Back in the Brazilian's Bed Page 9

‘This is where we’ll house the VIPs during the cup,’ he called back as he led the way.

  It was hard to believe they had ever lain in bed together, or that they had known each other as intimately as any couple could. His broad, muscular back was turned against her, making him seem like a stranger.

  The building was so striking, it took her mind off her troubled thoughts for a while. The block of apartments curved in a horseshoe around the banks of a glittering manmade lake. When she stepped inside she was silenced as she stared around the light-filled space.

  ‘There’s a hot spa and a small heated outdoor pool for each apartment, as well as a butler service on call,’ Dante explained.

  ‘Butlers on horseback?’

  ‘In helicopters. It’s faster.’

  ‘Of course.’ Somehow she managed to keep a straight face. She had a lot of wealthy clients who had all sorts of unimaginable luxuries they took for granted, but in all her experience she had never heard of anything to compare with this.

  ‘Take your time to look around. I’m going to leave you to it, while I inspect the rest of the units to make sure they’re all up to the standard I requested.’

  He filled every inch of her world with heat and machismo, and he made her ache with wistfulness for everything they’d lost; a loss he didn’t even know about. She quickly busied herself making notes, as he paused and turned to face her.

  ‘There’s just one thing you need to keep in mind,’ he said. ‘The Goucho Cup means everything to me. The game is my passion, and it’s a passion I want to share with the world. I’m determined to prove that it isn’t a game for a privileged few but an exciting spectator sport. I’m going to need your help to make that dream a reality. Are you in?’

  ‘You know I am.’ How could she not be infected by his enthusiasm, or by Dante’s dark, compelling stare?

  Those few moments of intensity between them left her reeling, and it was almost a relief to move on to discussing food outlets and supply chains, though there was a moment later in the day when he turned to her to demand, ‘Who would have thought fate would throw us together again like this?’ But then he shook his head and snapped, ‘Forget it.’

  That was one thing she couldn’t do. Fate had always meant them to be together—just not in the way she had expected.

  CHAPTER NINE

  WHEN THEY RETURNED to the ranch house she made the excuse that she needed a chance to compile her notes. Dante was way too distracting, and she was glad of some space. She ate alone and went straight to bed, but she couldn’t sleep.

  Getting up, she worked through the night. There was a point in the cold dark hours when she wondered if frustration could actually cause a physical ache. The pain when she thought about Dante seemed real enough. She set up a calendar to mark off the days to the Gaucho Cup, and from that to her next job, but that only made the black hole without Dante yawn in front of her like an unbridgeable chasm.

  She managed a few hours of sleep before dawn. The scent of blossom was heavy in the air when she opened the window. Leaning out, she dragged in some greedy breaths—then shot back, seeing Dante in the yard. Even cloaked in shadows he was a stunning sight. She watched him prowl into the stable block and wondered why he was up so early. The urge to follow him, to find out where he was going proved to be one old habit that time hadn’t dimmed.

  Remembering the thrill of riding out with him at dawn the day before, she tugged on her breeches as fast as she could, pulled her hair into a ponytail and dragged on a top and riding boots—then stilled, hearing the sound of hooves on cobbles. She smiled at the sound of Dante’s husky whisper as he coaxed his horse to leave the prospect of an early feed in favour of the wide open spaces of the pampas. She’d catch him up—stalk him on horseback, as she had years ago.

  She hurried downstairs and crossed the yard, heading for the stable block. Tacking up the same horse as yesterday, she led him out. Dante had a head’s start but the sun was rising, showing her the way. She was confident she’d find him. She’d trust her instincts and those of a horse seeking out his stablemate.

  She trailed him at a distance. Dante was riding at a steady pace, making it easy to keep him in sight. She had a small setback when the early morning sun went behind a cloud, and when it cleared again there was no sign of Dante. She looked about, searching for him, and then shrieked with alarm as strong arms scooped her from her horse.

  ‘Now we talk,’ he snarled as he lowered her to her feet in front of him.

  ‘We’re in the middle of nowhere!’ She was still shocked, and angry that he had got the better of her.

  ‘Exactly,’ he agreed. ‘No distractions.’

  ‘You set this up?’ She was trembling with fury—and something else she didn’t care to analyse.

  ‘I set you up,’ he confirmed with a look.

  Angling his stubble-shaded chin, he stared at her with all the old arrogance. She couldn’t believe she’d fallen for it, but she had always been gullible where Dante was concerned.

  It was as if the two of them were alone on a massive stage, with the strengthening sun dazzling her like a spotlight. All the early birdsong fell away as Dante’s black stare drilled into hers.

  His grip tightened on her arms. ‘You’ve successfully avoided talking to me face to face for almost ten years. My best guess?’ His black stare speared into her eyes. ‘If you hadn’t been forced into my company, you’d still be avoiding me. I’m giving you one last chance to tell me what you’re hiding from me. And be warned, I won’t ask again. I’ll appoint investigators to find out the truth for me instead.’

  She felt sick and faint. It had never occurred to her that Dante would go to those lengths. Dragging in a breath, she tried to remain calm, but the steel in his eyes and in his voice had thrown her.

