Bride in a Gilded Cage

The scene was so reminiscent of what she’d witnessed growing up that Isobel felt nauseous for a second, because she knew how empty it was. A facade. And a part of her couldn’t believe she hadn’t tried harder to get out of it.

Rafael turned to face her then, and Isobel had to steel herself not to be distracted by him.

‘Drink?’

She shook her head, and then changed her mind because her throat felt dry. ‘A sparkling water, please.’ What was it about this man that instantly reduced her to something so primal?

She accepted the glass, careful not to let their fingers touch, and took a deep gulp, moving so she too could look out on the view. That nausea seemed to grow inside her. She felt stiff and cold. She could see now how everything had fallen into place for him so easily. He’d decided he wanted a convenient wife, and a legal agreement had dictated it should be her. Rafael was happy because he had achieved the respectability and stability he needed. Isobel had nothing—not one atom of what she’d ever really wanted.

She could feel Rafael looking at her, and the

n he said tightly, ‘It wouldn’t kill you to smile, Isobel, and at least look like you’re the happy bride.’

‘What’s the point?’ she said in a brittle voice. She turned to look up at him. ‘I mean, seriously, what’s the point?’ She waved a hand outwards. ‘Who is going to see us here? I can understand back in Buenos Aires it might be necessary, but who cares here?’

She was growing more and more agitated as the reality of everything seemed to be hitting her all at once. The luxurious feel of her clothes against her skin chafed like a hair shirt.

Rafael’s eyes flashed dangerously. ‘I care, Isobel. I care about this marriage. I believe it can work, that we can be good together, but not if you walk around looking as if you’re going to your own funeral all the time. This is your life now. You have to come to terms with that.’

Rafael looked down at the woman beside him and a violent need throbbed through him, hardening his body. She looked like a sexily tousled elf, all slim limbs and shadows and hollows. Her mouth was tight and tension radiated off her. It irked him how well he seemed to be able to read her when no other woman had inspired that ability within him…not even Ana, the one woman he had thought he’d loved. His mouth tightened at the thought of his ex-fiancée and the humiliation he’d suffered at her hands.

‘I never asked for this,’ Isobel said faintly now, mesmerised despite herself by Rafael’s eyes.

His jaw clenched. ‘Neither did I—or has that escaped your notice?’

Isobel’s nausea surged again. Of course he wouldn’t be married to her if he had a choice—no matter how conveniently things had worked out. Suddenly to think of him hating this as much as her, despite their very real reasons for needing to marry, was no comfort.

She tore her eyes from his and put down her glass of water jerkily. ‘You could divorce me, Rafael. You won’t want to stay married to me. You don’t love me.’

Rafael grabbed her wrist in a burning hold and pulled her close to him again. ‘Of course I don’t love you. This has nothing to do with love. And you’re wrong. I’m quite happy with my new wife. I told you before, we will not be getting divorced. So whatever little plan you have, you can forget it. Do you think that by teasing me, leading me on only to deny me at the last moment, I’ll grow impatient enough to seek another woman’s arms and give you grounds for divorce?’

Isobel was genuinely confused, and she couldn’t understand the lancing pain she felt at the thought of him going to another woman. ‘What are you talking about?’

His mouth was a grim line. ‘I mean the way you look at me, with those big expressive eyes which tell me you want me. Only then you plead for space, as if you don’t know what you’re doing. You don’t have that power over me. No woman does. The only reason you’ve been given space is because I’ve allowed it. We both know you go up in flames the minute I touch you.’

Isobel moved away jerkily, realising they were standing too close, but he wasn’t relaxing his grip for one second. She couldn’t speak. She felt breathless, completely distracted. What was he talking about? She wouldn’t know how to tease a man if her life depended on it. She was caught again by Rafael’s eyes, which glowed molten brown. She could see the flecks of green, enticing and mysterious.

‘It’s time to give up your romantic dreams, Isobel. I’m the only man you’re going to be married to, so you’d be wise to invest your energy in me. Do you forget so easily that without our marriage your parents would be facing financial ruin and social ostracism?’

His words hit her like body blows, but before she could betray the soft, tender core of her that pulsed to a very secret beat that spoke of her deep desire to find true love, she pulled herself together. She hadn’t needed Rafael to spell out in no uncertain terms that her chances of finding that kind of relationship were all but gone.

She finally ripped her wrist from his grip and glared up at him. ‘You will never truly know me or have me, Rafael. You make me sick. You’ve been handed everything your whole life, been pampered and waited on hand and foot. I hate everything you represent, and I hate you! You think you can just snap your fingers and it will all fall into place. I could never fall in love with someone like you. And as for teasing—’

Isobel’s words were cut off under Rafael’s brutal kiss. His arms were around her like steel bands and she couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. Slowly, though, her treacherous reaction to his touch started. She tried to remain stiff and unresponsive, but it was impossible. Especially when his mouth softened, broke away for a moment and then came back, firm and yet soft. Coaxing and seducing her to respond.

If Isobel had been offered all she wanted in that very moment she wouldn’t have been able to articulate it. She was in Rafael’s arms, and her world was quickly shrinking to the way he was making her feel. Things seemed to escalate with scary swiftness. His hand was spearing through her short hair, massaging her skull, his tongue sliding deep to duel with hers.

She could feel his other hand reach under her baggy top and explore upwards to the bare skin above her trousers, curving over her waist and hip. As if on cue her breasts tightened and swelled, hungry for his touch. Against his mouth Isobel’s breath came quick and fast, as if she couldn’t contain it.

His hand was finally there, cupping her breast, and then almost roughly he pulled down the lace cup of her bra and his thumb found her puckered nipple, sliding back and forth, making Isobel wrench her mouth away completely to suck in air. Her arms were locked around Rafael’s neck, and she had no idea how or when she’d done that.

All she knew was that there was a fire in her blood and only one person capable of putting it out. She felt all at once slumberous and yet as energised as she’d ever felt. Rafael’s dark eyes held her captive. His hand dropped from her head and reached down for her leg, lifting it up so that it hooked slightly around his waist. And then, with a big hand on her bottom, he pulled her right into him—into where she could feel the throbbing, hard heat of his arousal.

His other hand was still on her breast, teasing that aching, tingling tip. And then reality hit. The very hard reality of just how much she wanted him. How easily he’d seduced her.

Everything he’d just thrown at her had been true. She was weak. She had no control. Immediately, Isobel started to struggle, and struggled even harder when she saw the mocking look of triumph cross Rafael’s flushed face. He dropped her leg and let her go. To Isobel’s intense embarrassment, she could barely stand on two legs.

He reached behind him for his drink, which he had put down, and drained the glass in one gulp. He arched a dark brow. ‘I rest my case, Isobel. The only reason we’re not horizontal on that carpet right now with the door locked against interruption is because of me. Your control is just an illusion. And next time you try this game we won’t be stopping.’