had already guessed as much from the way Buddy was leading her, but she thanked Nacho for the warning.
‘If you’d like to sit down, Grace?’
Recognising this request, Buddy led her across an uneven stone floor to a wooden bench. He stopped when Grace felt it nudge her legs. She reached forward to feel for the table she knew must be there and, gauging the space in between bench and table, she slid into the seat. While she was unhitching Buddy’s harness she heard a rug hit the floor.
‘He might as well be comfortable while we do this,’ Nacho explained.
She smiled, remembering Lucia telling her that where animals were concerned nothing was too much trouble for her brothers. But if you were human …? Basically, forget it.
Now she could hear glasses chinking, and bottles being moved around. ‘Are we alone?’
‘Absolutely,’ Nacho confirmed as he put bottles on the table. ‘I had some of these wines opened earlier.’
‘Good idea,’ she said, and knew that just when she should be at her most professional she was feeling disorientated again. This was a familiar feeling in new surroundings, and one she would have to conquer, but there wasn’t time tonight. At least she was sitting down. It wouldn’t be the first time she had tripped over something. Even with Buddy’s help, she sometimes forgot her restrictions and went flying.
But that wasn’t going to happen tonight, Grace reassured herself firmly.
‘Buddy?’
Hearing the big dog shift position, she was pleased to note he wasn’t too far away. Buddy knew he was still on duty, but he hadn’t heard the imperative note in her voice that called him to action. She mapped the table in front of her, feeling for glasses and bottles and other hazards. She always put down mental markers so she could understand her surroundings better. She listened intently as Nacho poured. Even the sound wine made as it glugged from the bottle told a story.
As the sound of her rapid breathing compared to Nacho’s steady inhalations told another, Grace realised, consciously steadying herself.
‘Right. Are we ready?’ he said. ‘I’ve labelled the bottles and glasses on the bottom, so that I can’t see them when you swap them round.’
‘An even playing field,’ she agreed.
She had to concentrate fiercely and not think about that husky voice with its intriguing accent, or those dark eyes watching her every move.
As she tasted the first sample she could only wish Nacho’s thoughts were as easy to read as the wine. Elias had described him as a gifted amateur, and when it came to wine no doubt that was true, but where women were concerned Nacho was a master of his craft. It was a thought that made her tremble with awareness.
‘Well?’ he said. ‘What do you think so far, Grace?’
What did she think? Where wine was concerned she was utterly confident. Where Nacho was concerned she was out of her depth.
‘Grace?’
She tensed when he came to sit beside her on the bench. She hadn’t expected that.
‘Spit or swallow?’ he said.
She almost laughed. Nacho’s blunt question while his hard thigh brushing hers was just the wake-up call she needed.
‘At this initial informal tasting I’m going to drink a mouthful of each wine.’ She explained why. ‘I like to hold it in my mouth and then feel the wine run through me. My stomach usually has something useful to say. I’ll need water and coffee beans—to clean my palate and clear my nose. Every sommelier has their own way of doing things and this is mine. Don’t worry, I’ve brought them with me.’ She reached into her bag.
‘Whatever it takes,’ Nacho agreed.
‘Not bad,’ she commented after tasting the first couple of wines. ‘But not great. And don’t even ask me to touch this one,’ she added when Nacho pressed a third glass in her hand. The smell was enough to put her off. ‘Please don’t waste my time with cheap tricks or rejects. I thought time was important to both of us.’
She felt his surprise, though he made no comment. He was
