Читать книгу Taken by the Millionaire: Hotly Bedded, Conveniently Wedded - Kate Hardy - Страница 14

THE next week simply flew by. Isobel was really busy at work; so she had to admit that no way would she have had the time to organise the wedding herself, or even help Alex much.

But by Friday night she knew she had to talk to him. Before she went shopping for a wedding dress. Before things went too far. Because once he knew the truth, he might change his mind about getting married.

As she walked up the steps to her flat, her feet felt like lead. This was a conversation she really didn’t want to have. But if she didn’t speak up now and things went pear-shaped in the future, Alex would never forgive her for lying to him.

One of the reasons he’d reacted so badly to Dorinda’s betrayal was that she’d lied and cheated.

Right now, she was no better. She could be cheating him out of a future.

And hadn’t Alex himself said that their marriage would work because they’d never lie to each other?

When she reached the front door, she dragged in a breath. Nerved herself. And walked indoors to face Alex.

‘Hi.’ He looked up from his laptop and smiled at her. ‘How was your day?’

‘Fine.’ Lord, how she wanted to back out of this right now. To pretend that nothing was wrong. But she couldn’t do that to him. ‘Alex, we need to talk. I need to tell you something.’ Forestalling his interruption, she held up a hand. ‘There’s no easy way to say it, so I’m going to just come out with it. And I don’t want you saying a word until I’ve finished, OK?’

He frowned, but nodded. ‘Hit me with it.’

‘It’s why Gary and I split up. And I’ll understand if you want to walk away now.’ She closed her eyes, unable to bear looking at him and seeing the pity in his face. ‘We … we tried to start a family. Except I lost the baby. Both times. And…’ she gulped ‘… you said you maybe wanted a family. I might not be able to give you that.’

He was silent.

Just as she’d expected.

And now he was going to walk away. Just as Gary had.

She dragged in a breath, still with her eyes closed—and the next thing she knew, she was in Alex’s arms and he was holding her really, really tightly.

‘Alex? What …’

‘I agreed not to say a word until you’d finished,’ he reminded her.

‘I—I’ve f-finished now.’ To her horror, her voice was actually wobbly.

‘Oh, Bel. I had no idea you’d been through something like this. I’m so sorry.’

Sorry, because he didn’t want to marry her any more?

But then why were his arms still round her? Why was he still holding her close to him, as if she were the most precious thing in the world? This was Alex—the man who didn’t even believe in love.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said softly, ‘that you had to go through something so heartbreaking. I just assumed that he wanted kids and you didn’t, because you’ve always been so dedicated to your job.’

She swallowed hard. ‘I wanted a baby. I wanted a baby so much, Alex. And when Gary and I couldn’t …’ She closed her eyes again. ‘When he left me, I thought I’d never have another chance to have a child of my own. I’ve tried so hard to suppress it—so hard to make my job, my life, be enough for me. And it’s got worse since Saskia had Flora. Every time I hold my god-daughter …’ The wave of longing was so strong, she could hardly breathe. ‘I never thought I’d be the broody type, but it doesn’t seem I have a choice in the matter. It’s her weight, the perfect size to cradle in my arms, her warmth, that new baby smell. Everything.’

‘So what happened? Did the doctors say why you miscarried?’

‘Just that it’s really common before twelve weeks. It happens to lots and lots of women.’

‘Did they do any tests?’

The question hurt, but his voice was so gentle. No judgement. No blame. ‘They don’t even consider looking into the causes until you’ve had at least three miscarriages.’ And that was the worst part. She tried to swallow the tears. ‘Gary didn’t want to take the chance of losing a third baby. And I guess I was a becoming a bit difficult to live with.’

‘What?’ Alex shook his head, as if trying to clear it. ‘Are you telling me he walked out on you, and said it was your fault?’

‘I …’ She let her head rest against his shoulder. ‘Yes,’ she admitted brokenly.

‘Right at this moment, I’d like to break every bone on his body, then peg him out in the desert in Turkey, smear him in honey and leave him to the ants.’

Isobel pulled back and stared at Alex in shock. She’d never, ever heard him sound angry like this before. Coldly, viciously angry.

