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CHAPTER TWO

NIC was stuck in a trance. All he could see in his mind’s eye was the bared expanse of pale, slim back and the tumble of jet-black hair against her skin as Madalena Vasquez walked away. She’d stumbled slightly in her shoes, and it had made her look achingly vulnerable for a moment—before she’d recovered and swept out of the ballroom with all the hauteur of a queen. She’d had no right to look affronted at his taunting ‘princesss’, for that was what she had always been.

When she’d been much younger she’d reminded him of a fragile porcelain doll, and he hated to admit it now but she’d always fascinated him with her unusually pale colouring and green eyes. There had been moments—the memory of which burned him now for his naivety—when he’d believed she’d been uncomfortable in their social milieu, when she’d looked almost sick as her mother pushed her to the fore. He’d sensed that beneath the delicate exterior lurked something much more solid.

Nic’s mouth firmed. Well, he had first-hand experience of exactly how solid she was beneath that ethereal beauty. As if he needed to be reminded of the kind of person she was. Once she’d challenged his preconceptions of her, but it had all been an act.

She’d shared her mother’s temptress nature—an earthy sensuality that could ensnare the strongest of men. His heart thumped hard. It had ensnared his father before him, and then, a generation later, him. She’d only been seventeen. Humiliation burned Nic at recalling it, and he couldn’t halt the flood of memories—not so soon after seeing her close up and in the flesh for the first time in years.

One evening he’d been inspecting the vines which were closest to the Vasquez estate; they always had to be ever vigilant in case of sabotage. That particular evening Nic had been weary and frustrated … weary of his mother’s constant melancholy—never properly diagnosed as the depression it had been—and his father’s caustic cruelty and habitual violence. At the dinner table his father had been drunkenly ranting about how the Vasquez run of success was threatening their sales. Nic had always firmly believed you made your own success, but, constrained by his authoritarian father, he hadn’t been able to implement his own ideas.

Something had made Nic look up to the small hill which acted as a natural boundary between the two estates, and he’d seen a feminine figure with long black hair astride a huge stallion. Madalena Vasquez. Looking right at him.

His weariness had morphed instantly into burning irrational anger—at her for making him think about her, wonder about her, when she was forbidden. She also represented the dark and tangled feud which he had never really understood.

The supercilious image she presented on her horse had only galvanised him further and, giving in to an urge stronger than he’d been able to resist, Nic had spurred his horse to a canter and headed straight for her—only to see her whirl around and disappear.

He could still taste the urgency thrumming in his blood eight years later—to catch her and see her up close. Never once in their lives had they been allowed to speak to one another. Although he’d seen the way she would look at him from a distance and then glance away with artful shyness.

Finally he’d caught another glimpse of her, low down over her horse, hair streaming in the wind. She’d been cutting through the landscape like a bullet. With increasing urgency he’d thundered after her. It had been on the very edge of both their estates that he’d eventually seen her riderless horse, tied to a tree. She’d come to a remote part of their land where orchards had been planted. And then he’d seen her standing in a clearing of trees, as if she’d known he’d follow her.

More mesmerised by her flushed cheeks and that glossy fall of hair than he’d cared to admit, Nic had swung off his horse and come to stand in front of her. His anger had dissolved like snow on a hot stone. The very forbidden nature of what they were doing had infused the air around them.

‘Why did you follow me?’ she’d asked suddenly, her voice low and husky.

Nic had spoken on an unthinking reflex. ‘Perhaps I just wanted to see the Vasquez princess up close.’

In that instant she went white as a ghost, her eyes like two huge wounded emeralds.

She backed away and Nic put out his hands, instantly contrite. ‘Wait. Stop. I don’t know why I said that … I’m sorry.’ He took a breath. ‘I followed you because I wanted to … and because I think you wanted me to.’

She’d flushed pink then, the colour rushing into her cheeks dramatically. Without even being aware of it Nic reached out a hand and touched her cheek, fascinated by the way her emotions showed so clearly, feeling its satiny texture beneath his callused palm. A shudder of pure longing went through him—so strong he nearly shook.

She stepped back, biting her lip, looking tortured. ‘We shouldn’t be here … If anyone sees us …’

Nic saw a tremor go through her slender frame, the way her young breasts pushed against the material of her shirt. Jodhpurs encased long, slim thighs.

