Love in the Vineyard (Tavonesi #7)(57)

Anastasia eyed Natasha. “Does he? Well you have just earned a thousand million points in my book. Anything that takes Adrian’s mind off work is a good thing. How did you accomplish such a feat?” She clinked her glass against Natasha’s. “We’ve been trying to get him and our brother Rafe to lighten up ever since Mama died. They’re an impossible pair.”

Natasha had no idea how to respond to such a remark. Or how to respond to the longing building in her, the yearning to be part of a caring family. To have a family at all. For Tyler to have the love of a family. Meeting Adrian had pried the lid off emotions she’d shoved down for a very long time. Had stirred feelings she hadn’t even known were possible. Someone to trust, a partner for life, love, sex. He’d even unearthed her wish for siblings.

“You know, that waiter is delicious looking,” Anastasia said as she watched the young man walk away. “He’d make a great Mr. April.”

“I need men with reputations,” Coco said, grumbling.

“There’s always William,” Anastasia said, tilting her head toward the field.

Coco wrinkled her nose. “He has no local connection. Besides, William unwrapped? Not quite the level of hot that I’m looking for.”

“But you can’t argue with his marketing appeal,” Natasha said.

Surreal was the only word for the feeling creeping into Natasha. She was sitting with Italian heiresses—sisters to the man she’d slept with—and watching the future king of England play polo.

Anastasia clinked her glass against Natasha’s. “My point exactly.”

Coco took Natasha’s hand and tugged her onto the green field. A young woman wearing exactly the kind of useless high heels that Anastasia had described and the uniform of a husband hunter that Coco had outlined glided over to them.

“Adrian’s playing well today.” The woman’s silky blond highlights captured the rays of the afternoon sun and outlined her tanned face like a gilded frame. “And so is Parker,” she added.

“Rory, this is Natasha.”

Natasha heard the sharp edge in Coco’s voice.

Rory gave Natasha’s jeans and work boots a once-over and a smile. “Do you work with the horses?” she asked as she held out three fingers for Natasha to shake.

“I work in the kitchen garden.”

Rory’s limp handshake was as dismissive as her tone. Mermaid, whispered the voice in Natasha’s head. You don’t belong here, it taunted.

“How lovely to get to be outdoors,” Rory said in a lilting tone that made Natasha want to strangle her. “I’ve always thought people who had to work indoors all day are so unfortunate.” She looked to Anastasia. “Adrian invited me to have a look at the new thoroughbred he bought last week. Won’t you come with me?” She gave Natasha another dismissive smile before walking off with Anastasia. “Nice to meet you,” she said over her shoulder, her voice carrying on the afternoon breeze.

“Let’s get to work,” Coco said with a huff of breath.

Natasha wielded her glass of champagne like a torch to guide her as she walked onto the field beside Coco.

“If Stazi hadn’t carted that woman away, I might have buried her in a large divot,” Coco said through gritted teeth. She showed Natasha how to tamp down a divot with her foot. “Don’t get me wrong—I like most people. But Rory’s golden sheen covers a very black heart. What men see in her, I don’t know. Maybe the fact that she’s an heiress blinds them.”

“She’s very beautiful,” Natasha said, glancing back to see Anastasia and Rory approaching the group of male players. Rory was perfect beautiful-wife material. She’d have perfect, beautiful children. And a perfect future that didn’t include homeless shelters, welfare and remedial reading lessons.

“If she gets near any of my brothers or my cousins, she’ll get a taste of Tavonesi ire,” Coco said.

Perhaps if Coco knew that under all her misgivings Natasha wished that she might be free to love Adrian, she might get a taste of Coco’s ire as well. But Natasha wouldn’t be in Adrian’s future, at least not in any way that would impact the family. His future would include a well-turned-out woman from his own tight-knit world, a woman who came from and knew how to navigate waters Natasha didn’t swim in, couldn’t fathom and never would. The reminder made her heart tumble to the toes of her boots. She stomped particularly hard on the next divot.

“You don’t have to use quite that much force,” Coco said. “You’ll exhaust yourself before we’ve covered half the field.”

Exhaustion would be a welcome alternative to the sadness sinking in her heart.





“Where have you been hiding?” Adrian said as he strode to where Natasha sat at a table near the back of the tent. “I looked for you during the trophy presentation.”

Though part of her had wanted to flee after the polo match, she couldn’t ignore that she’d been specifically invited to stay. And she’d been curious to see the ceremony: the pomp, the celebration and the way the press hovered around the prince and the players.

“I’m right here. As requested.”

Though she kept her voice calm, she could barely keep from leaping up and hugging him. A sheen of sweat glistened on his brow, and the tight-fitting riding clothes hugged in ways that had more than her heart racing. But it was the way he looked at her, as if she were a dish of cream he might lap up, that had goosebumps trailing along her arms.