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‘I’ve known about this vineyard for years,’ Elias started telling her, in a tone that suggested he was choosing his words carefully. ‘I was planning for us to go to Argentina together, Grace—’
She did a mental double-take. This was the first she’d heard of it.
Argentina—so far away. And impossible for her to visit now she was blind.
Argentina—the home of the Acostas and Nacho—
‘Don’t look so shocked,’ Elias insisted. ‘You know I’ve been slowing down recently …’
Grace’s thoughts whirled. Elias being less than fit was a terrifying prospect. He was a dear friend.
‘You’ll have to go to Argentina without me,’ he said.
‘Sorry?’ she breathed in a shocked voice.
‘If there was any alternative, believe me, I would suggest it, Grace, but my doctor has insisted I must rest.’
‘Then you must rest, and I’ll look after you,’ Grace insisted.
‘The business can’t afford for both of us to be away at the same time, and I’m not going to risk losing out on top-quality wine to a competitor. You have to go, Grace. Who else can I ask? Who else can I trust?’
‘But what if I let you down?’
‘You won’t,’ Elias assured her. ‘I believe in you, Grace. I always have. You must go to Argentina to check this vineyard and its wine production for me.’
She was filled with concern for Elias and fear at the thought of failing him. ‘I want to help, but—’
‘Don’t say But I’m blind,’ Elias warned her. ‘Don’t ever say that, Grace, or everything you have achieved since losing your sight will be lost.’
‘And you’ve been there for me from the start.’
‘Yes, I have,’ he said pointedly.
When he had first heard about her illness Elias had sought her out with an unconditional offer of help, saying it was his way of repaying Grace for all her small kindnesses over the years.
‘You know how short we are on Argentinian wine,’ he said. ‘Would you have me turn customers away?’
‘No, of course not. But do I really need to go to Argentina? Can’t we find someone else to go?’
‘No,’ Elias said flatly. ‘Apart from the little matter of trust, I think you need to go to Argentina to prove you can do it, Grace. It’s the next step for you. And if you won’t do it for yourself, then do it for me. I’m trying to make a businesswoman out of you, as well as a connoisseur of wine, and you must always satisfy yourself that things are what they seem to be before you place an order. It won’t be so bad,’ he encouraged. ‘You’ll only be there a month or so—’
‘A month!’ Grace exclaimed, horrorstruck. Just when she’d been about ready to say maybe, Elias had moved the goalposts.
‘And you must leave right away, to catch the harvest at its best,’ he continued. ‘I’ll need a full report from you, Grace.’
One of the things she loved about Elias was that he never made any allowances for her being blind. But this was too much. This wasn’t the ‘next step’—it was a huge leap across an unknowable chasm.
‘But you know I can’t travel—’
‘I know nothing of the sort,’ Elias argued. ‘You can get about London, can’t you?’
‘Only because I have Buddy to help me—’
‘Exactly,’ Elias interrupted. ‘Grace, I can’t trust anyone else to do this. Are you saying I wasted my money training you?’
‘Of course not. I can’t imagine what I’d be doing now if you hadn’t helped me. You know how grateful I am.’
‘I don’t want your gratitude. I want you out there doing the job you’ve been trained to do.’
‘But I haven’t left the country since—’
‘Since your sight was reduced to looking at the world as if through the wrong end of a telescope? Yes, I know that. But I thought you liked a challenge, Grace?’
‘I do,’ Grace insisted, remembering the staff at the rehabilitation centre telling her she must keep pushing the boundaries—but not as far as Argentina, surely?
‘I can’t travel,’ Elias said flatly, ‘and taking on a new supplier is a huge risk for the business. We have to be sure these wines are as good as they promise to be.’
‘Surely sending me in your place is an even bigger risk?’
‘Grace, my father taught me, his father taught him, and now I’ve trained you, with many patient tasting sessions—’
‘Patient?’ Grace interrupted, starting to smile.
‘I love to hear you happy, Grace. Don’t let life frighten you. Please promise me that.’
‘But do I know enough?’ she said, still fretting.
‘I know sommeliers who have been judging wine for forty years and don’t have your natural ability,’ Elias insisted. ‘There’s only one amateur I can think of who comes close to matching your palate and he just left the building.’
