Bride in a Gilded Cage by Abby Green

like he was an interesting man.’
    Isobel fought his seductive pull valiantly. She had no doubt he was just turning on the charm, and was no more interested in her grandfather than in the inner workings of her mind. She was a challenge to him, that was all. And thinking about her grandfather was making her feel far too emotional.
    ‘He was.’ She cut off any further line of enquiry, and could see Rafael’s jaw clench in response. Ridiculously, she felt guilty.
    He stepped back and gestured to the Range Rover with his arm. ‘We’d better get going. It’s a four-hour drive and I want to get there before it gets dark.’
    Still feeling wrong-footed as Rafael expertly negotiated the heavy Buenos Aires traffic, Isobel was taken aback when he asked casually, ‘Where did you learn how to tango?’
    She shot him a look, but he was facing forwards. After a long moment, her fingers plucking at her trousers, she said, ‘My grandparents both loved it. My grandmother started teaching me when I was tiny, and then after she died my grandfather used to dance with me…’ She snuck another glance at him, curiosity getting the better of her. ‘You said in Paris that your grandmother used to take you and your brother to milongas?’
    Rafael cast her a quick look and quirked a small smile, making Isobel’s breath hitch. ‘She was crazy about it—even though when she was growing up tango was still not considered entirely appropriate for her class. She used to sneak us into milongas and get her friends to teach us.’
    Isobel nodded. ‘For my grandparents it was the same, but they used to dance it anyway—usually when they were alone. So that’s how you know the old milonguero style…like my grandfather?’
    He nodded.
    Isobel sat back and looked out of the window. She could feel her guard dropping, although a part of her couldn’t believe it was so easy to talk to Rafael like this. ‘I used to watch them dance. I thought it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen…’ She smiled faintly. ‘I can remember feeling like such a voyeur—as if I was intruding on something incredibly intimate.’
    Dry humour laced Rafael’s voice when he said, ‘Where you saw white picket fences springing up, with roses around doorways and true love, all I saw was a way to impress beautiful girls…You really are just a romantic at heart, aren’t you, Isobel?’
    Isobel shot him a withering look and crossed her arms. Shefaced away and shut her eyes on his far too amused face by pretending to go to sleep.
    She woke to a gentle shake and her name being called with a seductively husky voice. ‘Isobel…wake up. We’re here.’
    Isobel sat up to see Rafael move back. She felt exposed at having slept so easily beside him, and in her sleep she could see that she’d gravitated towards him. She moved a hand through her hair, ruffling the short silky strands, feeling disorientated. ‘Did I sleep the whole way?’
    Rafael nodded, his eyes intense on her. ‘Pretty much. Once we hit the outskirts of Buenos Aires you were gone.’
    ‘I’m sorry…’ Isobel said stiffly, coming more awake. ‘You must be tired, too.’
    Rafael quirked an incredulous brow. ‘Concerned, Isobel?’
    Thankfully, Isobel saw some people approach the car and Rafael turned and got out before he could make sense of what Isobel couldn’t make sense of herself. A smiling man opened her door and she got out, smiling back.
    It was only then that she noticed where they were, and the stunning surroundings, and the fact that she was breathing in clean, pure air. Rafael was instructing staff to carry their bags in, but Isobel was frozen, a wave of déjà vu washing over her.
    He came to stand beside her, where she was looking at the mountains in the distance.
    ‘We’re in the foothills of the Sierras Chicas. Do you remember it?’
    Isobel shook her head. ‘Barely. I only came here a couple of times when I was small. I think my mother always felt it was too far out of Buenos