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.’
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