‘But that’s not going to change the past—or the fact he hurt you. That he let you down when you needed him.’ Still keeping one arm wrapped round her, he stroked her cheek. ‘Here’s what we’re going to do. You want a baby.’

She dragged in a breath. ‘Yes.’

‘You helped me get what I want, Bel, so I’m going to do the same for you. After we get married, we’re going to try for a baby.’

‘But what if …’ She couldn’t bring herself to ask the rest of the question.

But he seemed to guess what she couldn’t say. ‘We’ll see how things go. And if it doesn’t work out, we’ll talk to the doctors. Get tests. Find out what the problem is and see what our options are.’

She swallowed hard. ‘I’m the problem.’

‘And how do you work that out?’

‘Gary has a baby now. So it can’t be him, can it?’

Alex smoothed the hair off her face. ‘I’m not a medic and I don’t know anywhere near enough about miscarriages to give an informed opinion. But things are never that clear-cut, Bel. Don’t blame yourself.’

She made a noncommittal murmur.

‘Seriously, Bel. Don’t blame yourself.’ He paused. ‘When you told me about Gary’s new partner and the baby, I thought you were upset because you were still in love with him.’

She shook her head. ‘My love for him died a long time ago. I don’t envy her because she has him. It’s because …’ Because of the baby. The baby she’d wanted so much herself. She paused. ‘Look, I understand if you want to call the wedding off.’

His eyes glittered. ‘Two weeks tomorrow, Isobel Martin, we’re getting married. And we’re going on honeymoon. And we’re going to make a family of our own.’

The tears she’d been trying so hard to hold back were suddenly too much for her. She could feel her eyes brimming, feel the wetness leaking down her face even though she tried to stop it.

With the pad of his thumb, Alex wiped the tears away. ‘This doesn’t change anything about our marriage, Bel. It just proves I’m right about love. It lets you down.’ He dipped his head to kiss her very lightly on the mouth. Gentle and unthreatening. ‘But I’m not going to let you down. That’s a promise.’

And Alex was the kind of man who always kept his promises.

‘Come on. Give me a smile,’ he coaxed.

She tried. And failed.

He rubbed the tip of his nose against hers. ‘I think you need food. Though I can’t cook because there’s nothing in the fridge. I’d planned to take you out to dinner, tonight.’

‘Alex, that’s lovely of you, but I’m really not hungry.’ Right then she felt as if food would choke her. And after baring her soul to Alex, she felt too raw, too exposed even to go out of the flat.

He stroked her cheek. ‘OK. I understand. So let’s stay in.’ He stroked her hair. ‘What I want to do right now is hold you close—just you and me, skin to skin. I’m not going to lie to you, Bel. I can’t promise that I’m going to make everything all right for you—but I can promise that I’m going to try my hardest.’

She let him draw her to her feet. Let him strip away her clothes, the way she’d stripped away her emotional barriers. He just held her in silence for a while, his arms wrapped protectively round her. And when they made love, later that night, Alex was so tender, so cherishing, that just for a while she allowed herself to believe that he felt the same way about her as she was beginning to feel about him. And maybe, just maybe, her dreams were going to come true.

The following morning, Isobel woke to an empty space beside her. Judging by how cold the sheets were, Alex had been gone for a while.

She pulled on a dressing gown and padded into the living room. Alex was curled up on the sofa, working on his laptop and nursing a mug of coffee. He looked up when she walked in and quickly saved whatever file he was working on. ‘Morning, Bel. I was going to wake you in about half an hour.’

‘It’s Saturday. How come you’re up so early?’ Because he’d had time to think about what she’d told him last night, and changed his mind?

‘I’m always awake early.’ He shrugged. ‘And you needed some sleep. I thought I’d work out here so I didn’t disturb you.’ There was a distinct twinkle in his eye. ‘Besides, I can hardly give you a surprise wedding day if you’re able to look over my shoulder and see what I’m doing.’

The knot of tension between her shoulders loosened slightly. ‘What’s to stop me doing that now?’

‘I’ve closed the file. And the whole lot’s password-protected, so it’s pointless you even trying to open it.’

‘I could,’ she said, pursing her lips, ‘hack my way in. I have friends who are good with computers and they’ll tell me how to do it if I ask them nicely.’

