She wished she’d spent her time the night before looking up Spanish phrases rather than falling asleep watching Netflix on her phone, but as she was trying to think of what else to call out, the man turned.
Rose quickened her step to catch up with him, surprised that he was scowling at her rather than smiling. He was incredibly handsome, with ink-black hair and eyes to match, his skin tanned bronze from working outside under the sun, but he would have looked better if his face wasn’t dragged down into a frown.
‘You must be Benjamin,’ she said, a little breathless from rushing after him.
He folded his arms across his chest. ‘You’re late.’
She went to laugh, but noticed that he seemed very serious, and she felt her eyes widen. This was not quite the welcome she’d expected.
‘Late?’ she finally said. ‘I didn’t know we’d arranged?—’
‘Thank you for coming, but you’re not right for the position. I don’t accept tardiness. Please see yourself off the property.’
He turned on his heel and began to walk away again, and Rose found herself hurrying after him once more, only this time she touched his arm to force him to stop, not sure whether to laugh or be offended.
‘I think we’re at cross-purposes here,’ she said. ‘I’m Rose, Rose Bellamy. Valentina Santiago was my great-grandmother, and I’ve just arrived in Argentina from London.’
Benjamin went from staring at the fingers still touching his arm, to lifting his gaze to meet hers, taking a step back as he raised one hand to his head and muttered something in Spanish that she guessed contained an expletive.
‘Please accept my sincerest apologies,’ he said, his face creasing as he lowered his hand and offered her a smile. ‘I was expecting someone else.’
‘Someone who was late for a job interview, perhaps?’ she asked, finding herself grinning at how embarrassed he looked. ‘It seems you have very high expectations.’
‘Something like that,’ he muttered, before groaning and extending his hand. ‘Can we start again?’
‘Of course,’ Rose replied, pressing her palm to his, before repeating what she’d said earlier. ‘You must be Benjamin.’
‘And you must be the long-lost Rose Santiago,’ he said. ‘It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.’
She didn’t correct him on her surname; she figured there would be plenty of time to explain it all to him later, and she was too busy enjoying the feel of his rough, slightly calloused fingers against hers to disagree with him. He was far more handsome when he was smiling.
‘You’ve caught me in between rides, and I’d be more than happy to show you around, if that’s what you’d like?’ He paused and seemed to study her face. ‘I’ve been desperately hoping thatwhoever inherited this place would have a deep-seated love of polo. Please tell me I was correct?’
Rose grimaced. ‘I hate to disappoint you, but I know nothing about horses, so this is very much outside of my knowledge base.’ She hesitated at the hopeful look on his face. ‘But I can see that polo is the lifeblood of this property, so I will do my best to learn quickly. It’s fair to say that I’m a little overwhelmed at this point.’
‘I understand, it’s a lot to take in.’ He nodded and gestured for her to follow him. ‘This property was once home to Basilio Santiago, Valentina’s father, who was a very gifted polo player. My great-great-grandfather was his right-hand man, so our families have a very long history that stretches back generations.’
‘He worked for the family?’
‘He not so much worked as lived and breathed polo with your Basilio. The story goes that they bonded over playing polo together in Spain, and Basilio offered him a generous salary to return to Argentina with him and run his stables. He trusted him with everything when it came to his horses, and they became very close friends over the years.’
Rose nodded, fascinated with the little slice of family history Benjamin had bestowed upon her. She’d expected it to be difficult to glean the information she sought, but it seemed that Benjamin knew a lot about the property, and her heritage.
‘Clearly polo runs in your family then,’ she said, smiling.
He laughed, his eyes meeting hers as if she’d said something funny. ‘I could say the same thing of yours,’ he said. ‘Valentina might not have ridden in recent years, but, Rose, polo runs in your blood just as deeply as it does in mine.’
She hesitated, not sure how much to tell him. There was a chance he knew more than he was letting on, but there was also a chance that he knew nothing about how she was connected tothe family. She wondered if he was as curious about how she’d come to inherit the estate as she was herself.
‘Benjamin, did you know that Valentina had a daughter? I mean, my assumption is that most people would have presumed that she was a spinster.’
He laughed. ‘A spinster? Valentina Santiago?’
Rose wasn’t sure whether to laugh with him or not, but it was so strange to her that the man she’d just met possibly knew more about her family history than she did.
‘I wouldn’t call her a spinster as such. I’m sure the whole story will unravel itself once you’ve been here a while, but you’re right: we never knew she had a family of her own. I just associate the word spinster with a helpless old woman who never found the life she wanted, and that’s not how I would describe the woman I knew. Valentina was full of life, and she’s the only eighty-year-old woman I’ve ever seen riding a polo pony.’
‘So my grandmother, Valentina’s daughter, wasn’t ever mentioned, or?—’
