A Taste of the Untamed. Susan Stephens

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