He laughed. ‘But you’re not going to, or I’ll tell the mums and they’ll nag you stupid. What time are they getting here?’

‘They’re not. I’m meeting them at the train station.’ She glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. ‘Oh, help. I didn’t realise it was that late!’ She frowned. ‘But my alarm didn’t go off.’ She hadn’t bothered looking at the clock before she got out of bed, assuming that she’d woken before her alarm went off.

‘I turned it off,’ he admitted, ‘because I thought you could do with some sleep.’

‘I’m going to be late now, and they’ll worry.’

‘They won’t. Go have your shower and I’ll text Mum to let her know.’

‘Alex, she never picks up texts. Better ring her or text Saskia instead,’ Isobel called from the bathroom door.

It was the quickest shower on record and for once she didn’t bother washing her hair. But by the time she was ready, Alex had a cup of coffee waiting for her. ‘I added enough cold water so you can drink it straight down,’ he said. When she’d done so, he handed her an apple and a banana. ‘Breakfast to go.’

‘Is this what you do when you’re on a project?’

He grinned. ‘Hey, it’s healthy. At least I wasn’t suggesting what some of my colleagues used to do—doughnuts and coffee with four sugars. Carb overload.’ He kissed her lightly. ‘See you when you get back. Have a good time.’

‘Thanks, Alex. And, um, about last night …’ She swallowed hard. ‘I wanted to say thank you. For understanding.’

He laid his palm against her cheek. ‘Stop worrying. This is me you’re talking to. There are no pedestals for either of us to fall off. Go and find yourself a nice frock.’ His lips twitched. ‘And a flame-coloured veil.’

Isobel met their mothers and Saskia as planned at the railway station, albeit slightly late. And although she tried to get some information out of them about the wedding, none of them would tell her a single thing about Alex’s plans.

‘He’d have our guts for garters,’ Marcia said. ‘No can do.’

‘But I promise you’ll love it,’ Saskia added.

Anna nodded agreement. ‘And I know now just how much Alex loves you—because he’s gone to a lot of trouble to make it the perfect day.’

He didn’t love her, Isobel thought. Not in the way her mother believed he did. But that was something she didn’t want to explain, so she allowed herself to be distracted by dresses.

‘This,’ Anna said, holding out a cream silk shift dress, ‘is perfect.’ She made Isobel try it on and come and pirouette for the three of them. ‘That’s the one,’ she said.

Meanwhile, Marcia found the perfect pair of high-heeled cream court shoes to go with the dress. And they had them in Isobel’s size.

‘That’s the difficult bit done, then.’ Saskia smiled. ‘And I need a coffee break after all that hard work.’

Next were the dresses for the mums. And after the fourth shop, Isobel rubbed the base of her spine. ‘Time out. We’ve been walking for ages. Coffee.’

Marcia looked at her and then at Saskia. ‘I’ve known you two all your lives—and I know full well you can shop all day without a break. Are you doing this because of me?’

‘Of course not,’ Isobel fibbed, but she couldn’t look Marcia in the eye.

‘You arranged this between you,’ Marcia said suspiciously. ‘Breaks practically on the hour. Look, I’m fine. I’m not ill.’

Isobel exchanged a look with her best friend. ‘OK. I admit it. We’re worried about you, Marcia. You’re not an invalid, but you’ve had a rough time with your health. We don’t want to push you too hard.’

‘You want to stay well for the wedding, don’t you?’ Saskia added.

Marcia scowled. ‘That’s emotional blackmail.’

‘But they’re right,’ Anna cut in gently. ‘They’re worried about you, Marcia.’ She smiled. ‘And I’m ten years older than you, so I vote for a rest, too.’

‘I give in,’ Marcia said ruefully.

‘So are you going to humour Alex about the flame-coloured veil?’ Saskia asked over coffee.

‘So he is planning a Roman wedding,’ Isobel said.

‘No, no, no, no, no!’ Saskia, looking panicky, crossed her hands rapidly in front of her. ‘But he was going on about it last weekend. You could call his bluff and do it.’

‘I’m not sure an orange veil would look right with that dress, love,’ Marcia said.

