Argentinian Playboy, Unexpected Love-Child
She was thankful when they reached the yard. Diego dismounted first and then carefully lifted her down. He seemed to think she was the rag doll he had described when he had witnessed her flying out of the saddle, she thought irritably as he strode into the barn, still holding her in his arms. His heart was beating steadily beneath her ear, but hers was thudding erratically and she was supremely conscious of his hands holding her beneath her knees and around the upper part of her body so that his fingers brushed lightly against the side of her breast.
She was pink-cheeked when he sat her down on a hay bale, and she glared at him when he leaned over her to prevent her from jumping to her feet. ‘I need to see to Piran,’ she said angrily.
‘I’ll ask one of the other grooms to rub him down. Every breath you take is agony—I can see it in your eyes, even if you are too stubborn to admit it,’ Diego said grimly.
Rachel stared at his hard-boned face and it slowly dawned on her that she had finally met someone whose determination to have his own way matched her own. ‘I’ve told you I’m fine,’ she muttered. ‘And Piran doesn’t like anyone else to groom him.’
‘Well, he’s going to have to get used to it because I don’t want to see you around these stables until you’ve had your ribs X-rayed and been thoroughly checked over by a doctor. My chauffeur, Arturo, will drive you to the hospital,’ Diego informed her coolly. ‘I would take you myself, but Lady Hardwick is giving a dinner party this evening—and I believe I’m the star guest,’ he added dryly.
‘Don’t waste your breath arguing with me, Miss Summers,’ he warned, placing his finger beneath her chin and exerting gentle pressure so that she had no option but to shut her mouth and swallow the angry words that were bursting to escape. ‘I will be in charge of the stables for the duration of my stay at Hardwick Hall, and I refuse to have anyone working here who can’t pull their weight. If you’ve broken your ribs, or sustained other injuries today, you’ll be a liability I can do without.’
Unfazed by her furious expression, he smiled, revealing his gleaming white teeth that contrasted with his bronzed skin. ‘I can’t keep on calling you Miss Summers all summer—can I, Rachel?’
His voice had altered, and was now as thick and sensuous as molten honey, but Rachel was determined not to be impressed. Clearly he was an outrageous flirt, as well as the most arrogant man she had ever met, and she was furious with her treacherous body for responding to him. She was aware of a tingling sensation in her breasts and a shocking yearning for him to push her down into the hay, lower himself onto her and kiss her like she had never been kissed before.
‘What do you mean by “all summer”?’ she croaked. ‘I know you’re here for the polo tournament, but surely you’ll be going back to Argentina straight afterwards.’
Diego shook his head, his smile widening at Rachel’s look of dismay. ‘As a matter of fact, I usually spend a couple of months—when it is winter in Argentina—at my polo school just outside New York. But this year the Earl has invited me to Hardwick to train the polo ponies.
‘So you see, Rachel,’ he drawled softly, moving his finger from under her chin and gently tracing the shape of her lips with his thumb pad, ‘for the next month or so I will be your boss, and you will have to abide by my rules. Go to the hospital with Arturo, get yourself checked over, and when you can come back to me with a clean bill of health you will be welcome here. Until then, if I catch so much as a strand of your pretty blonde hair near Piran’s loose box, there will be trouble. Entiendes?’
There was a hint of steel behind his mocking tone that warned Rachel he would be a dangerous man to cross. Incensed by his high-handedness, she jerked her head away, disgusted to find that she was trembling. The feather-light caress of his thumb over her lips had been shockingly intimate, and the idea that she would be working for him over the summer was downright disturbing.
‘Earl Hardwick personally appointed me as head groom, and I’m sure he’ll have something to say when I tell him you’ve banned me from doing my job,’ she said furiously.
‘The Earl had a hard job persuading me to come to Gloucestershire rather than New York, and I think you’ll find that he’ll go along with anything I say,’ Diego replied with a breathtaking arrogance that made Rachel itch to slap him. ‘Besides, you are not banned, Rachel. I am very much looking forward to working with you once I am assured that you suffered no serious injuries today. I have great plans for Hardwick Polo Club, and I have a feeling that you and I will be spending a lot of time together.’