He struggled with his control, waves of heat building inside him. She’d speared him with a defiant look then, which confirmed his suspicions that she wasn’t as delicate as she had always appeared—as if her little gallop through the wilderness of their lands hadn’t already told him that.

‘I’m not a princess. I’m not like that. I hate being paraded in public like some kind of mannequin. It’s my mother … she wishes I was more like her. They won’t even let me go out riding unsupervised. I have to sneak out when they’re busy …’

Nic saw her gaze fall to his mouth and her cheeks pinken again. Power and testosterone flooded his body, and he smiled wryly. ‘I spend practically every waking hour on a horse … working in the vineyard.’

She looked back up at him, but not before torturing him with an innocently hungry look at his mouth.

‘That’s all I ever wanted. But when my brother died my father found me helping to pick the grapes one day and sent me inside. He told me that if he ever caught me in the vineyard again he’d take his belt to me.’

Nic winced and his stomach clenched. He knew only too well what the wrath of a father felt like. Gruffly he said, ‘Your brother died a few years ago, didn’t he?’

Madalena looked away, swallowing visibly before saying, ‘He died in an accident when they were crushing the grapes. He was only thirteen.’

‘I’m sorry.’ And then he asked, a little wistfully, ‘You were close?’

She looked back, her eyes suspiciously bright. ‘I adored him. Our father was … is … prone to rages. One day I angered him, and he would have hit me but Alvaro stepped in and took it. My father wouldn’t stop hitting him, enraged at being shown up by his own son. He was only eight at the time …’

Her eyes were swimming with tears. Nic had been the recipient of many a beating in his own time. Acting on an instinct too powerful to resist, he reached out and pulled her to him, enfolding her slim body in his, wrapping his arms around her. The need to comfort her was overwhelming, and completely alien for someone like him who generally held people at arm’s length.

She was a complete stranger to him in so many ways, but in that moment he felt a deep kinship. After long moments she pulled back, and with the utmost reluctance Nic let her go.

She said shakily, ‘I should go … they’ll be looking for me …’

She turned and Nic reached out, gripping her arm with a desperate feeling in his belly. She looked back and he said, ‘Wait … meet me here again tomorrow?’

The world seemed to stop turning for an infinitesimal moment, and Nic braced himself for a mocking laugh—some indication that he’d completely misread those few moments.

But Madalena’s cheeks flushed red and she said huskily, ‘I’d like that.’

They met every day for a week—stolen moments in that secret place where time seemed to be suspended in a bubble and where inhibitions fell away. Nic spoke to her of things he’d never told another soul as easily as if he hadn’t experienced years of emotional isolation. Each day he became more and more consumed by Madalena Vasquez. More and more entranced with her delicate beauty, which he’d discovered hid an earthy sensuality, driving him senseless with growing desire. Yet he managed not to touch her after that first day, when he’d pulled her into his arms to comfort her.

The depth of his need scared him, and the sensual and sexual tension building between them tipped over on that last day. When Nic arrived to find Maddie waiting, he didn’t speak and nor did she. The air quivered and vibrated with awareness around them, and then she was in his arms before he’d stretched them out to pull her into them.

His mouth was on hers, and she was clutching him as if she were drowning. He sank a hand into her hair. It felt like liquid silk. He felt her legs shaking against his and slowly they lay down on the downy grass under the shade of the trees, oblivious to their idyllic surroundings. Heat consumed Nic so much that his hand trembled as he fumbled with the buttons on her blouse.

He was no callow, inexperienced youth, but he felt like one as she lay back and looked at him from under long, dark lashes, her cheeks stained red. When he’d opened her shirt and undid her bra to uncover pale breasts tipped with tight pink nipples, he nearly lost it completely.

He was drunk on her by then—drunk on the taste of those sweet breasts, and her soft mewling sounds of response and rolling hips—so he didn’t hear anything until she tensed in his arms.

They both looked up at the same moment to see grim figures on horseback, staring down at them. It all became a blur as Nic scrambled to cover Maddie and she stood up behind him. Then they were both hauled unceremoniously out of the clearing by their respective estate employees and brought home …

‘Hello? Earth to Nicolás?’

Nic flinched now, as if stung, and looked down to see Estella staring up at him.

She was holding two glasses of champagne. She handed one to him and said, ‘Here. Looks like you could do with this.’

