Bride in a Gilded Cage

All her dreams seemed to wither into ashes at her feet. She had never stood a chance of escaping this fate. She looked back up to Rafael and found her voice. It sounded husky. ‘I haven’t changed my mind. You’re still the last man on this earth I would choose to marry.’

He looked completely unperturbed. ‘What’s the problem, Isobel? You’ve made your point, and commendably. No one would deny that you meant it when you left Buenos Aires to pursue your independence. You’ve earned my respect. Clearly you’re not a gold-digger or a spoilt brat.’

‘Wow.’ Isobel’s short sharp laugh had a slightly hysterical edge. ‘Thanks for the compliment.’

He ignored her. ‘But the fact remains you have a duty and a role to fulfil—a life with me back in Buenos Aires. You didn’t really expect to escape for ever, did you? What was your plan? To live a step above squalor, teaching tango for the rest of your life? Fall in love with a humble dancer, settle down and have babies?’

The derision in his voice finally broke through Isobel’s shock. She sat up straight, shaking all over. ‘That’s exactly what I had planned. Right along with a small cottage with a white picket fence, roses around the door and the human right of being free, allowed to live my life the way I want. Just because I was born into a certain society—does not mean that I’m beholden to it.’

Rafael smiled cynically, and his voice held a bitter edge. ‘Ah, if only that were true. You and me, Isobel, we are constrained by our society, and by our obligation to our backgrounds and our families. You come attached to an estate worth millions. Not even you can walk away from that responsibility without damaging those closest to you.’

Before Isobel could react Rafael had smoothly taken something out from the inside pocket of his jacket. It was a velvet box. Isobel’s brain was starting to implode. She watched warily as Rafael handed it across the table to her. She had a sudden pathological fear of touching the box.

Barely stifling his irritation at her less than interested response, Rafael flipped the lid up to reveal a stunning glittering diamond bracelet.

‘It’s just an early token for your birthday, Isobel…and a taste of what you can expect in the future as my wife.’

Isobel stilled in shock. She put down her napkin. ‘I thought we’d established that I’m not a gold-digger.’

‘That doesn’t mean you can’t accept a gift and enjoy it. Take it, Isobel.’

Isobel knew that she’d have to be held down and restrained before she’d accept the bracelet. She stood up shakily. Rafael made a move to stop her, and Isobel looked at him haughtily. ‘I presume I’m still free to go to the bathroom?’

Rafael inclined his head and watched her walk away a little unsteadily. He closed the lid of the box and placed it back on the table. He brooded. He hadn’t expected her to turn green at the sight of a stunning diamond bracelet, no matter how principled she was. He also hadn’t expected her to resist when he came for her. He had to admit he’d expected at least some sense of resignation. She surely hadn’t believed that she’d never have to return and take her place, take up her role? Was she completely delusional?

He flicked a glance at his watch. She’d been gone ten minutes. He looked at the doors; no sign of her return. And he knew right then, with a cold rage filling his chest, that she’d run out on him. Coolly, he motioned for the bill. He had a plan for the future and Isobel was it—whether she liked it or not.

‘You and me, Isobel, we are constrained by our society, and by our obligation to our backgrounds…’ The words reverberated in Isobel’s head, along with the image of that diamond bracelet. Tears pricked her eyes. She couldn’t believe that her life as an independent woman was being so comprehensively threatened. She couldn’t go so far as to say to herself that it was over, because that meant defeat and that she had no choice.

At that moment, though, as if to confuse her utterly, Isobel had a memory of her grandmother, just before she’d died, telling her that one day she would inherit the estancia. But of course that had been before they’d sold it to Rafael’s father. She’d been only six w

hen her grandmother had died.

She could barely remember the estancia, as it had been so long since she’d seen it, but she did remember that it had felt like an enchanted place. It was where her grandparents had met, and she’d heard the romantic story many times.

Despite their own arranged marriage, her grandparents had been truly in love. It had pervaded everything around them. Isobel knew now that her grandmother’s death had sent her grandfather off the rails, and that was when he had started to gamble and drink too heavily, incurring great losses which had undoubtedly led to his need to sell the estancia…and this situation.

She could remember the way her grandfather had looked at her grandmother after they’d danced a tango together, oblivious to everyone around them…Isobel had always vowed that she too would marry for love, and not get sucked into a cold, sterile marriage like so many she’d seen growing up. Going to school in England had given her the false illusion that she was in control of her destiny. But she hadn’t been—not since the age of eight, when events outside of her control had taken place.

An uncomfortable voice pointed out to Isobel that in the past three years she hadn’t met the elusive love of her life, but she quashed it. Don Rafael Ortega Romero was the last man on earth she’d find that connection with. And if he thought for a second that she’d meekly go home just because it was the right thing to do, he had another think coming. She couldn’t give up on her dream so easily, no matter what was at stake. There had to be another way out.

Despite the way she’d felt hot under his gaze all evening, she couldn’t imagine for a second that he actually fancied her. She didn’t like the way that thought sank right to the depths of her belly like a stone, but at least it meant that perhaps she could appeal to him on that level. Why would he want to shackle himself to a wife he wasn’t even attracted to?

Isobel’s Métro pulled into her station. She felt mildly guilty for having run out on Rafael, but at the same time she knew that it was only his ego that would be dented.

As she climbed the steps out of the metro and emerged back into the warm air of the dark evening she felt a horribly familiar prickling feeling. So she wasn’t all that surprised to see Rafael waiting for her, leaning casually against a wall. Isobel averted her eyes, ignored the betraying kick of her heart, and started to walk purposefully to her apartment, just a couple of blocks away. Rafael kept pace with her easily.

‘I didn’t think you were brought up to walk out on a dinner date, Isobel.’

Isobel flushed, embarrassed despite her best intentions. ‘I wasn’t. But for certain people I’ll make an exception. Especially when the conversation descends to farce.’

‘There’s not many women who would consider marriage with me farcical, Isobel. I have to say that you’re unique.’

Isobel had to step aside to avoid bumping into an old lady. Immediately, she felt Rafael’s arms around her, steadying her. She broke away jerkily. They reached her door and Isobel prayed that her hand wouldn’t shake as she unlocked it. This man disturbed her more every time she saw him, threatening her on many more levels than she cared to admit to.

When she’d opened the door he drawled easily, ‘Aren’t you going to ask me in for a coffee?’

Isobel turned in the doorway and looked up, thankful that his face was somewhat obscured by the dark. ‘No, I’m not.’