The sensuous gleam in his eyes was unmistakable, and a quiver ran down Rachel’s spine. She wanted to jump up and tell him to get lost—tell him that she’d rather work for the devil than him. But she couldn’t move. For one thing, her ribs were seriously painful—but the real reason, she acknowledged dismally, was that she was trapped by his magnetism and utterly captivated by his raw masculinity. He was the most potently virile man she had ever met; she could not tear her eyes from his sensual mouth and when he lowered his head slowly towards her, she ceased thinking, almost ceased breathing, her heart hammering with frantic excitement when it seemed that he was going to kiss her.
To her intense disappointment, he did not. Instead, he straightened up abruptly and moved away from her, giving her a mocking smile that added to her humiliation.
‘Wait here for Arturo,’ he ordered. He strode across the barn and halted in the doorway to glance back at her. ‘It promises to be an interesting summer, don’t you think, Rachel?’ he taunted softly.
CHAPTER TWO
TO RACHEL’S relief an X-ray showed that she had not broken any bones when Piran had thrown her, but her ribs and shoulder were badly bruised and the doctor was adamant that she should not ride for a few days.
‘I doubt you’ll be able to move tomorrow,’ he told her as he handed her a prescription for strong painkillers. ‘Take two of these twice a day, and if I were you I’d go to bed and stay there.’
It was the most ridiculous suggestion Rachel had ever heard. She had never spent a day in bed in her life, and as far as she was concerned the fact that she hadn’t suffered any fractures meant that she would be fit to work at the stables tomorrow.
But the following morning she woke in agony and the sight of her purple bruises forced her to accept that she was in no fit state to ride her bicycle up to the stables, muck out loose boxes and then spend the morning exercising the horses.
Besides, even if she managed to get to the stables, Diego Ortega was likely to send her straight home again. The Argentinian was the most arrogant individual she had ever met. Infuriatingly, he was also the sexiest man she had ever laid eyes on, she acknowledged grimly. She cringed when she remembered how she had been so mesmerised by him that she had stared at him, hoping he would kiss her, and his amused smile had told her that he had known exactly what she was thinking.
The day dragged endlessly, but fortunately the painkillers worked well and by early evening Rachel was feeling less like she had been trampled on by a herd of bulls and was bored of her enforced isolation. One of the other stable-hands sent her a text saying that Diego had returned to the Hall, where he was staying as a guest of Earl Hardwick. He was unlikely to visit the stables again tonight, Rachel decided as she cycled through the woods to the Hardwick estate, wincing every time she hit a pothole on the path.
Piran was gratifyingly pleased to see her. From his gleaming coat she guessed that someone must have groomed him, but she gave him another brush and fed him a couple of peppermints, and did not notice she had company until a figure came up silently behind her.
‘Jasper, you’ll give me a heart attack if you creep up on me like that,’ she snapped when a faint sound made her swing round and she almost collided with Earl Hardwick’s son and heir. ‘It’s a pity you weren’t so quiet on your bike yesterday,’ she muttered, feeling the same uneasy tension that always gripped her when she was alone with Jasper. The young Englishman was reputedly one of the most eligible bachelors among the landed gentry and, with his blonde hair flopping onto his brow, Rachel could see why women might be attracted to him. But he did nothing for her, and she hated the way he looked at her as though he were mentally undressing her.
‘Yeah, I heard Piran threw you when you were jumping him yesterday.’ Jasper lounged in the stable doorway, blocking Rachel’s path so that she instinctively stepped backwards away from him.
‘It was your fault, not his. The noise of your bike scared him. I wish you wouldn’t ride it near the paddock.’
Jasper gave a careless shrug. ‘It’s my land—or it will be one day. You know, it would pay you to be nice to me, Rachel,’ he said with a sly smile, reaching out and running his finger down her cheek. ‘One day I’m going to be very rich—as long as my dear papa doesn’t blow the family fortune on the polo club. God knows how much he’s had to fork out to persuade Diego Ortega to come here and share his “expertise”,’ he added petulantly. ‘Ortega is already a multimillionaire, and the money the old man’s paying him could have gone on increasing my paltry allowance.’
‘Mr Ortega is reputed to be one of the best trainers in the world,’ Rachel murmured. ‘And his appearance at the Hardwick Polo Tournament has trebled ticket sales, which must be good for the club.’
