Her face was numb from smiling, her hand aching from shaking hands. And at every step of the way Rafael was at her side, carrying her along. After the photographs had been taken, with her parents and his mother, who had seemed friendly enough, Rafael had led Isobel and her parents back into his study, where their respective lawyers had been waiting. There, the basic and sordid reality of their marriage had hit home. Hard. It had been nearly too much to take in—to think that this deal had been born out of her grandfather’s desperation to save the estancia at all costs, and Rafael’s father’s manipulative machinations. Rafael had presented a cheque for an astronomical amount of money to Isobel’s parents, and they’d signed a contract to say that the deal was now closed, all terms and conditions met. Isobel had been disgusted by her parents’ unashamedly avaricious response. They were seeing only the dollar signs of their inheritance coming their way at last, and not the fact that their only daughter was being forced into a marriage she didn’t want.