Grace felt the same tremble of awareness she had felt at that dinner, when Buddy had started barking, but she didn’t believe in coincidence, and there had to be more than one family in Argentina that owned vineyards. And hadn’t Lucia said the Acosta vineyards had been languishing for years?
‘You don’t have to worry about Buddy,’ Elias was saying. ‘He won’t be a problem as you’ll both be travelling in style on the Acosta family jet.’
‘The Acosta family?’ Grace’s throat closed up as her worst fears were confirmed. ‘Who exactly is it I’m meeting in Argentina?’ she managed hoarsely.
Elias laughed, as if to confirm his thoughts that she was overreacting. ‘Don’t worry, you don’t have to face the whole tribe at once—just the kingpin, Nacho.’
‘Nacho?’ A sound that was half a laugh and half a hysterical sob squeezed out of her throat. ‘You have warned Señor Acosta that I will be travelling to Argentina in your place?’
Elias took too long to answer.
‘You haven’t?’ she said.
‘I won’t lose out to a competitor,’ Elias said stubbornly. ‘And I can’t see why you’re making such a fuss. You know the Acosta family, don’t you?’
‘You know I do. Lucia is my best friend. You must remember we worked together at the club. And, yes, I’ve met her brothers, too,’ she said, making sure to keep all expression out of her voice.
‘Well, there you are!’ Elias exclaimed. ‘You’ll be flying to the far west of their property, where I’m told it’s very beautiful. You’ll see the snow-capped Andes, and all those glorious rivers that feed the vines. It’s perfect wine-growing country—’ Elias stopped. ‘Oh, Grace, I’m so sorry …’
‘Please don’t be,’ she said. ‘What I can’t see I can’t tell you about, but I’ll make up for it in other ways, I promise. I’m sure the air will be different—and I can still smell. I can still feel the sun on my face. And the rain,’ she added wryly as the latest in a series of angry winter storms rattled the windows. ‘There will be so many new experiences—’ She stopped, remembering the one experience ahead that really frightened her: meeting the most formidable of the Acosta brothers again. ‘Was Nacho Acosta here today, by any chance?’
‘Yes. Nacho’s taken charge of the family vineyards,’ Elias confirmed breezily. ‘I’ve got every confidence in you,’ he stressed. ‘I know I couldn’t have a better representative. This trip is going to be a piece of cake for you, Grace.’
It was to be hoped the cake didn’t choke her.
CHAPTER TWO
GRACE’S decision to go to Argentina had been made by the time Elias left the room. She wouldn’t let her elderly mentor down. She’d always been thankful Elias didn’t treat her any differently because she was blind, and now she had to rise to the challenge. It was just a little harder because Nacho was involved …
Okay, it was a whole lot harder. Nacho wasn’t exactly noted for his tolerance, and this would be her first big job. Was she trying to run before she could walk? Would Nacho even listen to her views on his wine and the way he ran the family vineyard? Apart from the extensive training Elias had given her she had no real experience in this area, and certainly no money or lofty lineage like the Acosta family.
She must stop with the negatives and concentrate on the positives, Grace concluded. But her thoughts were all over the place at the thought of meeting Nacho again. Their first meeting had been a disaster, and her body had reeled at the sight of him, but this next meeting would be very different. It was business, and she didn’t have the option to be a shrinking violet. Now she was blind she had to get out there and make her presence felt.
She thought back to the wedding again, and how painfully shy she had been. She had felt out of place amongst so many glamorous, confident people, and had been horrified when Nacho had come to her rescue. She hadn’t been able to think of anything interesting to say to him, and had stood transfixed like a rabbit trapped in a car’s headlights when he had brushed a gentle kiss against her lips. First chance she’d got, she’d bolted. ‘Like Cinderella,’ as Lucia had later chided her, adding the unsettling news that her brother had been less than pleased.
Grace couldn’t begin to imagine what Nacho would think of her now she was blind and also in a position to put a curb on his business objectives.
This wasn’t the first time since her sight had failed that she had felt like beating her head against the wall and screaming, Why me? Unfortunately, she always came up with the same answer: why not me?
