Bride in a Gilded Cage. ABBY GREEN
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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.’
She started to close the door in his face, but he was too quick and easily stopped it closing. This time a steel thread ran through his voice. ‘Well, tough, because I’m coming in. We haven’t finished talking.’
He was immovable. Isobel knew with a sinking feeling that he wouldn’t budge. Now or ever. She was fighting a losing battle. Silently she stood back.
Isobel took a certain satisfaction in having Rafael endure her tiny and cramped studio apartment. Undoubtedly he was used to far more salubrious surroundings. All she had separating her bedroom area from her sitting room/kitchen was an old clothes rail with a sheet draped over it.
Even so, Rafael’s huge and charismatic presence made her want to get him out of there as soon as possible, so she busied herself making coffee, noticing that Rafael had a good look around before sitting down and dwarfing her one decent chair.
She handed him a steaming cup. ‘It’s instant,’ she said sweetly. ‘I hope you don’t mind.’
‘Not at all,’ he replied, equally sweetly, and took the cup from her.
Isobel moved away and leant against the counter of the kitchen, crossed her arms over her chest. Rafael took his time sipping the coffee before he put the cup down on a low table in front of him and leant forward, arms on his knees.
He looked at her from under hooded lids with an unmistakably cynical gleam in his eyes. ‘Are you telling me that if I’d pretended that we weren’t bound by a legal decree to wed, that if I’d alluded to some romantic feelings and couched a proposal in the language of hearts and flowers, you would have accepted, Isobel?’
His words impacted upon her in her solar plexus like a punch to the gut, and they shouldn’t. Panic gripped her. Had he seen something of the tender inner core of her? ‘Of course not,’ she scoffed. ‘I know you don’t have a heart, or else you wouldn’t be agreeing to such a cold union.’
Rafael stood, and Isobel instinctively backed away hurriedly, but realised that the counter was at her back. He was instantly menacing and darkly threatening, and Isobel was reminded that once upon a time he had had a heart, had wanted to marry someone he was passionate about. The thought lacerated her now.
He arched a brow and came closer. ‘Cold, Isobel? On the contrary, I don’t plan on this union being cold at all. In fact, right now I feel that it could be very hot.’
Isobel just looked at him speechlessly as he advanced. He was so tall and dark, even more so than she remembered. The memory of that kiss sent a wave of heat through her body. If he suspected for a second—She put out a restraining hand in panic, in case he might find out just how vulnerable she felt inside. ‘I didn’t mean it like that.’ Her brain scrabbled for words. ‘I meant…I just meant that—’
Rafael was so close now that Isobel had to look up. One more step and her hand would be pressed against his chest. And then he took that step, and sensation exploded. ‘Let’s see exactly how cold this marriage will be, hmm?’
Before Isobel could evade him he’d stepped right up to her, so that her hand was pressed right into a hard wall of muscle and his two hands were around her head, caressing her skull. As if time had slowed down his head lowered and lowered, until nothing remained but heat and his mouth settling over hers like a firebrand.
Her other hand clutched the counter behind her. It was the only thing stopping her from falling down as the rush of sensation made her legs weak. Rafael’s mouth moved over hers with expert precision, teasing, tasting. But then any teasing was gone as his mouth firmed and became a ruthless pressure, dominating her with sensual ease. Exactly as it had that night three years before, and as no other man had done in the interim.
Isobel didn’t have the defences for this onslaught. She was crippled by how awfully familiar his touch now felt. Her lips parted instinctively and Rafael uttered a groan deep in his throat, his hands leaving her head to descend over her body and haul her in closer to his lean length.
When his tongue touched hers Isobel was horrified to hear a mewl coming from her throat, but she couldn’t stop herself from responding. Desperately, on some rational level, she tried to…But it was impossible. Her whole body was going up in flames, her back arching to press even closer to Rafael’s chest, between her thighs pulsing with desire.
With a shocking move Rafael thrust one hard thigh between her legs, and Isobel felt an explosion of hot, wet lust at her core. His hand moved up over the curve of her waist and cupped one breast, his thumb moving back and forth over the thin material, making her nipple tighten painfully against the fabric.
He moved his hips and she felt his burgeoning arousal. Isobel tore her mouth away, breathing harshly, to stare up into triumphant and mocking eyes. His hand caressed her breast intimately. Her soul withered to know that he’d so easily exerted his dominance over her, and with all her strength she brought her hands to his chest and pushed hard.
When he finally moved back after a long moment it killed Isobel to know that he’d done so out of his own choice and not through any action on her part. She was like a puny kitten next to him.
On shaky legs Isobel moved to the other side of the room. Her whole body tingled and burned in the aftermath. She turned to face Rafael, feeling utterly undone and unbelievably vulnerable.
‘Like I said,’ he drawled, apparently unmoved, ‘I think the least of our worries will be the fact that this union has no heat. You’ve matured into a beautiful woman, Isobel—’
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