He was feeling incredibly raw and exposed, but he schooled his features and took the drink, restraining himself from downing it in one go.

‘So, was that woman really one of the Vasquez family? I thought I might have to get a hose to cool things down between you.’

‘She’s the last Vasquez. She’s come back to take over the family business,’ Nic bit out tautly, wanting to rid himself of the potent images.

‘That’s interesting …’ Estella mused in a far too innocent voice. ‘You’re the last in your line too …’

Nic glowered at Estella. ‘The only thing interesting about it is that she’ll be forced to sell that estate to me and we’ll finally be rid of the Vasquez family for good.’

With tension radiating from his tall form he strode away from her and the speculative look on her face. The last thing Nic needed was someone analysing his encounter with Madalena Vasquez. And the last thing the de Rojas estate needed was for its name to be dragged back down into the mire of rumour and innuendo and a resumption of ancient hostilities. The sooner Madalena Vasquez realised the futility of her position and how unwelcome she was, the better for everyone.

‘What the hell is he up to?’ Maddie muttered to herself, and turned the silver embossed invitation over and back again, as if it might contain a booby trap.

The message was written on one side and simple.

You are cordially invited to a private tasting of this year’s finest wines from the world-renowned de Rojas Estate.

Saturday, 7p.m., Casa de Rojas, Villarosa, Mendoza.

Black Tie.

The invitation had arrived with that day’s post, interrupting Maddie as she waded through her father’s papers.

She heard a noise and looked up from where she was sitting at her father’s study desk to see Hernan come in. He was their oldest and most loyal employee, her father’s viticulturist, and his own father had been the viticulturist before him. He and his wife, Maria, who was the housekeeper, were both working for board alone, even though Maddie had told them she couldn’t be sure when they might get paid again.

Her father’s head winemaker had long since gone, and Maddie knew that she might have to take over that role until she could afford to hire someone new. Fresh from a degree in Oenology and Viticulture, she was lacking in practical experience but had a burning love for the industry and craved the opportunity. Even if it was a poisoned chalice.

She swallowed the emotion she felt at the evidence of Hernan’s loyalty now and handed the card to him. He read it silently and handed it back with an inscrutable look on his face.

Maddie just arched a questioning brow.

After a long moment the old man said, ‘You do know that if you accept the invitation you will be the first Vasquez to be invited onto de Rojas land since as far back as I can remember?’

Maddie nodded slowly. This was huge. And she had no idea what he was playing at, but she had to admit she was intrigued to see the famed estate.

To her shock and surprise Hernan shrugged lightly. ‘Perhaps you should go. Times have changed, and things can’t go on as they always have. He’s up to something. Of that I have no doubt. Nic de Rojas is infinitely more intelligent than his father, or even his father before him, so he is a dangerous enemy to have … but perhaps an enemy you know …?’ He trailed off.

Maddie looked at the card thoughtfully. It had been two weeks exactly since her tumultuous meeting with Nicolás de Rojas, and she still felt shaky when she thought of it. Going through her father’s papers since then had shown her the true ugly extent of how far Nicolás de Rojas was willing to go to to get his hands on their estate.

Her father had been bombarded with letter after letter advising him to sell up. Some had been cajoling, almost friendly in tone, and others had been downright threatening. They’d all been issued by the de Rojas solicitor but signed off with the arrogant Nicolás de Rojas scrawl. There’d even been a threatening letter dated the day her father had died.

As much as Maddie wanted to rip up the invitation and send it back in pieces to Nicolás, she knew she couldn’t afford to isolate herself now. She needed to see what she was up against.

The party was the next evening.

She put the invitation in a drawer and stood up resolutely, clamping the gaucho hat she’d been wearing back on her head. ‘I’ll think about it. In the meantime we need to check the eastern vineyard again. It looks like our best prospect of a harvest this year.’

‘You mean our only prospect,’ Hernan said darkly as they walked out to the battered vineyard Jeep.

Maddie tried not to let the sensation of sheer panic overwhelm her. It was far too frequent for her liking, and not helped one bit by the realisation that the monumental task of harvesting their one chance of a wine that year was going to fall to her and Hernan and whatever friends and relations he could persuade to help with picking the grapes.

Her father had been a staunch old-school-style winemaker, eschewing wholesale modern methods. That was all very well when you were producing top-of-the-line expensive wines in tandem with more affordable table wines, but in later years her father had all but stopped producing for the more accessible market.

