Taken by the Millionaire: Hotly Bedded, Conveniently Wedded

‘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.’

CHAPTER NINE

ISOBEL slept really badly that night. Odd how she’d grown used to sleeping with someone again. The bed felt way too wide without Alex curled round her body, his arm wrapped round her waist and holding her close to him.

Every time she glanced at the clock, only a few minutes seemed to have gone past.

She’d just drifted into sleep when the phone shrilled.

Groggily, she reached out and felt for the phone, picked it up, and dropped it back on the cradle again.

The phone shrilled again.

This time she answered—more of a mumbled noise than an actual word, though she put the receiver to her ear.

‘Rise and shine, honey. We’re getting married in two and a half hours.’

‘Alex? But …’

‘It’s not unlucky to talk to your bridegroom on the wedding morning, before you say it.’ He laughed. ‘Tomorrow, you can sleep in as late as you like.’ His voice went husky. ‘Because you might be a little bit busy tonight.’

‘Oh, yes?’

‘Later,’ he promised. ‘Later I’ll carry you over the threshold. And there’s going to be some serious ravishing in the bridal bed. But for now … go have your shower. Because I think you have visitors due in twenty-five minutes.’

She glanced at the clock. ‘They’ll be up already?’

‘Their hotel is all of ten minutes’ walk away, two minutes by taxi, and Saskia told me yesterday they’re getting changed in your room—so I’d say the odds are they’re already up or they’ve just hit the snooze button and they’ll be up in five minutes. I’ll see you at eight-thirty.’

‘Eight-thirty,’ she promised.

A shower and washing her hair made her feel a lot more awake. She’d just wrapped her hair in a towel and herself in the thick towelling robe provided by the hotel when there was a knock on her door. She opened it and Marcia, Anna and Saskia were all there, beaming at her and carrying an assortment of bags and cases.

‘This is the plan. The mums sort the clothes and order breakfast by room service, I do your hair and make-up, and you’re going to be the most beautiful bride ever,’ Saskia informed her.

‘Room service?’ Isobel asked.

‘Coffee and pastries. It’s our family tradition to have cake for breakfast on red letter days,’ Saskia said, smiling.

‘In your dreams, you bad child.’ Marcia laughed. ‘I’m sorry, Anna. My daughter’s a bad influence.’

‘I hate to tell you this, but cake for breakfast sounds good to me as well,’ Anna said, laughing back.

‘Pain au chocolat and Danish pastries. Oh, and some orange juice so we can claim we’ve been healthy,’ Saskia directed.

‘Champagne and orange juice?’ Anna suggested.

‘Mmm, but we don’t want her tipsy in case she falls into the—’ Saskia clapped her hand over her mouth. ‘I didn’t say anything.’

‘I could always tell Alex you told me anyway,’ Isobel suggested.

Saskia cuffed her. ‘Behave, or I’ll accidentally on purpose stab you with a hair pin.’

Isobel didn’t have a chance to start worrying about the wedding. What with a breakfast of pastries and Buck’s Fizz, then the flowers arriving—a simple bouquet of cream Calla lilies that matched her cream silk shift dress perfectly—and her hair, nails and make-up being done, and everyone else getting changed, there wasn’t a spare moment.

‘Right. Time to get you dressed. Something old—and borrowed.’ Anna handed her the bracelet.

‘Thanks, Mum.’

‘Something new—that’s the dress. But before you do, the something blue.’ Saskia fished in her bag and handed Isobel a box.

‘A blue garter.’

‘We won’t make you flash your legs. Well, Alex might,’ Saskia said with a grin.

‘And we’ll spare you the sixpence in your shoe—that’d be way too uncomfortable,’ Marcia chipped in.

Saskia helped her into the dress and the gloves.

‘And I need these.’ Isobel took her pearls from the box.

‘Oh, Bel—they’re gorgeous,’ Marcia sighed.

‘Alex gave them to me as a wedding present,’ she said shyly.

‘They go perfectly with your dress,’ Anna said. She brought out the organza stole and draped it round Isobel’s shoulders. ‘Oh, love. You look like a princess.’

Marcia took her camera from her handbag. ‘Hold your flowers, Bel. That’s it. Now smile.’

‘You look …’ Saskia blinked back tears. ‘Oh, Bel. Today, you’re really going to be my sister.’

‘You used to tell your school friends that she was your twin, like Helen and Polly are twins,’ Marcia said.

Anna’s eyes were glittering with tears. ‘The sister I never managed to give you, Bel.’

Isobel stared at her mother in surprise. It was something they’d never talked about, and as she’d grown up she’d simply assumed that because her parents were older, she’d been a ‘happy accident’ late in life rather than a planned baby.