Later that night Grace packed a case with an assortment of clothes taken from her carefully organised wardrobe. Lucia, who had always been strong on the organisational front, had come up with a foolproof plan that enabled Grace to find colour-co-ordinated outfits. By tagging the various suit bags and drawers with Braille labels, Lucia had made finding her clothes and accessories easy.
If only handling inner turmoil could be managed as easily, Grace fretted.
She was excited and yet terrified at the prospect of seeing Nacho again. But she couldn’t actually see him, so it couldn’t be that bad.
Even she didn’t believe that.
Not wanting to spoil Grace’s chances of making the trip, Elias had e-mailed Nacho immediately to say that at the last minute another expert would be taking his place.
‘Well, it’s true,’ Elias had protested when Grace had pulled him up on it.
Grace might not approve of Elias’s methods, but he had her loyalty—and if she stopped to think how Nacho was going to react when he saw who it was taking Elias’s place she would never get on that plane.
A blind sommelier? Wouldn’t that be a thrill for Nacho? He was expecting Elias Silver, master vintner and emperor of a European wine distribution network, and he would get Grace and her guide dog instead.
The journey to Argentina was so much easier than Grace had imagined. A chauffeur-driven car picked her up at home, and her transit through the airport was seamless. Maybe that was something all private plane passengers experienced but, blind or not, she thought it was quite something to be escorted and fussed over.
The moment she stepped out of the plane she noticed how warm it was, and how good it felt to have the sun on her face instead of the prickly chill of a damp English winter. The smell of jet fuel still caught in her throat, but there was spice in the air too, and the foreign language sounded musical and intriguing.
There were interpreters on hand to lead Grace to yet another chauffeur-driven car, and the driver was chatty, spoke perfect English, and took a very obvious pride in his country—which led to an illuminating travelogue for Grace. Apparently there were billboards of the Acosta brothers all the way down the main road, and as they travelled across the flat expanses of the pampas he told her about the jagged mountains there, with eagles soaring on the updrafts around their snowy peaks.
The driver showed no surprise that Grace was blind. Nacho’s PA had made all the arrangements with Elias, he explained, when Grace made a casual comment. It was just the great man himself who didn’t realise he had a beautiful woman coming to taste his wine, as Nacho had been away on a business trip, the driver joked.
Ha-ha, Grace thought weakly, but the driver went on to tell her about the broad river that flowed like a sinuous silver snake through emerald-green farmland until it passed the hacienda, where it roared down to a treacherous weir. Even if she could have seen everything the driver was describing to her, Grace began to think that she might have rested back after the long journey anyway, and allowed him to colour in the scenes outside the window for her.
It was a long drive to the vineyard, and she fell asleep after a while. When she woke she felt rested in mind and body, knowing the first hurdle—travel—was behind her. This was the first time she’d been abroad since losing her sight and she’d travelled halfway across the world! That should give her some confidence.
Remembering Elias’s enthusiastic description of the vineyards, Grace realized she was looking forward to discovering them for herself. She might not be able to see all those wonderful sights, but she would hear the river the driver had told her about, and she would smell those lush emerald-green farmlands. She smiled, convinced that in spite of all the Nacho-sized problems ahead of her she was going to like it here.
His schedule had been ridiculous recently—one business trip on top of another—but when he visited this particular stretch of the river he began to relax.
It was like visiting a grave and speaking to his long-dead parents, Nacho reflected darkly.
When he had first returned to the vineyards every inch of the estate had taunted him with one painfully familiar scene after another, but he had continued to ride the paths until he had conquered the demons and made some sort of peace—enough, at least, to revive the vineyards. Perhaps he gained a sense of perspective in the shadow of the Andes, and all the small irritations in his life could be swept away in the broad silver river as it flowed to the sea.
Murmuring reassurances to his newly broken horse, he slapped the proud, arched neck with approval. When his stallion stilled to listen to his voice he wondered, not for the first time, if he didn’t prefer animals to people. As the stallion struck the ground aggressively he was reminded they were both experiencing great change. The horse had lost his freedom, while Nacho had gained his after years of caring for his siblings. But the shallow life of a playboy had not been for him, and his freedom had soon proved disappointing. So Nacho had returned to Argentina full of renewed determination to turn the failing vineyards into a valuable asset for his family.
