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‘Don’t look so worried, Bella; I’ll take care of you.’
That was what she was afraid of. ‘The only thing wrong with me,’ she said as Nero lined up the jet for take-off, ‘is that I like to be in control. Sitting in the copilot’s seat doesn’t suit me.’
‘But it suits me very well,’ Nero assured her, breaking off to acknowledge instructions from the control tower. Having been given the all-clear, he opened the throttle and released the brake and in seconds, or so it seemed, the small jet rocketed into the clear blue sky.
There was no turning back now, Bella thought as the jet soared through the first bank of cloud.
After a couple of hours the clouds parted to reveal a very different world from the towering skyscrapers and sprawling urbanisations of Buenos Aires. Nero’s private airstrip was little more than a thin stripe of bleached earth on what seemed to be an endless carpet of green and russet and gold, stretching towards a horizon where misty mountains clawed at the cobalt sky with jagged fingers.
The Pampas. Bella’s heart leapt with an intoxicating mixture of excitement and fear. The thought of riding here—of living here—with so much space, and so close to nature—
‘Wait until you breathe the air,’ Nero murmured.
Pollution-free and as heady as the most refined wine, Bella guessed.
‘Here,’ Nero told her as he banked the jet steeply. ‘Take a look out of the side window and you’ll see the estancia.’
Bella gasped as the g-force hit her.
‘Nervous now?’ Nero suggested with a wicked grin.
‘Not at all,’ Bella lied as the jet levelled off.
‘You’ll need steady nerves while you’re working here. Life is tough on the pampas, Bella.’
‘I’m not here for easy,’ she told him frankly. ‘I’m here to do the best job I can.’ Her gaze turned to the hundreds of horses on the ground below.
‘We had a lot of foals born this year.’
‘Incredible,’ Bella murmured. Everyone knew Nero was a wealthy man, but this was a polo establishment on an unimaginable scale.
‘I’ll fly you over the house before we land.’
Her stomach flipped as the plane dropped lower. The house Nero was referring to was an elegant colonial-style building the size of a small town, and now they were only a hundred feet or so above it she could see the long shaded verandas and a formal garden as vast as a park. There was even a polo field at one end of the cultivated grounds, with a stand and clubhouse, while in the central courtyard of the main building a fountain spurted diamond plumes into the air. Behind the house there was a glistening lake with a fabulous sandy beach and one—no, two swimming pools…
‘One is for the horses,’ Nero said when he saw her looking. ‘We use it for treatment and for strengthening exercises, though we ride in the lake for preference—’
Bella exclaimed with pleasure, but then her usual common sense kicked in. What on earth had she been thinking when she had agreed to this? Nero’s vast estate was like a country in its own right. She would be as isolated here as if she had been shipwrecked with him and they were stranded on a desert island with the ocean surrounding them. Unless she could find some way to ignore the electricity that constantly sparked between them, this could turn into a very tense and challenging stay.
Ne
ro landed the jet skilfully with scarcely a bump. As he slowed to a halt and cut the engines Bella’s concerns gave way to excitement. ‘Oh, just look at that,’ she exclaimed as she stared out across the miles of rolling grass. ‘I can’t wait to get out there and smell the air.’
‘Feel the sun, and ride the horses,’ Nero added with matching enthusiasm. ‘It’s beautiful, isn’t it?’
When the door of the jet swung open Bella was greeted by a gust of warm, fragrant air. She was so excited she didn’t even shrug off Nero’s steadying hand when he helped her down the steps. There was always that small adjustment from sitting and floating to stepping out onto terra firma—add her eagerness to that and she was like a wild pony who, for that moment at least, was glad of Nero’s reassuring presence. A wind had kicked up, blowing her hair about, and the ground was dusty and hard beneath her feet, but the warmth of her welcome was in no doubt at all.
‘This is Ignacio,’ Nero explained, introducing an elderly man standing by the utility vehicle waiting to take them to the ranch. ‘My estate manager and right-hand man.’
Now she really was on the pampas, Bella thought, feeling a thrill of excitement as the elderly man stepped forward to shake her hand. She took in the slouched hat and red bandana, the voluminous trousers worn with leather chaps to protect the gaucho’s legs from the constant friction of riding a horse. ‘Welcome to Estancia Caracas,’ he said in heavily accented English, bowing briefly over Bella’s hand. ‘Buenas tardes—good afternoon,’ Bella replied, feeling more than welcome.
‘We have heard many good things about your work with the English horses,’ Ignacio added graciously.
‘And battled the proof of it on the polo field,’ Nero said as both men laughed.
‘You’re too kind. Your work with horses is second to none in Argentina.’ Nero’s estate manager had skin like beaten leather and was as wrinkled as a turtle, but his raisin-black eyes were full of kindness and warmth, and his handshake was firm. ‘I’m so pleased to meet you, Ignacio. Mucho gusto.’
Ignacio grunted appreciatively at Bella’s attempt to speak his language and said something in rapid Spanish to Nero that elicited a noncommittal hum.
