Читать книгу Honeymoon with the Rancher / Nanny Next Door: Honeymoon with the Rancher / Nanny Next Door - Michelle Celmer, Donna Alward - Страница 10

TOMAS followed her, his eyes trained on her back as it swayed gently with the motion of the horse. She had taken the initiative and started down the path before him, rather than follow behind. There was definitely more to Sophia than he thought. More than the designer shoes and air of supremacy she’d put on yesterday, or the panic she’d exhibited this morning during the spider episode. She was not experienced with horses. He’d known it from the start and had wanted to push her, test her. Not in a dangerous sort of way, after all he’d given her Neva, the gentlest mare in the stable. It was his job to gauge someone’s experience and give them a proper mount. But he’d wanted to shake her up a bit. He’d nearly expected protests when she’d seen the gaucho saddle. But she hadn’t said a single word. Just mounted and followed him.

She’d shown some pluck, and he liked that.

Maybe they had more in common than he’d thought. The thought niggled. He didn’t want to find common ground. Maybe they had both felt pushed into a life of appearances. Tomas had lived that way once. For his father, money and status were everything. The biggest mistake of his life was going along with it as long as he had. He was far happier here, at Vista del Cielo.

Sophia just hadn’t found her place yet, but it wasn’t his job to show her. The words of assurance sat on his tongue but he remained silent, knowing that if he offered them to her, it would open him up to more questions. He wasn’t sure where life was going to lead him and he didn’t want to get into it with Sophia. Too many people offered their opinions as it was. As much as he loved it here on the estancia, his family kept asking when he was coming back. It was a question he could not answer. The idea of going back to Buenos Aires and taking his place at Motores Mendoza held little appeal. Lately he’d been feeling disconnected, and it unsettled him. Going back to Buenos Aires and the family business would sever that connection completely, and he couldn’t do it.

“It is beautiful here,” Sophia called from ahead of him. “So open and free.” She reined in a bit so his horse’s head was at her flank. “The big things melt away, don’t they.”

He exhaled slowly. Perhaps she was faking her riding experience, but there was no faking the approval he heard in her voice. “It does tend to put things in perspective,” he replied carefully, pleased that she understood but still on his guard. Somehow the words tethered the two of them together, and that made him uncomfortable. “I have done a lot of thinking riding along this path.” And he had, ever since the first visit when Miguel had brought him home to meet his family.

He’d walked in the door and everything in his world had changed. Everything. He had been greeted warmly. And he had laid eyes on Rosa and it was as though the world stopped turning.

The path grew steeper as they descended to the creek bed. She was being cautious, he noticed, knowing the criollo horses’ nimble feet could more than handle the narrow path. At the bottom the mare gave a little hop and he heard a squeak come from ahead.

He watched the curve of Sophia’s bottom as it swayed with the lazy stride of the mare. This morning he’d been sorely tempted to reach out and pull her into his arms when she’d seen the spider. Her alarm had been real, not put on, and he’d felt oddly protective of her. He shook his head. They would keep the pace slow, that was all.

A little further down the bed was a lee, sheltered from the wind. Tomas and Miguel had come here often to build a fire and share mate. He urged his horse forward and past Sophia, leading the way. If she didn’t take a break, she would be sore in the morning from sitting in the saddle too long. This was the perfect place to rest. He had been here many times since coming to the estancia.

He dismounted and waited for her to follow, then tethered both horses to a low bush. “Come,” he said, and held out a hand to help her over the scrabbly rocks. “I want to show you something.”

She put her hand in his and his body tightened.

It was a trusting move and he hadn’t expected the sweetness of it. The sharp-tongued cobra of yesterday had disappeared … when? When she’d come to the kitchen in her bare feet? This morning, when she’d blinked up at him in the baggy coveralls?

Her hand was small and soft and a lump formed in his throat. When was the last time someone had put their hand in his so trustingly? A long time. It bothered him that he couldn’t remember. So many things he’d taken for granted and brushed off, not realizing how important they would become later. Things like the last time he had held Rosa’s hand, kissed her lips. The last time he’d said “I love you” and heard her say his name. Those moments were gone forever, leaving a vacuum in their place.

They went to the curve in the hill where two flat rocks waited. “Oh!” she exclaimed, letting go of his hand and moving forward delightedly. Sophia went to the first stone and perched upon it, her hands on her knees.

She looked about eighteen years old. Where was the high fashion barracuda in stilettos demanding he make good on the reservation? It had been false bravado. He understood that now. The woman before him was an enchanting sprite with flaming curls and bright eyes. This was the real Sophia. Her excitement was fresh and genuine and far more difficult to resist.