‘We both need something to distract us,’ he murmured as the stallion’s muscles balled beneath him.
Keen to inspect the vines, he urged the horse forward. Under his rule order had been restored and another considerable asset added to the Acosta family fortune.
The sun on his back after the chill of London was an almost sensual pleasure, and he couldn’t have been in a better mood. Until he saw the dog. Unleashed and unattended, a big yellow mutt was relieving himself on his vines. And then a flash of movement drew his attention to the riverbank. Filled with fury at this unauthorised intrusion, he kicked the horse into a gallop, closing the distance at brutal speed.
‘This is private land!’ he roared, drawing the stallion to a skidding halt.
Grace hugged herself in terror. That voice, the raging hooves—this was everything she had been dreading and more.
And everything she had hoped for, Grace’s inner voice insisted.
Had dreaded, Grace argued firmly. She had planned to have a businesslike first meeting with Nacho, in the calm surroundings of his office—not the furious drum of steel-shod hooves crashing to a halt only inches away. His horse’s hot breath was on her face, and she could feel Nacho glaring down at her. Being this close to him slammed into her senses and memories flooded back, colouring in the void behind her eyes. Nacho was bigger, stronger, darker—more intimidating than any man she had ever known before.
So had she wilfully courted danger? Hadn’t Nacho’s housekeeper warned her that the master might be back home soon? Hadn’t she mentioned that he always liked to ride along the riverbank when he came home?
Nacho wheeled his snorting stallion to a halt within a few inches of the girl’s back. She didn’t flinch, as he had expected. She didn’t move at all. She kept her back to him and ignored him. Her dog showed more sense, sinking to its belly and baring its teeth.
‘This is a private land,’ he repeated harshly, ‘And you are trespassing.’
‘I heard you, Nacho.’
Dios! Dear God! No!
As the girl turned around, shocked curses without number or form flooded his head. When he saw who it was … when he saw her unfocused eyes … he knew her.
Of course he knew her. But not like this.
‘Grace?’ he demanded.
‘Of course it’s Grace,’ she said—with false bravado, he suspected, noticing how she quivered with apprehension like a doe at bay. ‘Didn’t Elias e-mail ahead to warn you I was coming?’
‘My PA said something about his replacement.’ His brain was racing to find the right words to say. There were none, he concluded. He was angry at this obvious deception by Elias, but he was shattered at seeing Grace like this.
‘And you can’t believe I’m that replacement?’ she said. ‘Is that it?’
‘How can you be,’ he demanded, ‘when Elias is the best in his field?’
She fell silent and he took a better look at her. It felt strange to be staring at someone who couldn’t see—as if he were taking advantage of her, almost. But apart from the vague, unfocused eyes Grace hadn’t changed that much at all.
He didn’t need this sort of distraction in his life. He had marked Grace out as interesting at Lucia’s wedding, only to find her disappointingly immature and naïve.
‘I’m sorry to disappoint you,’ she said, crashing into his thoughts. ‘I felt sure that Elias would have mentioned that I work for him when you came to see him in London.’
‘The subject never came up,’ he said brusquely. ‘Why would it?’
‘Well, please don’t be angry with Elias. He trained me well, and he has every reason to trust my judgement.’
‘And you expect me to?’ Nacho cut in with scorn.
His horse had started stamping its hooves on the ground, as if the big beast had had enough of her too. She could smell it and feel its hot breath. She could hear the creak of leather and the chink of its bridle as it danced impatiently within inches of her toes.
‘I can’t believe Elias would send a young girl in his place when I was expecting a master vintner,’ Nacho said from somewhere way above her.
‘And you’re wondering what I can possibly know about fine wine?’ she said, determined to keep her voice steady.
‘I’m wondering what you’re doing here at all. Did you learn about wine at the club?’ he suggested scornfully.
The wine they had served there, by Elias’s own admission, had been his cheapest brand, Grace remembered.
‘There’s definitely been some mistake,’ Nacho insisted.