‘Ortega is a notorious playboy,’ Jasper said sulkily, clearly resenting Rachel’s defence of him. And why had she spoken up for Diego when the first thing he had done since his arrival had been to ban her from the stables? she wondered irritably. ‘My sister was all over him like a rash at dinner last night,’ Jasper added sneeringly. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve fallen for his smarmy charm too?’
‘Of course not,’ she replied quickly; perhaps too quickly because Jasper stared at her intently and she felt herself blush. She could not bear for Jasper of all people to guess the effect that Diego had on her and so she added, ‘From my brief meeting with Diego Ortega, I found him to be the most objectionable man I’ve ever met and, like you, I’ll be glad to see the back of him.’
‘Is that so, Rachel? How disappointing. I had such high hopes for our relationship,’ a familiar, heavily accented voice drawled mockingly behind her. Rachel gasped and jerked her head round to see Diego strolling in through the doors of the stable block. ‘Our working relationship, of course,’ he added, giving Jasper Hardwick a bland smile when the young Englishman glowered at him.
Diego turned his attention back to Rachel, and she felt a fluttering sensation in her stomach as her eyes clashed with his gleaming amber gaze. He had obviously changed for dinner and looked stunningly handsome in tailored black trousers and a white silk shirt. Presumably he would don a tuxedo and bow tie before dinner with the Hardwicks, but for now his shirt was open at the throat, revealing his golden skin.
‘I’m afraid you’ll be seeing a lot of me over the next few weeks—back and front,’ he said sarcastically, while she stared at the floor and wished a trapdoor would miraculously open beneath her feet. ‘Earl Hardwick has challenged me to turn Hardwick Polo Club into a top sporting venue—and I can never resist a challenge,’ he murmured silkily, his eyes focused on Rachel’s flushed face.
He glanced dismissively at Jasper. ‘I’m afraid you will no longer be able to ride your motorbike around the estate. I’ll be doing some intensive training with the polo ponies and I don’t want to waste my time calming them down after you’ve terrified them. Your thoughtless actions yesterday caused Rachel’s accident, and it was sheer luck the outcome wasn’t more serious.’
An angry flush stained Jasper’s face. ‘It’s not my fault Rachel can’t control her horse,’ he said sullenly. ‘Everyone knows Piran is too strong for her.’ He gave Diego a look of active dislike. ‘You can’t tell me what to do. My father…’
‘Your father agrees with me that the bike should be banned from anywhere near the stables and practice paddocks,’ Diego interrupted with a quiet authority in his tone that brought another wave of colour to Jasper’s face. ‘Miss Summers’s riding skills are not in question. I was watching her yesterday, and in my opinion she is an excellent horsewoman.’
Rachel blushed at the unexpected praise. Jasper glanced furiously from her to Diego and swore viciously before he swung round and stormed out of the stables. In the silence that fell after his departure Rachel felt her tension rise and she busied herself with putting Piran’s grooming brushes away.
‘He may be a member of the British aristocracy but he’s a charmless individual, isn’t he?’ Diego drawled. ‘But perhaps you don’t think so, Rachel? Did you arrange to meet Hardwick here, when you knew the other grooms would have finished work and the two of you would be alone?’
Stunned by the accusation, she spun round and saw that his amber eyes were coldly assessing her. ‘Of course not,’ she denied sharply. ‘Why would I? I’m not the slightest bit interested in Jasper.’
Diego stepped into the loose box and patted Piran. ‘Well, he’s interested in you,’ he said harshly. ‘A word of advice, querida—don’t flirt with Hardwick unless you intend to follow it through. He wants you badly, and it’s not a good idea to lead him on.’
‘I wasn’t flirting with him!’ Rachel’s eyes flashed with temper. ‘He must have seen me arrive here and followed me into the stables.’ She trailed to a halt, remembering how Diego had expressly banned her from visiting the stables. ‘I came to see Piran, not to ride him,’ she muttered and then, as her temper sparked again, added, ‘although the X-rays were clear. I didn’t break any bones yesterday, and there’s no reason why I can’t ride.’
