Bride in a Gilded Cage

So when Rafael stood and held out his hand Isobel was powerless but to accept. She stood and went into his arms, ducking her head, terrified that he might see something of her heart in her eyes.

Going into his arms felt all at once like coming home and being sent to Siberia.

Slowly they started to move. Songs merged into one another. They didn’t break apart once. Another song came on, and Isobel lost count of how many tangos they danced. She just knew that she could have stayed like this for ever, with her head tucked into Rafael’s jaw, eyes shut, and their bodies so close that she couldn’t tell which was her heartbeat and which was his.

It was only after a few moments that Isobel realised that the song playing now was ‘Volver,’ sung by Carlos Cardel. It was the same song she’d watched her grandparents dance to all those years before, and with each step and each achingly sung word of the song Isobel’s composure started to unravel.

Tango was passionate and erotic, but it also encapsulated the depth of human sorrow and loss and pain. The evocative lyrics about returning to a first love finally tore Isobel’s heart in two. She stopped dead and pulled herself out of Rafael’s arm, tears streaming down her face. She hadn’t even realised she’d started crying. He frowned and held out his hand, but Isobel backed away jerkily, away from the dance floor and the other couples still dancing.

‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘No, Rafael. I’m sorry. I can’t do this with you. I can’t do this.’

She turned and all but ran from the hall, out to the empty and quiet street. She started walking towards the main thoroughfare, not even sure where she wanted to go.

She heard steps behind her and felt her arm being grabbed. She was pulled around.

Rafael looked down into her face. ‘What is it?’

Isobel dashed tears away with the backs of her hands. They wouldn’t stop coming. ‘Just what I said, Rafael. I can’t do this with you. I’m really sorry. I know how you’ve come to terms with this marriage of convenience, how you need it for your business, but I never have…I can’t.’

Rafael had his hands on her arms now. His voice sounded rough. ‘I never wanted to make you this unhappy. But you are, aren’t you?’

Isobel nodded dumbly, wishing she had a tissue to wipe her nose. She looked up. Rafael was blurry, but still so gorgeous that her belly tightened even now. She pulled herself free of Rafael, who just let his arms drop.

She took a deep breath. ‘I want a divorce, Rafael. If the joint ownership of the estancia is an issue I’ll sign my half back to you. It’s enough that I’ve seen it again. If I stay in a marriage like this I’ll wither and die. And it’s not even the marriage itself…if we had love I could cope…but there’s no love.’

‘No love…’ Rafael repeated faintly.

Isobel’s tears had finally stopped and she sniffed loudly. ‘You teased me once for being a romantic, and I am. That’s what’s important to me—to live a life with someone I truly love, who loves me. I can’t bear the thought of bringing children into a marriage like my parents had…’

Rafael was as still as a statue, just looking at her. And then he said, so quietly that she almost didn’t hear, ‘You don’t love me?’

Isobel felt every self-preserving instinct jump into action. She shook her head. ‘You always said this marriage was never about love. Why would I have allowed myself to fall in love with you?’

‘Why indeed?’

Isobel couldn’t bear to hear another word. She put out a hand. ‘Please, can we just go home? Please…?’

Rafael nodded grimly and they walked slowly back to the car. The journey to the house was made in silence, and when they went in Isobel said, without looking at Rafael, ‘I’ll sleep in one of the spare rooms.’

He said curtly, ‘You don’t have to do that. I’ll take the spare room.’

Isobel shrugged, feeling dead inside, and slowly made her way upstairs, feeling about a hundred years old. She had no idea where they would go from here. All she knew was that she couldn’t continue like this, in a vacuum of love.

Rafael stood looking at the space where Isobel had been for a long time. A heavy feeling like a rock made his chest feel tight. It was over. He couldn’t do this, either. That was twice now he’d seen her cry. He’d ignored the evidence of her unhappiness, pushed it aside, all in some ruthless attempt to pretend that it could work…and the truth was it couldn’t. Not after what she’d just said.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

THE following morning when Juanita bustled into the dining room Isobel tried to hide what she knew must be enormous circles under her eyes. But Juanita was distracted, and simply said, ‘Mr Romero told me to tell you that he’d call you later—after he’s out of his meeting in New York.’

Isobel blanched and said something incoherent. She’d completely forgotten that Rafael had a two-day business trip to New York. She sagged back in the chair now that she knew he wasn’t about to stride through the door and send her brittle composure to the four walls.

Moving on autopilot, Isobel went to the dance studio for the day, consulting with interior decorators and builders, and interviewing potential dance instructors to work alongside her. But her excitement in the project was diluted time and time again when she stored something away to tell Rafael and then realised that she couldn’t expect to do that any more. She hadn’t yet asked him if he thought they could work out a way for her to keep the dance studio…she hoped that he wouldn’t use it against her.

When he rang her on her mobile later she could tell he was distracted. All he said before ringing off was, ‘We’ll talk when I get home, okay?’

Isobel nodded silently, her throat thick with tears and finally managed a husky, ‘Okay.’

His distraction couldn’t have said it any better. He was undoubtedly already working on a way to bring about the end of this marriage and move on with his life. And in all honesty she couldn’t blame him. He deserved a wife who could be all the convenient things he wanted and not expect love, too.