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Now, Isobel felt a little removed from everything. The fact that she was the joint owner of her grandmother’s estate still hadn’t fully sunk in. No
r the fact that her parents would not have to worry about money for a long time, if ever again. Nor the fact that she was now married to the man who’d made countless women stare at her jealously all evening. She wanted to shout at them the truth of her sham marriage and tell them that they were welcome to him. But the fact was not one of them would expect that their marriage was anything more than arranged. Two great families coming together. Strategically sharing assets. Love? People would guffaw at the thought.
And then the tiny hairs stood up on the back of Isobel’s neck. It was the extra-sensory response that was becoming annoyingly familiar whenever Rafael had left her side for longer than a few minutes. She saw him approach her through the crowd, another tall, dark man by his side. It was only when they drew closer that she could see the startling resemblance; they were both breathtakingly handsome. Rafael confirmed her suspicions.
‘Isobel, I’d like you to meet Rico Christofides—my older brother.’
Isobel held in a gasp of recognition. She’d had no idea that the legendary Greek industrialist was Rafael’s half-brother. They were similar in many ways, mainly in height and build, but where Rafael’s eyes were dark, Rico’s were a steely-grey. And unnervingly direct. There was something unbearably harsh about his features and it surprised her, as in comparison it made Rafael seem a little softer. That made her belly quiver. She didn’t want to think of Rafael as soft. The man she’d read about in the papers was not soft.
She held out her hand. ‘Pleased to meet you.’
‘Likewise.’ He shook her hand, and Isobel felt nothing at his cool, impersonal touch. This brother did not have the same cataclysmic effect on her. Isobel was almost disappointed—as if she’d wanted some reassurance that Rafael’s touch wasn’t uniquely disturbing to her equilibrium.
‘Business in Europe delayed me, so I couldn’t make the church.’ His voice was deep and attractively accented, but nevertheless it, too, had little effect on Isobel. All Rafael had to do was say her name and her bones melted.
Rafael had come round to pull Isobel into his side. She automatically stiffened against his possessive hold. ‘It’s nice that you could make it to the reception.’
Rico sent a mockingly amused glance to Rafael. ‘I congratulate you both and wish you luck, but don’t expect a reciprocal visit to my wedding any time soon. I won’t be so easily caught.’
Isobel all but rolled her eyes at this further evidence of the insufferable arrogance running in the family. She elbowed Rafael in the ribs when he moved to pull her closer, and smiled sweetly at Rico. ‘Oh, believe me, after today I’m over weddings myself.’
Rico tipped his head back and let out a shout of laughter, before shaking his head and saying to Rafael, ‘I think you may have met your match, little brother.’
Their mother came along then to greet her oldest son, and a very definite tension spiked the air between the three of them. Isobel guessed that while Rafael and Rico undoubtedly got on and respected each other, there was a slight uneasy wariness between them, too, and she found herself wondering about their history, about who Rico’s father was, and if that was why he hadn’t taken over the Romero business.
After a few minutes of conversation Rafael’s mother made her excuses, pleading tiredness, and left. A lot of the guests had already left, too, and Rico had drifted away to talk to a stunningly beautiful woman.
Rafael followed her look and said tightly, ‘I wouldn’t go there, if I were you. My brother has a notorious reputation.’
Isobel snorted delicately and looked up at Rafael, trying not to let his sheer dynamism affect her. But already she felt a little breathless. ‘No more notorious than you.’
He came round in front of her and lifted her hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss against it. ‘Ah, but now I’m a reformed, happily married man who has eyes only for his wife.’
Everything about him was mocking, but still Isobel couldn’t help a quiver of longing rushing through her. She was so disgusted with her reaction that she ripped her hand from his. ‘I’m quite tired now. I think I’d like to go to bed.’
Rafael’s eyes smouldered. ‘My thoughts exactly.’
Panic flared. ‘Alone.’
Rafael’s face went stony-hard; his eyes turned to black. In that moment Isobel amended her previous thought that he wasn’t as harsh as his brother. Now they could be twins.
‘You are my wife, Isobel, and we will be sleeping together. This will be a proper marriage—in bed and out. Now, are you going to come and say goodnight to our guests and walk out of here like the dignified woman that you are? Or are you going to make me put you over my shoulder? Either way, I don’t think the spectators would be disappointed. The latter option would give us a nice romantic edge and keep the coffee mornings buzzing for a few days. It’s up to you.’
Isobel tipped up her chin and looked at Rafael coolly, belying her nervousness. ‘You don’t have to carry me anywhere like Tarzan.’
‘Pity,’ he drawled, ‘I was hoping you’d give me an excuse.’
Within minutes he’d led Isobel around the wedding marquee as they made their goodbyes to the remaining guests—including his brother, Rico, who now had the beautiful woman clinging to him like a limpet and looking as if she’d just won a lottery ticket worth millions. The avaricious glitter in her eyes was unmistakable.
In that moment Isobel caught a glimpse of how a man like Rafael could grow cynical. And then, with her hand caught firmly by Rafael’s, he led her through the moonlit garden and into the house. Panic was like a frantic caged bird beating against her breastbone as they drew closer and closer to the bedroom doors.
Rafael opened his door, and then turned and picked Isobel up into his arms so fast that her breath caught and she felt dizzy. ‘What are you doing?’
As if she weighed nothing, Rafael said, ‘Carrying you over the threshold.’ And he did just that, before putting her back on her feet on the other side. His bed loomed large and threatening through the door of the bedroom, just feet away. Rafael kicked the door closed.
Isobel backed away and watched as Rafael started to open his shirt, to reveal the start of a bronzed chest, a few whorls of dark hair. She put up a hand, panic strangling her voice. ‘Wait—stop.’
Rafael’s fingers halted on his buttons. Intense irritation spiked through the burn of desire rushing through his blood. All he could see was Isobel, standing before him, her pale shoulders bare, gleaming in the dim light. The delicate swells of her breasts were tantalisingly visible just above the bodice of her dress. Something caught his eye, and he looked down to see her twisting her hands.