“This is so neat! You can’t even see it from above!”

“Which made it perfect for staying hidden.” He followed her, moving towards the twin boulders, his boots crunching on the gravel.

“Who were you hiding from?”

“Mostly Carlos and Maria. Miguel and I would grab a couple of horses and come out. He was in a hurry to finish school and go to the city. I was dying to get out of the fast pace and expectations and this became my second home. He still loves it—I don’t think you can take the pampas out of the boy. But he is working in Córdoba now, teaching at one of the universities.”

He sat on the other stone and stared at the bubbling creek.

“Do you normally bring guests here on the trail rides? It’s lovely.”

“No, not usually.” He suddenly knew this was a bad idea. The last thing he needed to do was start doing special things with her. She was no different than any other guest. She couldn’t be.

“And so you have made your home with Maria and Carlos, working the estancia with them.”

Tomas smiled. She made it sound so simple, when it wasn’t. Not at all. He could tell her that he was joint owner, but for some reason he didn’t want to.

“I prefer it to being with my own family. I know, that sounds awful, as if I don’t love them. And I know in my way I do. But what you said before, about looking for someone … I understand that. It is when I am here that I feel most myself. If somehow a trip here is managing to give that to you, too, I’m glad. Sometimes …” He thought about what she’d told him only minutes before. “Sometimes being here I remember I don’t have to try so hard.”

They were quiet for a few moments. He looked over at Sophia. She was gazing out over the creek and the waving grasses, her expression utterly relaxed, her hands resting on her knees.

“I know what you mean about trying hard out here. It’s beautiful, isn’t it? I didn’t think so when I first drove up. It wasn’t what I was expecting. But now I think perhaps the estancia is well named. View of Heaven … yes. I think your pampas might have a way of winding itself around a person’s heart.”

And just like that, Sophia started winding herself around him. She understood what it was he felt about the pampas, about Vista del Cielo. It was the last thing he expected and the sensation was pleasant and disturbing all at once.

“I think I’ve been trying hard for a long time,” she continued. “To please people. To be what they wanted me to be. I don’t even really know what I want.”

He nodded. “But you have time. You’re what, twenty-four, twenty-five?” He traced a fingernail over the rock’s surface. “This is a whole new beginning for you. You get to decide who you want to be.”

Her smile was wide. “Thank you, Tomas.” She tipped her campero back further on her head. “I sometimes worry that I’ve taken this trip for revenge. It’s not a very attractive quality. After what you just said … I hope that instead I use it as a springboard for doing things better.” He saw a glimmer of moisture in her eyes. “Living honestly, if that makes sense.”

Oh, it made sense all right. And at least her catastrophe was only a cancelled wedding. She had no need of the remorse that Tomas still felt about his own personal wake-up call.

“Anyway,” she changed the subject lightly, “I am looking forward to meeting Maria and Carlos.” She stretched out her legs and tilted her face up to the sun.

“You will like them,” he answered quietly.

“Do you suppose their son will ever have children? Is he married? My grandmother always joked that grandchildren were the bane of her existence. She didn’t like kids any more than she liked farm life.” Sophia chuckled.

Tomas did not know how to answer. She was just making simple chatter, but the subject of grandchildren was a painful one. As the silence stretched out, he searched for a safe topic of conversation. He thought about giving her a spiel on the history of the gaucho but suspected she’d see clear through his motive to deflect the conversation away from himself. “Or maybe you.” She kept on, oblivious to the sickening churning he was feeling in his gut. “Maybe you will have children and will bring them out here to visit.”

The innocently spoken words were like a knife in his heart.

He and Rosa had sneaked out to this spot on occasion too. If he had been any other boy, Carlos and Maria would have had a fit. But not with Tomas. They had trusted him to take care of Rosa. To keep her safe and cherish her. Sophia’s words were nothing that he had not thought of a million times since Rosa’s death. Time, and yes, even healing, could not erase the awful responsibility he felt.

“Tomas?”

He hadn’t noticed her rising from her rock and coming to his side. Her small hand lay on his forearm 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 counting for nothing hurt, dammit. She finally acknowledged to herself that Antoine’s betrayal of her had hurt most because she had felt inconsequential. Had felt that she didn’t matter.

Tomas’s hand reached behind her head and cradled it in his hand, cushioning it from the hard earth. “Sophia, please,” he said roughly. “Tell me where it hurts.”

