Bride in a Gilded Cage

But her words were cut off when Rafael all too easily picked her up in his arms. Isobel fought furiously. All the while her body seemed to simultaneously melt and go up in flames. She’d slipped on loose silk pyjama bottoms and a camisole top to sleep in, and they felt paltry now, when Rafael’s hot skin was burning through to hers.

He carried her back into his bedroom and unceremoniously dumped her on the bed, where she fell in an ungainly sprawl. She immediately moved to escape to the other side of the bed, but Rafael grabbed her ankle and stopped her. She turned back, breathing heavily, to see Rafael’s hand snake higher and higher, over her calf, her knee, her lower thigh…her upper thigh. And suddenly she wasn’t fighting any more.

His long, lean, naked and aroused body was pressing down over hers again, and once again she was rendered mute, a slave to this man’s touch. She trembled.

‘Are you sore?’ he asked innocuously.

Isobel shook her head. She wasn’t sore. Yes, she ached a little, but there was another ache building, and only one person was capable of assuaging it.

As if he could read her mind, he said throatily, ‘Good. Because I think that this time we might be able to make things last a little longer…And, Isobel, I do not want to hear the word space ever again—entiendes?’

He bent his head to one pouting breast and clamped his mouth over one already hard and tight nipple, suckling through the delicate lace of her camisole. The action of his mouth mixed with the wet lace of her cami made Isobel squirm underneath him, groaning softly as all resistance washed away in a wave of heat.

CHAPTER TEN

WHEN Isobel finally woke again, some hours later, she was sprawled across Rafael’s bed, a sheet tucked around her. She knew that she was alone. She’d half woken earlier to hear Rafael getting dressed. She felt too lethargic to move, too lethargic to even blush when she thought of how long Rafael had made it last that time. How she’d been clawing his back with her nails, begging, pleading for release…

She turned her head face down into the pillow and moaned. Her fears that intimacy would make her feel something for Rafael had been well founded. She was on a roller coaster of emotions and feelings that made her want to cry and laugh at the same time. She resolutely refused to look at the suspicion that these emotions went a lot deeper than simple morningafter fuzziness.

Isobel flipped over on her back and looked up to the ceiling. It had to be just the natural feelings that arose from losing your virginity to someone. A natural biological result of sharing intimacy.

The bedroom door opened and Isobel shot up in the bed, clutching the sheet to her, heart thumping. She wasn’t ready to see Rafael so soon. But it was Juanita coming into the room, with a tray holding some orange juice. She put it down beside Isobel, who flushed with embarrassment, but Juanita just smiled serenely.

Isobel blinked, and watched as she opened the curtains to let the morning light in. Was this the same woman?

Juanita turned and said jauntily, ‘Señor Romero has gone to the office. He said to tell you that I will be moving your belongings into his room today.’

‘But—’ Isobel started to protest, and then stopped under a baleful look from Juanita. ‘Okay,’ she said weakly instead, knowing that if she stopped Juanita from carrying out Rafael’s autocratic instructions he’d simply do it himself. No wonder Juanita was so pleased. She must feel that Isobel was finally being a good wife to Rafael. But it made Isobel nervous—as though Juanita knew something she didn’t.

She didn’t even have the strength to let that thought annoy her as much as it should. All she could think of was the night to come, and the ones after that, repeating what she’d just shared with Rafael. In all honesty she didn’t think she’d be able to cope.

By the time the weekend was over Isobel felt emotionally wrung out. Rafael filled her—mind, body and soul. They’d only been sleeping together for two nights, but already it was nearly impossible to remember a time when she hadn’t slept in the cocoon of his possessive embrace. He was consuming her utterly, and her already tenuous control of her emotions was rapidly unravelling.

So when he informed her coolly over breakfast on Monday morning that he still intended to come with her to see the estate agent about her dance school, she protested. ‘Really, you don’t have to do this. I know how busy you are…’

He just looked at her. ‘I’m coming with you, whether you like it or not, so get your things ready.’

She didn’t argue any further, recognising the implacable expression on Rafael’s face.

The effect of his presence when they arrived at the building in La Boca was almost comical. The estate agent she’d been photographed with blanched when he saw him, and within mere minutes the price was down so low that Isobel felt guilty.

Within an indecently short space of time she and Rafael were standing in a huge empty room with high ceilings and massive windows. Isobel was a little shell-shocked.

‘Don’t you like it?’ Rafael asked, rocking back on his heels with hands deep in his pockets.

She shook her head quickly. ‘I love it. It’s just…all happened a bit fast. I’d kind of envisaged this being a slow process.’ She shot him a wry smile. ‘I think for most mortals it is a slow process.’

Isobel saw Rafael’s eyes drop to her mouth. It tingled, and Isobel could feel warm colour flood her cheeks. An intense spasm of lust made her belly clench, and down lower she flooded with liquid heat. God, if he was to tip her onto the floor right now and make love to her she knew she wouldn’t, couldn’t object. She didn’t move as Rafael prowled towards her with all the threat and grace of an indolent panther.

She lifted her chin helplessly, eyes snared by his. He reached out and hooked a hand to the back of her neck, drawing her towards him slowly and inexorably. He took her right hand and lifted it up. His other hand moved slowly down from her neck to her back as he pulled her into a tango embrace. Through an open window came the faint strains of a waltz from where street performers had set up outside.

‘Rafael—’ Isobel croaked out, terrified that he would try and make love to her and see just how wanton he made her feel.

‘Shh.’ He halted her protest and started to dance with her.

In flat shoes Isobel had to stand on tiptoe. She couldn’t help but sink into his embrace. Rafael’s lead was all too easy and seductive to follow. Isobel wasn’t sure how long they danced around the empty room, with dust motes floating in the air, to the music of someone else’s dance, but when they finally stopped she was breathing hard and felt disorientated. Weak as a kitten. Dancing a tango with Rafael before they’d slept together had been cataclysmic, but dancing it now, after having been intimate with him…

Rafael bent his head and feathered a kiss to the corner of Isobel’s mouth. ‘If you’re happy with this place then I’ll arrange for everything to be put in motion.’