So did this mean her mother had wanted more children? Or even that she’d had trouble conceiving—had had miscarriages, the same way that Isobel herself had? ‘Mum …’

Anna shook her head. ‘This isn’t the time and the place to talk about it. But just as long as you know how much your father and I love you. How proud we are of you. And how happy we are that you and Alex are together.’

Isobel swallowed hard. ‘I think I’m going to cry.’

‘Don’t you dare. You’ll smudge your make-up. And Alex will scalp us if we deliver his bride in anything less than smile mode,’ Saskia said quickly.

The phone rang; Marcia answered, then nodded. ‘Thank you.’ As the others turned to her in enquiry she said, ‘That was the wedding car.’

‘Wedding car? So where exactly are we going?’ Isobel asked.

‘It’s more than our lives are worth to tell you,’ Marcia said. ‘But everyone else is meeting us there.’

Alex had hired an old-fashioned Rolls-Royce. And when the car pulled up outside Bath Abbey, Isobel shook her head. ‘No. This can’t be right. No way can he have booked the Abbey. They wouldn’t marry us, not when I’m divorced.’

‘It’s not the Abbey,’ Anna said gently, squeezing her hand. ‘You’ll love this.’

‘Then where …’

Enlightenment dawned when they reached the entrance to the old Roman baths. ‘I don’t believe he managed to organise this.’

‘They’re open to the public during the day, so the only time you can get married here is half past eight in the morning,’ Saskia explained. ‘Which is how come you had to be up at the crack of dawn.’

‘I … Oh, Lord.’ Isobel was lost for words.

‘Smile,’ Saskia directed, ‘or my brother will scalp me.’

‘We could’ve walked here, but Alex wanted to string it out to the last possible second,’ Marcia said. She laughed. ‘You know my son. He always takes things further than anyone else.’

‘You can say that again,’ Isobel said fervently.

The torches around the great pool were lit and the steam was rising. The water was pure aqua—the same colour as the bowl her colleagues had bought them. And that, Isobel thought, was probably no coincidence.

And then she saw Alex.

She’d known he was teasing her when he’d threatened to wear his battered Akubra or a toga. But she really hadn’t expected this. He was wearing a morning suit: a black tailcoat and pinstriped trousers with a white wing-collar shirt and a gold waistcoat. And his cravat matched her stole exactly. The rest of the wedding party were dressed in similar style, and they all had a lily as their buttonhole.

For a moment, she could believe that she and Alex really were getting married for love. He looked absolutely stunning and, when he walked towards her, smiling, her heart felt as if it had done a weird kind of flip.

‘That dress is perfect. Simple and classic and letting your beauty shine through. The gloves are pretty sexy, too. You look amazing,’ he said softly.

‘You look pretty stunning yourself.’

He smiled. ‘Note—no toga, and no hat.’

She indicated her stole. ‘And I’ve got the flame-coloured veil you asked for. Sort of.’

He laughed. ‘I like it. And I like your hair up like that.’ He leaned forward and whispered, ‘And I’m really looking forward to taking it down later tonight.’

A shiver of pure desire rippled through her. ‘Later.’ She glanced round at the registrar and their family, sitting there with such love and such joy on their faces.

And Alex had been the one to make this all happen.

‘Thank you, Alex, for doing this. It’s just …’ She could feel tears welling up.

He looked alarmed. ‘Don’t cry, Bel.’

‘They’re happy tears,’ she hastened to reassure him.

‘Even so.’ He took her hand, raised it to his mouth and kissed it. ‘Let’s go and get married.’

‘I can’t believe we’re getting married on a two-thousand-year-old warm pavement.’

He smiled. ‘I told you it was going to be different.’

‘It’s perfect, Alex.’

She walked with him over to the table where the registrar was sitting; Alex held her hand very, very tightly as the registrar welcomed them all.

‘I declare I know of no legal reason why I, Alexander Tobias Richardson, may not be joined in marriage to Isobel Anna Martin,’ Alex said at the registrar’s prompting.

She repeated his declaration.

Then he turned to her. Held both hands. Looked her straight in the eye. ‘I, Alexander, take you, Isobel, to be my lawful wedded wife.’

She swallowed hard. ‘I, Isobel, take you, Alexander, to be my lawful wedded husband.’

Then Saskia came to the front, carrying Flora, who was holding a basket containing the wedding rings.

Alex took the smaller one and slid it onto her finger. ‘With my heart, I pledge to you all that I am. With this ring I marry you and join my life to yours.’

And even though he didn’t mention love in his vows, she knew he meant what he said.

Just as she meant it when she took the other ring and slid it onto his ring finger. ‘With my heart, I pledge to you all that I am. With this ring I marry you and join my life to yours.’

She barely heard the registrar’s speech; the only thing that she could focus on was Alex’s wide smile when the registrar said, ‘You may kiss the bride.’