Bride in a Gilded Cage Read Free Page A

whisky and danger—an altogether intoxicatingly adult mix.
    The boys she’d kissed in England could never have prepared her for this sensual onslaught.
    Sheer shock kept Isobel immobilised for a long moment. Too long. Because suddenly all she was aware of was how hard Rafael’s chest felt against hers, how it made her breasts tingle and swell against her dress.
    His mouth was hard and ruthless, punishing her and expertly seeking a response so that he could humiliate her some more. Isobel knew in some distant part of her brain exactly what was happening, but that part of her brain seemed to be disconnected from her body and her mouth.
    She found her hands clinging to the lapels of his jacket—clinging because her legs had turned to jelly. When Rafael’s mouth moved away for one second Isobel heard a mewl of distress come from her throat as she blindly sought and found Rafael’s mouth again.
    His hands moved—one down her back, the other to the back of her head. She could feel him loosen her hair, so that it fell around her shoulders. Her world was reduced to delicious insanity. This man and his arms and his mouth on hers. So hot and demanding, like nothing she’d ever known or imagined. The touch and slide of his tongue against hers made her legs clench together to stop the pulse throbbing betweenthem. Liquid heat was spreading outwards from the very core of her being…and Isobel had no hope of clawing back rationality or any pretence that Rafael wasn’t blowing her mind to pieces. Her inexperience rendered her helpless.
    He was the one to eventually pull back. Isobel opened heavy eyes, her breath coming hard and fast. Heart thumping. She felt hot and sweaty and desperately disorientated. As if her inner being had just shifted on some level and been reorganised. She felt as if he’d branded her.
    Rafael carefully made sure she was standing, and then dropped his hands and moved back. Humiliation rose swiftly. Isobel couldn’t look at him. Face burning, she sat in the chair beside her. She couldn’t even pretend she was unaffected. It would be the most obvious lie in the world.
    Rafael paced a few feet away, all his coiled energy reaching out and making Isobel want to curl up and hide.
    He stopped pacing, and his voice had a rough edge that had Isobel’s pulse skittering again. ‘Like I said, you’re not ready for me, Isobel. But in three years, when we’re due to marry, I’ve no doubt you will be.’
    He sounded almost surprised, and Isobel looked up—then wished she hadn’t when she saw he was so close, looking down at her. Before she could escape he was reaching down and putting those big hands on her arms to lift her to her feet. She trembled all over.
    He tipped up her chin with a finger, his eyes roving over her face as if he was inspecting her all over again. ‘Marriage between us is inevitable, and I do believe that perhaps we can make a good one. We’ve got as good a chance as anyone in this city facing a marriage like this. Any reluctance I may have once felt is fading fast.’
    He was talking as if she weren’t even there, almost musingto himself. Isobel stood stiffly and gathered all of her courage. ‘I won’t marry you.’
    Grimly, Rafael’s eyes caught Isobel’s, and the force of rejection in his body at her words surprised him. ‘You don’t have a choice. Our futures are bound together. Like I said before, I’ve no intention of jeopardising my ownership of the estancia, not for anything—and certainly not for a convenient bride I intend to make full use of.’
    His mouth twisted humourlessly. ‘You should be counting yourself lucky that you have some time to get used to the prospect. When we do marry, Isobel, you will be my wife and by my side in every sense of the word.’
    Hysteria rose within Isobel at the thought that he believed she would become the kind of woman he could marry. Never. The thought of living in Buenos Aires with the prospect of marriage to Rafael hanging over her