The Untamed Argentinian

The Argentinian contingent rolled into town like a conquering army—four-wheel drives with blacked-out windows, vans, trucks, flashy sports cars with exotic-sounding names, a couple of fire-fed motorbikes and what seemed like a constant parade of sleek new horse transporters. The glamour quotient in the prince’s polo yard shot into the stratosphere as the polo guys and

their skimpily clad groupies emerged to stroll nonchalantly about while the polo ponies with their massive entourage decanted exuberantly from their motorised stalls, tossing their heads as if to say, Clear a path; we’re the real stars of the show!

With so much testosterone flying about, it was no wonder Bella had her work cut out keeping her young grooms in check. The brash new Argentinian horse transporters were like nothing they had ever seen before. The Argentinian horses breathed fire. And the men…

The less said about the men, the better, Bella thought, heart thundering as the swarthy marauders with their flashing eyes, deep tans and athletic frames took possession of every inch of space. Even Agnes had come over all coy and girlie.

Whereas she was attending solely to business, Bella reassured herself, checking each horse into the yard on her clipboard, ignoring the fact that her heart was beating a frantic so-where-is-he? tattoo. She was doing very well until a deep voice penetrated her thoughts.

Whirling around, she saw him at once. Nero must have been riding shotgun at the back of the parade, but now he had moved in to help bring a particularly fractious pony down one of the transporter ramps. Seeing him with his muscles pumped at full stretch kept her rooted to the spot for a moment. Nero was so much more than she remembered. He meant so much more to her than she had even realised.

But when a horse threatened to run amok, safety was paramount. With the carefully choreographed reunion between one professional and another that she had planned forgotten, Bella dropped her clipboard on the ground and ran to help.

Everyone else had backed away when she ran in. Corded muscles stood out on Nero’s arms. He had looped the rope around his waist but, as the horse shrieked its disapproval and reared up again, something in Nero’s stillness caught its attention. Rolling white eyes fixed on Nero’s while flattened ears pricked up as Nero began crooning reassurances in his deep, husky voice. It was a sound that touched not only the horse, but Bella somewhere deep too. She loved this man. Love wasted, maybe, but she would always love him. She drank in Nero’s resolute face and loved him all the more. Her heart and her eyes were full of him. Nothing in her life had ever come close to this feeling.

Finally, the horse was calm enough to lead away. Nero would allow no one but himself to take the risk of leading her and Bella hurried ahead of him to open the stable door. Her heart was stripped bare for Nero to trample on and only her professionalism allowed her to put her own feelings to one side and do what her training, her life had taught her. It was cool and shadowy inside the stable. She had prepared everything for just this eventuality. There was always one horse, sometimes more than one, spooked by the journey and the new surroundings, and Bella’s aim was to soothe the frightened animal with the fresh sweet scent of hay and clean, cool water. Nero was also the consummate professional and, having seen his troupe safely into the yard, he wouldn’t allow himself to acknowledge the world outside until everyone was safe.

Slipping the harness off the horse, he handed it to her. They hadn’t spoken a word to each other yet, but there was an incredible level of tension between them. It was like an electric current joining them. They didn’t need to speak, Bella realised as they quietened the highly strung horse between them. In this area of their lives, at least, they would always be as one.

Satisfied that the horse was calm, they left quietly. Bella turned for one last look over the top of the stable door.

‘All’s well that ends well. Isn’t that what you say in your country, Bella?’

Nero’s muscular forearms were resting on the lower half of the door as he turned to look at her. Holding his luminous gaze, she sensed rather than saw the hard mouth soften. ‘Hello, Nero.’

Warmth stole into his eyes. ‘Hello, Bella…’

Their naked arms were almost touching, but while Nero might have stepped straight out of the pages of a fashion magazine and smelled divine, Bella was conscious that she smelled of horse and in her workmanlike outfit of faded top and muckers—the boots she wore around the stables—with hoof oil smeared across her stable breeches, she was hardly a contender for groupie of the year. She hadn’t wanted to look as if she was trying too hard when Nero and the Argentinians arrived, but there were degrees, she realised now.

‘How are you, Bella?’

How was she? She had planned to be calm and professional. ‘I’m well… And you?’ Such few words to express a whole world of feeling.

‘I’m very well, thank you,’ Nero replied formally.

Nero hadn’t moved. He was just staring at her as if he wanted to imprint every fraction of her face on his mind. ‘Bella, what you did—’

‘I should go. I have all your documentation here,’ she said, clinging to business. She handed him the pack she had prepared earlier. He didn’t even look at it. ‘I’ll come down to the stables later when you’ve had time to settle in,’ she said, turning to go. ‘If you need anything at all before then, please don’t hesitate to call me. You’ll find my number in the folder, along with all the others I thought you might find useful.’ She was looking into his eyes. She should have seen. She should have known.

The breath caught in her throat as Nero put his hands on her shoulders. ‘No more talking, Bella.’

She weakened against him. When Nero kissed her it felt so good, so right. The scent of him, the touch, the taste, the strength. She felt protected all over again.

And knew how dangerous that could be. It was better, safer, to be alone.

‘No,’ Nero exclaimed fiercely when she tried to pull away. ‘I won’t let you go this time. I’ve missed you too much, Bella. I didn’t know what I was losing, or what I stood to gain,’ he added with a glint of the old humour.

She would not—could not—give way to the maelstrom of feelings boiling inside her. ‘You thought I was teaching you something?’ Nero murmured, staring deep into her eyes. ‘But you taught me more, Bella. You made me realise how proud my grandmother would be of the ranch as it is now, how the team she founded has gone on and prospered.’

‘How proud she would be of you,’ Bella amended softly. ‘Don’t put yourself down, Nero.’

‘Says the expert on such matters,’ Nero observed huskily, brushing her lips with his mouth. ‘You showed me that history doesn’t have to repeat itself, and that a life alone is a lonely life.’

‘I’ve missed you,’ she breathed, nuzzling into him.

‘Of course you have,’ Nero agreed with all the old confidence, dropping another kiss on her mouth. His eyes were dancing with laughter and the familiar crease was back in his cheek.

‘You’re impossible,’ she said.