Their one tiny glimmer of hope was in the grapes which had somehow survived the neglect of her father to flourish and ripen on the eastern slopes of the vineyard. These were the Sauvignon grapes which made the distinctive white wine which had put the Vasquez name on the map—particularly because red wines were more common in Argentina.

If they could harvest them, and assure investors of the quality and quantity, then perhaps someone would give them the money they needed to get back on track—or at the very least to be able to pay the basic bills again.

Nic was tense as he stood in the open-air courtyard in the middle of his hacienda. His focus was on the imposing entrance doorway, which was still admitting a long line of glittering guests who had travelled from all over the world for this tasting. Hundreds of candles flickered in huge lanterns, and waiters dressed immaculately in black and white moved among the guests offering wine and canapés. But all Nic could think was … would she come? And why had he asked her, really?

Nic told himself it was because he wanted her gone. His belly clenched. It went much deeper than that, and he knew it. Really, what he’d wanted since eight years ago, and since he’d had that electric glimpse of her in that club in London, was to see her broken and contrite. To see that pale perfection undone. To see her as humiliated as he’d felt. To see her as exposed. She’d lured him to expose himself and he’d stupidly believed the act she’d put on.

Her words resounded in his head. ‘I was bored. OK? I wanted to seduce you because you were forbidden to me. It was exciting …’

A smug voice came from his left. ‘It’ll only be a matter of time now before you can buy out the Vasquez estate.’

Nic took his eye off the door for a moment and looked at his solicitor, who had been a good friend of his parents. His mother’s friend more than his father’s. He was a small, overweight man, with mean, calculating eyes. Nic had never especially liked him, but it had been easier to retain him than to let him go after his father’s death. He made a mental note to instruct his assistant to seek out new legal represention. He’d do his duty and give Señor Fiero a generous retirement package.

A movement at the door caught the corner of Nic’s eye, and he looked back to see Madalena Vasquez entering. The instantaneous effect was almost laughable. His whole body tautened, and an urgent need to see her up close again rushed through him, shocking him with its force. He’d never felt that for another woman. Not even a lover.

From here she looked even more stunning than she had two weeks ago. Her hair was up and she was wearing a long midnight-blue sheath. Strapless, it showed off the delicate lines of her collarbone and shoulders. The gently muscled strength of her arms. There was something slightly odd about the dress, though, that he couldn’t put his finger on. Much like the dress she’d worn the other night in Mendoza, it was as if it didn’t fit perfectly. As if it wasn’t hers.

He was so used to seeing women immaculately turned out that he could spot the slight anomaly a mile away, and it didn’t fit with what he would have expected of Madalena Vasquez.

‘Who is that? She looks familiar.’

‘That,’ Nic said tightly, irrationally not liking the fact that his solicitor was looking at her too, ‘is Madalena Vasquez. She’s home and taking over the family estate.’

The solicitor laughed cruelly. ‘That place is a mess. She’ll be begging you to buy her out.’

Nic moved away from his solicitor and towards Madalena. He couldn’t fathom the urge he felt to turn around and punch the older man. It was visceral and disturbing, and the remnants of it lingered as he drew closer and saw that wide green gaze settle on him. Pink flooded her cheeks and he could see the faintest bruised colour under her eyes—signs of fatigue. His chest constricted. Once he’d believed in that artifice, but it was a trick to incur sympathy learnt from her mother. To make a man believe that she was as innocent as she looked. When she was rotten to the core.

Nevertheless his rogue body could not be dictated to by his mind. Desire was hot and instantaneous.

He put a smooth smile on his face and tried to ignore the increasing heat in his body. ‘Welcome to my home.’

Maddie tried not to let Nicolás de Rojas see how affected she was just by watching him walk towards her. She felt like snorting incredulously. Home was a woeful understatement for this seriously palatial house. Once, a long time ago, her home had been as grand, but now it was a crumbling shell.

She didn’t trust his urbane charm for a second. His eyes were like shards of ice and she shivered imperceptibly. Forgetting her resolve to appear nothing but aloof, she blurted out, ‘Why did you invite me here?’

Quick as a shot he answered, ‘Why did you come?’

Maddie flushed, all of her reasons for coming feeling very flimsy and transparent now. She should have just sent the invitation back in tiny pieces as she’d intended. But she hadn’t.