‘There’s no mistake,’ Grace insisted, growing angry. ‘I can assure you I’ve been very well trained.’
Nacho laughed. ‘So has my horse.’
She looked as if she’d like to unseat him, her jaw fixed and her hands balled into fists. She was angry. So what? But what should have been a simple solution—send Grace home on the next flight—was immeasurably changed by the fact that she was blind. And she was his sister’s best friend. How could he rage against a girl scrabbling around on the ground searching for her dog’s harness?
‘It’s over there—to your left,’ he said impatiently.
Dios! What had he said now? Grace couldn’t see anything to her left or her right.
‘Thank you, but Buddy will find it for me,’ she snapped, still angry with him.
Sure enough, the big dog put the harness in her hand.
The last time Nacho had seen Grace had been at Lucia’s wedding, where he’d felt a connection between them he couldn’t explain. Wanting to pursue it, he’d found her as nervous as a fawn. Perhaps she had sensed something of the darkness about him? he’d thought at the time. She had certainly changed since then—because she’d had to, he realised. There was a resolve about Grace now that piqued his interest all over again.
‘I realise that my coming here must be a shock for you, Nacho,’ she said. She deftly fastened the harness while the big dog stood obediently still.
‘Somewhat,’ he conceded, with massive understatement. ‘What happened to you, Grace?’
‘A virus,’ she said with a shrug.
However casually she might treat it, he felt angry for her. ‘How long do you plan to stay?’ Before she had a chance to answer he gave his own reading of the situation. ‘I expect you’ll take a few notes, have a look around, and then report back to Elias. Shouldn’t take long—say, a day?’
‘A day?’ she exclaimed. ‘I’ll need to do more than take a few notes!’
In spite of his outrage at the trick Elias had played on him, his overriding feeling was of dismay when Grace turned her head and her lovely eyes homed in on the approximate direction of his voice.
‘I’ve brought a Braille keyboard and a screen with me,’ she explained matter-of-factly. ‘I expect to be here for around a month.’
‘A month?’ he exploded.
‘Possibly a couple of days more,’ she said, thinking about it. ‘Please don’t be concerned,’ she said briskly. ‘I am a trained sommelier, with a diploma in viticulture—’
‘And how much experience?’ he demanded sharply. What the hell was Elias playing at? He would just have to send someone else to evaluate his wine.
Sensing his growing anger, the stallion skittered nervously beneath him. Grace had started walking up the path ahead of him, with her dog at her heels.
‘Aren’t you going to put your sandals on?’ he called after her
‘I’m not a child, Nacho.’ Without turning she dangled her sandals from one finger and waggled them at him in defiance.
She couldn’t let Nacho see that she was as tense as a board, and that she couldn’t stand his scrutiny a moment longer. She just had to get back to the guest cottage where she was staying and regroup. She hadn’t anticipated feeling that same stab of excitement when was she near him, but nothing had changed. Nacho couldn’t have made it plainer that she was not only the last person he wanted to see but an unwelcome intruder on his land—and a fraud. At the wedding she had allowed her head to fill with immature fairytale notions and had had her bluff well and truly called when he had sought her out. But she was here now, and she was staying until she got this job done.
They walked on in silence. She felt as if Nacho were tracking her like a hunter with his prey. She could feel his gaze boring into her back, flooding every part of her with awareness and arousal. It made her recall his touch on her arm at the wedding and the brush of his lips on her mouth. She remembered the terrifying way her body had responded—violently, longingly. Common sense had kicked in just in time, reminding her that she was inexperienced and Nacho Acosta was not, and that any more kisses would only lead to heartbreak in the end. As far as Grace was concerned, love and lovemaking were inextricably entwined, while Nacho, according to the popular press, was a notorious playboy who drank his fill at every trough around the world.
But he was right about one thing. If only she could see.
The path was stony. She stopped to put her sandals on.
‘Please don’t,’ she said, hearing Nacho move as if he might dismount to help her. ‘Buddy will stop me falling,’ she insisted—which should have been true. But for the first time in ages she was stumbling around like a blind woman. She hadn’t felt so unsure of herself since the shadows had closed in, Grace realised, beginning to panic. She even missed when she went to grasp Buddy’s harness.