‘But if it was made of crystal organza and you wore it more like a stole—actually, that would look stunning.’ Anna looked thoughtful. ‘Especially if your hair’s up and you wear finger-less elbow-length gloves and your bouquet’s a simple sheaf of lilies. If you choose the material today, I can hem it for you.’

Isobel spread her hands. ‘Well, as none of you will tell me anything, I’ll just have to let you decide for me.’

Saskia grinned. ‘And don’t you just hate not being in charge?’

Isobel scowled. ‘Alex called me a control freak, too.’

‘You are,’ Saskia said, laughing. ‘You like everything just so.’

‘It’s called doing your research properly.’ Isobel sighed. ‘My colleagues all have invitations to the reception, but he’s sworn them all to secrecy as well. Nobody will even give me a hint. It’s driving me insane.’

‘He’s not going to tell you, so there’s no point in stressing about it,’ Saskia told her.

‘So you’ve got everything now, apart from the gloves and the veil?’ Marcia asked. ‘Something old, something new, something borrowed and something blue?’

‘I’ve got a new dress,’ Isobel said. ‘So that’s one of them.’

‘And you can borrow my gold bracelet—the one my parents gave me for my twenty-first,’ Anna said. ‘That takes care of old and borrowed. I’ll bring it to you on your wedding morning.’

‘And I’ll deal with the blue,’ Saskia said with a smile. ‘Something tasteful, Bel, I promise.’

‘Thank you. You’ve all gone to a lot of trouble over this.’ There was a huge lump in Isobel’s throat.

‘That’s because we love you,’ Anna said, hugging her daughter. ‘And we all want you to have the happiness you deserve. With Alex.’

Alex.

Her husband-to-be.

Who was equally convinced that everything would work out just fine.

She knew Alex was nothing like Gary. And, as Alex had pointed out, they were going into the marriage with their eyes wide open. Practical. Sensible. So why was the fear—the horrible feeling that everything was going to go pear-shaped—still dragging along behind her like a shadow?

Isobel managed to keep it away for the rest of the afternoon—just—while they went shopping for more shoes and the gloves to match her dress. Their last stop was to choose a length of shimmering flame-coloured crystal organza.

‘Don’t tell Alex about this,’ she said. ‘As he’s keeping me in suspense about everything, I want this to be a surprise.’

‘We won’t let him see the dress, either,’ Marcia promised.

‘Thank you.’

‘I’ll take these,’ Anna said, scooping up the bags containing Isobel’s dress, the shoes and the material for the wrap. ‘I’ll be helping you get ready, so I’ll bring them with me—that way Alex won’t see them before the big day.’

Isobel shivered. ‘Mum, I …’

‘Shh.’ Anna kissed her gently. ‘Of course you’ve got butterflies in your stomach. It’s only natural.’

They weren’t butterflies. They were elephants, doing the cancan.

‘But Alex is the right man for you,’ Anna said softly. ‘You love each other, so everything’s going to be fine.’

Was it?

Isobel wasn’t so sure—because they didn’t love each other. Not in the way their family seemed to think they did.

But she forced herself to smile. ‘Thanks, Mum.’

Over the weekend, Isobel found the perfect wedding present for Alex on the internet—a watch made of black ceramic, with no markers on the dial except for a diamond on the twelve. She discovered there was a stockist for the Swiss manufacturer near the museum, so she dropped in on Monday lunchtime to buy it and have it wrapped. Then she transferred it to a plain bag so if Alex did spot it he wouldn’t have a clue what she’d bought.

The next few days went by in a blur. And then it was the day before their wedding: her last day at work for over a week. Isobel ate a sandwich at her desk and used the time to try to get ahead of schedule with her work, but at the end of the day, when she’d planned to slip quietly away, Rita banged a spoon against a bottle of sparkling wine and the whole department focused on Isobel.

‘You haven’t got a wedding list,’ Rita said, ‘so we were flying a bit blind here, but I hope you like it.’ She handed Isobel a beautifully wrapped box. ‘Happy wedding, from all of us.’

Isobel carefully unwrapped it, and stared in delight when she opened the box to discover a fused-glass bowl, shading from light azure through to deep cobalt. ‘It’s gorgeous, Rita. Thank you. Thank you all so much.’

