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CHAPTER ONE
IT WAS WORSE than she’d thought. Much worse. Past and present merged into one heartbreaking reality as Emily buried her face into the rough texture of the horse’s mane and wept. ‘Oh, Joya,’ she whispered. ‘Whatever has become of you?’
The horse gave a weak whinny and Emily couldn’t stem the tears even though she hadn’t cried in a long time. Because tears got you nowhere. Crying didn’t actually change anything, did it? It wasn’t as if someone was going to suddenly turn up and wave a magic wand and make it all better. For a few moments she just stood there before forcing herself to pull away, not wanting the animal to sense any more of the distress which had been swamping her ever since she’d arrived in this place.
Distractedly, she glanced around. A place which had been such a big part of her upbringing and was tied up with a swarm of memories. Bittersweet memories. Of a man with a hard body and warm, green eyes. A man who had brought her alive with his lips and his fingers and a whole lot else besides. Who had made her feel stuff she’d thought herself incapable of feeling. When she’d walked away from Alejandro Sabato it had felt as if someone were ripping her heart from her chest and then crushing it. In those few moments and all the months which had followed, she had truly known the definition of heartbreak. But she’d done it because there had been no other choice. Or at least it had seemed so at the time. Now she wondered if she had been a fool.
With an impatient hand she fisted away a tear, angry at herself for indulging in pointless reflection as she watched it tumble and soak into the rich Argentinian soil. Because she wasn’t here to feel sad, or look back. And she certainly wasn’t here to start thinking if only things had been different. Because there were no if onlys in life. The only certainty was that you took your choices and then had to live with the consequences, no matter how bleak they sometimes seemed.
She heard the sound of footsteps and turned to see Tomas walking slowly towards her, thinking how much the elderly retired groom had aged in the eight years since last she’d seen him. She had met him in the lawyer’s office, and he and his wife had agreed to accompany her here today, insisting on bringing a bag of provisions to the now-empty house. She’d been pleased to have their company, yes—but, more importantly, pleased to have someone to share her shock at what had awaited them here.
Because the last time she’d stood on this spot, the estate had been thriving and the enormous ranch pristine and elegant. But not any more. Now it looked like a ragged ghost of a building, with none of its former glory remaining. Everywhere she looked she could see decay and neglect—from the overgrown veranda, where once socialites had laughingly sipped mint juleps, to the main house itself. Or what remained of it. There was no trace of the gleaming paintwork, near which had nestled fragrant white flowers amid glossy green leaves. A couple of upstairs windows were broken and one of the doors was falling off its hinges. Evidence of mice was everywhere in the empty and echoing rooms. And as for the stables... Well, they were something else.
Emily swallowed. There was nothing left of the stables other than the once-proud horse she had loved with all her heart, who now bore little resemblance to the powerful creature on which she had learnt to ride. Her body trembled with pain as she stroked his dusty coat.
‘Oh, Tomas,’ she said as the old groom reached her side. ‘This is so awful.’
‘Sí, señorita,’ he agreed, his voice full of sadness.
‘How on earth did it happen?’
Tomas gave a weary shrug. ‘There was a little money left for his upkeep and I did what I could, but that money is now gone and the house is about to be sold to new owners who do not want him—or me. I would keep him if I could, but there is no room at my house for any animal—not even Joya.’
Emily dared to voice the fear which had been growing inside her ever since she’d walked in through the rusting gates of the property. ‘Why on earth did my stepfather leave me the horse?’ she demanded, but inside she suspected she knew why. It was to punish her. To lash out from beyond the grave and to cause her pain for daring to be the unwanted witness to his fiery marriage to her mother. The daughter he had never wanted, who had dared to fall in love with the son of the hired help.
Tomas was quiet for a moment and then spoke with the authority of someone who had observed a great deal during the years he had worked at the huge estate.
‘He bequeathed him to you because you loved him,’ he said slowly.
Emily nodded. Yes. She had loved Joya. With all her heart she had adored that horse, who had been such an important part of her teenage years. She’d been taught to ride on that horse, by the man with the green eyes and the hard body. She’d sought refuge from her mother’s hysteria by galloping out over the lush green of the Argentinian landscape for hours on end. And it was hard to see the welfare of a creature you loved threatened like this.
Yet she’d hardly followed his progress avidly in the years since the divorce and her mother’s subsequent death, had she? She had cut her ties with Argentina ruthlessly for all kinds of reasons, but now fate had brought her back to this vast land and she was shocked by what she had found. ‘I can’t bear the thought that Joya might have to be...put down, Tomas,’ she whispered. ‘I’ve racked my brain and tried to come up with some kind of solution but I can’t think of anything.’
She had expected gloomy agreement but, surprisingly, the grooves on Tomas’s weathered skin began to deepen as, unexpectedly, he smiled. ‘But there is a solution, señorita,’ he said. ‘And it has arrived sooner than even I imagined.’
He was looking at the sky as he spoke. The clear, blue Argentinian sky. It took a moment for Emily to realise that its unspoiled surface had been marred by the tiniest black spot in the distance, which was growing bigger all the time, and that a peace-shattering buzzing sound was gradually getting louder.
Shielding her gaze against the brightness of the sun with the flat of her hand, she frowned. ‘What’s that?’ she questioned, even though it was perfectly obvious what it was. A flashy-looking helicopter, and it was heading this way. A sudden inner misgiving made her skin grow cold, despite the heat of the day.
‘My prayers have been answered,’ said Tomas emotionally. ‘For he flies to us like a bird of prey! El cóndor!’
It was then that goosebumps began to ripple over Emily’s body as if an icy wind had suddenly started whipping through the warm day, and she wrapped her bare arms tightly over her chest as if to protect herself. Her heart started to pound as the helicopter grew closer and she watched it hover overhead before beginning its swaying descent. She wanted to run as far as her feet would take her. To seek refuge from the dark figure she could see seated at the controls, displaying the kind of powerful mastery which had always been so much a part of his appeal. But not all of it, no, she reminded herself painfully. He had been tender, too—and it had been that tenderness which had been her undoing. He had demonstrated an affection which had been like a revelation to her, for she had never experienced anything like it before. And hadn’t it been that more than anything else which had made her fall head over heels in love with him? Hadn’t it been that which had made the pain of leaving him so bitterly hard to bear?
During the intervening years since their last tumultuous meeting, Alejandro Sabato had become an icon and international heart-throb. He had dramatically ended his career as a world-class polo player—though nobody knew why—but hadn’t taken any of the usual paths after leaving the sport behind. No riding schools or polo club for him. Instead he had become a hugely successful businessman who operated on a global scale, though he’d never been able to shake off the stormy reputation which had grown up after a bitter book written by his ex-mistress.
But Emily didn’t associate him with riches beyond most people’s wildest dreams. She remembered him as the man who used to slowly trace the line of her lips with his fingertip before bending his head to kiss her. The man who had taught her the true meaning of love.
