Taken by the Millionaire: Hotly Bedded, Conveniently Wedded. Kate Hardy

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      ‘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 СКАЧАТЬ