Rowan’s mind seized. This was the last thing she’d expected to hear. ‘Why on earth do you want to talk about that now?’
Isandro shrugged negligently, dangerously. ‘Call it making conversation.’
Rowan stifled a reply. If she made a fuss, he’d know that this was a sensitive subject for her. He was playing with her like a cat toying with a mouse, that was all. In keeping with this weird mood he was in.
She affected a shrug, much like his, and willed Julia to return. Anything to break this up and change the subject. ‘I thought you knew why.’
Isandro waved a hand. ‘Well, for your inheritance, I believed. But as he never made any play to get it after we got married I could never figure out why.’
Rowan was genuinely surprised. ‘You thought my father wanted my inheritance?’
Isandro’s gaze narrowed. ‘Didn’t he? He was going bankrupt. I thought he saw you as his ticket out of lifelong debt. That he was offering you up for marriage for that reason.’
Rowan’s head swirled, and she put a hand to it. He had deduced that?
As if reading her thoughts, he added, ‘It was obvious there was little affection lost between you, Rowan. Anyone could have seen that.’
She glared at him. This was getting far too close for comfort. Her own secret humiliation open for scrutiny. The fact that she’d been unwanted. Unloved. Tolerated. By her only family.
Rowan lifted her glass of wine, her hand trembling slightly, and took another sip. He was being too invasive, and yet she couldn’t escape that intense regard. He would settle for nothing less than blood. This was the price she was expected to pay for wanting to be here. For leaving in the first place.
‘There’s something you obviously weren’t aware of.’
He inclined his head, taking a slow sip of wine. ‘Go on.’
Tension spiralled through Rowan. ‘The truth is that my father was sick. No one knew how bad it was apart from me and his cardiologist. He had a degenerative and inoperable heart condition. It’s why he lost control of his business and work. Why he looked for someone to bail him out. He wanted to save face before he died.’ She shrugged minutely. ‘As for me—he just wanted to see me married to a suitable husband. He had no interest in the money.’
Isandro was frowning. ‘I had no idea he was ill. But why was it so important to see you married?’
Rowan could feel anger rising. Was he intent on humiliating her completely? She deliberately kept her voice as light as possible to hide the long-buried pain.
‘Because he’d made a promise to my mother on her deathbed that he’d see me married to someone worthy so I’d safely inherit her fortune.’ Rowan’s lips thinned in self-deprecation. She’d gone inwards. ‘I don’t think he’d counted on it taking so long. He knew he was dying, and he needed to ensure Carmichael’s safety, my inheritance. You came along and effectively killed two birds with one stone for him.’
Isandro’s eyes narrowed sharply on her tense face, at her staccato words.
She smiled tightly, looking up at him briefly before looking down again, white fingers playing with her napkin. ‘No doubt you were well aware that I was groomed from birth to be the perfect wife. I went to finishing school. I speak five languages. I can converse on topics as diverse as the possible extinction of the mountain gorilla in Rwanda and the theory of the butterfly effect.’ She gave a little laugh then, as if revealing herself cost her nothing. ‘When I was eighteen my father threw away the bi-focals I’d worn since I was nine and made me get laser eye surgery. All the better to make me a more appealing wife.’
For a long moment Isandro said nothing, and Rowan realised that her breath was coming jerkily, as if she’d just been running. And then he said softly, ‘Perhaps he could see how beautiful they are.’
Rowan’s heart flipped in her chest and she sent him a quick shocked look, for a second catching his eye. He coloured slightly, as if he too was shocked at his words, but then that scarily cool mask was back in place and he diverted his attention to filling his wine glass again. He was making her feel thoroughly confused. Acting so mercurial. Moody.
‘So why didn’t you get married before?’
Had what he’d just said about her eyes been her imagination? She shook her head faintly. ‘I don’t know …’
But she knew well. She thought of the men she’d been introduced to over the years. Insipid. Boring. The minute she’d seen Isandro she’d known him. She’d felt something deep within her spring to life, as if she’d been asleep until that moment. She hadn’t believed it when her father had said he was interested in being introduced to her. But then she hadn’t realised the extent of his interest in her as a trophy wife. More fool her.