‘Our pleasure,’ Rita said, speaking on behalf of the department. ‘See you tomorrow night.’ She hugged Isobel. ‘You’ve got a good man, there.’ She lowered her voice. ‘And he’ll be so much better for you than He Who Should Not Be Named. You’ll be happy with Alex. It shows in your face when you look at him—and when he looks at you.’

If only you knew, Isobel thought, but she smiled. ‘Thanks, Rita.’

She went back to her flat, carefully protecting her parcel on the tube. Alex was waiting for her and kissed her hello. ‘How was your day?’

‘Lovely. Look what everyone in the department gave us as a wedding present.’

Alex inspected the bowl. ‘That’s gorgeous. I love the colours. And it’ll look great in our new house.’

Isobel frowned. ‘What new house?’

‘The one we’ll be looking at when we get back after the wedding. This flat only has one bedroom,’ he reminded her, ‘and if we’re going to start a family we’re going to need extra space.’

She lifted her chin. ‘What if we can’t have a family, Alex?’

‘We’ll face that if we have to.’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘My grandmother used to have a saying: “Never trouble trouble, until trouble troubles you.” But if you want to think of it another way—with two of us, and the fact that I’ve got even more books than you have, we need more office space and more storage space. Which means a bigger place.’

‘You are going to let me have a choice in this, aren’t you? You’re not going to steamroller me, the way you have about the wedding?’

‘I’m not steamrollering you. I’ve been trying to surprise you about the wedding,’ Alex pointed out. ‘I’m giving you a day to remember. Choosing a home’s different—the place has to feel right for both of us, so we need to look at it together.’

‘So you’re telling me I have to put my flat on the market?’

He shook his head. ‘Keep it as an investment. You can rent it out—the rent should cover your mortgage.’

She frowned. ‘But yours is rented out, too. How on earth are we going to afford another flat between us?’

‘Actually,’ he said, ‘my flat isn’t going to be rented out any more. The letting agent rang me the other day and said the tenants wanted to know if I’d consider selling to them. Serendipity,’ he said with a smile. ‘Obviously I wanted to discuss it with you, first, before saying yes. But a bigger place would be sensible, wouldn’t it?’

‘I suppose so.’ She bit her lip. ‘Alex, my life feels as if it’s been zooming along on a fairground ride—at a speed I can’t control, spinning round just when I think I know where I’m going. A month ago, I was single and I thought you were in Turkey. Tomorrow, I’m marrying you—and in ten days’ time you start an office job. And now you’re telling me we’re going to move house.’

‘Right now it might seem we’re going fast, but it’s all going to be fine,’ he told her softly, pulling her into his arms. ‘And think of the fun we’re going to have, choosing a new place together.’

‘Hmm.’ Isobel wasn’t so sure. What he’d suggested was sensible, she knew—but she liked her flat. Liked it a lot. It had been her bolt-hole ever since she’d split up with Gary. And losing that security…

‘Just trust me,’ he said, holding her close. ‘I’ll call the trattoria and get them to deliver dinner while you pack—and then we’ll go straight after dinner.’

‘Go where?’

‘To the place where we’re getting married tomorrow.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘Pay attention, Mrs Richardson-to-be.’

‘So we’re not getting married in London?’

‘No.’ He smiled at her. ‘Pasta, salad and garlic bread OK for dinner?’

It was much easier just to give in and go along with him when Alex was on a roll. And she adored Italian food anyway. ‘Fine.’

‘Good. Go and pack—I’d recommend just a few light clothes. If it turns cold where we are, then I’ll buy you something warmer when we’re there,’ Alex said.

He was giving her absolutely no clue about where they were going—tonight or after the wedding. Though at least, she thought, he hadn’t carried out his threat of packing for her.

She was still none the wiser about their destination when they left London, though when Alex turned onto the M4 she was fairly sure he was heading for the Cotswolds. It made sense that they’d get married near their respective families.

But then he took a different turning. ‘Alex? Where are we—?’

‘You’ll know when we get there,’ he said.

‘You really are an infuriating man.’

He gave her a sunny smile. ‘Indeedy.’

When he drove into Bath and parked outside a beautiful Georgian manor in the middle of the city, she blinked again. This is where we’re getting married?’