  ‘Why are you here, Karina? Why did you follow me?’

  ‘I was curious,’ she said with a shrug, in an attempt to make light of it. She had followed him because she had wanted to be close to him, she added silently.

  ‘You’re curious?’ With a laugh, he shook his head. ‘How do you think I feel about you?’

  Dante’s laughter was as cold as his stare. She should have listened to the gossip that said no one could reach out and touch Dante Baracca. Many had tried, but they had all given up. Only she was stubborn enough to believe that the man she had spent her teenage years dreaming about still existed.

  ‘It’s about that night, isn’t it, Karina? It’s something to do with that night.’

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ she said defensively, desperate to change the subject.

  ‘Tell me, Karina. Tell me every detail of what’s happened to you between that night and this.’

  ‘Why should I?’ she stormed, lashing herself inwardly as she tried to skirt the truth.

  ‘Because the woman standing in front of me is not the Karina Marcelos I used to know, and I demand to know why.’

  ‘You demand?’ she interrupted, laughing at the bitter irony of them both searching for something that didn’t exist any more. ‘The Karina Marcelos you mean no longer exists. She was a stupid—naïve—girl...’

  Dante pulled his head back. ‘What are you trying to say, Karina?’

  She tried to breathe and could only suck in air in great gasps.

  ‘Karina!’ Dante all but shouted. ‘Tell me what is wrong.’

  Holding out her hand as if to fend him off, she somehow formed the words. ‘You left me pregnant.’

  Her voice sounded too loud, and the impact of her words shocked even Dante into silence. They stood together without moving, without breathing, without reacting at all, until he ground out, ‘Why didn’t you tell me this before?’

  Her wounded gaze flashed to his. ‘Because I’m not the person I was then.’

  ‘You held this information from me?’ He look
ed at her incredulously with eyes that had turned to steel—whether with fierce empathy or with fury, she couldn’t tell. She could understand his shock and something of what he must be feeling, but she had no words to reach him.

  ‘Don’t you have anything to say to me?’ His voice was harsh with frustration. ‘Don’t you think you at least owe me an explanation for your long silence?’

  Her glance flashed to his hand on her arm and he let her go.

  ‘What happened to our child, Karina?’ he said. ‘What happened to my baby?’

  ‘There is no child.’ Her voice sounded faint and far away. She was shaking so much she didn’t recognise herself. She had imagined this scene so many times, and had even planned how she would phrase the words Dante must hear, but there were no words, she discovered now.

  ‘Karina.’

  She looked up to see Dante’s expression had changed. Bringing her in front of him, he asked in a far gentler tone, ‘Can you tell me what happened?’

  ‘I lost the baby.’

  She pressed her lips together as if that could stop it being true as silence swept over them again, holding them tight in its unfeeling grasp.

  He wasn’t sure how long they remained standing together, frozen and barely breathing as they stared at each other. ‘You were pregnant,’ he managed at last. All his anger and impatience with Karina had gone, leaving him feeling completely numb.

  Her eyes searched his. ‘I couldn’t tell you, because you were away, and because—’ Her mouth snapped closed again, and she shook her head as if it was too painful to go on. After a few moments had passed she drew a deep, shaking breath and continued. ‘There were many reasons why I didn’t get in touch with you, and by the time I saw you again it was over, and there didn’t seem much point.’

  ‘Much point?’ he echoed softly, still trying to come to terms with what she’d told him.

  ‘No point in upsetting you,’ she explained.

  He relaxed his grip on her arms and stood back. ‘You should have told me. You can’t keep something like that to yourself. Who was there to help you?’

  The answer was in her eyes.

  ‘You told no one? Not even Luc? I would have been there for you if I’d known. I would have cancelled anything to be there for you.’ It was a fight for him to keep rock solid as her eyes filled with tears. ‘Yes, this has been a shock,’ he admitted, ‘and it would have been a shock then. I was younger. I was wild. But I was never uncaring. You should never have had to go through that alone.’

  Actions had consequences, his conscience told him. This he knew, but what Karina had just told him was worse than anything he had imagined. How young she’d been—just eighteen. He’d been twenty-two—and reckless. But Karina had been alone with no one to confide in. Not that she would have done so anyway, he guessed grimly. She would hardly have told Luc, and if he had been around, would she have told him? Karina had always prided herself on standing on her own two feet, and she would have viewed explanations as a plea for help.

  ‘I don’t know what I could have done to help you,’ he admitted. ‘I was different back then—selfish and wild—and I know how independent you’ve always been, but I still can’t believe you had to go through this on your own.’

  She looked away and he knew he’d lost her.

  ‘This was a mistake,’ she said, confirming his fears. ‘I shouldn’t have told you. What’s the point?’

  ‘You’re wrong,’ he argued firmly. ‘There’s every point. What happened was my responsibility as much as yours.’

  ‘No.’ Her eyes blazed briefly. ‘I don’t need your counsel, Dante. I don’t want you to feel sorry for me. I’ve told you everything you need to know. Now, please...don’t mention it again.’

  But had she told him everything? The look on her face, the flicker in her eyes told him she hadn’t. ‘Karina?’