She squared her shoulders. ‘I came because it’s been two weeks and I want to let you know that I’ve still no intention of going anywhere.’

Nicolás tipped his head slightly. She barely saw him make the gesture, and then a man appeared at his side.

‘Yes, sir?’

‘Madalena Vasquez, I’d like to introduce you to my house manager, Geraldo. He will show you around and see that you have everything you need. If you wouldn’t mind excusing me? I have some new guests to attend to.’

And just like that he had turned and was walking away. Maddie felt inexplicably bereft, dropped …

The intensity of emotion he aroused so effortlessly was still high. Maddie cursed herself for allowing any hint of vulnerability through. She had to be strong enough to withstand Nicolás de Rojas and his brand of arrogance or she’d never survive.

She turned to the man waiting by her side with a big forced smile. ‘Thank you.’

Maddie’s head was spinning by the time Geraldo, who had proved to be a charming host, showed her back into the main courtyard, which was now thronged with people. Men were in tuxedos and women glittered in long dresses and jewels.

The reality of the sheer opulence she’d just seen was a little hard to take in. The home itself—the few main rooms she’d been shown—was exquisitely furnished but also comfortable. Accessible. It was a home. And that had affected her deeply. Her own home had always been more like a cold and austere show house, full of dusty antiques. Unfortunately all of them had long since been sold to fund her father’s downward spiral.

‘I’ll leave you here now … if that’s okay?’

Maddie swung her gaze back to the pleasant house manager and realised he was waiting for her answer. ‘Of course. You must be busy. I’m sorry to have taken you away from your duties.’

He said urbanely, ‘It was a pleasure, Señorita Vasquez. Eduardo, who is our head winemaker, will see to it that you taste from the best of our selection of wines tonight.’

Another equally pleasant man was waiting to escort Maddie over to where the wine-tasting tables had been set up. It was only when she looked up and caught the coolly sardonic expression on Nicolás’s face, where he stood head and shoulders above the crowd across the room, that she understood she was being effectively herded in exactly the direction he wanted her to go. And being shown exactly what he wanted her to see.

The transparency of his actions and the way she’d almost forgotten what was happening here galled her. So she merely skated her own gaze past his and made Eduardo the focus of her attention as he explained the various wines to her.

After a few minutes Maddie managed to take advantage of someone coming up to ask Eduardo a question and escape, turning instinctively away from the direction where Nicolás de Rojas was holding court with a rapt crowd. She hated being so aware of where he was at any moment, as if some kind of invisible cord linked her to him. And yet, a small snide voice reminded her, as soon as puberty had hit she’d had that awareness of him as a man.

She walked through a silent, dimly lit room full of luxuriously stuffed couches and rosewood furniture and out onto a blissfully quiet decked area which hugged the outside of the house. Little pools of golden light spilled out onto the ground, and Maddie went and curled her hands over the wooden fence which acted as a perimeter.

The strains of a jazz band playing for the very select crowd wafted through on the breeze. She smiled cynically. Nicolás de Rojas could have stopped her at the front door and she would have already been in awe of his screaming success and wealth.

The wide gravelled drive, the rows upon rows of well-tended fertile vines and gleaming outbuildings had been enough of a display. That was what she wanted for her own estate—to see it flourishing as it had when she was a young girl, with rows of vines full of plump sun-ripened grapes …

She heard a noise and whirled around. Her heart thumped hard in her chest at the sight of Nicolás de Rojas in the doorway of the room behind her, shoulders blocking out the light, hands in pockets. He was so rakishly handsome that for a moment she forgot about everything and could only see him.

Maddie called up every shred of self-control and smiled. But it was brittle. Seeing Nicolás’s house up close like this had affected her far more deeply than she liked to admit.

‘Did you really think that showing off your success would make me scurry to the nearest airport with my tail between my legs?’

His jaw was gritted but he stepped out of the doorway, making Maddie’s breath hitch in her throat when his scent reached out and wound around her. She couldn’t back away. The wooden posts were already digging into her soft flesh.

‘It must feel very dull here after the bright lights of London … not to mention the ski slopes of Gstaad. Aren’t you missing the season?’

Maddie flushed deep red. She smiled even harder, hiding the hurt at that particular memory. ‘I wouldn’t have had you down as a Celebrity Now! reader, Mr de Rojas.’