‘Stop asking questions,’ he said. ‘We’re staying here tonight.’

‘Alex …’ She swallowed. ‘I know we’re not exactly getting married for traditional reasons, but I’m not supposed to see you on the day of the wedding until the actual ceremony. It’s bad luck.’ She dragged in a breath. ‘I saw Gary on the morning of the wedding.’

‘Honey, that had nothing to do with why your marriage broke up. You just married a man who wasn’t good enough for you and who let you down.’ He stroked her face. ‘I’m not Gary. This isn’t a rerun of your first marriage, and I’m not going to let you down. But I had a feeling you’d be superstitious about this. Which is why we’re having separate rooms—and I’m going to sneak out of your room and go to my own at precisely one minute to midnight.’

‘So when do I see our mums and Saskia?’ she asked.

‘After your alarm call at six.’

‘Six? Alex, that’s the crack of dawn.’

‘Just as well you’re a morning person, then.’ He paused. ‘Bel, there’s something I need to talk to you about.’

Ice trickled down her spine. ‘What?’

‘Don’t look so worried.’ He bent his head and stole a kiss. ‘Just that you need to be on time tomorrow. I know it’s traditional for the bride to be late, but if you’re late tomorrow we’ll have major problems.’

She frowned. ‘So what time are we getting married?’

‘Half past eight.’

‘You’re kidding! Why so early?’

‘Tomorrow,’ he said, ‘all will be clear.’

‘As mud,’ she grumbled.

‘Everyone else is staying at a different hotel.’ He gave her a wicked little smile. ‘So they don’t cramp our style. But you’ll see them in the morning. Our mums and Saskia are bringing your outfit with them.’

He signed them into the hotel, then carried their bags upstairs to her room.

There was a bottle of champagne on ice in her room.

Which had a king-size bed.

‘Time for just you and me,’ he said softly. ‘And there’s something I want to give you. A wedding gift.’

‘Me, too.’ She’d retrieved the watch from its hiding place and packed it in her suitcase before they’d left London.

He turned the lights down low, then opened the champagne and poured them both a glass before raising his own in a toast. ‘To us.’

‘To us,’ she echoed.

He undid his suitcase, then gave her a gold box, beautifully tied with an orange ribbon. Isobel smiled, thinking about her organza wrap: her compromise on the flame-coloured Roman-style veil he’d been so keen on. Alex gave her a suspicious glance. ‘What’s that smile about?’

‘Tomorrow,’ she quoted back at him, ‘all will be clear.’

‘Oh, yes?’ He laughed. ‘Maybe I’ll have to seduce it out of you.’

‘You can try.’

‘Is that a dare?’ His eyes glittered.

She backtracked, fast. ‘No.’

‘OK. You can open it now, if you like.’

She did—and stared at the string of almost perfectly symmetrical black pearls. ‘They’re beautiful.’ They had an incredible shimmering lustre—and although Isobel didn’t know much about modern jewellery, she had a feeling they cost a small fortune. ‘Alex. These are amazing. Thank you.’

‘Happy wedding day,’ he said softly. ‘They’re Tahitian, by the way.’

She tried them on. ‘They feel gorgeous.’

‘They look good on you,’ he said with a smile. ‘Maybe you can wear them tomorrow.’

‘I will. They’ll be perfect with my dress.’ Gently, she took them off and put them back in the box, then retrieved the box from her own suitcase. ‘And this is for you.’

He unwrapped it and blinked as he saw the black ceramic watch. ‘Wow. This is fantastic.’

‘I thought you’d like something high-tech and sophisticated,’ she said.

He tried it on. ‘It’s perfect—thank you. And I’ll wear it tomorrow.’ He put it back in his box, then went to sit next to her on the bed. ‘Come here. Let me thank you properly.’

‘I need to thank you properly, too.’

He smiled, cupped her face in his hands and kissed her.

Their love-making was gentle, and so perfect that Isobel was near to tears.

At precisely two minutes to midnight, he climbed out of bed and pulled some clothes on.

And at precisely one minute to midnight, he kissed her goodnight. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow. Sleep well.’ He stroked his face. ‘And stop worrying. Everything’s going to be just fine.’