“You will like them,” he answered quietly.
“Do you suppose their son will ever have children? Is he married? My grandmother always joked that grandchildren were the bane of her existence. She didn’t like kids any more than she liked farm life.” Sophia chuckled.
Tomas did not know how to answer. She was just making simple chatter, but the subject of grandchildren was a painful one. As the silence stretched out, he searched for a safe topic of conversation. He thought about giving her a spiel on the history of the gaucho but suspected she’d see clear through his motive to deflect the conversation away from himself. “Or maybe you.” She kept on, oblivious to the sickening churning he was feeling in his gut. “Maybe you will have children and will bring them out here to visit.”
The innocently spoken words were like a knife in his heart.
He and Rosa had sneaked out to this spot on occasion too. If he had been any other boy, Carlos and Maria would have had a fit. But not with Tomas. They had trusted him to take care of Rosa. To keep her safe and cherish her. Sophia’s words were nothing that he had not thought of a million times since Rosa’s death. Time, and yes, even healing, could not erase the awful responsibility he felt.
“Tomas?”
He hadn’t noticed her rising from her rock and coming to his side. Her small hand lay on his forearm and when he turned his head she was watching him, her dark eyes wide and worried. Her skin was creamy and her hair was a mass of flaming waves. But it was the concern, the gentle way she touched him and his reaction to it that caused pain and resentment to rip through his insides.
“Did I say something wrong?”
He shook his head, knowing she was not to blame. It was him, all him. Take a breath, he commanded himself. Sophia was a guest. That was all. He should still be grieving. He shouldn’t be thinking of her this way.
“I think it is time we got back. I wanted to get the boxes moved into the boutique this afternoon.”
She bit down on her lip and his gaze was drawn to it, unerringly, inevitably. Soft and pink, it regained its shape as her teeth released it.
He got up from the rock and straightened, staring unseeingly at the creek. He would not touch her. He would not kiss her or take her in his arms.
“Why do you shut people out all the time, Tomas? Or is it just me? For a few moments I think you’re going to relax and then you wrap yourself in layers again.”
She was right, and he refused to respond. What could he possibly say that would be appropriate? That he was contemplating how soft her skin might be beneath her blouse? The only thing he could do was remain silent.
“Did she hurt you that badly?” Sophia pressed him. “I asked about you before, but maybe it was the other way around. Did someone cheat on you the way that Antoine cheated on me?”
“What?” He swung his head around. “No. Never!”
But the question had revealed a chink in his armor. “So there was someone else,” Sophia prodded.
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 h
e 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.”