She would not let this go, and what had begun as a relaxing afternoon changed into something painful and raw. Why was he finding it so hard to treat her like a guest? He should be pointing out landforms and local history and instead they were talking about failed relationships. How had he lost control so easily? How had she managed to get under his skin?
She thought he was some romantic gaucho figure, someone honorable and upright. But he wasn’t. She had to stop looking at him this way—with a soft understanding, as if she knew … She didn’t know.
He’d made peace with what had happened. He’d accepted the blame. And he’d moved on to the kind of life he’d wanted, throwing himself into developing the estancia. Good, honest, put-your-back-into-it work. So why did Sophia have to show up now and make him want things he had no right wanting?
Two days. Two days and Maria and Carlos would be back. His duty would be discharged and he could be back behind the scenes where he belonged.
He retrieved Sophia’s horse and brought the mare to her, holding the reins while she used the height of the rock to get her feet in the stirrups. “Hold her steady,” he commanded, going to get his gelding and swinging up into the saddle.
Even with her own set of troubles, he still saw Sophia as naive. She’d had a rude awakening with this Antoine, but he knew deep down she still believed in a forever kind of love. In happily-ever-afters. Tomas had known for a long time how the world worked. Those who succeeded at love and marriage and happiness … they were just lucky. The majority of people wandered through life trying to figure out how they’d gotten so lost.
“Let’s get back,” he said tersely, nudging his horse forward and up the hardened slope. They needed to move on before he said something he’d really regret.
Like the truth.
Sophia gripped the reins in fingers slippery from the afternoon heat. Her thighs already ached from exercising unused muscles. She nudged the mare with her heels and followed Tomas up the slope and on to the level table of the pampas. He was already a bit ahead, and Sophia gritted her teeth.
She had done just fine during the first part of the ride, so she nudged the mare into a trot and hoped for the best. First he had clammed up when she’d asked a simple question. Now he had deliberately gone ahead and he hadn’t looked back to check on her once. That particular fact agitated her. His bossiness was just another way of keeping that stoic, annoying distance. If he thought he could shake her that easily, that he could just ride off without another word, he had another think coming.
Her thighs burned as she tried to hold on to the saddle. Don’t let me fall off, she prayed as she jounced along at a trot. Finally she caught up with Tomas.
“You might have waited.”
Tomas looked over, his dark eyes shaded by his campero. Sophia felt a momentary flash of annoyance and attraction together, which only served to irritate her further. She should not find him attractive at all. He was a closed-mouthed, stubborn man who kept setting her up to fail. She was just about to tell him so when a puff of wind stirred up a dust devil in front of them.
Tomas’s gelding shied and Tomas quickly settled him, but Sophia’s mare took a scare and bolted, Sophia clinging helplessly to saddle and reins. Hooves pounded against the earth. She tried to keep her posture, but her feet bounced in the stirrups, bumping against the mare’s side, unintentionally prodding her to go faster. Then Sophia heard Tomas shout in Spanish as the mare leapt forward, heading straight for the estancia at breakneck speed.
Sweat poured down her spine now and she could see the gate in front of her. If they didn’t slow down soon …
Tomas shouted again. Desperately she pulled on the reins but their length was uneven in her damp palms and the mare shifted abruptly to her right. Everything seemed to slow as she felt the horse plant its feet, throwing her from the saddle. There was a sense of weightlessness as she flew through the air and a fear in knowing she was likely to be hurt.
When Sophia hit the ground, every last breath of air was forced from her lungs and she felt several seconds of panic as they refused to work. Finally new oxygen rushed in, painful and a blessed relief all in one.
Tomas reined in beside her and jumped off his horse, leaving the reins dangling from the bridle.
“Sophia!” Tomas knelt beside her and she felt his hands behind her shoulders as she tried to sit. “No, lie down,” he commanded, gently placing her on the grass. “Catch your breath, and tell me you’re all right.”
His face swam before her eyes as she inhaled and exhaled, trying to steady her breathing to somewhat near normal even though her chest felt as though someone was stepping on it. Lying down helped. Tomas’s hat was on the grass beside them and she saw a slight ring around his scalp where the band and sweat had flattened his short dark curls. He was beautiful, she realized. In an unreal sort of way—dark and mysterious and perfect. She felt horribly dirty, provincial and awkward. She’d tried to fake knowing what she was doing, but she’d been unequal to the task, just as she’d been at painting this morning. She’d failed yet again. All she’d had to do was stay in the saddle for another fifteen minutes and she would have been home free.
Now she looked like a prize idiot next to Tomas’s stunning looks, self assurance and.
Oh Lord. The way he was looking at her right now. Like he cared. His lips were unsmiling, his eyes dark with anxiety. How long had she wished for someone to look at her in just this way? As though if something happened to her it would be a catastrophe? Antoine certainly never had. He’d acted as if her feelings, her needs, counted for nothing.
And counting for nothing hurt, dammit. She finally acknowledged to herself that Antoine’s betrayal of her had hurt most because she had felt inconsequential. Had felt that she didn’t matter.
Tomas’s hand reached behind her head and cradled it in his hand, cushioning it from the hard earth. “Sophia, please,” he said roughly. “Tell me where it hurts.”
His plea broke through every defence she’d erected since walking into the hotel room and seeing Antoine with his mistress. Her whole life hurt right now. She had never felt so alone. And the worst part of it was that she knew she couldn’t make sense of any of it until she figured out who she was. It was a horrible, horrible feeling to realize that she’d lost herself along the way. She was like a boat bobbing aimlessly on the sea with no direction. And it had taken this rough-and-ready gaucho to make her see it. Maybe she’d looked like a fool just now, but there was no mistaking the genuine concern in his eyes. She held on to that, letting it be a beacon in the darkness.
I hurt everywhere, she thought, and she felt the telltale sting of tears behind her eyes. And the last thing she wanted was for him to see that. She’d lost enough face today.
She gripped his forearm with her hand and pulled herself up to sit.
“It’s my fault,” Tomas berated himself sharply. “I never should have gone off ahead. I knew you were inexperienced.” He brushed a piece of hair off her cheek and tucked it behind her ear. “You were doing wonderfully. You have more pluck than I gave you credit for.”
Sophia’s face softened. Did Tomas blame himself? That was ridiculous. He couldn’t have known the mare would run off.
“I’m fine,” she insisted, knowing that nothing was broken, only bruised. There was an ache in her hip from landing on the hard ground, and she suspected she would be stiff later, but the greatest harm had been done to her pride. And yet his words stirred something warm inside. Had he actually said she’d been doing wonderfully? She had been faking the whole way, trying to remember what she’d learned about riding in those two childhood rides. So she hadn’t fooled him. But she hadn’t made a disaster of it, either. At least not until the end.
“At least you know I never do things halfway,” she replied. She looked around. Both horses were standing a few metres