  ‘No,’ she flared, pushing his hand away. ‘I miscarried, something that happens to many women, the doctors told me.’

  ‘Don’t,’ he warned quietly as her face turned grim and still. ‘Don’t try to dismiss this as if it means nothing to you, when I can see that it’s breaking your heart.’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re waiting for me to say,’ she blazed.

  The thought that there was more than this—more that she wouldn’t tell him—tore him up inside. They’d been friends. They’d shared everything. And now, just when she needed someone, whether she knew it or not, Karina was turning her back on him.

  ‘I know you,’ he said quietly. ‘I know that even at eighteen, if things had worked out and you’d had the child, you would have coped. As it was, you handled the tragedy and came through it alone.’

  ‘Leave it, Dante,’ she cried out. ‘What’s the point in this? I can’t change anything—and neither can you!’ she exclaimed with frustration. ‘We just have to accept, you and I, that everything turned out for the best.’

  ‘For the best?’ he echoed over her. Now he knew something was badly wrong. ‘I can’t believe you just said that. This isn’t the Karina I knew talking, and I refuse to believe you mean it.’

  Sucking in a shuddering breath, she turned away. ‘Can we please get back to business? We’re wasting precious time talking about something neither of us can change.’

  Her eyes were shuttered when she turned back to face him. The subject was closed as far as Karina was concerned. But not for him.

  ‘Back in Rio, you said my business acumen was all you wanted from me,’ she reminded him. ‘I hope that’s still true.’

  ‘You carried my child, Karina. That changes everything.’

  She looked at him in silence for a few moments and then, returning to her horse without another word, she mounted up and rode away without a backward glance.

  * * *

  He needed to ride. He needed time to think so he could take in everything Karina had told him. She’d been pregnant and had kept that from him. He couldn’t get his head around it. She’d lost the baby and had suffered that loss on her own. His guilt was like a living thing riding heavily on his back. The pampas had always been his outlet, a non-judgemental channel for his thoughts, but he doubted that even riding across the land he loved could bring him solace today.

  He could never repair the past—never make up for not being with her when she’d lost a baby, their child, and had soldiered on unsupported. That was so typical of Karina—stubborn, dogged, brave and strong. She was like a cork, in that whatever life threw at her she always bobbed up. Luc had supplied all the necessities of life when she’d been growing up, including his unconditional love, but Luc had been too busy trying to find his own way to keep watch constantly over Karina. She wouldn’t have listened to her older brother anyway.

  He rode faster, as if that would give him the answer. When they had been kids, trust had been a simple matter of asking a question and receiving an honest answer. They’d had no reason to lie to each other or to keep the truth from each other. Too much had happened for them to pick up the ease of those early days, but he had to do something because he knew for certain that there was more Karina wasn’t telling him—and if that was as bad as what she had already told him...

  His mood darkened as he considered the possibilities.

  If he hadn’t broken with her that night...

  He’d had to break up with her. They had both been too young, too passionate, too unformed when it came to knowing who they were and what they wanted out of life. Sex had been an outlet for their energy and frustration, an impulse they had recklessly followed. Animal instinct had taken him over, as it must have gripped his father so many times. The break-up afterwards had been driven by his dread that one day he would become his father, and so he had pushed Karina away.

  As the years had passed and he had matured and changed, he’d known for certain that he wasn’t and never wo
uld be his father. That was why he’d opened up his home, and why he intended to do more of it, welcoming people of all ages to experience life on a working ranch. His childhood home would no longer be a place of fear and shadow but a home filled with happiness, purpose and light. He wanted Karina to experience the same redemption, but to do that she had to trust him first.

  * * *

  Karina was riding fast and hard in an attempt to forget that she had opened Pandora’s box—to forget the past, to forget the present, to forget she’d told Dante about the baby—wishing with all her heart that she hadn’t opened up, and yet glad that she had, and so glad that she’d retained the sliver of reason required to hold the rest of her secrets in. They were nothing to do with Dante. Why burden him?

  For a while the concentration she required to ride at speed worked for her, but deep down the truth was burning, and Dante wouldn’t let up now he suspected there was more.

  Easing back in the saddle, she slowed her horse to give them both a much-needed break. Riding the pampas had always been healing, but what she’d been doing had been needlessly reckless. Her only excuse was that it had been too long since she’d ridden with the wind in her hair, and with the past driving her she’d gone all out.

  Her horse responded happily to the change of pace with a high-stepping trot. It gave her the chance to look around and appreciate the countryside. The scent of herbs and grass beneath his hooves made her smile through her sadness. When had been the last time she’d taken the time to notice her surroundings? This dawn ride was such an evocative reminder of her childhood, when she had used to ride out with Dante, and it let a little optimism into her thinking.

  She could see him in the strengthening light, riding in the distance, riding fast. They still had a lot of ground to cover. She understood that he had needed space after her revelations. He was doing what she had tried to do, which was to ride the sorrow out. Reining in, she watched him cut a path through the flatlands in a cloud of dust and thunder. At full stretch on horseback, Dante was a stunning sight. It was an image she’d always keep etched on her mind.