His plea broke through every defence she’d erected since walking into the hotel room and seeing Antoine with his mistress. Her whole life hurt right now. She had never felt so alone. And the worst part of it was that she knew she couldn’t make sense of any of it until she figured out who she was. It was a horrible, horrible feeling to realize that she’d lost herself along the way. She was like a boat bobbing aimlessly on the sea with no direction. And it had taken this rough-and-ready gaucho to make her see it. Maybe she’d looked like a fool just now, but there was no mistaking the genuine concern in his eyes. She held on to that, letting it be a beacon in the darkness.

I hurt everywhere, she thought, and she felt the telltale sting of tears behind her eyes. And the last thing she wanted was for him to see that. She’d lost enough face today.

She gripped his forearm with her hand and pulled herself up to sit.

“It’s my fault,” Tomas berated himself sharply. “I never should have gone off ahead. I knew you were inexperienced.” He brushed a piece of hair off her cheek and tucked it behind her ear. “You were doing wonderfully. You have more pluck than I gave you credit for.”

Sophia’s face softened. Did Tomas blame himself? That was ridiculous. He couldn’t have known the mare would run off.

“I’m fine,” she insisted, knowing that nothing was broken, only bruised. There was an ache in her hip from landing on the hard ground, and she suspected she would be stiff later, but the greatest harm had been done to her pride. And yet his words stirred something warm inside. Had he actually said she’d been doing wonderfully? She had been faking the whole way, trying to remember what she’d learned about riding in those two childhood rides. So she hadn’t fooled him. But she hadn’t made a disaster of it, either. At least not until the end.

“At least you know I never do things halfway,” she replied. She looked around. Both horses were standing a few metres away, looking utterly unconcerned about Sophia’s welfare. Her campero had flown off and was lying in the dust.

“Don’t move,” he ordered, and he went to the horses, gathering the reins and tethering them to the fence. He snagged her hat and came back, sliding an arm under her knees and picking her up while the campero dangled from his fingers. Her breath hitched as he stood and gave a little bounce, adjusting her weight in his arms.

“What are you doing?”

“Carrying you inside, what do you think?”

It was heavenly being in his arms, the primitive physicality of it thrilling. She was held closely against the wall of his chest, so close that she could see a single bead of sweat gather at the hollow of his throat. She wanted to reach out and touch it with the tip of her finger, but didn’t have the courage to take such initiative.

He began carrying her towards the house. No man had ever done such a gallant thing for her before, and it would be very easy to get swept away. But this was definitely not standing on her own two feet and the last thing she wanted was to look like some helpless female. She’d done that enough today. “Please, put me down. I can walk.”

“You took quite a fall, Sophia.” His chocolatey eyes were still heavy with concern and a tiny wrinkle marred his brow.

Her arms had gone around his neck by instinct and her body bobbed with every long stride of his legs. “Then let me walk it off. Nothing is broken, Tomas. This is silly.”

They reached the gate and she stuck out a hand, grabbing on to the metal bar and pulling them to a halt. “Let me down. You can walk me to the house if you want.” His gaze caught hers for long seconds. “The fault is mine. I felt I had something to prove, but I was wrong. I should have asked for help. I didn’t mean to scare you,” she apologized.

He gave in and gently put her down. “Are you sure you’re not hurt?”

She did hurt. She missed the feeling of being held in his arms already, and she ached all over. Her left hip pained when she put her weight on it. But it was just bruising. “Nothing serious. I’m more humiliated than anything.”

They took slow steps to the house. Tomas remained right by her side, slowing his strides to match hers, his right arm always near in case she needed support. “I’m the one who should apologize, Sophia. You are inexperienced with horses, and I knew that. This is all my fault. I should not have ridden ahead.”

“Why did you?” She hobbled along, looking up at him from beneath her campero, the hat resting crookedly atop her head.

“I …”

“You’re going to put that wall around yourself again, aren’t you? Fine. I get it. You are allowed to ask questions. I’m not. Loud and clear, Tomas.”

“Dios, your tongue is sharp!” He bristled beside her. “You might have been killed, do you understand? What if Neva had gone down? What if she’d rolled on you?”

He turned on her, anger darkening his face now. “I should have stayed with you. You might have broken your neck.”

“Oh, what would you care? You’ll be glad to be rid of me, admit it!” she shot back. She instantly felt bad for saying it. “Tomas, I’m …”

But he never gave her a chance.

“!Maldita idiota! I cannot figure you out. You panic at the sight of a spider, but when the danger is real …”

“Perhaps you should have thought of that before giving me a skittish horse that runs at the least little thing!”

“I gave you the calmest horse in the stable!” They were standing in the middle of the yard now, shouting.

