Kate Hardy - Taken by the Millionaire - Hotly Bedded, Conveniently Wedded

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.’