‘Apart from the doctor’s recommendation that you take a break from riding for a few days—Arturo overheard your conversation at the hospital,’ Diego murmured dryly, feeling a mixture of amusement and impatience when she glared at him. She was infuriatingly stubborn—a trait they shared, he acknowledged. He understood her obsession for riding and her addiction to the adrenalin boost when she took her horse over the jumps. She clearly pushed herself to the limits, just as he did on the polo field, but he wondered what demons drove her and made her careless of her safety—as his demons drove him to take risks which had taken him to the top of his sport, and on several occasions within a whisker of the grave.
He was torn between wanting to shake some sense into her and kiss the mutinous line of her mouth until she parted her lips and allowed him to push his tongue between them. He was irritated by the effect she had on him. Yesterday he had thought she would be an interesting diversion while he was staying at Hardwick, but after spending a restless night when he’d been unable to dismiss her from his mind he had decided that she was a complication he could do without. He had confidently assumed that when he saw her again he would have his inconvenient attraction to her under control, but as soon as he’d walked into the stables and felt his heart jolt at the sight of her he had been forced to admit that his awareness of her had not lessened.
Her hair was the colour of spun gold, falling to halfway down her back. He wanted to run his fingers through the thick, silky mass and then pull her into his arms so that her hips cradled the hard evidence of his arousal. His body was as taut as an over-strung bow and he felt an overwhelming urge to tumble her down in the hay, but instead he called on all his willpower and stepped out of Piran’s loose box.
‘As you can see, Piran is fine, and he gave me no trouble when I groomed him earlier.’ He followed Rachel out of the loose box. ‘I’ll drive you home. I understand you live at Irving’s farm.’
‘Yes, but there’s no need for you to give me a lift—I cycled here.’ Rachel nodded towards her bike, propped up against the barn wall. ‘It’s quicker for me to ride through the woods.’
‘I want to discuss the horses I’ve brought over from Argentina for the polo tournament. If you are going to oppose everything I say, I will have to seriously question whether I can have you working here,’ Diego snapped.
Was he threatening to sack her? Rachel chewed on her lip as panic surged through her. How could she admit that her reluctance to sit next to him in the close confines of the sleek silver sports car she could see parked in the yard was due to her acute awareness of him? But he gave her no further opportunity to speak and was already striding out of the barn. She hurried after him and when he held open the car door she slid into the passenger seat and stared determinedly ahead, her senses flaring when he sat behind the wheel and she inhaled the exotic scent of his aftershave.
‘You were going to tell me about your horses,’ she murmured tentatively when he had driven almost to the boundary of the Hardwick estate in a taut silence that played havoc with her nerves. Diego exhaled deeply, as if he too was aware of the prickling tension between them, but then proceeded to give her detailed information about his polo ponies. Rachel listened intently so that it was a surprise when the car came to a halt and she realised that they had turned into the farm.
‘I’ve left notes about feeds and medical histories, et cetera in the tack room. You can read through them when you come back to work after the weekend,’ he said in a tone that brooked no argument about when he would allow her back to the stables.
‘Fine. Well, I’ll see you next week then,’ Rachel replied flatly, wondering how she was going to survive for three long days without riding. The prospect of not seeing Diego for days had nothing to do with the deflated feeling that had settled over her, she told herself firmly.
‘Before you go…these are for you.’ He reached behind his seat and handed her a huge bouquet of yellow roses, his mouth curving into a smile at her expression of stunned surprise. ‘To wish you a speedy recovery,’ he explained. ‘When I visited the florist’s the colour reminded me of your bright hair—and the sharp thorns were a painful reminder of your prickly nature,’ he added dryly, showing her several deep scratches on his hand. ‘I almost bled to death removing them.’
‘I don’t mean to be prickly; I’m just used to doing things for myself and making my own decisions, that’s all,’ Rachel mumbled, burying her face in the scented blooms because she could not bring herself to meet Diego’s gaze. Unaccountably, her eyes filled with tears and she blinked fiercely to dispel them. She wondered what he would say if she revealed that she had never been given flowers in her life—and then wondered where on earth she was going to put them when she did not possess a vase.
She sensed he was waiting for her to say something, and forced herself to speak. ‘They’re beautiful. Thank you.’
‘You’re welcome.’ Diego paused, and wondered impatiently why he felt as edgy as a teenager on a first date. Rachel was a stable-hand, with an attitude problem and a sharp tongue—not the sort of woman he would usually be interested in. But he was intrigued by her and as he watched her tongue dart out to moisten her lips the tug of desire that had kept him awake for half the night intensified. ‘I was hoping they would persuade you to invite me in and offer me a cup of coffee.’
