Honeymoon With the Rancher

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.”