The Untamed Argentinian

‘Not for want of trying,’ Nero said angrily. Bella’s bewildered gaze had shocked him and the realisation of what she had been hiding all these years cut him like a knife. ‘You must have been terrified.’

‘Terrified? Yes,’ she said faintly as she thought back. ‘When he started laughing at me and calling me frigid and ugly, I was at my lowest point—beaten. But later, when I got over the shock of what had happened, I felt angry. When people joined in with his mocking comments—laughing about me and my father—it changed me for good, Nero. It turned me into a fighter. It made me determined that no man or woman would ever control me. And when my father’s business failed I went to work for him. I wanted to help him rebuild—not just the business, but his good name. I wanted to prove to the world that Jack Wheeler still counted for something.’

‘The Wheeler name counts for a lot,’ Nero cut in. ‘And that’s thanks to you, Bella. Whatever problems your father had in the past have been eclipsed by your work in his name.’

He took her in his arms, feeling instantly protective, along with a whole host of less worthy feelings towards the man who had assaulted her. Without a mother to advise her, or close female friends to coax her out of her defensive shell, she had battled this nightmare alone. No wonder she found it so hard to trust anyone. Bella was the most thoughtful person he knew and only her complete lack of vanity and self-absorption had allowed so much time to pass before she unburdened herself. He was touched and honoured that she had chosen him when she chose to do so. ‘Nero?’

He stared down into her wounded eyes. ‘I wish I’d known all this before, Bella.’

‘Well, you know now,’ she said with the same flippant gesture, still trying to make light of it.

Speaking gently, he captured her hand and held her close. ‘I want you to promise that you’re going listen to what I’m going to say to you, because you need to hear this.’ He waited until she relaxed. ‘While you were struggling to take control of your life, you imposed sterner rules on yourself than anyone else would have done. You’ve been unforgiving where Bella Wheeler is concerned and you need to ease up. Let the past go, Bella. Let the bad parts fall away. You’ve got too much to give to keep yourself imprisoned in this Ice Maiden cage.’

She was hugging herself, Bella realised, releasing her arms. ‘How can I do that when it still hurts every time I remember?’

‘It will hurt less now you’ve told someone,’ Nero promised.

‘But it hurts now.’

‘These are old wounds, Bella, and you just poked them with a stick.’

She had never felt able to share the past with anyone, or to talk freely about herself before, yet Nero had made her do that, Bella realised. For all his savage masculinity, he possessed some deep curative power. He was using it now to calm Misty. The little mare was impatient to leave and was showing off in front of Nero’s stallion with head tosses and jaunty prancing, but one quiet word from Nero and she was still.

Bella was so busy admiring Nero’s horse-whispering technique, he surprised her. Instead of mounting up, he turned his back and, ripping his shirt free of his gaucho breeches, he loosened his belt and pulled the waist-band of his breeches down revealing the most terrible scars.

‘Oh, my God,’ Bella exclaimed in shock. ‘Who did that to you?’ The cruel score of whip marks was livid red and unmistakable. This was calculated cruelty on a scale that made her own long-held internal wounds pale into insignificance.

‘This is my father’s work,’ Nero said without emotion. Adjusting his clothing, he fastened his belt. ‘I was eleven years old before the beatings stopped.’

Around the time his parents had been killed and Nero’s grandmother had moved in to take care of him, Bella realised. No wonder Nero had pushed himself and the ranch to the limit. Nero was as driven as she was in his own way. ‘Your grandmother must have been horrified to discover what had been happening to you in her absence.’

‘It was something we never talked about.’

‘But it must have hurt her terribly if she loved you—’

‘Love?’ Nero murmured, appearing distracted for a moment. ‘I adored my grandmother, but love was something else we never discussed,’ he admitted wryly.

That made her sad. The way Nero dismissed love was an ominous sign, Bella thought, even if it was understandable. As a child, he had been denied love by his violent, drunken father and, with a child’s stoical acceptance of what couldn’t be changed, had learned to live without love.

‘Things happen,’ he said with a shrug. ‘I’m only showing you these scars to let you know they haven’t changed me—my father hasn’t won, and neither must you allow what happened to you to rule your life and hold you back.’

‘You can’t compare what happened to me with someone beating a child!’

‘And, bad as that was, somewhere out there will be children beyond number who have suffered far worse. That is why we are launching our schemes, Bella. You may not have thought it through as I have and come to that conclusion, but that is why you and I are so driven, and why you must use the past as a stepping stone rather than a barrier.’

The past hadn’t changed him, Bella realised as Nero turned away to check the girth on his horse, but it had formed the man he was. Would Nero ever settle down, or would he never be able to trust enough to take the risk of loving anyone?

It all made sense now, Bella thought as she calmed Misty—her chats with Ignacio and the gaucho’s closed face whenever she’d tried to ask him about Nero’s father. Estancia Caracas was a closed community where everyone knew

everything that was going on.

‘Bella?’

Refocusing, she put her foot in the stirrup and swung lightly into the saddle. ‘Nothing’s easy, is it, Nero?’

His mouth curved into a grin. ‘You want easy, you could always go back to England.’

She shot him a level stare. ‘And leave a job half-done?’