The Untamed Argentinian

Whether Nero was pleased or not by her clumsy effort, she had made one friend, Bella thought, judging by the warmth in the elderly gaucho’s eyes as he invited her to sit in the vehicle for the short drive to the house.

She found everything thrilling, even the bumpy ride during which Ignacio pointed out the colourful ducks flying in arrow formation against the flawless blue sky, and then Nero spotted one of the giant hares native to the pampas as it bounced across the road. ‘Look, Bella,’ he said, grabbing hold of her arm in his excitement.

That touch was most thrilling of all, she thought, and the sights were pretty spectacular. And now Nero’s powerful arm was resting across the seat in front of her. The only decoration he wore was a steel wristwatch that could probably tell their position in relation to the moon, but his sheer physical presence was what overwhelmed her.

‘Good, huh?’

She jumped alert as he prompted her. ‘Amazing,’ she murmured, staring into his eyes. This time she had to force her stubborn gaze outside the vehicle.

They entered Estancia Caracas through an arched entrance that reminded Bella of old cowboy films where the gates loomed large and impressive in what was other wise a barren landscape. A long, well-groomed drive led the way to the sprawling hacienda—though this was a hacienda with a capital H—far larger and better kept than seemed humanly possible in such a wild and remote area, she decided as Ignacio turned into a cobbled courtyard the size of a football pitch.

‘Wow,’ Bella murmured. Nero’s home was seriously fabulous.

They got out and she paused for a moment. The breeze was tickling the leaves on the eucalyptus trees and the only other sound was the distant whinnying of a horse. The courtyard was full of flowers—vivid cascades tumbling down the walls and draping in lush swags over the balconies. ‘You must find it so hard to leave here,’ she murmured.

‘And so good to come back,’ Nero agreed. ‘Shall we?’

‘Yes, of course.’ The walls of the hacienda were painted in a muted shade of chalky terracotta, while the smooth cobbles beneath her feet were a deeper shade of golden red. Everything looked so warm and welcoming beneath the cobalt sky.

‘Is this not what you had expected?’ Nero demanded as Bella exclaimed with pleasure as she trailed her fingertips across some clusters of blossom.

Of such a hard, rugged man? ‘No,’ she admitted. ‘I don’t know what I expected, really.’

‘So what do you think now?’

‘That you have mastered the art of living in harmony with your surroundings,’ she said honestly.

Nero seemed pleased by this analysis and introduced Bella to María, his cook and housekeeper, and María’s sister, Concepcion, both of whom were waiting to greet him outside the door. The older ladies’ faces were wreathed in smiles. They were so obviously delighted to see him Bella could only conclude Nero must have been an engaging child.

Perhaps she was being a little unfair to him, Bella conceded as the women bustled ahead, turning constantly to check that Nero hadn’t left them again. The large hallway was paved in fabulous terracotta marble, softened by cinnamon-coloured rugs. The walls, painted a warm cream, were hung with antique mirrors and pictures. Probably family heirlooms, Bella guessed, apart from a painting of a wild horse, which was more recent and drew her attention immediately.

‘Do you like it?’ Nero asked, noticing her interest.

‘I love it,’ she enthused. Gadamus was an American artist noted for his freestyle technique with an airbrush and there was nothing cosy about this picture. There was nothing cosy about her life any longer, Bella thought as she glanced at Nero.

‘So, what do you like about it?’ he probed.

‘The brutal realism,’ she said, holding his gaze.

‘You’re drawn to danger and risk?’ Nero suggested.

‘It appears so,’ Bella agreed coolly. She refused to be over-faced by all this quiet money, or by a man of such power and charisma.

‘We’d better not keep María and Concepcion waiting,’ Nero pointed out, making her a mocking bow.

They understood each other completely, Bella thought, though her confidence in handling Nero was short-lived. His touch on her arm shot the breath from her lungs as he held the door for her and they traded the shady lobby for an interior courtyard.

She quickly recovered to take in the peaceful haven where the only disturbance was the sound of water gushing in the fountain to a background of birdsong. The air was scented with blossom, which reminded Bella that Christmas in Argentina was very different to the same season in England. The prince had warned her that she would be leaving the cold northern hemisphere for something very different. How right he was. This was another world altogether…

‘You have a beautiful home, Nero.’ And she was allowing herself to invest far too much interest and emotion.

The interior of the house made it even harder for Bella to disengage her feelings. There was a grand hall with a sweeping staircase, and the lake they had flown over was the focus of all the main rooms. From the windows of each elegant salon she could see beautifully tended lawns sweeping away to a golden beach and, in the far distance, snow-capped mountains.

‘Do you approve?’ Nero demanded dryly.

‘I’ve never seen anything like it,’ Bella admitted. ‘But I’m here to work,’ she managed in a firmer tone.

‘Of course.’