“Do you treat all your clients this way?” She scoffed, her voice ripe with derision. Her blood was up now and it felt marvelous! All the righteous anger she’d channeled into cancelling the wedding and reorganizing her life came bubbling to the surface. “Oh wait … I’m the only one. Remind me why that is again?”

“!Cállate!” He shouted. “Enough!”

And then he gripped her arms in his strong hands and kissed her.

The pain in her hip disappeared as his lips covered hers. Passion, a passion she hadn’t known she even possessed, exploded within her and she reached out to hang on to his shirt. He braced his feet, forming a solid wall for her to lean against, and in return she twined her arms around his ribs and over his shoulder blades, craving the feel of his body against hers.

This was what had been missing, she realized with a shock. Pure, unadulterated physicality. The kind of force that rushed in like a hurricane and frightened the hell out of her.

She shuddered and the fingers gripping her arms eased. His mouth gentled over hers until his lips played, teased, seduced.

It made her want to weep. How was it that even in anger this stranger seemed to know exactly what she needed? How did he know that she needed gentleness?

“Are you still angry at me?” she whispered as their lips parted. She couldn’t make herself meet his gaze; instead she stared at his mouth as though she hadn’t seen it before. Full lips, crisp in their perfection, soft when they needed to be soft, firm when they needed to be commanding …

“Yes,” he admitted, letting out a ragged breath. “Are you still angry at me?”

“No.”

“Why?”

She sighed. “Because I’m tired of being angry.”

“I shouldn’t have shouted. You scared me, Sophia.”

“I scared myself.”

She risked a look up at him then. His eyes were dark with concern again and she marveled at it—why should he care about her? Who was she to him? But she wasn’t about to argue. At the moment, sad as it was, he was all she had.

He turned from her and they began walking towards the house again. Sophia’s legs felt like jelly after the kiss, but she forced one foot ahead of the other.

“Why didn’t you say anything earlier when I mentioned going riding?”

“I didn’t want you to know.” She raised her chin. “After the way I showed up yesterday, and then my overreaction this morning … I didn’t want you to think I was some vapid female who couldn’t handle as much as a broken nail. I didn’t expect to be racing across the pampas, either.”

She wouldn’t look at him, but to her right, she heard a soft chuckle. “You are very stubborn, Sophia Hollingsworth.”

“Thank you. I’ll take that as a compliment.”

This time he really did laugh, and the sound reached in and expanded inside her. She knew it was ridiculous. She had made a miscalculation and now she was limping back to the house, dirty and with dented pride claiming that stubbornness was an attribute and not a fault.

“I didn’t foresee that happening. I was a very poor tour guide today. If nothing else, I should have asked you about your experience instead of assuming.”

“And what would you have done differently? Stop blaming yourself.” She stopped and put a hand on his arm. His solicitousness was lovely, but it wasn’t required. “It was the wind, that’s all.” Her body warmed as their kiss was still foremost in her mind. “And … about what happened before … I don’t want you to fix things, Tomas. I came on this holiday to be my own solution. Please don’t take this as an insult. I’m coming to understand I have spent far too long being at the mercy of other people. I need to prove to myself that I am capable, too.”

“And just what did this afternoon prove?” He raised an eyebrow, challenging.

They were at the house now and Sophia paused with her hand on the door.

What did it prove? Perhaps that the appreciation she had for Tomas had blossomed into full-blown attraction. And it had proved that the feeling was mutual. The potential in that stopped her in her tracks. It was an exhilarating, terrifying thought.

She took a careful breath. “It proved I am in dire need of a hot bath. And perhaps a glass of wine.”

“I think the Vista del Cielo can handle that.”

But Tomas waited a moment before backing away. “Are you sure you’re okay? I can call a doctor.” His hand rested on her shoulder and she tried not to like the heat of it there—but she did anyway. She could protest all she wanted, but it felt good to be cared for, taken care of, even just a little. The simple touch made her wonder what it would be like if he came inside with her, maybe kissed her again. Would it be as good the second time? Better?

“Truly, I’m fine, thank you.” She didn’t want him to leave. She wanted to see him smile, and feel the way his gaze fell on her, warm and approving in the Argentine sun. She wanted him to touch her cheeks with his lips again and maybe slide that small distance to her mouth. Her gaze fell unerringly on his lips too and then back up to his eyes. She’d give up her soak in the bath for that.

“I will see you later. I must look after the horses if you are all right.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

She wasn’t going anywhere, not yet. But in another week she would be on a plane headed back to Canada. That much would not change no matter how enamored she became of her surroundings. She took one last approving look at his retreating figure. All of her surroundings.