private matter between a husband and wife in the street like this. You will get into my car and I will drive you to your house—’
‘I will…you will,’ Isabelle tossed in, imitating the autocratic tone of his command with bitter satire. ‘Whatever happened to please and thank you, Luis? Or does your lordship not use such courtesies with the peasants?’
His breath hissed in between his teeth, warning her that he was very close to losing his grip on his barely reined-in temper.
‘Please,’ he said with a sarcasm that matched her own. ‘Isabelle, I just want to talk.’
‘But it’s what you want to talk about that worries me. You’ll have to tell me more than that, Luis, or I’m not going anywhere with you.’
‘Muy bien!’
His hands flew up in a gesture that was a perfect blend of exasperation and resignation.
‘All right! We will do it your way if that’s what you prefer! The reason I am here, Isabella, is because…’
‘Because you want to end our marriage,’ Isabelle supplied unhappily when he paused, seeming uncharacteristically at a loss for words. ‘You don’t have to spell it out, Luis. I sent you that letter, after all. I guessed from the start that you were here to arrange for our divorce.’
‘Then you guessed wrong, querida. Totally wrong. I have not come here looking for a divorce. On the contrary, I am here because I want you to come back to me.’
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