but it had made him feel somehow protected.
The fact was, he’d blocked out the reality of this marriage successfully for years—until his solicitor, an old and trusted friend, had rung him earlier that day and said bluntly, ‘It’s Isobel Miller’s eighteenth birthday today. Don’t you think you should acknowledge the fact that her parents have been begging an audience for months now? This isn’t going to go away, Rafael. You need to deal with it, with her, and the fact that you’re not getting any younger. The longer you remain single, the more unstable you will appear in the eyes of your potential clients and colleagues.’
Rafael had muttered something rude, which his solicitor had wisely ignored. The minute he’d mentioned Isobel Miller something tight had formed in Rafael’s chest—that sense of a trap closing around him. He wasn’t used to being at the mercy of anything. And along with the feeling of entrapment had come the bitter reminder that his ex-fiancée had used that information to expose his one weakness for her own avaricious benefit.
His solicitor had cut in. ‘Do you want to jeopardise the estancia? I’ve warned you before, Rafael, that if you try and get out of this marriage you’ll embroil yourself in a huge and lengthy legal battle, and there’s every chance you could lose. One of our advantages in this situation is that Isobel’s parents seem loath to do battle, too, and that can only be because they need the money so badly.’
Curtly, Rafael had replied, ‘Don’t worry. I’m not about to risk losing one of my most valuable assets.’ His lip had curled. ‘Not for a woman.’
His solicitor had sighed audibly with relief. ‘I knew you’d see it that way. Well, then, the sooner you can come to terms with this and meet your future bride the better. Her mother has extended to you an invitation to go to her birthday celebration tonight.’
He could have laughed now, though—Isobel Miller was the one woman who didn’t even have to try and seduce him to get him to marry her! He was being served up to her on a plate, and here he stood, listening to her protest against what any other girl would have given her right arm for.
At that moment, in the tense atmosphere of the study, Isobel got a tiny glimpse of indefinable emotion in Rafael’s eyes. When had he moved so close? She could see now that his eyes were a deep, dark brown, like molasses, with shifting glimmers of green and gold—not entirely black, as she’d thought.
Sensing some aspect of the man she might appeal to, she said, ‘But you don’t want to marry me. Can’t you just give us what we’re due for the estancia and we can be done with this arrangement?’
Before Rafael’s very eyes Isobel Miller was changing. His first impression of her as a girl hadn’t been entirely fair. She just looked incredibly young. But now he could see that she had an inherent maturity, a worldliness he wouldn’t have expected. His eyes compelled hers to his, holding them. He shook his head. ‘No, it’s not that simple.’
Rafael found his thoughts scattering as he became increasingly transfixed by her. Up close, she was even paler than he’d first thought. Brown hair with a hint of russet shone in the dim light of the study. It was caught up in a fussy chignon that did nothing for her face, which still held some teenage plumpness. But her eyes…he found himself caught by them. They were huge and brown, like dark velvet, with long lashes casting shadows on flushed cheeks.
He could see in an instant that once her teenage plumpness disappeared she’d have the potential to emerge as a true beauty. Disturbingly, he felt a rush of blood to his groin.
Why was he just staring at her like that? Isobel spoke again, with more than a hint of desperation in her voice. ‘Why is it not that simple?’
She was unaware of the hopelessly pleading look on her face, and didn’t see how Rafael’s jaw tightened in response. He took a step closer, and now Isobel felt even more threatened. Rafael Romero at a distance was truly intimidating, but close, like this, he was altogether overwhelming. She found it hard to breathe.
‘I am not going to risk losing the estancia by trying to negotiate a way out of the agreement. And the fact is I will need a wife. Why would I turn my back on one so conveniently provided?’
His eyes dropped in a leisurely appraisal of Isobel’s body, making her heat up so that her face felt brick-red by the time their eyes met again.
‘You’re not what I expected,’ he said, almost musingly.
‘Well, you’re exactly what I expected,’ Isobel threw back, feeling more and more threatened.
Rafael arched a brow. ‘I’ll take that as a compliment, shall I? You’re quite the little firebrand, aren’t you?’
Isobel hitched up her chin. ‘If by that you mean I’ve got a mind of my own and I’m not afraid to use it then, yes, I am a firebrand. And if you think I’m going to meekly agree to a marriage of convenience with you then you’re sorely mistaken. I’ve no desire to commit myself to a life of purgatory as some billionaire playboy’s convenient wife.’
Isobel felt even hotter, and hoped the dim light was hiding her reaction. The way he was looking at her was so…assessing. Too assessing. As if he saw something that she’d never been aware of—herself as a woman. Immediately something liquid and illicit pooled in her belly and down lower. She fought not to squirm. She wanted to look away, anywhere but into those dark, hypnotic eyes, but she couldn’t.
The futility of their circumstances washed over her. His enigmatic silence was sending her tension levels into orbit. ‘You can’t seriously tell me you’re happy to marry me.’
His mouth was grim, hard. His eyes weren’t assessing any more; they were hard and black. ‘On the contrary, Isobel, I came here tonight to see my future bride for myself, expecting to meet a vacuous spoilt brat, but you’ve confounded my expectations—and, believe me, not many people surprise me these days.’
Isobel went cold inside. ‘I don’t want to confound your expectations.’
‘Tough,’ Rafael said easily. ‘You have. I will admit that the prospect of this marriage has held little appeal for me, but my attitude is changing by the second. My eventual need to marry was never in doubt, and after my near-fatal brush with matrimony, let’s just say that a marriage of convenience is the only type of marriage I’d contemplate.’
His gaze flicked down and up again, and his mouth softened, making Isobel quiver inwardly.
‘While I’ve no desire to take a child bride into my bed, I can see that with a little more maturity you might well become a woman I can make a life with.’
Now Isobel was fierce, some innate feminine pride surging upwards, along with the sheer panic his words engendered. ‘I’m not a child.’
Rafael arched a brow. ‘No? Then what are you—a woman?’ He shook his head and said cruelly, ‘You’re not a woman yet, querida, and you’re certainly not ready for my bed.’
White-hot anger and something scarily like hurt made Isobel spit out, ‘By all appearances your bed is far too busy anyway. I don’t think I’d like to share it with every social climber in Buenos Aires.’
Rafael looked stunned for a moment, and then livid. ‘Why, you little—’ He reached out and put his hands on Isobel’s arms, pulling her into his chest.
She couldn’t gasp, couldn’t breathe. Eyes opening
