The Untamed Argentinian

‘There are many similarities to your own work,’ the prince observed, turning to include Bella in their discussion. ‘Perhaps you remember, I mentioned the possibility of spreading your good work a little further earlier this evening?’

She’d been set up, Bella thought angrily, noting the spark of triumph in Nero’s eyes. And since when was Argentina a little further? It was half a world away. She must have paled as the prince indicated that one of the hovering footmen should refill her water glass.

‘Sir, I cannot think of leaving England—especially so close to Christmas.’ She was clutching at straws—and had broken royal protocol by speaking to the prince before he invited her to do so, but the prince, sensing her distress, was at pains to make amends. ‘But Christmas in Argentina is so beautiful and warm. I’m sure that your concerns in this country could be addressed, and Nero would ensure paid professionals were on hand to help you with the day-to-day running of the scheme in Argentina.’

Had this already been decided?

Bella had never found it so hard in her life to hold her tongue, but to interrupt the prince a second time would be an unforgivable breach of etiquette.

‘I understand your concerns,’ the prince assured her. ‘There’s so much paperwork when schemes such as this are set up, but I don’t see you being involved in that. I see you taking more of a hands-on role, Bella—teaching the children to ride, and sharing your love of horses with them.’

‘But, Sir—’ Bella’s eyes implored the prince to understand that she couldn’t leave her yard. She worked every hour of every day to be the best. She even turned to Nero for help, but he merely raised a sardonic brow.

‘There would be ample reward,’ the prince said, as if this would make a difference.

Bella flinched with embarrassment. ‘It isn’t the money, Sir—’

‘Pride is a great thing, Bella, but we all have to be practical,’ the prince replied. ‘Nero’s gauchos have centuries of knowledge that working closely with horses has brought them, just as we do. There’s nothing wrong with sharing that knowledge amongst friends, is there?’ The prince stared at her intently.

What could she say without appearing mean-spirited? ‘You’re quite right, Sir,’ she agreed, avoiding Nero’s sardonic stare.

‘And you could take Misty with you,’ the prince added, warming to his theme. ‘I’m sure Nero would have no objections?’

Was this a joke? Bella wondered as the two men exchanged a knowing glance. And now Nero’s stare was heating her face, but she couldn’t pretend the cash on offer wouldn’t be useful—

So Nero had won.

Misty could only benefit by being ridden by the greatest polo player in the world, and riding high in the prince’s approval meant the future of her stable yard was assured. ‘This doesn’t mean I would sell Misty to you,’ she assured Nero.

As the prince exclaimed with disappointment on Nero’s behalf, Nero said smoothly, ‘I don’t think we need to worry about that yet.’

But some time she would need to worry, Bella interpreted, tensing even as the prince relaxed. She was up against the might of Nero Caracas with no one, not even the prince, to back her up. ‘I couldn’t leave my work here,’ she said firmly.

The prince sat forward as Nero offered what must have sounded to him like a reassurance. ‘I would send a team to take over what is already an established scheme,’ Nero said with a relaxed shrug. ‘They would handle all your outstanding commitments.’

Was she the only one who could see the glint of irony in Nero’s eyes?

Apparently, Bella thought as the prince sighed with approval. ‘We would be in this together, Bella,’ the prince confirmed, tying the knot between them even tighter. ‘All I’m asking from you is that you share your expertise in the setting up of a similar scheme in Argentina to the one you already run in England.’

How reasonable that sounded, Bella thought as the prince turned his kind-hearted gaze on her face. Nero might as well have hog-tied her and served her up on a silver platter. Had his penetrating stare also worked out that he scrambled her brain cells and made her stomach melt? Almost certainly, she thought as his ebony brow lifted.

‘Well, what do you think, Bella?’ the prince prompted gently.

‘Could I have some time to think about this, Sir?’

His Royal Highness hesitated.

‘Not too much time,’ Nero cut in, apparently oblivious to the rules of royal etiquette when it came to getting his own way.

After dinner a recital was to be held in the Blue drawing room, with the chance for everyone to freshen up first.

Freshen up? Bella raged silently, checking her hair was still securely tied back in the gilt-framed mirror hanging on the wall of the unimaginably ornate restroom. After listening to the prince’s well-intentioned suggestions on one side, and batting off Nero’s sardonic sallies on the other, she felt like a tennis ball being swiped between the two, frayed a little around the ed

ges, but still ready to bounce—right over Nero, preferably.

Conclusion?

Her carefully controlled life was rapidly spiralling out of control.