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Nero shrugged. His mouth curved. ‘I won’t deny it, but I’ve missed you, Bella—more than you know.’
For the first time in his life he felt a little up in the air. He’d put his heart on the line and Bella had been called away. He knew she wasn’t a woman to be ordered around or someone who would fit in to suit—not that he wanted that, but Bella was at the other extreme. This was a woman with her life totally mapped out.
Was there a place for him in that life? He had never thought to ask the question before. It was clear that Bella belonged here as much as he belonged in Argentina. Could two lovers half a world apart ever be together for longer than the polo season? With a vicious curse under his breath, he watched her stride away. And then he shook his head a little ruefully. She was cool. He had to give her that. He admired her composure, just so long as the Ice Maiden didn’t make a bid to come back.
‘Hey, Ignacio,’ he called. His face lit up at the sight of his closest ally and dearest friend.
‘Can’t stop,’ Ignacio informed him in rapid Spanish. ‘I’m going to see Bella. Can’t be late; she’s expecting me!’
He was jealous of Ignacio now? He felt shut out, Nero realised as Ignacio hurried off in the same direction Bella had taken. At least he knew where he stood in the pecking order now. Try nowhere for size.
‘Can I help you?’
He looked down into the concerned face of an older woman he remembered from previous visits. ‘Agnes,’ he said, remembering her name. They shook hands. ‘It’s good to see you again. Bella has made sure I have everything I need, thank you.’ Except for the one thing he wanted, Nero thought as his glance strayed after Bella.
He was still grinding his jaw with frustration when he went to check on the ponies. He had wanted to say so much more to Bella, but she hadn’t given him the chance. He had wanted to thank her for the movie she’d left for the kids and tell her how they had used it for each new intake—and that they would need a new film for next year. He had thought about their reunion constantly since she’d left, but he had pictured something very different—fireworks, not business. It was always duty first for Bella.
But now duty called him too. Work soothed him. The ponies always soothed him. And Bella would be back at his side as soon as she had finished whatever it was she had left him to do.
Bella wasn’t back at his side, later that day or the next. Having made discreet enquiries, he learned she was evaluating the fitness of borderline match-ready ponies. Ignacio was his usual taciturn self and, in spite of Nero’s subtle and not-so-subtle prompting, Ignacio refused to let anything slip about his own reunion with Bella. So had they talked about him at all? Or was work really all that mattered to Bella? And why was he feeling so indignant when it was the same for him? He had a week of non-stop training and preparation until the match ahead of him.
The day of the game matched his mood, with grim grey skies and rolling clouds of ink-lined pewter. He had only dozed on and off through another lonely night. How was Bella? Had she slept well? Selfishly, he hoped not. He hoped, like him, she hadn’t slept properly all week.
Peering out of the window of his hotel, which was located on the fringes of the polo club, he had a good view of the pitch. Slippery, he determined, and the weather wasn’t going to get better any time soon. He let the curtain fall back.
Drying off after an ice-cold shower, he switched on the news in time to catch the weather forecast. Thunder predicted later. Brilliant. Just what the horses didn’t like. Bella would need all the help she could get to keep t
hem calm. Sensing electricity in the air, they would be restless. It was one thing staying out of Bella’s private life, but where work was involved her safety was his concern. And at work was the only time he’d seen her this week, at a joint team briefing. And each time when tension snapped between them she found some excuse to hurry away.
The time had come to change that for good.
Bella enjoyed her time with Ignacio, asking him questions about Nero’s wild youth. Of course, she knew there were areas where she shouldn’t trespass. Nero had told her about his parents—his father, in particular, and she wouldn’t stretch the elderly gaucho’s patience by delving into a past that he wouldn’t care to remember, but he did give one reason why Nero had difficulty expressing his feelings. ‘It’s the gaucho’s way,’ Ignacio told her.
Ignacio had been a huge influence on Nero’s life, stepping in and teaching him all his grandmother’s tricks, as well as a few of his own. But there were other reasons for Nero’s solitary path through life, his horrific childhood for one. When he should have known love and protection, Nero had faced cruelty and uncertainty. But if she could put her past behind her—
‘Are all the ponies match-ready?’
She jumped guiltily at the sound of Nero’s voice. ‘All the ponies on this side of the yard have been passed by the vet.’
Without a word, Ignacio gathered up his grooming tackle and left them.
‘What do you think, Bella?’ Nero pressed.
‘I think the weather conditions are treacherous and likely to get worse,’ she said, holding Nero’s fierce stare. ‘I think the ponies are in great condition, but you need to take care. The ground will be slippery and your ponies don’t like the wet, whereas our English ponies are used to damp conditions.’ Her heart was pounding with concern and with longing.
‘And your English ponies are unlike every other breed on the planet in that they’re used to thunder, are they?’ Nero demanded. With a sceptical huff, he flicked a look at the sky.
‘We’ll just have to hope the storm holds off.’
‘Well, whatever happens, no more heroics from you. No more straying onto the pitch. For whatever reason,’ Nero insisted, dipping his handsome head to stare her in the eyes. ‘Do you understand me?’
‘I thought we had that squared away.’
‘We have, but I haven’t forgotten.’
She let out a shaking breath as he strode away. Would things ever be relaxed and easy between them again? Since his return it felt as if Nero had seized hold of her life and tossed it into the path of a hurricane.
Yes, and when he left she’d be in the doldrums again. Even if they hardly spoke now, she dreaded him leaving. She dreaded facing another endless span of unbearable longing. Resting her face against the warm, firm neck of the pony she’d been grooming, Bella vowed not to waste another second of her life thinking about Nero. Time was such a fragile, fleeting thing, and he would soon be going home to Argentina.