Rachel glanced at him, caught the unmistakable sensual gleam in his amber eyes and stared back at the golden bouquet, her heart beating very fast. It was only coffee, she reminded herself, and it seemed churlish to refuse when he had presented her with two dozen roses. ‘You’re welcome to come in for coffee. But I don’t live at the farmhouse. I live up there.’
Following her gaze, Diego restarted the engine and drove up the track that wound out of the farmyard and through a small copse of trees, his brows lowering in a frown when the track ended at a small shabby caravan nestled in the shade of a towering oak tree. ‘You don’t seriously expect me to believe you live in that?’
‘And the coffee is cheap instant,’ Rachel said sweetly. ‘Welcome to my home, Mr Ortega.’ While Diego stared out of the windscreen in patent disbelief, she jumped out of the car and unlocked the caravan, the heat that had built up inside hitting her as she pushed open the door. He had probably changed his mind about the coffee, she decided, trying to ignore her disappointment as she rummaged around in the cupboard under the sink, searching for a suitable vessel to hold the roses. She had unearthed a couple of jam jars when he climbed up the steps, ducking his head as he stepped through the door and instantly seeming to dominate the cramped space.
He glanced around the interior of the caravan and Rachel gave a silent groan when his eyes fell on the bed, which she had left down this morning because her shoulder had hurt too much to pack it away.
‘It’s what an estate agent might call a compact residence,’ she said brightly. ‘When the bed is folded away there’s actually a surprising amount of room—for me, anyway,’ she added when she glanced up and saw that Diego’s head was brushing the ceiling.
‘This can’t be your permanent home.’ He could not disguise his shock at her living conditions. ‘You just camp out here during the summer—right?’
‘No, I moved in here when I was seventeen, after my mother married for the third time and my twin half-sisters were born.’
Diego’s brows rose. ‘Family life sounds complicated.’
‘Believe me, it is. I went to live with my father for a while, but he and his new wife had also just had a baby and it was easier for everyone when Peter Irving offered me the caravan.’
Rachel’s voice was carefully controlled, giving no hint of how she had resented feeling like a spare part in her parents’ lives—unwanted, apart from being an occasional babysitter to her various half brothers and sisters. She had spent most of her childhood being passed between her mother and father, but she often thought that the bitter custody battle they had fought over her had been more about them trying to score points off each other than because either of them had actually wanted her to live with them.
It had been a far from idyllic childhood, and by the age of twelve she had been fiercely independent—getting up early every morning to do a paper round to pay for her riding lessons. She preferred horses to people and, after witnessing her parents’ various failed marriages, she was adamant that she never wanted to get married or be reliant on another human being.
‘The caravan is sound and dry, although it does shake a bit in strong wind,’ Rachel admitted as she spooned coffee granules into the two least chipped mugs she could find. ‘But it’s got all the basic amenities—a shower, and Peter rigged up a generator to provide me with electricity. I can’t afford to rent a house,’ she explained when Diego gave her a look that said he seriously questioned her sanity. ‘Property is very expensive around here, and everything I earn goes on Piran’s upkeep and competition fees.’
Diego noted that the caravan might be small and old, but it was immaculately clean. The collection of china horses arranged on the shelf above the cooker were free from dust, and on the miniature kitchen worktop stood a jar filled with wild daisies. Rachel’s home was as unconventional and dainty as its occupant, and he felt like a giant who had somehow squeezed himself into a doll’s house.
He would drink the coffee and then leave, he decided, shaking his head when she offered milk and sugar, and grimacing when he took a sip of the foul black liquid she handed him. He didn’t know why he hadn’t simply dropped her off at the farm entrance.
His eyes strayed to her slender figure and her pert derrière, moulded by her jeans, and he felt a tightening sensation in his groin. He was used to dating sophisticated socialites who wouldn’t be seen dead in anything other than designer labels, but there was something wholesome and incredibly sexy about Rachel’s scrubbed face and simple clothes. He wondered if she was aware that the sunlight streaming in through the window made her shirt semi-transparent. He could clearly see the outline of her breasts, and liquid heat surged through his veins.